by Riley Jean
“I get it.”
“You do?”
“Of course.” He looked at me with genuine understanding. “You know what’s changed the most? It’s not your clothes or your hair. It’s your eyes. There was always a light in your eyes when you smiled. Like nothing could ever take away your happiness. But somewhere along the way, something snuffed it out. I get that you have a wall up—I know cinder block when I see it. But I don’t want to drag all those secrets out of you. I just hope that eventually you’ll let me in.”
I looked away from him, moved by his sincerity for the second time. What was in those burritos that had made me so receptive this evening?
Yes. There was a reason. I couldn’t deny it. But that didn’t mean I’d ever be ready to let him in. There was once a time where I trusted easily, and it tore me to pieces.
“To be honest, I don’t know if I even want to. I’ve made some bad choices, you know? I don’t even trust myself to try again.”
“I trust you,” he offered. “Does that make me naïve?”
“Yes,” I laughed ironically. Oh if only he knew. The hard mask came back on again. “Trust is a dangerous thing. Just like love. And hope.”
There are only so many times a person can allow themselves to be vulnerable before they realize letting their guard down is fair game for a broken heart. How stupid do you feel when you realize, all it took was a stronger wall?
He pulled over to the side of the road that overlooked the whole city. Lights from cars and houses speckled throughout the town from this distance. Despite the gorgeous view, he turned towards me, studying me as the golden hues of the sunset kissed his skin. “Oh Rosie… what have those jaded eyes of yours seen?”
I started to speak but he placed his fingertips lightly over my lips, effectively silencing me.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
I looked up at him, not knowing what to expect. “But—”
“We’re trying something new this time. Just do it.”
With an exasperated sigh, I obeyed.
At first, everything was still. We sat in his truck—in the very place my best friend had made a move on me only a week ago—and I was struck with the vulnerability of sitting in absolute blindness with him now. I had no clue what he was about to do, and since I’d been battling with trusting him, it had me a little on edge.
Once I heard the telltale clicks of his iPod, I relaxed a little. He was picking music. I could handle that.
A new song began. The guitar strummed a soft melody. I wasn’t sure I’d heard this one before, but the mellow acoustic and rough recording sounded vaguely familiar.
“Who’s this?”
“Rufio. Just listen.”
Rufio. I knew a couple of their songs. They were an indie punk rock band based out of another local city. As the singer’s beseeching voice finally entered, I concentrated on the lyrics.
It spoke of finding yourself surrounded by people that you didn’t understand, in a place where you didn’t belong. It reminded me of being at college and the overwhelming feeling of not fitting in. Of being alone. It even reminded me of coming back to San Dimas earlier this year, to a town that always stayed the same while everything about me had changed. Where do you find your place when your own home no longer feels like home?
And then the singer was telling that person they weren’t alone. That even though they were hurting, even though they’d been broken and betrayed in the past, they didn’t have to live in fear. They just had to open their eyes and see that the person right in front of them was the one who really cared.
A gasp escaped past my lips as I sat there, the weight of those words sinking in. Vance certainly knew his music and lyrics, and I knew he had picked this song intentionally. He was using it to speak to me, telling me that he cared, asking me to trust him.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered, and I had to squeeze them a little tighter to ensure they stayed shut.
Another thought formed, too. A flashback of our conversation at dinner tonight, and the way he looked me in the eyes when he said all he wanted was to see me happy. I hadn’t realized until now how badly I needed that—to have a friend without any hidden agendas. Who wouldn’t treat me like a doormat. Who wouldn’t abandon me… period.
But I knew how easy it was to be fooled by words, a clever line intended to win me over. He seemed so genuine… but didn’t they all, at first? A part of me wanted to believe him. But how could I? I’d made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t interested in dating. So why had he tried to kiss me? Wasn’t that an example of putting his motives in front of my own?
I was overthinking this—I knew—but this was important. He was asking me to put my trust in him. The question was: could I?
Halfway through the song, I felt a shift in the truck. He’d moved closer. Once he started to softly sing the chorus, I realized just how close he was. I remained still and kept my eyes shut, drinking in all the sensations around me. The scents of peppermint and spice. The warmth from his breath on my neck. His soft, velvety voice and his promises of caring and comfort.
I stiffened when he gently pushed my long sleeve halfway up my arm. But I did not stop him.
A feather-light touch on my forearm became a light caress. Goosebumps raised on my skin as his fingers delicately traced their way from my inner elbow to wrist, ever so slowly, back and forth again.
There was something in the way he touched me, with just the callused tips of his knuckles, that made me shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the evening temperature. A conduit of warmth, and electricity, and light.
It’d been a long time since anyone had touched me like this, and it felt incredible for just a small stroke of his fingers. I hadn’t realized how much my body was aching for human contact, as if it had been starved to death. And under his hands it seemed to come back to life.
Still humming near my ear, his hand paused briefly after it made another pass to my wrist, then he used one finger to draw tiny patterns in my upturned palm. A circle. A figure eight. It tickled a little.
By the time the song was coming to an end, I noticed Vance’s hand resting on mine, laying palm-to-palm between us. The contact was new and the heat of his skin against mine was alluring, like reaching for a hot mug on a cold winter night. I twisted my hand slightly so that they no longer aligned, then curled my fingers around his. He followed suit and gave me a gentle squeeze. As soon as his long fingers laced themselves with mine, I felt calm, at peace.
When the music faded, the only sound in the truck was our breathing. I opened my eyes slowly, first seeing our hands interlocked between us, then turned timidly to look at Vance. He sat frozen, still looking down at our hands in silent awe. In the glow of the fading sunset, his long eyelashes casted shadows across his cheekbones. As if he could feel my gaze, he looked up and his eyes—deep green and searching—found mine.
The only thought in my mind was a desire for something I called dangerous mere minutes earlier: hope… Hope that he didn’t let go of my hand. Hope that he wouldn’t break the connection and the warmth. Hope that he really meant all those things he said tonight.
But this one link wasn’t nearly enough. It was just a taste, a tiny sip, and I wanted more. My whole body felt cold, like it was being pulled towards the heat radiating from him. All five of my senses called out; reaching, wanting, needing him nearer; as his familiar presence slowly penetrated my walls.
So when he started leaning towards me, instinct took over, and my body moved closer of its own accord. Right then, I wanted him to take me in his arms, to kiss me, to make everything else go away. I wanted to forget about the past and mistakes and tragedy, and to believe—just for a moment—that someone out there really cared.
When our faces were only an inch apart, he stopped, and with a sad smile he whispered, “Still want to tell me that you don’t feel that way about me?”
His question snapped me back into reality. Because I had said that… days ago. And now
I almost just…
Abruptly I straightened in my seat, speechless. What was wrong with me? Was it Vance’s touch that just made my body shudder? Was it me who moved to hold his hand? How did we get here? I’d been so strong and now—I let him get the better of me. I lost control.
I averted my eyes and stared out my window, cursing under my breath. It was a test, and my failure left me totally exposed.
His eyes burned holes into the side of my skull, challenging me, daring me to refute it again. Now would’ve been a great time to stop holding his hand, yet I couldn’t bring myself to let go. Unable to look him in the eye, I shut mine and rested my temple against the window with a gentle thunk. Quietly I mumbled, “This would be so much easier if you just took my word for it.”
He chuckled.
Perfect. Now he was laughing at me. Smug goober. How was I going to get him to take me seriously? Although after what I just pulled, how could I expect to be taken seriously? I let him seduce me with his words, his voice, his touch… I became putty in his hands in the length of one song.
Pathetic.
No wonder he was laughing. This was so beyond fixing now.
Growing irritated at his persistence, I tried to pull my hand away. “You never listen—I’m trying to be honest with you—”
“No,” he cut me off, gripping my hand tighter and not allowing escape. “You’re trying to deny what you feel. I could have just kissed you, Rosie, but I didn’t. I get that you’re not ready. But there is something here. Don’t you feel it?” His eyes pleaded with mine, imploring me to admit it. But the moment was over. I shut everything out—the peppermint, those words, his warmth, and sat behind my wall of brick and mortar, glaring at him.
“Why are you so stubborn?” I griped.
“Why are you?” he countered.
“Ugh!” I let out a frustrated grunt and broke our eye contact.
He sighed heavily. “Eventually, when you stop trying so hard to fight it, you’ll feel it too.” With that, he released me.
I glared at my hand, hating it for feeling so bereft upon the loss of contact. I balled it into a fist, squashing those feelings. Maybe Vance actually was a nice guy. But that just made me all the more determined to stay away. Nice guys were the hardest to lose.
“I won’t. And it’s not fair to you.”
“You’ve come a long way already.” He shot me a smile that revealed he wasn’t discouraged in the least. “You’re a mystery to me, Scarlett Rose. But one day I’m gonna have you all figured out.”
* * *
Sleep never claimed me.
Unable to shut my brain off, I laid awake for hours, tossing and turning and mulling over our conversation in his truck.
Tonight Vance had revealed his cards. He cared about me. He wanted my trust. And I think… maybe… he might have been curious about me as more than a friend, too.
I had grown comfortable with our routine: working together, kicking back at Honey’s, laughing about old teachers and crazy customers. We kept an appropriate distance. He had a girlfriend and I had a vendetta. ‘More’ had never been an option. The only thing I had to worry about was his attempts to sneak in a fist bump here or there.
Vance had a way about him that pulled people in. His friendship brought something special to my life that had been missing for a long time. When he was around, I had reasons to laugh again, reasons to come out of my shell. He made me focus on life’s little joys, see all the beauty that I’d been overlooking, and forget about the problems with this world.
Despite myself, I had come to like him.
I scoffed at the irony. Turned out he was not the safety net after all. He had gone from being my one and only trusted friend to being just another guy chasing what he wanted. Bit by bit he was throwing his bait out, patiently waiting for me to take a nibble. I wished I could pinpoint the moment when his motives had changed.
I was torn. Yes, things between us were shifting; they were no longer innocent and simple. But when I was brutally honest with myself, did I miss that?
For some reason, I couldn’t forget how nice it was to hold his hand. And how empty I felt when he let go.
Chapter 22
Orion’s Belt
“I O U One Galaxy” by The Ataris
I was once convinced that I could outlast Vance’s persistence with a little thing called willpower.
Oh, if only it were that easy.
No matter how strong I’d tried to be, there came a point where even my stubborn walls were no match for the forces of Vance Holloway. After our moments together the other night, during dinner and then in his truck, it was getting harder and harder to say no to him. He was wearing me down one touch at a time, until I could no longer bring myself to stay away.
That’s why, somehow, I found myself lying on a blanket over soft grass in the middle of the park, looking up at the night sky, next to the man I had failed to keep at a distance.
“It’s the classic fairy tale syndrome,” he remarked. “The prince. The sword fight. The castle. They say guys have a misconception of real women because of the media, but women have unrealistic expectations when it comes to men and romance, too.”
My lips tilted up at his theory.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to living with a beast if he agreed to share his library. But, no. I know what you’re getting at. I may have held that philosophy at one point, but I don’t want the castle or the happily ever after anymore. My idea of the perfect love has changed since then.”
“I already know I’m going to regret this, but what, pray tell, is the perfect love, oh cynical one?”
I ignored his sarcasm. “It’s one hour. One night. Before life comes in and screws it up.”
His nose scrunched. “A one-night stand? That’s your idea of the perfect love?”
“Not a one-night stand… A moment. A connection with a total stranger. When the moment’s over, and you never had a chance to learn their flaws or to see the relationship fizzle… that’s the kind of love you never get over. The great what if.”
“But that’s not real. It’s blind.”
“Exactly.”
He turned his head to face me. “You ever actually been in love?”
“Yes,” I blurted, then turned pink at his doubtful expression. “So what? You have, too. How did that turn out for you?”
He didn’t waver. “It wasn’t meant to be. It wasn’t the real thing.”
I snorted. He sure had me fooled. “But it was real for four years. Thank you for proving my point.”
He chuckled. “Cut me some slack, Rosie. It was my first try.”
“Doesn’t change the truth. The perfect love doesn’t endure all or last forever. It exists in a moment. After that, eventually, it always, always comes to an end.”
I could feel his gaze on me. His voice lowered as our conversation took a more serious turn. “What would it take to change your mind?”
I stared up at the night sky, massive and infinite above us. The stars were out tonight, though only a few outshone the city lights. “I’d like to see it done right. Just once.”
“Part of faith means believing without seeing, you know.”
“I’m afraid I’m all out of faith,” I confessed quietly.
“In life? Or God?”
“Maybe both… why else would there be so much suffering in this world?”
He contemplated my question. “I don’t think we have a right to ask God that. There’s enough food and space on this earth for everyone. There’s so much to be thankful for. So much beauty… I think God should be asking us why there is suffering in the world. Not the other way around.”
He was right. It was us, people, hurting each other, pushing others down to get ahead. At least, that was the case in my experience. “Okay then. I’ve lost my faith in humanity.”
“But we’re not all bad,” he said. “Sounds like you’re just looking for someone to blame.”
I closed my eyes, despising that I sounded anything
like my brother. “Fine, oh wise one. And how would you define the perfect love?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I scoffed and shook my head.
“What? There’s no shame in admitting I don’t have it all figured out yet. But I’ll tell you one thing—real love is more than one moment. It’s a whole forever of moments, good and bad. It’s seeing every unlovable detail about a person and loving them anyway. It’s a physical feeling, like there’s no such thing as being close enough. It’s choosing to be with somebody despite every obstacle or excuse you can come up with. It outlasts everything and overcomes all, no matter what, because you never stop fighting for it. That’s the perfect love.”
A thick lump lodged in my throat. Those words and concepts were foreign to me, but they touched me all the same.
“But you don’t have it all figured out yet, huh?” I teased. It sure sounded like he knew what he was talking about, to me.
We both grew quiet after that, no doubt both reflecting on our own past loves. I was more than a little jealous he had escaped his first failed relationship relatively unscathed. No solitude and Senses Fail, no cynicism, no drama; just ready to go out there and try again, still fully trusting in his heart.
Then again, maybe I just needed to look beyond their four-year history. A breakup must be easier to get over when it doesn’t end in lies or infidelity or catastrophic tragedy… but simply because you stopped caring.
“Oh look,” I pointed towards the horizon, “Orion’s Belt.”
Following my gaze, Vance propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over to look. He smiled as he spotted those three stars in a row twinkling above us. For a moment, I set aside the gloom of failed relationships and my lost faith, and we silently admired the beauty of the night sky.
Suddenly I became very aware of Vance leaning over me. Our bodies were closer than they should have been, his chest lightly brushing my side. I peeked up and over to admire his features in the dim moonlight. His brown hair looked so soft and thick curling over his ears. I got the urge to run my fingers through it again, just like the time I’d given him a fohawk. That was a nice change for one night, but this suited him best.