Center of Gravity

by Neve Wilder

  He snickered. “Maybe I exaggerated and it was more like five hundred thousand people saw. The whole campus, really.”

  “I had no idea the student body was that large.”

  He wrinkled up his nose. “It’s how my friend Max and I started hanging out, though. He picked up my shoe and said I should just give him the other one so he could throw them both away. My favorite pair of Vans.” He mock sighed. “What’s distracting you?”

  “You.” It was probably the easiest answer I’d ever given in my life, and I loved how he shyly pressed his lips together even as the corners turned up, as if he was trying to suppress the smile. It encouraged me enough to say what I said next.

  “I need to tell you some things.” We’d strayed from the path and were strolling through a copse of trees where a few metal sculptures that mimicked the twisting limbs had been placed. Alex’s steps slowed, his face clouding with worry.

  “Okay.” There was hesitation in his voice and in his fingers, which began fidgeting with the button on the sleeve of his coat. I didn’t remember ever seeing him fidget before.

  I slid my hands from my pockets and swiped a bit of hair from my temple. My nerves came jangling back, buzzing over my skin like fireflies. Now or never. “And I’m sorry about the timing, but we never seem to get that right, anyway. I just want you to know while I have this chance and can look you in the eye. Because you should’ve known a long time ago. And that’s my fault.”

  Alex gave me a wary nod, leaning back against the rough bark of a tree as I faced him.

  “I don’t have a favorite color. I never have. I think the concept of a favorite color is weird—is it a permanent choice or is it a transient thing? My favorite color is a blue sky and my favorite color is also the gray of puddles on a rainy day. I have no idea what my favorite book is, but when I figure it out, I promise you’ll be the first to know. I like reading, but I don’t do enough of it. I like dancing, but I don’t do enough of it. I like being with you and I didn’t do enough of it. I like a lot of things I haven’t done enough of in the past.” I paused for a breath and to check that he was still with me. He was, but that caution remained.

  “I like running because it clears my head and I feel good afterward. I hate it while I’m doing it. My right knee is starting to get creaky and I hate that. I also hated my old job and I’m glad I quit because I love my new one. I was terrified to do it and terrified not to. I worry constantly about every decision I make. Sometimes I worry myself into inaction. I take too goddamn long to do the important things. But I don’t want to. Not anymore, and especially not with you.” I watched as his expression shifted from wariness to pensiveness and then wonder, but I couldn’t stop. Now that I’d opened my mouth, it was pouring out of me, this confession that had been accumulating for months.

  “And one of my favorite things, Alex, one of my favorite things is you. The feel of your skin, the way you smell. The taste of you, your laugh, the way you tease me, your kiss. Your persistence and your laughter and creativity and a thousand other things that are almost too embarrassing to mention.

  “The first time I saw you again after that night at the club, it was like waking up—which sounds trite, I know—but I’d been sleeping for months and I had no idea. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. And then, like an idiot, I kept trying to deny I was awake. But I am and I have been for a long time now. And…and the only way I want to fall asleep again is if you’re next to me.”

  I stopped, mostly because I’d run out of breath again and because it was a good time to gauge his reaction. I couldn’t read it at first, and there was a moment when he looked stricken that sent a surge of panic through me.

  He let out a soft exhale, his shoulders tensing and relaxing. “Wow.”

  Shit. That couldn’t be good.

  “I don’t know what to say.” He put both hands to his mouth, then let them fall away, his lips pressing together while my heart started a slow, heavy descent into the abyss. I’d told myself not to have any expectations, but my heart hadn’t gotten the memo.

  Alex gave the slightest shake of his head, and I fumbled for speech, a way to help him let me down easy.

  “I just—”

  His words landed on top of mine as he took a step forward. “I can’t even hope to top that. Like, ever.”

  And then I didn’t need to read into it anymore because he lurched against me, his lips crashing into mine. For long moments there was nothing but the tangle of our breaths, the champagne effervescence of his tongue, and the fullness of him washing through me with such a flood of emotion that it vibrated in my bones.

  His fingers curled behind the collar of my shirt, then slid to the nape of my neck and clasped together as the kiss ended.

  “I love you.” I pressed the words into his jawline, and then cupped my hand beneath his chin, meeting his eyes so there’d be no mistake. “I have for months. And I think you’d be absolutely crazy to saddle yourself with a grumpy guy with proven control issues and increasingly creaky joints, but I would thank whatever exists above us for every day that you did.”

  “God,” Alex breathed out, licking his lips with a slight shake of his head. His hands dropped to my waist below my coat and fisted into my shirt. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, wanting you, missing you. And then so much time passed, and even though we were still talking a little I thought maybe you might be glad to keep things the way they were, might want to move on, and I couldn’t blame you because I’d told you to go that night after the funeral.” He drew a breath, fingertips drifting up to make slow circles at the nape of my neck.

  “And I knew you were telling me then. I knew it, but I just couldn’t. Then I saw you on the street that day and it was like the whole world around me collapsed and there was just you, and I got this feeling inside me that was so fucking pure and bright it was scary. It was everything. And I’ve spent so much time since then kicking myself, because I loved you then. And I do now.”

  He wrecked me. Utterly. For a handful of seconds, I thought I might cry. With relief, with happiness, even a little exasperation aimed at myself. Instead, I exhaled a shaky laugh. “Christ, I don’t know, you may have topped me. I’m shaking, for fuck’s sake.”

  Alex smiled, and this time it spread freely over his face and lit up his eyes. He smoothed his hands down the length of my arms, then rested his head against my shoulder, lips brushing the side of my neck.

  “Where do we start? Do we just start over?”

  “Do you want to start over?”

  “I just want to start.” He tipped his chin up for another slow kiss that ended too soon.

  “Then, I think we start with going back inside, celebrating, drinking more champagne, and you telling my sister I’m not a lost cause.”

  “We’re both salvageable, I think. I hope. And then?”

  “And then I take you home with me.”

  I felt his smile against my cheek. “What’s after that?”

  “Tomorrow, when I make you breakfast.” I slid my hands from his back to his waist, then dropped them to his hips.

  “You’re skipping an important part—one of my favorite parts—actually.”

  “Mm?”

  I took a step back, lacing my fingers within his as we started back to the Arts building.

  “The part where I get you so wound up you start begging.”

  “We’ll see who’s begging.”

  But we both knew he was right.

  It was freezing outside, but I hardly noticed the cold. I had a full body buzz that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with Alex’s hand in mine, and the ridiculous amount of joy I got out of walking alongside him.

  “That really was an insane speech. Did you write it down beforehand?” He shot me a skeptical glance, then said, “You’re like my own version of Mr. Darcy.”

  “Nope, just fumbled through it and hoped for the best.” I chuckled. “You really like that book, huh? Maybe I’ll have t
o re-read it.”

  He laughed, squeezing my hand as I pulled the door open. “Actually, I hated it. It took them forever to get together.”

  Heat rushed at us from the crowd inside, and I pressed one more kiss to his temple before shoving him inside. “Indeed.”

  After we’d had more champagne, after we’d left the show and returned to Nook Island, sharing another bottle of wine in the kitchen with my sister; after Alex did in fact have me begging, loudly, we nestled against each other in bed. I kissed his collarbones, then the fingers he drifted down the slope of my nose, thinking of something I’d noticed earlier at the show.

  “What happened to the double-helix piece, the self-portrait you were stuck on?”

  Alex wriggled beneath the sheet, turning onto his back. I spread my hand over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath. “I decided not to show it. It just never felt finished. You know what I mean?”

  His hand covered mine, his fingers weaving between as he angled a look at me, a little smile playing over his lips that I matched with my own when I said, “I do. And I hope you never finish it.”

  Epilogue

  Alex

  April, three months later

  I woke to Winslow licking the side of my face, which definitely wasn’t as good as Rob licking the side of my face, but I’d gotten used to him acting as my very own doggy alarm clock.

  “Stop that, you crazy mutt,” I muttered, batting his affection gently away and giving him a few pets as collateral. He nosed my hand, then jumped up as a familiar sizzling crackled through the air. Bacon and eggs. Winslow abandoned me, shotgunning off the bed and scrambling out of the bedroom door into the kitchen.

  I lolled around in the sheets for a few more minutes before I dragged myself upright.

  A year ago on this day—well, technically, this night—I’d answered Rob’s message on an app and gone down on him in the bathroom stall of Liberation. Not a very romantic beginning, considering all the rocky terrain that had followed, but still, thinking about it made me smile now. We’d talked about it while lying in bed last night.

  “So what would you consider our anniversary?”

  Briefly, his face ghosted white, like he was afraid he’d forgotten something important, and that’s when I reminded him that the next day was when we’d met for the first time.

  “Kind of an inauspicious beginning, don’t you think?” His brow wrinkled. “I’m not sure I want to mark the occasion when I gave you a fake name and then bailed on you.”

  I laughed. “I do.”

  “That’s just cruel.”

  “No, ditching me while I was still sporting a raging boner was cruel.”

  “Point,” he’d said, then reached under the covers, brushing his hand over my hip, moving lower. “But that’s a debt I’m happy to pay off over and over.”

  So it was still on my mind as I crawled from the bed and pulled on some pajama pants, half hard just thinking about how he’d worked his “debt” off to me last night.

  Rob glanced at me when I wandered in, then returned for a longer look, a smile quirking his lips. “Your hair looks like it’s trying to take flight.”

  I glanced up, as if I could witness this event and then raked a hand through the tousled strands. “Yours looks like it could resist hurricane force winds.” I skirted around him, reaching blindly for the coffee pot and he caught me by the elbow, whipping me around to pull me close and envelop me in the warm, morning scent of him. The spice of his aftershave, toothpaste, his skin. My favorite cologne was him, and I rubbed shamelessly against his shirt.

  “So sassy,” he growled, and punctuated it by nipping at my lip ring.

  I twined my arms around his neck, the brush of his shirt against my bare chest forming goosebumps and tightening my nipples as I kissed him.

  “You want bacon, I assume?” he spoke against the corner of my mouth.

  “Yes, please.”

  He cooked me breakfast every morning. I was so damn spoiled and I knew it, but he said he liked doing it, and the longer I was with him, the more I learned that these mundane, but thoughtful, acts were his way of telling me he loved me. I’d find a shirt ironed if I needed it, or a towel next to the shower when I’d forgotten to grab it off the hook. He anticipated me constantly and there was something about that that made me feel so fucking loved. And I was never hungry.

  I split time between his apartment in Savannah and Nook Island. I was still working for Buffs and my art studio was still in the family garage, but I’d been job hunting for the past couple of months and Sam had finally gotten a good lead and helped me get an interview with a swanky gallery near the riverfront.

  I was almost too nervous to eat, but standing there in Rob’s arms lessened my anxiety and I felt my appetite returning. On multiple fronts. I ran my hand down his chest and over the front of his trousers, cupping him through the fabric as I bit my lip.

  He shook his head, a warning flash in his eyes, but it was all show. “Don’t you dare. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

  I nuzzled his neck and flicked my tongue at his earlobe. “And you love every second of it.”

  The spatula he was holding clattered to the counter, and then he palmed the globes of my ass, squeezing as his hips pressed into me. He kissed me again, a deep, sensual twist of his tongue over mine. Then he pushed me away.

  Staggering back a step, I laughed. “Levelling up, huh?”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Uh huh.” I caught a sliver of his grin as he turned back to the stove and stirred the eggs, his tie tucked inside his shirt in that careful way that always made me smile. I reached for the coffee pot again and he lightly smacked my hand from the handle without even looking at me. “It’s already on the table. Go sit.”

  “Who’s sassy now?” I winked at him and sauntered off to the table.

  Winslow leapt up from the couch and took up his position as Sentinel of Scraps at my feet because he knew I was a sucker. I bent over to give him a few scritches. I mean really, who turned down a three-legged dog? No one.

  “Nervous?” Rob asked as he set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me, then retreated around the island to refill his coffee.

  I leaned over the waft of steam rising from my plate, inhaling. “Yep.”

  “You’ll dazzle them. I have no doubts.” He leaned a hip against the counter, picking up his mug for a swallow and eyeing me over the top. “You going to eat?”

  Why was he so concerned about whether or not I was going to eat?

  “Fixing to. Worried I might pass out and screw up my chances?”

  “Nope, but a good breakfast is important.”

  My brow twitched up and I gave him a funny look for his funny behavior. He appeared a little nervous himself and tugged at his collar once, almost upsetting his coffee. Huh. Maybe he really wanted me to get this job, maybe he was hoping he could stop telling people he was dating a dude on a moving crew or something. He’d never said anything like that, but still. A vague sense of unease washed over me that morphed into pressure behind my eyes.

  I licked my lips, glanced down at my plate, then picked up my fork. I could feel his gaze riveted to me as I cut into the eggs.

  Something clinked against my fork. Squinting in confusion, I peered down into the yolky yellow clump, where a bit of metal gleamed. I gave him a questioning glance and then pushed the eggs aside. “It’s a key.”

  “To my apartment.”

  “Okay.” Color me confused. “I already have a key, though.”

  Rob set his coffee down, running his hand over his jaw. “Right, but that was for convenience.”

  “Yeah, I know. And it’s very convenient.”

  “This one’s official.”

  It dawned on me suddenly and I felt like an idiot. “You want me to move in. For real? Officially?”

  “For real. Officially,” he repeated, then came around the counter again and knelt beside me, his eyes searching my face. �
��And desperately. If you’re ready, that is.”

  He knew I’d liked the comfort of having my room at home, of being around Mom and Lainey part of the week. There were still tender parts on me and being around the two of them lightened my load sometimes in a different way than Rob did. Though he’d done a lot for me. He’d listened to me countless times when missing my dad hit me especially hard, had wiped the tears from my cheek and held me close and never said sugary bullshit trying overly hard to make me feel better. He just let me be and existed beside me. And I loved him for that, too.

  I scooted my chair back, twisting around in the seat so I could bend down and embrace him, breakfast forgotten. “I’m ready.”

  He rose on his knees, cupping my jaw. The kiss he gave me this time was so gentle and sweet it made my heart stutter. “I was hoping you’d say that, but if you hadn’t, I would tell you it’s an open-ended offer.” The concern in his expression went straight through me like a shot of honey down my throat, coating my insides with a gooey warmth that made me smile. This man had turned me into a lovestruck sap, and the only reason I wasn’t freaking out about it was that I knew he was in exactly the same boat.

  “No, I’m ready. I promise.” I hadn’t been waiting for an invitation, per se, but I’d hoped that eventually we’d be living together, and now that it was in front of me, I was almost giddy with excitement. Now, if I could just get a job in Savannah, I could leave Buffs behind and really feel like we were settled together. I sealed my promise with a kiss and he braced his hands on my knees, standing with a groan.

  “Good.”

  “Easy, old man, I have devious plans for you tonight.”

  He laughed and went around to the other side of the table, throwing his suit jacket on one arm and picking up his briefcase.

  “Let me know how the interview went as soon as you’re done.”

  “Will do,” I said, watching as he walked out the door. Winslow trotted after him and sniffed dejectedly at the crack beneath as he was left behind.