by Lori L. Otto
I swivel in the barstool to face him, taking him by the collar and pulling him toward me. We share another incredible kiss, and for a moment, I’ve actually forgotten that he might be expecting a verbal response from me. I compose myself with a few small breaths. “Jack,” I say, my eyes avoiding his, “I’m not ready.”
“I didn’t think so,” he says, kissing my forehead quickly and picking up the empty plate and putting it in the dishwasher. I watch him intently, trying to read his expression, but he keeps his face angled away from mine while he immerses himself in household chores. “Listen,” he says, “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, and it’s getting pretty late. Are you ready to go?”
Okay, so, I’m not ready yet, but I’m not ready to go home, either... He’s clearly upset, put out with me and my response. My sister’s words echo in my mind. He won’t wait forever. “Alright,” I say, unsure.
“I’ll go grab your jacket,” he says, leaving me sitting alone in the kitchen. The last thing I wanted was for us to fight tonight. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. I feel horrible, but have no idea how to make it better. I put my head in my hands while I wait for him to return. “Ready?” he says, holding my jacket out to help me put it on.
“Jack–”
“Emi, it’s okay,” he says before I can try to smooth things over. “I’ll wait.” He still looks disappointed. “Come on.” I follow him quietly to his car. How long will he wait? I can’t leave him hanging.
“So, what are you doing tomorrow?” I ask to break the silence on the way to my apartment.
“I’m actually helping Marie move,” he tells me. He stares straight ahead, and I’m sure he can feel my stare boring into him. Marie? I didn’t know they still talked.
“Oh,” I say, unable to hide my surprise. “Okay.” More silence, the rest of the way home. He pulls up to my building and lets Marcus open the door for me. He normally gets out to open my door. “Please don’t be mad,” I plead with him.
“I’m not mad, Emi,” he assures me, his tone still short, aggravated. I put my hand on top of his, rubbing his fingers with my thumb. He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it slowly. “Good night.” I had wanted him to really kiss me, but I guess we were finished with that, for tonight at least.
Marcus helps me out of the car, and I tell Jack good night before closing the door.
Once upstairs, I quietly change into my pajamas and wash my face, not wanting to wake my sister or Clara. I grab a bottle of water before heading to the bed, pulling my computer into my lap to surf the web for a little bit. My mind is still churning, processing, and I know I won’t be able to go to sleep for awhile.
Marie? Really? He hadn’t mentioned her in all the times we’ve hung out... it seems strange... like he’s hiding something. Surely he’s not seeing her again... right? He had told me he wasn’t interested in anyone else... but have I been making him wait too long? He reiterated it tonight that he would continue to wait... but what if he’s just referring to a relationship? Maybe he’s sleeping with her. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to stop things tonight.
No way. I can’t let myself think like this. And so what if he is sleeping with her? I told him he could see other women until I made up my mind. I can’t be jealous. I can’t be mad. But the thought of him with someone else is driving me insane. No, we’re not “together” but I consider myself seeing him exclusively. I don’t want to be with anyone else.
I don’t want to be with anyone else. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s really all there is to it. I want to be with him, and only him. I have been worrying about feeling whole first, so I can love him enough. But the truth is, he makes me completely happy... and I don’t feel like I’m missing any part of myself when I’m with him. I may be missing the part that Nate took with him, but there is a whole other level of satisfaction, pleasure, happiness that comes when I am with Jack.
But the thought of losing that, too, is just too much to bear. I couldn’t live through loss like that again. But I think I’m in too deep at this point. My heart stops at the realization. Here I have been putting off being with him while I make the conscious choice of putting myself out there to be hurt again... and in the process, this process of becoming his friend, considering the options, kissing him... I’ve already made that decision. Losing him to anything, anyone, would be too much to bear. Not just death... that’s just one way of losing him. The thought of telling him, ‘No, Jack, I don’t want to see you anymore because I can’t give you enough,’ makes me sick to my stomach. Thinking of him with Marie makes me angry. It hurts me no matter what.
These are variables I can control, though. I can tell him that I do love him, enough. I can tell him that I don’t want him to see anyone else. I can give him all of myself, and avoid this inherent loss. The only thing I can’t control is... death... and although it’s inevitable, it’s unlikely to happen soon.
Unlikely, but not impossible. God, I’m torn. I don’t ever want to lose him.
I stop staring at the computer and shut it down, feeling as if something is resolved in my mind. A quiet knock on the door startles me.
After checking through the peephole, I open the door for Jack, putting my finger over my lips and nodding to the room where Clara and Jen are sleeping. He walks past me, across the room, to the window. He sits down on the love seat, and I follow him.
“You left this,” he says, handing me my iPod.
“Thanks.”
“Listen, Emi,” he says, holding my hands in his.
“No, let me apologize first,” I interrupt. “You’ve been so patient with me, and I think I took advantage of you tonight. Once you kissed me, I just wanted more. I had asked you to wait, and then I sort of moved forward without telling you. I’m sorry.”
He sighs heavily. “I don’t mind,” he says. “Really. I want you to be sure about me. I just want what you’re feeling to be about me and not about what you’ve been missing with him gone.”
“Wow, is that what you think is going on?”
“Some days,” he says. “I really appreciate that you confide in me your deepest feelings... I’m just not sure if they’ll ever be for me, instead of him.”
“They will,” I say, then shake my head. “No, they are. They’re just different... It’s complicated.” I don’t know what I’m saying... I’m probably making this all worse. “Jack, about Marie. I understand I said you could see other people, but honestly, I’m not okay with that anymore. Maybe that’s not fair of me... but I can’t stand the thought of you and her together.”
“It’s not fair, Emi,” he says, “if you’re not going to decide to commit to a relationship with me.”
“I know.” I know I’m wrong to even bring it up.
“It’s not fair, but it’s such a non-issue... I’m not seeing her. She lost her job and has to move, and she really doesn’t have any guy friends to help her. I had planned to tell you about it tonight... but the night didn’t exactly turn out how I expected it to. In fact, you caught me completely by surprise, Emi.”
“I know.”
“You have to know that you are the only woman I want to be with,” he says. “I want you, so badly, you have no idea how difficult it was to say no to you tonight... and I sense something’s still holding you back, but damn it, Emi... I’m ready. And I get that us sleeping together is a turning point for you. I understand that. I respect that. And it’s not something I would take lightly, either... but it’s a natural progression of things, and I think we’re there. I love you, Emi. I want you that way.”
I nod. I want him, too. “Sometimes, I just feel like I’m being pulled in a million different directions– by my own emotions. In any given hour, I go through grief and sadness and happiness and love and hate and loss and sorrow and desire and regret and indecision... and if I stop long enough to focus on one of them, I’m okay. I can digest that emotion, commit to it, act on it, and then move on. But most of the time, it happens so fast that I can’t quite
grasp on to one long enough to really feel it. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”
“Yeah, Emi, it makes sense, but it sounds like you know what you have to do. Take control. Let yourself... feel... something... for me.”
“I’m trying,” I explain. “I am.”
“You have to start putting the past behind you. I want a future with you. Don’t you see that?”
“Yes,” I whisper, a lump forming in my throat.
“I want you so badly, Emi, in every possible way. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“I can.”
“Well, do you feel the same?” His frustration is palpable, seems to be filling all the air around me, taking away all of my oxygen.
My heart pounding, my eyes watering, I barely manage to whisper my answer. “Please don’t rush me, I’m just not ready...” When I blink, a tear falls down my cheek. His shoulders slump, his head bows to the floor.
“I shouldn’t have come over.” He begins to walk toward the door.
“Jack, why are you doing this?” I cry to him, following him, holding on to the back of his shirt. He turns around in the middle of the living room and pries my hand away, dropping it quickly.
“Good night, Emi.” He doesn’t even look at me when he says it.
I watch, frozen, as he continues to the door, unlocks it, and shuts it quietly behind him. “Jack...” I squeak out, my voice stolen by the sobs that have settled in the back of my throat.
What have I done? Why did I let him leave? The one person that has brought me true happiness this year just walked out the door, and I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t. I can’t let him go. I want him just as badly. I want to be ready. I want to be enough for him. I want him back.
I rush to the door and fling it open, ready to run after him... but here he stands, leaning against the door jamb, his eyes sad.
“Don’t go,” I whisper, relieved to see him.
“You didn’t lock your door,” he informs me.
“Oh,” I respond. “Is that why you stayed?”
“I don’t want to go, Emi. I didn’t want to leave you. I got half-way to the elevator and turned around.”
“Then please, stay. Stay until we can work this out. Please don’t leave me, Jack. I can’t bear it.” Another tear falls.
“God, Em,” he exhales, nearly falling into my waiting arms, his head leaning against my shoulder, defeated. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to do that to you. I want to be the one who takes those tears away... I don’t want to be the cause of them.”
“Jack,” I sigh against his neck, more tears falling at his statement. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he says. “I shouldn’t have pushed like that. I just want to be able to... show you... how much I care about you. I know this must be difficult for you... I have no reference point, Em. I want to understand you.”
“You do,” I tell him, taking his hand and leading him back into the apartment. “You really do get me.” I close the door softly, and he locks it up behind us. He follows me back to the love seat.
“I haven’t always,” he laughs, sitting next to me. “You continue to be a challenge to figure out...” He smooths my hair down and I nuzzle my head into the warm palm of his hand. “It’s a good thing I like challenges.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, taking both of his hands into mine, my eyes pleading with his.
“It’s been worth every second, Emi. You’re complicated, but the more I learn about you, the more I want you.” He kisses me slowly. “I want you to want me like I want you. I want you to feel what I’m feeling... I just want to share this with you.”
“I do want you,” I tell him. “Don’t think that I don’t. I just want to be sure... that I’m ready...” Ready for what? I’m ready to have sex again. I want that. I’m ready to move forward with him. I know that. To tell him I love him? Why is that so difficult? Is it Nate that’s stopping me? Can I leave him behind? Is that what’s keeping me from being ready? I sigh in frustration. “You are way too good for me.”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, disagreeing. “So where does this leave us?” he asks, standing up and looking out the window. “Do we forget tonight happened and refocus our efforts on the friendship?”
“I certainly can’t forget it,” I tell him. “Maybe pretend it didn’t happen, but forgetting it is out of the question. Nothing that happened tonight is forgettable.”
“Is that what you want to do then? Just pretend it never happened?”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible either. I don’t guess there’s any going back.”
“Maybe there is no going back... but I guess we shouldn’t go forward quite yet, either... until you’re sure.”
“I’d probably agree with that. When I’m thinking sensibly, that is.” I stand up and walk behind him, putting my arms around him, my hands up his shirt to feel his firm chest, and leaning my head into his back. I lightly scrape my nails over his warm skin. He shivers and holds my arms tightly in place.
“You can’t keep touching me like that if you’re not ready, though. I honestly can’t take it.” I can hear the serious undertones in his voice. He turns around in my arms, facing me, his eyes warning me, but his smile, soft and sweet.
“Like this?” I whisper, massaging his back, pulling my body closer to his, leaving no space between us. His arms envelop me and our lips meet at once, eager, thirsty. A small whimper escapes my lungs. I pry my mouth away, our foreheads touching and eyes gazing. “Well, you can’t do that,” I set my own rule out loud but know deep down I’d never want him to stop.
“What, kissing me makes you irrational?” He brushes his lips against mine and I attack them, wanting more. He moves his hands to my hair, weaving his fingers through it, his need evident in the way he grasps it. Our breaths are quick when we break away.
“If I say yes, does that mean you won’t do it anymore?”
“Do you not want me to?” His voice aches with need.
“No, that’s not what I want at all.” Quickly, he grabs my waist and presses tighter against me, letting me feel his desire against my stomach, and resumes our kiss after whispering something like “Thank God.” How did this conversation turn in to... this? Fuck it, who cares?
He picks me up as I wrap my legs around him and lock my feet together. He turns back around so he’s facing the window, presses my back up against it, my fingers frantic in his hair.
“So all of this is off limits then. We’re agreed?” he whispers in my ear hurriedly before kissing, then sucking, my earlobe.
“Fuck, Jack,” I gasp as he props me up, rearranges me a bit so I feel him where I want him most.
“Mmmm... say that again.” His tongue traces my collarbone.
“Fuck. Jack.” My shallow breaths only allow one syllable at a time. “Mmmm...”
“That is such a turn-on, Em.” His eyes penetrate mine, my heart spluttering in my chest.
He shifts his lower body again, slowly, carefully studying my reaction. “Oh, god. Jack,” I manage to say although he’s completely taken my breath away. I barely have time to see his lips form into a smile before they crash into mine once more. He turns us around, our tongues tangled together, and walks back over to the small sofa, laying me down on it. He kneels on the floor next to me, unbuttoning my flannel pajama top quickly. His eyes pause, taking in the sight of my nakedness for the first time.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, seemingly entranced, cupping one of my breasts in his hand. I grasp his hair in my hands as his lips and tongue gently survey the other.
As his left hand slowly travels up my leg, I raise one knee and angle my body toward him, wanting him to touch me. He doesn’t keep me waiting, his palm rubbing gently, my body moving in rhythm. I take his right hand in mine and weave our fingers together, squeezing tightly as a flash of heat spreads across my body. He increases the pressure, speed.
“Oh, my god, Jack... oh... oh...” His lips cover mine, likely
an effort to mask my unsteady outbursts. I hold his head to mine tightly, pulling his hair and moaning into his mouth. “I’m–”
A cough comes from the guest room. Both of our heads jerk to look at the closed door. Now? Really?
“It’s Clara,” I whisper, both of us stilled and silent, holding our breaths, as another cough follows. He turns back around, his amorous eyes begging permission for more. His thumb traces my bottom lip. I lick my lips, my curious tongue wanting another taste of him.
“I don’t want to leave you like this, Emi,” Jack says quietly, our breathing resuming together before he takes my breath away again with another desperate kiss.
“Jack, we can’t,” I try to stop him. “Jack,” I say again when he keeps going. He finally sighs against my breast, sneaking in a few more lingering kisses before he climbs onto the couch next to me. He reluctantly buttons my pajama top.
“I know,” he tells me, his eyes warm and understanding. My gaze gets lost in his. Clara coughs again. “What are we doing?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t know,” I laugh.
“What do you want to do?”
“You should probably go,” I tell him.
“I know,” he laughs. “I will.” He pushes my hair aside, tucking a few strands behind my ears. “I mean about... us... this...”
I shrug and shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“I think there’s only one thing to do... until you’re sure that you’re ready.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“How about we don’t put ourselves into situations that could lead to this... no more alone time...”
I ponder his suggestion. “But you’ll still kiss me?” I flirt as his hands grasp my waist beneath my shirt and he stares intently into my eyes. “Like this?” We kiss again.
“Don’t start that again,” he warns. “But yes, just like that,” he says, smiling. “Just not in a setting like this.” He smiles and stands up, holding out his hands to help me up.