I spun around, dismissing him. I took a step, two, and then stopped. I clenched my hands into fists. I wanted to punch him, make him feel something. Get a damned response out of him. I turned to face him again.
He hadn’t moved. His face was the same impenetrable wall that screamed at me how much he didn’t care.
“You’re just like everybody else,” I said softly.
With finality.
If he had something to say, I didn’t wait for it. I ran to my car.
My lungs felt full, my heart beating fast. I could feel the blood pounding in my head. I closed my eyes and hung my head, trying to calm myself.
I said what I came here to say. That was all I wanted. Right?
So why did I feel…empty? Incomplete. Something was missing and unfulfilled.
After a few seconds, I looked up. He was gone.
My throat tightened. I felt my body tense as I stared at his closed door. I was waiting. Waiting.
For what?
Waiting for what?
And then his porch light flicked off.
I got my answer.
The anger I was nursing inside fell away. Just fell away. But what replaced it was worse.
Rejection.
It felt like a heavy cloak had wrapped around me and a weight had settled inside my chest.
“Fuck him,” I whispered in the dark. “Fuck him.”
I reversed out of the driveway quickly. I should get the hell out of here, but my hands were shaking. My car idled for a moment as I looked down, took a deep breath. Took another.
“Okay.” I nodded. “Okay.”
I hit the gas. And screamed.
“Oh shit!”
I slammed on my brakes hard, my car screeching to a halt. And there he was, standing in front of my car.
The light from the streetlamp lit his face. He looked big and solid, his shoulders wide, his legs long and thick. It had stopped raining, but it was cold outside, and I noticed he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“What the fuck?” I yelled.
I stared at him, he stared right back. The light revealed the change in his eyes. I couldn’t see the blue of them from the distance, but I knew they weren’t cold anymore. They were wild, intense, and filled with an emotion my heart refused to recognize.
For a moment, I thought about running him over. Oh, I was tempted to. It would teach him not to toy with anyone’s feelings. Or let him know how much he had hurt me.
Then he pulled away, straightened. Slowly, carefully, he walked to my side of the car. There was a ringing in my ears as I watched him stop beside my window. He waited.
He could’ve opened the door. It was unlocked. But I knew that he knew he’d lost the privilege to do that now. He wasn’t allowed anymore.
I looked at him accusingly as he leaned down to face me.
“Kara.”
How unfair was it that his face could still get a response out of me after everything he’d done? Or maybe it was his deep, dark voice that sounded so remorseful. Or his searching, blue eyes. I could tell from them that he’d let his walls down, but not completely. The walls were still there, ready to come back up the moment he felt threatened.
“Let me talk to you,” he implored.
Unbelievable!
“Please,” he added. So softly, so sincerely it made my heart skip a beat.
There was an undeniable pain in his voice that tightened my throat.
When I met him, I knew he was the kind of person who didn’t say please. And I was right. What made him say it now?
I didn’t trust him. My mind rejected anything to do with him. It was telling me to drive away, forget about him. Do the logical thing.
But my heart was screaming something else.
“I…” He lifted his hand as if he was going to offer it to me to hold, but it fell away instead. “You can drive away now, and I would understand. But…” I saw his throat working. His hand shook as he rubbed his mouth. “Please don’t.”
I looked at his eyes directly.
“You’re an asshole,” I said.
“I know.”
“Why should I listen to you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
“All right. I’m fucking out.”
“Kara.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. I licked my lips. They felt dry.
“Open your window.”
I cracked it open a little bit.
“A little more,” he said. Was there a hint of a smile on his mouth?
How dare he smile right now?
“Will you come out of the car and talk to me?”
“That depends.”
He waited.
Oh, I knew he could be infuriatingly patient. We were complete opposites. I didn’t have any patience. But that wasn’t what mattered now. Why should I give him a chance? Why should I listen to him now?
There was no explanation. My body was already doing it before I even made up my mind. He moved away as I pushed the door open and got out of the car. I stepped away from him. Far, far away from his reach.
“Talk,” I said. As coldly as I could.
“Will you look at me?”
“No,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest. “I will not look at you.”
But he waited.
I blew out a loud breath and glared up at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Kara.”
My traitorous heart jumped in my chest. He was releasing the heaviness wrapped around it, melting it away. I fought it. Fought it hard.
“You think saying sorry is enough?”
He looked down for a moment, then lifted his eyes back up to mine. He looked like a man fighting with himself.
Since I’d met him, he’d always looked confident, sure of himself. But now as he stood in front of me, he looked uncertain for the first time.
He opened his mouth, about to say something, then closed it. He looked up at the sky, blew out a frustrated breath. Rubbed his hand over his face.
I wanted to tell him to spit it out, whatever the hell he wanted to say, but I was afraid he’d close up again if I did. I shouldn’t be with this man. I shouldn’t give him another chance, but the raw need I saw in his face—the need for me to stay and listen to him—was clear to me. And it struck something in my heart.
Your heart can’t be trusted.
“I’ve never felt the way I feel about you with anyone before. And…” He raked his hands in his dark, silky hair. “And it’s fucking killing me. I don’t want to screw it up, but I ruin everything around me and I don’t want…with you… I don’t know where I’m going with this.”
There were butterflies in my stomach. And they were fighting with each other.
“There are things that you don’t know about me and that I can’t tell you right now,” he said. “That I need to protect you from.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know that. I know you can. But can you protect yourself from me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want the things around me…around you. Everything always turns to shit around me.” I saw his throat working.
What was he hiding from me? He was so closed off. So private. So careful of what he shared about himself. Everything around him was shrouded in mystery. I practically didn’t know anything about him.
“There is no bet.” His voice was hard, his eyes looked at me directly.
I looked at him, confused. It took me a few moments to catch up to what he was saying.
Oh. He was addressing what I’d said earlier when I was in the middle of my tirade.
“I would never do that to you.”
I believed him. I was so screwed.
“I don’t air my bus
iness to anyone. Not even my friends,” he continued. “I told you before, and I’m telling you again: I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Who was that, then? The one who owned the Ferrari?”
He loomed over me. I should’ve been intimidated by his sheer size alone, but oddly enough, I felt safe with him. I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Physical harm, at least. And for now, he wanted my forgiveness. I knew my heart was safe with him. At least for now. But I also knew that could change. I wasn’t naive anymore. Or I wanted to think I wasn’t.
“No matter what, it’s not somebody you have to worry about. I won’t let anything hurt you,” he said.
Was that what he was doing earlier when he told me to leave? Would the owner of that car really hurt me? Why?
I won’t let anything hurt you, he’d said. But he already had. And I realized with shock that the only thing that could hurt me was him. My stomach flipped. Why would he have that power over me? Why had I handed it to him? In so short a time too.
“That’s not good enough,” I told him. “I need to know more.”
“It’s going to have to be good enough for now. All I know is that I don’t want you mixed up with the bad things in my life. I can’t let that happen. You are,” he said, his voice deepening. He paused for a moment, his eyes searching mine. “You are important to me.”
His words, spoken with certainty, were a balm to my heart. I had no clue what was going on with his life, but it seemed like he wasn’t ready to tell me. I can’t tell you right now, he’d said. So maybe someday he would.
Someday? Was I already thinking about us being together in the future? Shit, why?
“What now?” I asked.
He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “I don’t know.” He sounded defensive.
“If you can’t explain it right now, then just tell me something about you. I hardly know who you are.”
He opened his mouth, about to say something, and stopped when he looked behind me in the distance. His eyes widened. I was going to turn around, see what he was looking at when he said, “You should stay away from me.”
Frustrated, I glared at him.
“You shouldn’t have come here tonight,” he added.
“What?”
He was doing it again. He was pushing me away.
“Are you going to tell me to leave again?” I demanded.
He looked at me without saying anything. But it was clear in his eyes.
Yes. I’m telling you to leave again.
I thought that we’d progressed somehow after our conversation. Progressed in this…relationship, whatever the hell it was, but it was turning out that nothing changed.
“You’re a piece of fucking work!” I yelled at him.
“Go home, Kara.”
“You know what? I will!”
Because if I didn’t, I had a feeling I’d punch him eventually. He was so stubborn. I slid in my car, realized that the engine was still running.
Damn it. My gas.
Adding that to his list. I’m making a fresh list.
I stepped on it. I could see him bathed in the light of my car’s taillights. An angel pushed out from heaven, trying to find his way back. So lonely. Solitary. Refusing everyone’s love. His eyes showed how needy he was, but that was where it ended. He wouldn’t speak it.
I let out a sigh, stepped on my brakes.
I’m done. It’s either now or never.
I reversed my car. I saw him startle, his eyes widening as he jumped back. Some memory in my brain told me that looked familiar, as if I’d seen him do that before.
I reversed too far before I hit the brakes, but I was in a hurry. I swung the car door open, jumped out of it, and walked to him. Faster, faster until I was running.
His eyes were on me. So focused on me. As if I were the only one who existed in his world.
I heard his sharp intake of breath as I wrapped my hands around the collar of his shirt, pulled him down to me. And I kissed him.
I kissed him because he was lonely, and I wanted to remove the sadness in his eyes.
I kissed him because I had to. I wanted to.
I kissed him because… Goddammit. I’m falling in love with him.
I didn’t wait for his reaction. I jumped back in my car, stepped on the gas.
Damn, I thought. I’m happy.
* * *
There seemed to be a permanent smile on my face as I drove home, as I walked to where my dad was sitting on the couch, watching TV.
It was late, but I knew he was waiting for me. He was probably worried because I’d stomped out in anger earlier. He looked sleepy and tired, but I knew he wanted to talk to me and check if everything was okay. His eyes, the same color as mine, studied me as I sat beside him.
He muted the TV, just as he normally would when there was something we needed to talk about.
I was smiling like a loon. We looked at each other. Five seconds, ten, fifteen. And then he smiled too.
“All good?” he asked.
“All good, Dad.”
He nodded. “Good. Your hair’s wet.”
“It’s raining.” I yawned.
“You should get something to eat. Want me to heat up some food for you?”
“I’m tired. Going to bed.” I got up.
“Sometime, I’m going to sit you down and I’m going to have to CIA-interrogate you about what’s going on.”
I laughed nervously. “I know. I’ll tell you. I promise, but not yet.”
He nodded. “All right. Make sure you do. Love you, sweetheart.”
The moment I closed my bedroom door behind me, I squeaked out a joyful “Eeeee!” and jumped in my bed.
I grabbed my pillow, hugging it tight in my arms. Was this how it felt to be in love?
As if nothing could go wrong, as if nothing could piss me off. Everything was just so damn good.
But wasn’t this just too fast? Even though it felt like we’d known each other for a long time, the truth was it’d only been a few days. It couldn’t be real yet, could it?
Was love at first sight real?
I thought back to the very first day I saw him outside the lecture hall when, somehow, I had known—no, I’d felt that he was going to be a part of my life.
I turned on my side, closed my eyes, hugged my pillow with both hands and feet. So, do we date now?
I bit my lip, so I couldn’t squeal like a super-excited seal.
Cameron Jeremiah Saint Laurent.
Wow. How hawt was his name? Scorching.
I wanted to get to know him better. I wanted him to open up to me, without hesitation. I was going to peel him like a sexy banana, until I knew everything about him. It was just so weird feeling this way.
But if he wasn’t ready, that was fine. I knew how hard it was to get him to talk about himself. I could be patient.
I knew though that he wanted to get to know me better. Like his version of better. That was fine. I guessed I wanted that too. But not right away. Maybe in a few years.
Making out was fine. Maybe even…second base?
He’s a guy though. Guys nowadays aren’t interested in a relationship without sex. Hello? What century are you living in?
I sat up quickly, my hair flipping against my face. I flicked it off.
Besides, you do remember that make-out sesh you had with him, right? He had no qualms letting you know what he wanted.
Well, I’d just have to have a talk with him. Communication is the key with these things. He knew I was a virgin. He knew where I stood when it comes to sex. If he didn’t, I’d let him know.
I didn’t play games when it came to relationships. If I did, I’d have gone out with a number of guys already. My dad had never even dated after my mom left him. I wouldn’t make the same mistake
he did. I’d seen how hurt he was after she left. I didn’t want that for myself, and I didn’t want my dad to watch me experience that. It would just be another heartbreak for him. I had been very careful.
I didn’t date just for the moment. Or just to have fun. If I decided to be with a guy, it was because I was serious. I had forever in my mind.
What was the point in continuing to date him if I knew he wasn’t going to be the one?
Maybe he was the one, maybe he wasn’t. But I was going in with the knowledge—or hope—that maybe…maybe he was.
Take it slow for now. Get to know each other. Don’t be rash and say he’s the one. For goodness’ sake, you just met the guy!
He’s the one, though. I can feel it.
Maybe I was scared a little. Okay, a lot. But if I had a pyramid of emotions, feeling scared wouldn’t be dominant. Happiness and excitement were.
I grabbed my phone, hoping I’d see a text from him. I felt a little disappointed when I didn’t.
But that was fine. He wasn’t the type to text. Should I text him though? Maybe he needed a prompt. I should start, and maybe he’d do the same.
I opened my inbox, laughing quietly when I saw his contact name.
SOS meant Spawn of Satan. I should change it.
I went to my contacts and changed it to Cameron. Then changed it to Cameron Jeremiah. Then changed it to Saint Laurent. Then changed it to Bigfoot. Then My Crush. In the end, I settled for Cameron. And typed a text message to him.
See you tomorrow, Skyscraper. Same time. Good night.
Damn, I forgot to add an emoji.
I sent a smiley emoji after that.
I hugged my phone to my chest, waiting for his reply until I fell asleep.
* * *
The next day felt like a present. The day was a little brighter, happier. Well, it was raining a little bit, but what did it matter? I was going to see him soon. My heart was happy.
I didn’t even need coffee.
All right, I did, but that was beside the point. I meant figuratively. After coffee, I hopped in the shower, did my morning routine. Put makeup on carefully. I was smiling all the while. I should add a second coat of mascara, I thought, since I wanted to wear my glasses today.
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