I smile thinking back to good times with Mom for once, but then I remember what I left out — that she would come in after a long night of drinking where she left me alone at home by myself. That she’d pull open the oven rack, exposing her newest set of bruises.
This time I choose omission and leave those parts out. “Anyway, it made a total mess, but it was fun at the time.”
We reach the door and she turns to face me. “Your mom sounds like she really loves you.” Her tone is so warm that I feel my walls not just fall but collapse.
“She did.” I hesitate, then add, “But she loved alcohol and shitty men more.”
And there it is. The entirety of my relationship with my mother summed up in a handful of words. Once it’s out, it’s like an anvil lifted off my shoulders. I’m not sure I have ever said anything like that out loud. Anything so true. So fucking excruciating. Only the people who were by my side as I went through it — Mel, Ronan, Mikey — know this piece of the puzzle. And now it’s out there, poured from the darkest part of me, incapable of being put back in.
Claire shortens the space between us, catching me completely off guard. I search her face for any hint of what she’s feeling. Her eyes meet mine and they’re a cross between hungry and heartbroken. This shouldn’t be happening. But then she brings her hand to my cheek, and I involuntarily lean into her touch. My heart rate quickens, and I’m not sure if it’s because I want her or because I don’t —because a girl like Claire could be tainted by a guy like me.
Standing on her tiptoes, she brings her lips just inches from mine, and the smell of vanilla lights up my senses. She stills, waiting for me to close the gap.
“You don’t want someone like me, Claire.” It comes out a whisper of instant regret. Her eyes dart to my lips, then back up to meet my sorrowful gaze.
“I think maybe I do.” The hand on my cheek slides to the back of my head, and I close my eyes, soaking it in.
Before I can protest again, either to her or myself, our lips crash together. It’s urgent and needy. I pull back hesitantly, anticipating Claire’s face to show doubt or regret, but all I see is her need for more. She licks her lips, then parts them, inviting me back in, and as quickly as it ends, it’s starting again.
Claire reaches for my hair, tugging it gently, as I brush my tongue against her lips. I feel her smile beneath the contact and even when I can’t see it, that smile drives me crazy. My tongue sweeps again, only this time, hers meets mine. A growl escapes from the back of my throat, and she pushes her body closer to mine in response. My hands on her hips, I guide her body toward the wall. Her back connects with the drywall behind her, and as she moans quietly into my mouth, my hand begins to vibrate.
We both pause without breaking apart, then instantly begin again. I move my lips to the corner of her mouth, then brush her hair behind her. She gasps when I press my lips to the soft flesh of her neck before her pocket vibrates again. Laying my forehead against hers, I sigh loudly. Breathing heavily, she brings both hands to my chest. I raise my head, dreading what’s next.
“I should probably get going anyway?” She says it like a question she wants me to answer.
Everything I feel right now says to drop to my knees and show her exactly how much I want her — all of her. But everything I’ve felt for years, says to save her from the fucking mess I am.
I move back half a step and sigh again. “Probably.”
She nods her head and pushes off of the wall. Holding open the door so she can pass, I feel the familiarity of the same gesture from just an hour before.
Thedifference is, that just an hour ago, I held the door open to a world of “What-ifs” —
What if she judges me?
What if she doesn’t?
What if she hates me?
What if she doesn’t?
An hour later and this time I hold the door open to a whole different world. A world of “What nows” —
What now that we talked?
What now that I liked it?
What now that we kissed?
What now that I like her?
Stepping onto the quiet street, Claire turns to face me again. “Thanks for the pizza, Jay.” She presses a gentle kiss to my cheek.
In my head, I grab her hand as she goes to leave and pull her into a tight embrace. When I finally let go, I kiss her hard, in the same way I did before. “Thanks for all of it, Claire," I say.
Only I do none of that. I say none of that. Instead, I shove both hands into my pockets and in silence, I watch her walk away.
16
