But Flynn didn’t get upset this time. He came back up the bed to rest his head on the pillow by my side. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. It makes me mad. You get sad. It doesn’t feel good. I want to feel good with you. Not angry.” He frowned at me, as if to scold me for my inconsideration.
His refusal to answer me bugged me but I tried to ignore it. We had resumed our touching and kissing and loving each other. And I pushed aside the nagging voice in my head that warned this would all disappear.
Afterwards Flynn had gotten dressed again and settled beneath the sheets, promptly falling asleep. Leaving me to my racing thoughts and pounding heart.
Flynn loved me.
That simple yet profound statement bounced around in my overly crowded head.
The realization that my feelings were reciprocated filled me with such a bright, shiny happiness that it blinded me.
But there was a darkness that hovered at the edges of my joy and the more I tried to pretend it wasn’t there, the larger it grew. Until it had eclipsed the sun of Flynn’s love.
Because there it was. My old friend…guilt and shame.
Flynn loved me. But would he still love me if I told him the truth? Would he still want to touch me once I was honest with him about what I had done all those years ago?
I felt sick and my head ached.
I had to tell him.
I couldn’t let another day pass without him knowing.
He deserved to know who it was he was giving his heart to.
I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Flynn’s soft breathing and feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. What kind of person kept such a huge secret from the person they claimed to love?
Selfish coward party of one!
Flynn made a noise and rolled over. His eyes fluttered open and I could see him peering at me in the dark.
“Why are you still awake?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.
“I’m not tired,” I lied. Because I was exhausted. It felt it deep in my bones. But it wasn’t a tiredness rest could cure.
Flynn folded his hand underneath his face and continued to look at me. For once I didn’t like his attention. Not when I was feeling so shitty about myself.
The truth was sitting dangerously on the tip of my tongue, demanding that I let it out. Before I let this go any further, I had to come clean.
I couldn’t let him continue to love a person he didn’t really know.
“I need to tell you something,” I said.
Flynn yawned. “What is it?” he asked innocently.
I took a deep breath and rolled onto my side to face him. The only light came from the street lamp outside the hotel. It filtered into our room, illuminating the bed. I folded my hand beneath my face, mirroring his position. We weren’t touching and as much as I wanted to reach out for him, I couldn’t.
“We never talk much about the way things were between us in high school,” I began.
Flynn shook his head. “I don’t like talking about that,” he interrupted.
“I know you don’t,” I whispered. “But we need to,” I insisted.
“Why?” he asked, sounding angry. And I didn’t blame him. Who wanted to talk about a past that hurt so badly? Who wanted to relive a shared history that we had worked so hard to put behind us?
“Because there are some things you need to know,” I said, swallowing thickly.
Flynn was quiet. He didn’t ask any questions but he didn’t shut me down either. It gave me the chance to get myself together and think about how I was going to approach this. It would have to be like ripping off a Band-Aid. Quickly and painfully.
