I snap too. We’re a clash of tongues and teeth, muttered curses, and whispered praises. Time stops and speeds up at the same time. Eventually I notice the sun’s gone down. But my soul left my body at one point. I cried, then tried to hide it. It was everything, everywhere, all at once, but right here, right now. Amazing. It was amazing.
Later, in the dark, we laugh as we right ourselves. We are both happy and a little in awe and maybe even a little freaked out.
All we did was fool around in the field like a couple of teens and still it felt…big. Important.
Okay. I’m a lot freaked out.
“Happy birthday,” I joke.
“Best bloody birthday of my whole life,” he chuckles as he tucks his shirt back in.
I hop down from the truck and dust myself off.
He watches and says, “I love that dress, did I mention that?”
I smile, “You did. Something about how easy it was to move out of your way.”
“Yes, right. Let’s go home so I can see what it looks like on the floor.”
I huff a small, sad laugh, “This was it, Aiden.”
“What?” He pauses, one half of his shirt still untucked.
“This was it. You got it out of your system,” I explain as I start to walk back.
“Got what out of my system?”
“Me.”
He grabs my arm to stop me, “Itreallypisses me off when you talk about yourself that way. What about the last hour made you think I wouldn’t want to do that again and again and again?”
I pull my arm away, “The novelty will wear off, trust me.”
“Novel…you know what? I don’t trust you. I’m finding you highly untrustworthy. You don’t see yourself accurately at all. Or me, or us,” he says, stomping behind me.
“There is no us, Aiden.”
“Bollucks, you—”
I turn and face him, “I am not available! I’m not up for this! I can’t, I won’t…I just can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head.
“You don’t need to. You’re leaving in what, two, three weeks? This was it, tonight. It was nice, and it’s over.”
“It wasnice?”He mutters.
I go on, “Now we go back to being friends.”
“Friends,” he sneers the word. “You’re really so afraid I’ll sweep you away and you’ll fall in love with me and then I’ll leave you behind?” He asks on a rant, not waiting for an answer. He adds, softer, “You don’t seem to be in any danger of that at all from where I’m standing.”
He starts to walk past me. I start to say I’m sorry again but he holds up a hand.
“No, it’s fine. You’re right. Back to friends.” But he won’t look at me as he says it, and he doesn’t wait for me to catch up with him. He doesn’t look back as he stalks by the barn out into the crowd.
Every cell in my body wants to follow after him. I want to hug him and explain, lay it all out. All my baggage and pain and issues laid bare.
But it’s a long, horrible, embarrassing story and for what? I. Am. Right. This is pointless! He is leaving!
