Chapter 13 #3
“And then I’ll tell you all your charms?” he whispers back. His breath catches slightly as I start playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. A police siren turns on somewhere in the distance, and as my body twitches in surprise, Harrison pulls me even closer, every inch of our bodies aligned.
“Charms, charms, charms,” he whispers. “For one, you make me laugh.”
“And you make me smile,” I tell him, still swaying.
“And your smile makes me smile.” My muscles shift against his cheek as I grin, and he lets out a soft laugh that tickles my neck. “See?”
We continue to dance for the entirety of the song, holding each other and rocking back and forth, our bodies glowing from the flickering string lights.
“Harrison…” I finally whisper, despite having no idea what words are coming next. It could be literally anything from I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to look you in the eyes after this to Will you marry me?
Thankfully, Harrison stops me before either of those two things—or anything in between—can escape my mouth. “Shhhh,” he whispers, letting out a breathy laugh.
“Fair enough,” I murmur as the next song on the album begins.
He sways me to the new tempo, humming in my ear and sending vibrations up and down my body.
If he lets go of me, I will likely collapse.
I consider it a minor miracle I’m standing at all—I have no idea where my body ends and his begins.
I have no idea if my legs are still functional, or if he’s completely supporting my weight.
Is there a party going on inside? I wouldn’t know.
I can’t feel a single thing other than the spot right underneath my ear where his nose brushes my neck every time we sway backward.
And every time we sway forward, and I lose that pinprick of contact, a part of me dies before being immediately reincarnated one second later when we sway backward again.
Harrison turns his head ever so slightly, leaving his lips brushing against my neck.
My breath catches, every thought funneling from my mind as I wait to see what he’ll do next.
The music must still be playing, but I can’t hear anything.
Our swaying has stopped, too. This is a movie, and we just hit pause—except we’re still breathing, a little heavier than we should be, our chests rising and falling in sync.
Finally, finally, he presses a gentle kiss to the soft section of skin beneath my left ear, and my past, present, and future collide, disintegrate, and re-form.
Despite myself, I let out a small mmm, and one of his hands starts drawing circles against my waist.
“Can I ask you something?” he whispers.
“Anything,” I say, only about 10 percent aware of what’s happening beyond the feel of his skin on mine.
“Do you remember the night we met?”
The music begins returning to my consciousness.
“When we talked about soulmates?” he continues.
My breath catches. I am feeling vaguely claustrophobic.
“Did you mean what you said? About not believing in soulmates, and about not being interested in them?”
It’s funny when things you said nearly a decade ago come back to bite you in the ass.
Karma is cruel like that. Because even now, when his hand on my back makes me feel so many things I’ve missed, I know this will end the same way it did before.
I’m not better yet. There are physical therapy exercises that I need to do, calls I need to make to my parents, stuff still in boxes on the floor I need to unpack.
Harrison has a career and a life and is taking care of his mom and a guinea pig.
He’s not ready to date seriously, and I can’t be casual with anyone, especially Harrison.
I knew this before his hand was around my waist and now I have to hurt him all over again before this becomes a bigger mistake.
And so the words slip out of my mouth, more on instinct than anything else:
“Sorry, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Because what else am I supposed to say? Oh, I do remember, but I actually do believe in soulmates, even though I led you to believe you’re not mine?
Because if I had told you how I felt then I’d have to explain why it didn’t matter how I felt because there was something else I didn’t and still don’t want to tell you about?
I know you hate liars, but maybe you can make an exception for me, your favorite Friend with Limitations!
Harrison removes his hands and takes a step back, studying me. I can tell by his expression that he knows I know what he’s talking about, but he doesn’t call me out on it, which makes me feel a hundred times shittier.
The only thing worse than fighting with someone you love is not being worth the fight.
“I need some water,” Harrison says, then walks inside.
The string lights flicker off for good, and I’m shrouded in darkness.
Skip Notes
*1 Soft smile · Small dimples · Head tilt to the right | Facial expression | Frequency: high
Affection.
Generally platonic.
*2 Red ears | Physical reaction | Frequency: medium
Embarrassment; extreme.
*3 Soft smile · Small dimples · Head tilt to the right | Facial expression | Frequency: high
Affection.
Generally platonic. [Note: Continue to observe for possible correction.]