I want her.
I want to feel her.
I need to feel a body next to mine.
Herbody.
I rest my head on her shoulder breathing in the skin on her neck that is calling to my lips like bees to honey, hoping and praying that I don’t have a heart attack on the spot, because I’m telling you, that’s what this feels like.
“I would never allow anything to happen to you, Ciara,” I whisper in her ear. “As long as I’ll be here. Nothing.” I sigh and I know full well I’m not saying this because Patrick is her brother and my best friend and because I’ve seen her grow up right under my nose from the day she was born.
I’m saying it because I really think it, because my instinct to protect her comes from someplace deeper and more intimate. It’s something that needs room to grow and is clawing its way to come to light. It’s so deep within me that I’m not able to weed it out.
Because I need to feel once again something that goes beyond this trench I hide in, that pushes past that barbed wire that protects my heart and the wall that I’ve built around myself. Something that brings me back among the living, real living and that stirs me up, heart and soul.
And that something, damn it, only comes out when I’m around her.
•••
We get in the car and sit in silence for ten minutes. She just looks out the window. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt and she’s holding herself, arms clasped around her cardigan almost as if she wanted to protect herself.
“Are you sure you don’t want to say anything to Patrick about this?” I ask her again.
She nods her head without looking at me.
“You should talk with someone.”
“How about you?” she asks, turning suddenly to look at me with a hard, tired expression.
I sit up, ramrod straight in the seat and meet the eyes that are piercing me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh please, Aaron. Let’s not play around. I was on that roof too.”
The roof.I knew sooner or later that would come up.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Are you sure about that? You were having a panic attack. Has it ever happened before?”
“It was just a few minutes. Really, it was nothing.”
“It scared me,” she says, lowering her voice and I can feel my chest knotting up.
“I’m sorry. It certainly wasn’t my intention to scare you.”
“I was worried about you.”
She was worried about me? Once again, I can’t think of the last time anyone has expressed a similar sentiment.
“There’s nothing for you to worry about, Ciara,” I assure her. “And then, these are… adult things.”
What a dumb thing to say, I realize the minute I hear myself say it.
“And what am I? Let’s hear it? Am I a child?”
“I didn’t mean to imply that,” I try to walk-back my stupid remark but by now, the damage has been done.
