27
I refuse to overthink anything.
So when West announces he’s going to sleep, I turn off the TV and follow behind him. The tension is there in his shoulders again, and he seems a bit distant. Was it something I said?
I follow into his room anyway, and as soon as I reach the bed, I slip under the covers. West turns off the light and slides in beside me.
The room is dark as I scan the silhouettes around. West is completely still. When he invited me to sleep in his bed, I thought it was to cuddle, not whatever this is.
“Was it something I said?” I ask, wondering if that’s why he’s stiff as a board.
He’s silent for too long, so I continue, “I’m not good at this. I’ve never had…” I trail off, unable to finish the thought because I don’t know what he’s thinking.
He mutters, “You said you’d keep in contact with me because we have one more wedding to go to, but then you don’t know what’s going to happen after, so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. And I’m left to just assume what he was going to say?
“I didn’t mean we stop talking,” I say.
“It’s just… Do you want me or are you only here for the money?”
I scoff, sitting up. “You can’t be fucking serious, West.” I reach over to the lamp and turn it on as I fling the sheets off my body. “This started off as an agreement. One that you arranged!”
He sits up, eyes blazing. “And then we kissed, and we had sex on my couch, Liv. Faking it is out the door!”
“Yeah, but we still have an arrangement. And I’m sorry, but I absolutely do need the money, and that’s not something you would ever understand because you’re so fucking privileged, West. You have no right to judge me!”
He glares at me and then looks at my hands. “I’m not judging you.”
“You literally just said ‘do you want me or the money’ , and hello, West,” I mock. “Earth to West. I am here for the fucking money!”
He claps his hands loudly, and the light turns off.
Oh, hell no!
I clap my hands, and it turns back on. I glare at him.
He claps his hands again, it turns off.
I clap again, and his face lights up from the lamp.
He claps again. It’s dark in here.
“God!” I scoff, clapping. “Keep the light on!” But I clap too much because it turns back off again. My insides are boiling at the flickering. Finally the light is back on and I’m inching towards him with tears in my eyes.
“You have some fucking balls, West, to sit there and judge me for being here with you and accepting the money you offered. You have no idea how hard it is out there. LA? LA is a shitshow right now! So, I’m sorry if coming up here helped me escape my reality a little bit.
” I start laughing through the tears. “You don’t know what it’s like, West. I can’t even… ”
My chest starts heaving, thinking about how much I’ve been stupidly obsessed with West since I’ve known him. It’s so stupid. It’s something that I’ve tried to ignore, this longing, yearning for him.
“Can’t even, what?” he asks.
I look up at the ceiling and wipe my tears. “It doesn’t matter.” I play with my fingers now, wondering how pathetic I sound. “And I’m scared. You’re so…” I squeeze the air in front of me trying to explain what his presence is like.
“I’m so, what?”
“So… ugh!” I jump off the bed because I need to move, otherwise, I’m going to explode.
He hops off the bed and stands, watching me pace for a moment, and then he grabs my hand. My heart rattles in my chest, demanding my eyes to spill more tears. I try my best to suck them back in.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Come here.” He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around my body. I breathe in his scent, and my brain goes slack. The tears dry, and all that matters is that I’m pressed against him. He kisses the top of my head.
After a minute, he pulls me to the bed and slips in behind me. He wraps his large arms around me and then claps to turn off the light.
I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this is. I feel his chest shaking behind me. Now we’re both laughing, and the tension fades. I kiss his lips and then pull his arms tighter around me.
When I wake up, the bed is empty, and I can hear the shower running in the bathroom. I stretch and listen to the sound, and I smile before I’m fully awake.
The water shuts off, and I hear him moving around in the bathroom. A few minutes later, the door opens, and he steps out with a towel wrapped low around his hips, hair damp and skin still flushed from the heat.
My heart skips.
Then races.
Because he looks like something out of a dream, and I’m here, in his room. We hooked up last night. I cried in front of him. He cuddled me all night long, and I can’t quite believe this is real.
Our eyes meet across the room, and something passes between us. Recognition. Want. The memory of everything that happened yesterday.
I try to play it cool. “Morning,” I say.
“Morning.”
“Sleep okay?”
“Better than okay.”
He’s looking at me like he’s trying to memorize my face, and there’s something in his expression that makes my chest tight.
Something that looks like he’s already missing me.
I can’t handle that look.
So I get up and cross the room to him, and when I’m close enough to touch him, I do.
My hands find his chest, still warm and damp from the shower, and I can feel his heart beating under my palms.
“Liv,” he says quietly, but there’s warning in his voice. “I can’t...”
I silence him with a kiss, pouring everything I can’t say into it.
“I’m leaving today,” I whisper against his lips. “Let me have this.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond. Just stands there with his hands on my waist, breathing hard.
Then something breaks in his expression, and he kisses me back like he’s drowning.
We move to the bed without speaking, and this time it’s different from yesterday. Slower. More deliberate. Like we both know this might be the last time and we want to make it count.
I lead, setting the pace, and he lets me. Follows my rhythm, matches my intensity, gives me exactly what I need without me having to ask.
It’s intimate in a way that scares me. Deep and connected and nothing like the desperate urgency from before.
This feels like goodbye and begging all at once.
Like we’re trying to say everything we can’t put into words.
He holds me like I might disappear, like if he lets go I’ll fade away completely.
When it’s over, we lie tangled together, breathing hard, and neither of us speaks.
Because what is there to say?
That this is ending? That I’ll be on a plane back to LA soon and this will all feel like a beautiful dream?
That I don’t want to go but I don’t know how to stay?
That somewhere between yesterday and right now, I fell so hard for him that leaving feels like tearing myself in half?
Instead, we just hold each other in the morning light streaming through the windows, and I try to memorize everything about this moment.
The way his skin feels against mine. The sound of his breathing. The weight of his arm across my waist.
The way it feels to be exactly where I want to be, knowing I can’t stay.
“Liv,” he says finally, his voice rough.
“Don’t,” I interrupt, pressing my fingers to his lips. “Please.”
He nods and pulls me closer, and we lie there in silence until the real world starts calling.
Until checkout time approaches and flights need to be caught, and this perfect, impossible moment has to end.
But for now, in this bed, in this light, with his heart beating against mine, I let myself pretend that goodbye doesn’t have to come.
That this is just the beginning instead of the end.
That maybe, somehow, we’ll figure out how to make this work.
Even though I already know we won’t.