Chapter 25 Ivan #2
I keep thinking about the parking lot, Jay texts on Wednesday night. I'm already in bed, unable to sleep, staring at my phone in the dark.
Me too. I think about it constantly.
Jay: I didn't expect that. I thought I'd just stand there and watch you drive away and that would be it.
Me: I wasn't planning on it. But then I was getting in the truck and I couldn't— I stop typing, trying to find the words. I couldn't leave without doing that. Without knowing.
Jay: Knowing what?
Me: If you felt the same way I do.
A long pause. I watch the three dots appear and disappear several times. My heart is pounding.
Do you regret it? he finally asks.
Me: No. God, no. Do you?
Jay: Never. I keep wishing we'd had more time.
Me too.
You're coming back Friday, right? His next message comes quickly, almost desperate.
Me: As soon as I get off work. I'm leaving straight from the job site.
Jay: I need to see you. I need— He doesn't finish the sentence.
I need to see you too, I type, my hands shaking slightly.
Jay: I haven't had a drink since you left.
I've been worried about that. Worried about him alone in that motel room with nothing but his thoughts and his nightmares and his guilt. I've been texting him partly just to give him something to focus on that isn't the bottom of a bottle, someone to talk to when the dark gets too heavy.
Really? I type back. Not at all?
Jay: Really. It's been hard. I barely slept Monday and Tuesday. But I keep thinking about what you said. About being scared for me. And I can't do that anymore. I don't want to be that person. I don't want you to look at me and be afraid.
I'm so proud of you, I type, and I mean it with everything in me.
Jay: Don't be proud yet. It's only been four days. That's nothing.
Me: Four days is a lot. That's huge.
Jay: It doesn't feel huge. It feels like hell.
Me: I know. But you're doing it anyway. That's what matters.
A long pause. I want to be better. For you. I want to be someone you can be proud of.
Me: Be better for yourself, I type back immediately. You deserve it for yourself, not for me.
Jay: I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to want things for myself. But I can want them for you. That's easier. That makes sense.
My chest aches. I want to be there with him. I want to hold him and tell him that he deserves good things, that he's worth fighting for, that I'm not going anywhere no matter what.
Friday, I type. I'll be there Friday. Just hold on until Friday.
Jay: I'm counting the hours. Literally counting them.
Me too.
***
I barely sleep Wednesday night. Or Thursday night.
I'm too keyed up, too restless, my body humming with anticipation that I can't control.
I think about Jay constantly—his face, his hands, his mouth.
I think about what it felt like to kiss him in the parking lot, and I think about what else might happen this weekend, and I have to take cold showers two days in a row because my body won't calm down, because I keep getting hard just thinking about him.
Thursday night, lying in bed in the dark, I let myself think about it properly for the first time. About what I want. About what might happen.
I've never had sex before. Never even come close.
But now I want to. I want to touch Jay everywhere, want to see him, want to know what he looks like without clothes, what he sounds like when he comes.
I want to make him feel good. I want him to make me feel good.
I want things I don't even have names for, things I've never let myself imagine.
And I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.
The thought is terrifying. What if I'm bad at it? What if I can't figure out what to do? What if I hurt him or disappoint him or—
I push the thoughts away. Jay might not know what he's doing either.
I just hope I don't completely embarrass myself.
Friday finally arrives. I rush through my last job of the day, a simple outlet installation that should have taken thirty minutes but I finish in fifteen. I clock out early, practically running to my truck, and then swing by the house to pick up my things.
Rosalyn catches me on my way out the door, her hand on my arm stopping me. "You're going back to see him?"
"Yeah." I can't hide my eagerness.
She looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable in her dark eyes. Then she pulls me into a hug, tight and fierce. "Be safe. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all."
"I will. I promise."
"And Ivan?" She pulls back, holds me at arm's length, her hands on my shoulders. "I can see how happy you are. Whatever's happening with him, just be careful with your heart, okay? Don't give it away too fast."
I don't know what to say to that. I don't know how to tell her that it's too late for careful. That my heart is already gone, already given away, already beating in a motel room. That it's been gone for years, and I've only just now gotten it back by giving it away completely.
"I'll be fine," I say, because I can't tell her the truth. "I promise."
***
The drive feels endless, every mile taking forever while stuck in traffic. When I finally pull into the Vista Inn parking lot, my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears.
Jay's motorcycle is parked in its usual spot, gleaming under the parking lot lights. The light is on in his window on the second floor. He's there. He's waiting for me.
I grab my overnight bag from the passenger seat and then walk up the stairs to his door. My hands are shaking. My legs feel unsteady.
I don't know what's going to happen when he opens that door, but I know everything is different now. Everything has changed. We've crossed a line we can't uncross, and I don't want to go back anyway.
I raise my hand and knock, three sharp raps.
The door opens almost immediately, like he was standing right there waiting.
And then Jay is in front of me, and everything else disappears.