Chapter Twenty-Two
Jules
I thought I knew Zander’s face. I’ve been looking at it and studying its many variations since we were five years old.
So why does it look so different now? The crease between his brows looks the same, the slope of his nose and the slight pout to his lips still hold the same shape– so why does he look like someone completely new?
I press my thumb against the lines, smoothing them out and following the line of his brow.
His unconscious response to my touch is adorable, as he nuzzles my hand persistently like a puppy.
I do it over and over, taking the opportunity to watch him whilst I can.
There’s no guarantee that once he wakes up and recalls the events from last night, it will be possible to be this close to him again.
“Less thinking, more head scritchies,” Zander’s morning voice is fuzzy and deep, like the stubble lining his jaw and the lines creasing his forehead.
My body freezes with the realisation that he’s awake, that this is a new day, and the version of us that leaves the bed will be different from the ones who lay here before.
His eyes are still closed, but I know he’s waiting for a response, if only to gauge where my head’s at.
“Is this what people mean when they talk about the morning after?” I ask, feeling the awkwardness settling between us. Zander’s eyes ping open. I don’t immediately recognise the look that falls across his face, it’s part confusion, part amusement, and a whole lot of horror.
“Unless I slept very heavily last night, then no, Jules, not exactly,” he answers, raising a brow in question.
“Did I… I mean, are you… We–” I try to say the right thing, ask the right question, but I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. Zander looks at me, a lazy smile spreading across his face. My eyes immediately fall to his lips and the dimples on either side.
“Jules,” he speaks softly, silencing me by gripping my chin between his thumb and fingers, “I’m still me, and you’re still you.
I’m not going to make this any more complicated than it needs to be.
I just need to know if you’re ready to hear what I have to say?
” The seriousness in his voice is enough to convince me that maybe I messed up.
Shoulda just punched him instead. I recognise his need to control the situation; that part hasn’t changed, at least. He finds his comfort in the confines he sets for himself.
Irritation crawls along my skin, not at Zander, but at myself.
This is exactly the reason they didn’t tell me about Mom’s illness in the first place, they don’t think I can handle the difficult conversations.
It’s exactly what landed us here, in bed side by side, with swollen lips and suspicious hearts.
I take a deep breath, secretly hoping I inhale some of his confidence too, “I’m ready.” For you to break the part of my heart that’s clinging onto the only bit of hope left.
“This thing, between us, I don’t know what it is.
I don’t recognise the feelings I have right now, or that I had last night, because you’ve always just been, well, you.
But when you kissed me, I knew the cost, I knew the damage, but the only fear I had was the thought of never doing it again.
So, I’m in this with you– I always have been.
I don’t know when things changed, or how, all I know is that with one kiss, I’m willing to risk it all.
I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect, we both know I’m a mess up top; all tangled wires and broken parts.
But you are the one thing that has always made sense. ”
His words are as surprising as they are welcomed, his eyes bore into me, pleading with me to believe what he says, to believe in him the way he always has in me.
He’s right, it’s not going to be perfect, and that alone will be a hurdle that he will have to face, even when his mind screams for order.
We both have our flaws, and we both have our weaknesses, but we’ve always had each other, too, and that feels like it might just be enough.
“Zan, I’ve never done this before, I don’t want to hold you back…” He pulls my face closer, not stopping until our noses are touching.
“Hey, you set the pace, remember? I’ll be beside you the entire time. You're forgetting I’ve never done this either,” he admits. “We do this together. It will only work if we’re completely honest with each other. No secrets, okay?”
“Okay.” I finally take my first easy breath since he woke, but he quickly steals it away by placing his lips against mine.
His mouth is gentle and cautious, like he’s testing my commitment to whatever we’re heading towards at breakneck speed.
I want to return his reassurances and tell him exactly where I’m at, or more so, where I’ve been for the last few years, but I don’t need to.
He already knows. Zander has always known me better than I know myself, even if I did blindside him last night.
Deep down, we both knew behind the thin veil of friendship were roots so intricately entwined there was no way we would end up anywhere but where we are now.
I push my lips against his, rolling him onto his back until I can look down into his eyes.
His body goes rigid for a moment before his hands wrap around my arms, a silent suggestion that this is okay.
I duck my head to take his mouth once again– I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of kissing Zander, just as I’ll never get over not doing it sooner.
My body lowers slowly, an unconscious move to relieve the strain on my arms. We’re flush against one another, the evidence of our change in feelings obvious and straining against the denim.
Neither of us pays our lower halves any attention; our desires lie solely in the comfort of our proximity and the intimacy we take from each other’s mouths.
Our lips move together effortlessly, gliding, sucking, nipping.
It feels like there is no starting point and no finish line; time waits for us now.
I slide my tongue through the gap between us, and Zander rewards me by welcoming it with his own.
I don’t know which sounds belong to me and which belong to him, but together they make the perfect symphony.
“Jules…” Kiss.
“As much as I want to–” Kiss.
“Stay here… all… day…” I pull my head back to let him speak. His eyes search mine, for what, I’m not sure.
“You need to speak to your Mom,” he suggests, tentatively.
“I know. Do you think she’s mad at me for leaving yesterday?” I can’t look him in the eye when I ask, the shame and selfishness I feel surrounding my actions are still burning on the surface.
“She’s not mad, she’s worried. As I was.”
“I don’t want her to worry, I never want her to worry about me.”
“Then show her there’s nothing to worry about, Jules. You’re stronger than she thinks you are, but she needs to see that strength for herself.” His words find their target, soothing the increasing anxiety the morning brought.
“Yeah, I will.” I feel more confident knowing I have Zander to guide me.
“Can you tell me what you know? About her illness? I did some research last night, but I don’t know what stage she’s at or how much time we have together.
I need to know I haven’t lost her already.
” I also don’t want to ask Mom; she shouldn’t have to relive the death sentence she’s been dealt.
I also don’t want to burden her with my emotions.
With Zander, I can let it out without the guilt, I can fall apart in front of him and know that he will just hold me through it.
Once Zander had given me all the information he had, he held me for an hour as I sobbed into his chest. It wasn’t pleasant or pretty; it was just an endless outpouring of devastation.
He talked me through it all: the test results, the steady decline, the ways in which he had been helping her all this time.
All the signs were there, and I missed every single one.
Zander tried his best to console me, telling me over and over again that I had no reason to doubt what they told me and the excuses they gave.
It helped a little, but I don’t think I will ever not feel a sense of guilt at my ignorance.
Being close to someone who’s holding onto a secret is its own kind of grief– it makes you question everything.
Once Mom and I were finally face-to-face, the tears threatened to fall.
How am I going to wake up each morning and not see her face?
How am I meant to pretend I’m okay with any of this?
How can the world be so cruel to such a kind person?
Zander’s grip on my shoulders had tightened when he sensed the rush of heartbreak running through me, reminding me of her worries. I needed to be strong. I need to show her that I can be enough to ease the weight of her worries. I refuse to let my sadness ruin the time we have left.
A year, give or take.