It’s just heartbreaking that our love is forbidden.
TWENTY
IAN
The followingdays speed by too quickly for my liking. I clasp onto each moment with an iron clad hold, yet it slips away, flowing through my fingers like water—unstoppable.
I try to prolong our time together, stretch it further. But the fucking time just ticks unperturbed, leaving me chasing another euphoric second like a madman on his quest to his last strand of sanity.
She’s folding the last of her clothes in the luggage.
I pace around, torn apart.
These last ten days have been the happiest days of my life. I’ve felt alive in a way that football has never offered me.
She casts a cautious look my way, a sad expression shadowing her radiant face. My thoughts go back to last night when we made love while the goodbye lingered in the air, a dark cloud cloaking our intimacy.
I opened my mouth to tell her I want more, us not to end, but she placed a finger on my lips, silencing me. “We’re going back. We must return to things as they were.”
But how? Despondency consumed me, and I slept like shit, tossing and turning in bed.
I know she feels the same, but once again, she erected the barrier between us, not giving me another chance but to accept it. I can’t, and that leaves us at this huge impasse.
“Done,” she says meekly.
I carry her luggage as well as mine, leaving the dream of us back in the villa.
At the front desk, we check out and the desk clerk looks at us expectantly. “I hope you enjoyed your time with us.”
I nod. Lilly offers a small smile.
Paradise ended. Suck it up.
The sun shines brightly in the sky while clouds gather in my head. Gloom accompanies me as we hop into the jeep. Each mile brings me closer to not having her. Fuck. This guts me.
On the tarmac, I offer her my hand. Lilly stares at my outstretched hand for long seconds, a broken smile plastered on her face. She expels a long sigh, but takes it. It does nothing to stop the fiery ball of frustration rolling up and down my esophagus. I half expect to exhale some smoke.
The flight attendant greets us and we take our seats across from each other as the pilot prepares for take-off.
Once in the air, Lilly fidgets with her fingers, avoiding eye contact.
“Would you like something to drink?” the flight attendant asks.
Lilly opts for sparkling water, and I ask for a whiskey to numb the agony ripping me apart.
I sip from my glass as she looks outside the small, round window. “Thank you. I had a wonderful time.”
A sound ringing of half a growl, half a sigh tumbles out of my mouth.
My mood plummets with every hour that brings us closer home, going through a cycle of torment. Hell must be the place where you repeatedly envision what you want but can’t get.
My body misses the weight of her pressed against mine, us coming together in and out of bed. I curl my hands in my lap, breathing in and out in a calming rhythm that does nothing to soothe my pain.
“Let’s watch a movie,” she blurts out, her nervousness clear.
Nodding, I follow her on autopilot to the couch. She scrolls through the movies, but I don’t care what she picks.
It bothers me even more that she watches the screen transfixed. It can’t be that interesting, I think as I stare at her side. She feels my stare because the corner of her eye twitches. I don’t know what I am looking for.
