Riley
Ray gave me a ride home in his car. We finished late tonight and no one felt like walking home. We had a show at eight that I was working on, and after closing and everything, when I got out of his car it was already eleven.
I threw myself onto the bed, my hands over my face, attempting to keep away the thoughts that have engulfed my mind since I saw him at the hospital that day.
I tried to keep some distance between us, to be indifferent and show him his charm had no effect on me. I even tried treating him badly.
Nothing worked.
I’ve learned to fake it through the years, to mask all of my emotions and to let people only see what they wanted to see in me – to give off what they were willing to accept or understand. But it’s useless to do it with him. It’s useless to pretend I don’t tremble when he talks to me, or try not to blush when he looks at me, or lose my breath when he gets too close.
Ian O’Connor is everywhere. He invades your life and takes control of it. He’s all over me, covering me like a second skin. It’s as if he can feel all of my emotions. He’s dangerous. He’s something I should avoid if I want to stay on my feet because he hears everything, even if he says nothing.
Even if you try to hide yourself, he finds you; and I’m not sure I want him to.
But when I heard his voice on the phone, something in me flickered. All the memories, the wounds, the fear turned around. All I thought about were our nights curled up on the sofa, close, relaxed. Of our chats, and the laughing. Of all of those looks full of meaning. Of what I felt when I was in his arms. Of what I still feel, what I always do if I close my eyes and let my heart speak freely.
I let my feelings run free just for a second and something invaded me, something stronger than fear, stronger than the past, disappointment and refusal. Stronger even than the solitude I’ve carried around with me my entire life. It’s something I’ve been forced to live with, something I’ve become used to. A gap that only he can fill. He feels it, exactly like I do.
Because loneliness isn’t something you can see or touch, but you feel it. You feel it in your head, in your body and your veins.
You feel it in your heart. It sleeps with you, eats with you, accompanies you to work.
It lives with you.
And you feed off of it. You give it space, let it take control of you. You simply let it be. You can’t fight it.
And as much as you can surround yourself with people, you still feel it because it becomes a part of you. It almost becomes comforting, because you can count on it being there and in some way it’s your only loyal companion.
And yet, with him, I don’t feel it. For once in my life it’s loneliness that is excluded, not me – and I think that’s only possible with one person in this world. The only other person who shares your loneliness in his heart and is afraid to let it go.
That person has found his way back into my house, and into my life.
He asked me for a chance and I’m giving him one – well, my heart is. I’m giving him my trust.
I’m letting him into my little hideaway.
I’m giving him a part of myself.
A year ago, Ian O’Connor broke my heart. A year later, I’m ready to let him do it again.
Ian comes back from the kitchen with two bottles of water in his hands but as soon as I look at him, he stops still in the doorway.
“What?” I ask him with my mouth full.
I’m not able to spit out an entire phrase because the way the looks at me makes my stomach flutter, a sensation I thought I’d left in the past.
His face opens into a big smile, showing off his perfect teeth. I realise he’s got a chipped tooth and a busted lip that give him a sexy, mischievous look, that his body is filling in the doorway like it were a picture frame – and here I am staring at him, as my stomach does a double flip.
I feel my cheeks burning and a strange sensation threatens my body, unable to respond to the alarm signals.
He smiles cheekily as he goes to sit down and I swallow my pizza. I shake my head a little, causing my glasses to slip down my nose. He lifts a hand and with one finger, pushes them back into place. I could faint from the emotion that overwhelms me.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before nailing me with his eyes again.
“Are you free on Sunday? At about three o’clock? There’s a game and I’ve got tickets, you know, for friends, relatives…I thought that maybe…you know, if you felt like it…”
“Are you asking me to come to the stadium to watch a game?” I say already in a panic.
