by A E Gamrat
I meant every word of my truth. I would not take back one second and miss out on this pure, soul-crushing kiss with the man of my dreams. Dreams are what keep us moving forward, and Silver was always my motivation, sometimes subconsciously, but always there.
He rips his lips from mine, confessing, “How am I ever going to live up to your standards? You are the sun, and I'm afraid I'll get burned getting too close to you.”
“I could get burned too…you know.”
“No way.” He shakes his head, still caressing me from my fingertips to my shoulder blades. “I will never be good enough for you, but no one is, so I'll try my hardest to prove myself wrong. Show you what you have been missing up until now.”
I hum in appreciation of the idea of being together and being shown true love. One look, when I was a naive young girl, told me how Silver would love me if we ever had the chance. Now, here we stand, and I'm ready for it all.
“Stay with me,” comes tumbling out of my mouth, and the room becomes frozen in time.
Did I ruin the moment? Silver hasn’t moved, and his eyes are giving nothing away. Could it be possible I read the situation wrong? We've been all over each other, and our words have been from the heart. I know his have been, and I believe them all. So why is he standing with a deer in the headlights look on his face?
I can feel my anxiety start to form in my gut, ever so slowly forming and spreading, taking over my nervous system. I want to move out of his touch to gain some composure and not show my instant reaction to his rejecting one. Silver takes a breath, and my body is on alert to see what happens next. Thoughts and questions are flying around in my brain. but not one of them is forming to come out of my mouth. “Argh,” appears, and before I can make one more embarrassing noise, Silver moves.
“Jesus, Gin,” is what comes out. “I don’t…I don’t.” I think flustered Silver is my favorite Silver.
“It’s okay, I didn’t.”
“No, I do, but…”
“Silver, no worries.”
“Damn, woman, let me get my words out.”
“Sorry.”
He raises his eyebrow at me, asking, “Really? What did I just say?”
I exaggerate my lips closing to show him I am ready for his words, and mine will be held back. I mentally cross my fingers because, when it comes to Silver, my mouth has a hard time keeping shut. His smile at my antics has my mouth trying hard to open back up.
“It’s hard for you, isn’t it?” he questions, squishing me back up against him. He's teasing me now, but I'm holding strong and keeping my words to myself. Not even a chuckle is making an appearance. I want to hear what he has to say about my embarrassing question.
If I'm feeling what I think I'm feeling being smashed against him, I know he wants me. He probably wants to be a stand-up guy and treat me right. Swoon…I know, but my body couldn’t care less at this point. Years of no or barely any action in the bedroom have my hands ready to rip his clothes off and my legs ready to open.
“If you rub up against me like that one more time.”
“Yes,” I pant out. There might as well be a sign on my forehead reading Ready for Action.
“You. Are. Killing. Me. Do you really want that?”
“I think so.” Those words push him over, and instead of picking me up and carrying me off to my bedroom, Silver lets me go and takes a huge step back.
“Think we are going to need some space. Never did I imagine you being so bold.”
“I know, right? Me either, you bring it out in me.” Instead of instigating more, I take a seat back on the couch. The more he lets me play and doesn’t get mad or annoyed, the more I want to push him.
“Look, I would love to stay, want to stay, but I've been here three times, and other than the first time, I've been here to apologize. I want to take you out, maybe Friday night will count.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t pout. Plus, I don’t want your boy to completely hate me.”
“Lou is a grumpy bear like the rest of the male population. Will you at least sit with me a little longer?”
“I didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. You might want to change if you are wearing it Friday night.”
I believe him when he says he doesn’t want to get physical yet, but that doesn’t mean I can’t push. “Oh, right.” I stand up. “Would you be able to unzip the back for me?” I ask, looking over my right shoulder. Silver’s reaction is exactly what I planned. I can hear him swallowing his words, and I love every second of it.
Slowly he stands, not taking his eyes off me for one second, letting me know he knows what I'm trying to do, and he’s ready to fight fire with fire. He stands at my back, his hot breath hitting the back of neck, causing goosebumps to coat my body. He raises his hands ever so slowly up my back but doesn’t lay a finger on me. I can feel his hands travel up my spine, causing me to visibly shiver. He might be winning at this game because when his fingertips brush my hair away from my neck…game is over.
I keep my eyes straight ahead so he doesn’t see my submission and my defeat. My body is on edge, and my zipper hasn’t even moved yet. “Please,” I beg, causing him to chuckle, but still he stands behind me only moving his hands.
I like to use my words to torture Silver, and he likes to use his silence to keep me on edge. All of this for me is foreign, and a part of me is worried I’m doing this all wrong. Before another negative thought can cross my mind, the zipper starts to move down one tooth at a time.
Each click echoes in the room, and he’s still not touching me. I can feel his hand at my back, but he holds it inches from my hip, teasing me and torturing me while opening up the back of my dress. “There you go,” he whispers at my neck and gives me a pat on my bum.
The whole process of walking upstairs, finding clothes to put on, and then making my way back down takes a total of ten minutes. If you asked me how long it took or how I found clothes to put on, I couldn’t tell you a second of it. Silver wound my body up tight, patted my bum, and then sent me on my way. How could I possibly know what I did after that?
Then the bastard looks smug as hell when I reenter my living room. I’ve always tried to stay away from cocky guys; they always spelled trouble. I'm over the moon by how cocky he is over me. I want to be wrapped around his finger and vice versa.
The night is winding down, and my body is starting to get heavy. We do not need another incident like the other night, so I start to unravel myself from our evening spooning. A girl could get used to spooning on a nightly basis. The gala is still looming over my head, but I am feeling stronger and stronger about the more I think about it.
*Him agreeing to it right away would be the easy, adult thing to do. Nothing about this is easy, nor are we really feeling like adults at the moment either. The world doesn’t need to know about us officially yet. Some of our friends know about us and Lou, but does everyone need to know…AKA our parents?
I’m not ashamed of what we are doing but feel shameful feelings. A part of me is still on the fence if he really does like me. Crazy, I know, but being insecure doesn’t disappear overnight. I can act confident and take in his want for me, his need to treat me right, but all these wonderful things might not be enough. I thought taking care of my house, kids, and our social lives would be enough. How wrong was I, so how can I be so sure weeks into a courtship?
“I’m not liking the looks you are making.” Silver stares at me, thinking that will put me all together. His sure strength is beyond anything I’ve ever encountered. He acts like he knows this is it for us. There’s no rush to his movements because there’s no need. I’m not going anywhere in his eyes. If he could look at me forever, I’m sure he would hop on that train. “I thought we were in a good place. You are making me nervous.”
Please…making him nervous? If anyone is nervous, it’s me and explains my constipated looks. Since I was little when thinking hard. I’ve been told I look constipated. Let me tell you how uplifting those remarks are fo
r a young girl slash woman.
“Well…I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh oh.” He leans into me, giving me a light shove, trying to get a rise out of me.
“I know.” Silver does have a way of calming me down. “I think at the gala we should go alone and act as friends.”
His eyebrows shoot up into his forehead, and he leans back once again into the couch. Crossing his strong arms, he is not going to let this go and agree right away. There’s no yelling or name-calling from the start. I’m used to explosive fighting, name-calling, and me taking all the blame. Silver seems to be, trying at least, to figure out where I’m coming from.
“I mean,” I rub my hands together for a distraction and help with my thoughts, “I just don’t think going there guns a ’blazing is the right thing to do.”
“Guns a ’blazing?”
“You know…going together, holding hands.”
“So you don’t want to show anyone we are dating, in a relationship, want each other and no one else?”
I nod instead of saying “yes;” I can be such a coward. His eyes are storming mad, but his posture stays relaxed with his arms crossed. If someone would walk in right now, they wouldn’t even know I’m making him mad. Pretty much ruining the end of our night.
“I get it.”
Now it’s my turn for my eyebrows to be in my forehead. Those were words I was not expecting at all.
“Don’t look so shocked. I’m not ready for this to be everyone’s business.”
“So, you agree?”
“Yes…no…I don’t know.” Silver’s body still is a statue on my couch. For some reason I can’t stop obsessing over that fact. He’s not flexing his fingers or running his hands through his hair in frustration or anger. Silver is being Silver, and I don’t feel one ounce of debilitating fear. He is as confused as I am, and I like it. “I know I don’t like it but can wrap my head around why you want this. Our mothers will have a field day over this.”
The thought alone of our mothers together sends a chill up my spine. They will be planning our wedding by the night’s end. “See, the fear is real with the both of us. Your face went white when I brought our mothers up.” He forces out a chuckle, but I can hear the distain seeping through.
“I just…I don’t want to screw up. Please understand,” I mumble, each word stepping on the other. I believe he’ll be okay with this, and it will suck. He calls this a bump we have to overcome, yet I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, losing my footing.
“I get it, don’t worry. We’ll see each other there and act as friends. Once we get our footing together, then we’ll let everyone know.” Bitterness coats me and the room.
I want to take back the whole conversation and apologize. Telling him I wasn’t thinking clearly, and the idea was ridiculous. “Thank you,” I whisper and keep those thoughts to myself. The young me would’ve given in at his standoffish words, swallowing down my nerves and sadness. Silver is a grown man and will have to work through his own feelings. This is the burden I will have to carry, showing him I’m not going to back down so easily.
“Then I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He leans in for a quick kiss on my lips, not lingering for a second.
My heart falls out and follows behind him toward the door, begging he understands where my brain is coming from, and it’s not my heart’s fault.
Chapter Fifteen
Silver
Growing up, Dad always told me the only person to ever make him really nervous was my mother. Even in my twenties and thirties, I couldn’t wrap my head around what my father was really trying to tell me. The last day or so has opened my eyes finally to his words of wisdom.
I felt ripped to shreds leaving Gin’s house the other night. As my car drove away, my heart stayed behind on her front doorstep, hoping to be let back inside. Her request wasn’t absurd and not even surprising, but it stung nonetheless. My stomach has been one giant knot, and eating has become a chore. No one in my life has ever made me feel like this. Through the illness my stomach knotted up, but over what was to come. Having hope for a miracle to losing hope and coming to terms with death.
Text and phone calls have been made, trying to keep myself out of the needy column. Not sure if I’ve succeeded. The need to keep in constant contact is fighting to get out. I can rationalize my thoughts, knowing she wants this but is scared. I feel content for a while, and then the bad thoughts start creeping back in.
Mom and Abby know something is up when we talk. Both have tried to ask without really asking, and I love them both for it but have to keep it to myself. If I say anything, my words would be going against what Gin asked for. Holding the truth back from them is adding to my strain, so I’ve been keeping all conversations short and to the point.
The gala, though, has me seeing and talking to my parents more. None of this is easy; I’ve forgotten how hard it is to keep a secret from my parents. I was probably still living at home the last time I tried to tiptoe around them. While trying to hang decorations and setting up tables, she watches me. A mother always knows when her child is dealing with life changes.
Abby and I might not be blood, but she is mine, so I’ve experienced those same instincts. I’m sure she’s kept situations from me, but we’ve always had an open line of communication. After her mother’s passing, I sat her down and reinforced our father and daughter bond. Nothing will ever take our bond away.
A few coworkers have asked in passing if everything is okay. This nervous energy has taken over my life. I tell everyone I’m fine because I know I will be, but until Gin and I get over this hump, my nerves are wound tight.
The few conversations we’ve had over the phone, I can hear the reluctance in her voice. I love how she’s not backing down from her request, but I also love how unsure she sounds. Wouldn’t repeat that out loud, but for the way I’ve been feeling, it’s nice to know this isn’t easy for her either.
Gin is also trying her best to live her life the way she wants to. I’m sure if I would beg I could wear her down and make her take back what she wants, but what kind of guy would that make me? Selfish asshole immediately comes to mind. This is important to her. How would I feel if it I truly wanted something, and Gin tried to nag me out of it? Her feelings need to be heard whether it makes me happy or not. I am not her, and no matter how I try to proclaim my want for her, until she can feel it one hundred percent, I have to keep on showing her just how much I want her.
I was in a more roommate, even brother role at the end of Tanya’s life. Gin was mentally abused, forced into situations she didn’t want to be in most of her marriage. The poor woman has been forced most of her life. I see and hear more and more the strong, in control of her life woman coming out. It’s a magical sight indeed, and if I’m helping even the tiniest little bit, I feel like the king of the world. My queen is slowly emerging into herself, readying herself to be able to stand next to me.
I saw that woman in her years ago, when we were merely teens. Young Gin didn’t fall into any cliques. She played the game she had to dealing with the likes of her acquaintances, but never did she waver from her true self. Life tends to bury our unapologetic youth self. We need to fit in the older we get. We want coworkers and friends to like us, so we change and mute our true selves. Situations arise and sometimes we change because that is our only way of survival. The only way we can get out of bed in the morning and deal with the day.
It excites me when I see the fire in her eyes standing up for what she believes. She excites me when she lets her guard down for a second, and I see the love in her eyes. I’m excited, but I have to wait, and that’s what I’m doing. I’ll wait for as long as she needs, but I’m not going away.
I’ll prove to her daily I am here, and I’m not going anywhere. She wants to go to this gala thing separately, act like we barely know each other, I can do it all. There will be a smile, probably forced, on my face. Maybe not forced, but it would be a bigger smile if I were able to hold her hand an
d walk around with her on my arm.
Watching this whole evening come together for my mother, by my mother has me so proud, there are no words. Abby is upset she is missing it, but me going to school tomorrow to see her helps. Abby hates missing out on Grandma time at the flower shop. I’ve told Abby the short version of Gin and my relationship. She knows we grew up at the same time and knew of each other. Gin wants to formally meet her, instead of a surprise meeting. So, I didn’t really push for Abby to show up tonight. I feel crappy, but I’m trying to keep everyone happy. It’s not easy keeping three women happy who know so little about each other.
I should be picking Gin up, not driving alone to the gala. She should be in my car as I drive toward my mother’s store, sitting next to me, fidgeting with her dress, hoping she looks good enough, and worrying about our parents finding out.
Reality is I’m dressed up, driving alone, and fidgeting about the whole evening. Worried how I’m going to react and what possible hurdles might pop up. The radio is blasting some classic rock to calm my soul and relax me. The wind whipping at my face messes up my hair, makes my eyes water, but it doesn’t calm my nerves. I was hoping for the free spirit feeling, but that is not the case.
The stars are slowly starting to appear as the sun goes down, and I’m driving down the road wishing the sun would hang around for a few more hours. The night brings out the shadows and dark corners for people and feelings to hide. My hands clutch the wheel and then let go. Over and over again they go white with the strength of my grip. Everyone tells me the evening will be fine, and everything will work out, but I’m not feeling it yet. Their hopefulness is speculation. Can’t put faith in speculation.
I park my car back behind the shop, so ample parking spots go to the invitees. There really wasn’t a set time for me to show up, but I can help with last minute moves, and I needed to be here before Gin.
Walking through the back door, I barely miss running right into my parents wrapped up in each other. Seems this gala night has upped the ante for romance between them. If I thought their displays of affection were gross before, then the last few days have been unbearable. I really try to not think about it or even acknowledge it’s happening. Literally running into them has us all looking at each other in shock.