I don’t know which is the angel or which is the devil.
Not to mention she is utterly depressed, and it’s time she works through that without me dragging her deeper and deeper into the darkness.
Sipping the glass of water I just poured, I walk towards Lucy.
I set the glass down on the table, take four steps towards the doorway, and wrap her in the tightest hug I think I’ve ever given anyone. Her vanilla scent burns in mind, branding itself on me to terrorize me later tonight. My brain continuously flickers between keeping her and letting her go.
I hold on tighter.
Finally, she slips her arms around my waist and matches my tug.
After what feels like a millenia, she pushes me away, moving her hands from my back to my chest. “Stone…”
My name is a desperate plea on her lips.
“Lucy…”
Her name is a glass heart in my hands.
“Don’t do this,” she whispers in a broken, anguished prayer.
“I—” I can’t even finish my sentence before her mouth is on mine, kissing me with fervor and passion. I relish the strawberry taste and lose myself to the frantic kiss, switch our positions so I can push her up against the side wall by the door. Her hands pull my hair as she drags my head down to her, and my fingers dig into her waist as I recognize this kiss is her final attempt to get me to stay. To verify my thoughts, she begins to tug at the side zipper of her dress. I grab her hand and fight the draconian desire to allow her to continue. “Lucy,” I growl, preparing to open my fingers and drop her glass heart. It’s that or lose this battle and hate myself in the morning. She doesn’t understand she’d hate me, too. “Stop.”
It’s clear to me now.
“What?” Her voice raises as she slams her hands on my chest. “What is it, Stone?”
Lucy
My back presses against the wall, my hands flat on his chest like paddles prepared to initiate shocks to the heart if he doesn’t say those three words.
“I can’t. I can’t love you, Lucy. I’m—”
“You’re what? Afraid? Scared? Insecure? Want to run?” I can’t control the volume of my voice as it rises to new elevations of high-pitched anger. “You kiss me. Everywhere. Slow and steady and full of sureness. Like I’m the woman you’ll kiss for the rest of your life yet that still won’t be long enough. Your hands have touched every part of me, and your whispered words have wrapped themselves around the entirety of my limbic system. You’ve made me yours, Stone. Yours!” Anger pulses through my veins as I strain to catch a wisp of a controlled breath. Within the battleground of my mind, I pray, no, beg, God not to punish me for my sins by taking this man away from me.God, can we reinstate the earlier bargain? I’ll do anything…
“Yes. Dang it, Lucy! I’m terrified to love you.” He slams his hands on either side of my head as he drops his own in defeat, eyescast down so that all I can see is the top of his shaggy, blond hair. “I’m terrified to let myself melt into a puddle at your feet. To let myself become clay in your hands. To lose all sense of self in pursuit of your big, beautiful, hazel eyes. If I let myself love you, you will bring me to my knees, Lucy May. Straight to my knees in a position to beg you to love me for all my faults and failures, knowing there is no way in—”curse“—that I am good enough for you. You deserve more. So much more. You deserve someone who actually knows what love is!”
The fight I had evaporates at his blatant admission. Hearing those words outright makes all the fuzzy and confused feelings crystal clear. My stomach churns as I prepare my next words. I drop my hands from his chest and place a finger on his chin to tilt his eyes to me.
“When you figure out if you’ll let yourself love me, come find me.”
“Lucy,” his voice cracks on my name. “Please be happy. Please find someone to help you out of this depression that’s gripping you.”
His request sends me reeling. I’m not depressed. I’m just… sad. And anxious. Who the—curse—is he to tell me to get help, anyway?! I swallow the bile burning up my throat.
“You need help,” I bite before ducking out of his arms and standing behind him. He doesn’t turn around. “Until then, don’t contact me. If you aren’t going to love me and help me out of this, then I need to pick up the pieces of my shattered life. And I need to do it alongside people Iknowlove and care about me.”
Though… who even does?
I’m so… alone.
Everyone leaves.
My eyes burn to cry, but I’m so numb. I wait a second. Five seconds. Ten…
Stone doesn’t turn around.
“You should have just let me drown,” I whisper. I will my feet to move against the desire to collapse into a trembling mess on his floor. One step. Another. Until my weakened, broken self is once again crossing the threshold of his door.
