He laughs; I want to claw his face off.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
“You can’t say that!”
“Why not?” He’s genuinely confused. “You are. Maybe more beautiful than when I met you. Your bangs are longer.”
I blow said bangs out of my face, flustered yet again.
“We’re fighting, for one,” I remind him.
In a smooth motion, his arm is back around me and we’re dancing like we never stopped.
I don’t know how he does it, what silent superpower he has buttoned up beneath his loud shirts, but as much as he makes me want to scream, me in his arms feels as right as the weight of an old brass bookend.
“Let’s not fight then so I can tell you you’re beautiful.”
“And you’re annoying.” There’s barely a trace of my irritation. “You know that?”
He twirls me. “Yet here you are.”
Here I am, and—damn him—in this parking lot, I feel more for Nash in mere minutes than I have in two years with Jonathan.
Jonathan will give Bennie and me a good life; I don’t have a single doubt about that. Our days will be without stress and filled with consistency. Time will pass so easily. I’ll give Bennie everything I told Cap I wanted her to have.
But there won’t be this.
There won’t be me feeling part beast because the man looking at me drives me completely mad. There won’t be tongues on fingers and phone calls when we’re sitting right next to each other.
Jonathan will give me a steady life; Nash will set me on fire.
Jonathan will solve problems; Nash will hold my hand through them.
Jonathan will drop Bennie off at school; Nash might hate me for her existence.
With the next roll of thunder, the first drop of rain lands on my shoulder. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, my body doing whatever Nash tells it to as he moves.
A second drop—gentle and delicate—kisses my forehead. The third my cheek.
I don’t know the last time I’ve stood in the rain, and though the drops are small and hardly anything, there’s a magic to them. A nostalgic quality that both takes me back to being a kid filled with freedom while holding me captive with its nowness.
“It’s raining,” I say with a scrunched smile.
There’s a funny angle to Nash’s lips. A different meaning to the way his eyes dance.
More drops fall.
“What?”
“Please don’t marry someone else,” he says, dragging his hands from my body to my face, bringing us close enough I could count every drop of rain spitting on his skin. “And please let me kiss you.”
I still.
Because I want to. Even though I’m with Jonathan. Even though I loved Nash and he left. Even though he has no idea Bennie is his.
My “You can’t” sounds likeplease do.
Instead of backing away like I should, I follow his lead.
