Sloane’s silence confirms it. I take a moment to digest the news before rejoining the conversation. I refuse to jump to conclusions and fuck this up before it’s even started.
“It’s okay. Please tell me.”
“Eden, you have to know I never crossed a line with Alex when you and I were together. I had zero interest in anyone.”
I feel my shoulders drop in relief. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll be honest that I had some doubts when you disappeared on me.”
Sloane nods. “Jenna told me, and all I can do is apologise.”
I take her hand. “We’re done with those. I’m not shitting rainbows to find out you’ve been with Alex, but we weren’t together.”
“No, we weren’t, but it still sucks to hear.” Sloane smiles. “I know just how much.”
“I guess you do.”
“I want you, Eden. I want what we had back.”
Swallowing, I clear my throat. “You should know I want the same, Sloane. It’s why we’re in your bedroom right now talking about all kinds of awkward shit.” I laugh.
“I’m sensing a but.”
“Not a but, just a pause. Kissing you messes with my mind. It always has. I do want you, Sloane. Physically and emotionally. Sex is the easy part,” I clarify. Jumping into bed with Sloane is easy. We are so compatible and know each other’s bodies like the back of our hands. That’s never been the problem. It’s the emotional side that needs some major work.
“Eden, we can take this as slow as you want. I’ll do anything.”
My hand reaches for her face and brushes her cheek. The touch stimulates a part of me that seemed to have died when Sloane asked me for space.
“I know you can’t promise me you’ll never push me away again,” I begin. “But I think I need to feel a little more secure in us before we get physical.”
I know my earlier actions are in direct contrast to what I just said, but the space we created and the brief chat have allowed my brain to quiet my libido long enough to think logically.
Sloane slips off the end of the bed and kneels in front of me. She places her hands over mine and waits until I’m looking into her eyes. Eyes that are shining with unshed tears but aren’t reflecting sadness.
“Eden, I can’t promise you I’ll never struggle. I’d be lying. I know I’ll always suffer from anxiety and that sometimes it will make me act irrationally. All I can promise you is that I’m working on it. Constantly. I never want to get as bad as I did in college. I never want to hurt myself or the people I love like that again. All I ask is that you give me a chance. Stick with me through the hard time and I’ll do everything in my power to let you in.”
“I’m here, Sloane. I always was.”
She nods and squeezes my hand. “Yes, you were. I just wasn’t ready to accept that I needed you or deserved you. I know different now. I am surrounded by love, and even if I do waver in the future, I know none of you would let me drown like I did before.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” I reply. Tugging on her hands, I draw Sloane into my lap. “Would you be up for dating?”
Pure joy blossoms on her face. “I would love nothing more than to date you, Eden.”
Feeling triumphant, I draw Sloane’s face down until our foreheads are touching. “I’m still going to kick your arse in the next race,” I whisper. Sloane chuckles into our embrace before capturing my lips in a soft, slow kiss. It’s a kiss we’ve shared so many times.
But this one is different becauseweare different.
We break only when we have to, our heads pressed together, giggling in the pockets of each other’s air. Sloane crawls off my lap after the last make-out session left us both on the precipice of losing control. She gently releases me, and I miss the weight of her immediately. We suddenly turn shy and awkward, like we’re seventeen again.
There’s something beautiful about that. Maybe all beginnings are just disguised second chances. Wow, that’s the tortured artist in me showing. Blimey, I’ll start waxing poetic about love and loss soon. Jesus, I’m too much sometimes. Where’s Pia when I need her? She always manages to keep me in line. Yammering on about beginnings and second chances would’ve earned me a smack upside the head if she were here.
Sloane grins, sparking her dimples. “You want tea? Or a beer?” Her voice lilts, half-serious, half-hopeful.
I don’t want tea or beer, but I nod anyway. I’m happy just to be here. I trail her to the kitchen and lean against the counter as she puts the teakettle on the stove.
“You’re driving, so tea is probably best.”
I remain silent. As she moves about the space, I let my eyes wander. Her apartment is different from the last time I was here. Cosier. There are plants everywhere now, and little sticky notes crowding the fridge. I want to read every one, to soak up everything that makes her who she is now.
