Chapter Twenty-Two
Mara-Present
Silence-Marshmello Ft. Khalid
I woke up as angry as when I went to bed.
But a lot of the hostility I felt fizzled out when I felt the warm body curled around me.
The hot breath in my hair sent tingles down my spine and softened my fiery disposition.
I was glad I had another bed to go to to make a point last night, but I would have slept on the fucking porch if I had to.
I’m trying to be understanding of the nonverbal communication we have.
I’m trying to be understanding of the dark past he’s trying to hide or whatever is haunting him at night.
But I don’t deserve to be his emotional punching bag.
I put up with that shit for far too long with my exes.
Every time we take a step forward with however you’d define our relationship, he sabotages the progress by making me the bad guy again.
I don’t know how long I’ll have to pay for my mistakes.
I try to slip out of his hold without disturbing the sleeping bear but Jason’s arm tightens the second he realizes I’m trying to leave.
Back to chest, his nose tickles my neck as he inhales my scent.
That worked after he rescued me from the frozen pond but not this time.
This time he doesn’t have a chance to save my life as a way to apologize for his actions.
With more force, I break free of Jason’s grasp fully knowing he could have kept me there if he wanted to. Good, he needs to realize he can’t just hug and kiss me every time he fucks up.
I pull on a pair of Jason’s sweatpants and button a flannel over the t-shirt. It’s getting colder despite February’s arrival.
By the time I go for the door, Jason has already popped out of bed and beats me to it, barricading it with his massive body.
I retract my hand and pin him in place with a narrow-eyed glower.
By the sullen expression on his face, I know that he knows he fucked up.
He wouldn’t have slept in my bed last night if he was still angry.
“It’s too early for this,” I protest, crossing my arms. “I haven’t had coffee yet.”
He steps forward and wraps both of my hands in his, leering down at me in the difference between our heights. Sad eyes. Puppy dog eyes. And they’re dismantling my icy barriers.
“Ok great, you kissed me, you made it clear we aren’t just fuck buddies. But you’re also keeping secrets and when I want to talk about whatever is bothering you, you throw a tantrum. You can’t use your inability to talk as an excuse for treating me poorly.”
One warm hand tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. I notice his long hair is disheveled from sleep and hanging over his brow.
“You don’t want to deal with your emotions? Fine. But walking out on me and acting like a dick isn’t acceptable.”
He lowers his forehead to mine so we share the same breath—which makes me aware that I haven’t brushed my teeth yet and probably have morning breath.
“You can’t kiss your way out of this.” I pull my head back. “Actions speak louder than words.” We both pause and consider what I just said to the voluntarily mute guy. “You know what I mean.”
I try to pass him for the door but Jason pulls me into his chest and sears our lips together in a kiss that doubles as a promise.
And I can’t help but melt into him. He’s all-consuming and too persuasive with the chemistry that combusts between us with every touch.
I felt it in high school and I feel it now.
Our bodies react to one another like two elements that combust when mixed.
Depending on what you wanted the outcome to be, we are either perfect for one another, or a disaster waiting to happen.
That night after I’ve showered, Jason locks our hands as I exit the bathroom wrapped in a towel and pulls me toward his bedroom.
Instead of initiating sex as I expected, he settles me between his legs beneath the comforter and picks a book up off the nightstand beside him.
Pride and Prejudice. I pick up where we left off, reading for a couple hours before growing tired enough to turn in for the night.
As soon as I close the book with the ribbon between the pages, I peer over my shoulder only to find Jason asleep, propped against his pillows with his head slumped to the side.
I know it might wake him but I take the risk of kissing his cheek and slipping out from between his legs so I can lie beside him.
He stirs without actually waking and hunkers down into the blankets, drawing them up to his chin in balled fists.
There’s something almost childlike about it.
He’s so innocent in his sleep. I wiggle into the bed further, making a Mara shaped dent in the mattress.
And this prompts a sleeping Jason to search for me with a hand beneath the blankets.
He finds my hand and squeezes. I doubt he does this consciously but it still makes my heart flutter.
If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be lying in bed with Jason Alder and he would be holding my hand, I would have suggested intense mental health treatment.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected us to be here, embracing one another in such a romantic way.
Sleeping beside another person without having sex first is the true test of intimacy.
How well do you exist with one another when sex isn’t the link?
What started as a purely sexual relationship feels infinitely more vulnerable.
It feels personal. None of this was by choice and yet all of it was by choice.
We chose to work through our issues even if we didn’t expect this.
We chose to learn the other person as well as we know ourselves even if we didn’t choose how right this feels.
And it does feel right. I understand what people mean when they say if you know, you know. Love is a strong word, and maybe one day I could say it to him. But it feels too soon for that. It’s infinitely more important to me than a casual relationship.
And that’s when doubt creeps in. Good old imposter syndrome. As soon as things start to feel natural, healthy, happy, the evil voice in my mind plants worry.
Does he really like me or am I just a warm body to ease the ache of loneliness in isolation? Does he want something with me or is this temporary?
If it weren’t for our forced proximity, would he feel this way?
There’s no doubt in my mind we never would have connected like this had it not been for the peculiar circumstances.
If I hadn’t been driving to that bridge.
If I hadn’t decided to turn around.
If I hadn’t lost control sending me flying into that snow bank.
If anything had gone differently that night, I wouldn’t be here with Jason, now. Living this simple life that feels so perfect without all the labels and chaos of the rest of the world. We’re trapped in a little bubble I’ve come to appreciate.
I know that logically none of this would have come to pass without the butterfly effect of my choices and his, but I can’t help but wonder if that devalues what we’re sharing now. Is our rekindling any less substantial because of the severe improbability of it?
And for the first time I seriously start to consider what happens when the snow melts. What happens when I can officially leave? And what happens if I don’t want to?
Does Jason want me to stay? Would he come to town to visit me or I’d come up here? Or would we never speak again? I spent a couple months in town before the day near the bridge and never saw him. What are the chances I see him now that he knows I’m there?
I don’t want to think that would be our future, but he’s left so much room for doubt in my mind. I don’t expect grand gestures, but something that tells me this is more than a temporary arrangement.
Of all the times I wish he would speak to me, I wish I could hear his voice, this is the strongest. I wish he would tell me what he’s thinking.
And even though I don’t know sign language, maybe he and Dylan could teach me so we could communicate that way.
Something more than eye rolls and passionate embraces.
He’s shown me he cares in so many little ways but I can’t help but worry they are for the sake of coexisting in our short lived cohabitation.
Mara, you’re overthinking and over-complicating shit.
I know this about myself, I’m always looking for what’s wrong with a relationship. My ex said I was always causing drama between us when it was unnecessary. And I’m doing that again and we aren’t even a couple.
I can’t let Jason on to my insecurities even more than I have. He’s not responsible for my own short-comings. And the least sexy thing in the world is a girl who’s unsure of herself.
I’ve portrayed the confident girl all my life, the one sure of herself and steadfast in her choices. So wearing the mask of someone not overthinking everything should be a piece of cake.
I just want to enjoy this. Enjoy him. I haven’t been this happy in such a long time.
Aside from the sex being out-of-this-world, I’ve never been more content in my life than I have been with this slow living mentality.
Nowhere to be, nothing major to do, just honest work that provides for our needs.
I haven’t even missed shopping or scrolling TikTok.
The dissociation has been more therapeutic than talking to a stranger about my feelings ever was.
I spent all this time trying to get away from this town, from the expectations it holds. I thought I wanted a grand life with big adventures and recognition, so I made drastic changes.
But through this experience I’ve learned I am happier without the pressures I impose on myself than I have ever been. I thought I’d hate working all day, I thought I’d hate the labor and the effect it would have on my body, but I don’t. I feel more empowered than I have since high school sports.
It sounds so cliche, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m truly myself.