“Don’t you think that warning is a little late?”
I’ve already jumped headfirst into what we have, and I’d do it all over again if I could.I’m not afraid of the dark.
“Yeah, well, I tried telling you back then, too, but you weren’t having it. Then again, neither was I, huh?” He smacks the side of his head suddenly. I flinch. “You’ve invaded every goddamn part of me, and do you know how fucking tough it’s been to get you out?”
“Stop.”
“What?” When he leans forward, I know it’s in challenge. He wants this. The fight. For me to put my fists up and battle him for the opportunity to stay in his life just to walk away at the end of it. He wants to feel something other than his mom being gone.
I remain close enough that he could wrap his arms around me again if he wanted to. “It doesn’t have to be this hard.”
“It was hard long before either one of us ever made it so.”
“Okay,” I relent, “It’s fine if you don’t want me to be in your life as anything intimate.” I’m lying. It’s not fine. I’ll never be fine being less to him. Not when I’ve already experienced what it’s like to have all of him. “We can do this as friends.”
His expression turns rueful, telling me exactly what he’s thinking. “How did that work out for us before?”
It didn’t, but I’m grasping at straws, wanting to do anything to keep him in my life. Can’t he see that?
“We did it before, we can do it again. Besides, what happened then doesn’t matter now.”
“Everything always matters,” he murmurs in a broken voice, and then he lifts his hands to my hips so quickly I don’t see itcoming. In the matter of seconds, I’m uprooted and hauled onto his lap. My legs naturally spread for him and wind around his waist. I don’t question it because I live to be pressed close to this man.
His fingers glide down and pinch into my thighs. I’m lost in the moment, aware of our surroundings but also not. My breath lodges in my throat. “What are you doing?”
“The very thing I shouldn’t be.”
I’ve always admired his ability to tell me how he’s feeling at any given moment. The way he cracked his shell wide open for me and hasn’t been able to fully close it ever since. As much as he says he doesn’t want me, he wouldn’t be doing this if it was true. Every interaction we’ve had since the fundraiser has been a push and pull of emotions. One minute we’re arguing, and he’s trying to convince me how he’s done. In the next, he’s pulling me close. I’m a frisbee, curled into his chest just to be thrown farther than the last time. What he doesn’t know is that, for him, I’ll always be a boomerang.
“Close your eyes,” I tell him.
He narrows his gaze but listens nonetheless. He’s curious and tired of putting up so much of a fight. I unbutton my peacoat and let it fan open. I don’t know if I should be doing this in the middle of a cemetery, but I need him to feel my love for him.
I take his wrist and slip his hand under my dress. It’s poofy and loose fitting enough that it falls back down over his forearm without showing much. My panty hose are dark enough to not give anything away. My peacoat acts as a shield, too.
We inhale a sharp breath the instant his fingertips brush against me. They climb my body until they’re at my rib cage, and then I stop him. I press his palm flat against the spot just under my breast and let him feel the erratic beat of my heart.
I slither my other hand up under his sweater. I’m met with ridges of abs but have no problem finding his heart. It beats just as fiercely as mine.
When he opens his eyes a heartbeat later, I’m met with my favorite shade of blue. My heart knocks against my chest and reaches for him.
“I know you feel it, too,” I murmur. His hand kneads into my thigh like he’s not sure if he should let go or touch me more. Or maybe like he’s holding on but also on the brink of losing his grip. “As much as you want to believe it doesn’t exist because you’re hurting, we’re bound. So much that I canfeelwhat you feel, Colson.” He swallows and his gaze flits down to my lips once. “Your pain is my pain. My strength is your strength.”
A mix between a warning and plea leaves his mouth. “Vi, baby. Please fucking kiss me.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“I always want you. Fucking desperate for you, always.”
“Then why do you keep pushing me away?”
“Because something as good as you shouldn’t be in a life as fucked up as mine.”
“That tactic will always feel more like punishment than protection to me,” I tell him.
He inches forward. As much as I’d love to give him what he wants, I can’t. I can’t continue to play this game with him. It’s not fair and every time it happens, I leave with my heart more bruised than it was the last time.
If I keep doing this…eventually, I won’t have a heart left.
