Chapter 7 #2
She doesn’t laugh, but she does sigh in a way that tells me she’s almost there. A thrill of triumph shoots through me. I want to keep going. I want to keep distracting her from her worries about the rain, the thunder, and the wind.
I want to protect her.
Keep her safe.
Take her in my arms, kiss away the fear, and soothe her with gentle touches, caresses, and whispers of my lips against her skin.
“Are you going to come back to Ohio with me then?” she asks.
Her words give me such a shock that my brain has to immediately jump ship from the thoughts it shouldn’t have been indulging in.
I swallow thickly. This is why I’m here.
I can’t come back for her. It won’t be right.
It will never be right, no matter what my inner…
well, whatever it is… thought and felt. I can’t rightly call it my brain and heart.
That’s too easy and far too cliché for something so seismic.
Yeah. Like an earthquake. That’s it.
Isn’t it? Were the foundations of my world not shaken?
Dramatic, darling. Keep going. You might have a career as a poet in your future.
“I… am. Yes, I need to stop hiding. It’s past time to make things right, especially now that there’s no doubt in my mind that I need to.”
“I think you need to forgive yourself before you get there. My dad thinks you’re bringing the sun with you, so don’t swallow the night and set it down at his feet.”
Jesus. If one of us is destined to become a poet, it won’t be me. Dulcie can’t find her wry humor and dry wit right now, but what she’s saying is heartfelt and beautiful. My throat closes up and gets hot, matching the prickling at the backs of my eyes.
“You’d want to drive then.” She washes a few cups and a mug and sets them on a folded towel on the countertop. Not a dish towel, but a bath towel.
There’s no way I could get on a plane. I’m rich enough to afford one, but that always seemed to be extravagantly wasteful. “I could hire a private car for us.”
“Us?” she chokes. “You’d want to go anywhere with me?”
“I’m afraid if you’re not there, I’ll talk myself out of it.” Sure. Sure, that’s all it is. “I’m also afraid that if you are there, I’ll talk myself into something else.” I wince. Putting that out there is infinitely worse than keeping it locked in my head.
“Weird or not, taboo or not, I’m attracted to you.”
It’s not news to me, considering what happened yesterday, but my body still goes on an instant high, buzzing with immediate adrenaline.
“I know you’re the last person I should be attracted to,” she continues. “It would have been so much harder yet also so much easier if you were the arsehole I expected.”
“I tried not to be one back then either.”
She scrubs something in the sink too hard. A plate, maybe. “Would it be better to say we’re just two lonely people who came together? Like rogue waves that crashed up into each other.”
“Loneliness leads people to do crazy things. Everyone craves connection at some level, don’t they?
” It’s beyond time to start telling the truth.
That’s the man I always wanted to be. Truthful.
Honest. The kind of man who doesn’t leave a trail of wounded feelings and wrecked lives behind me, although I had no idea it was that bad. “But that’s not what this is for me.”
“I don’t think that’s what it is for me either. Kindness is incredibly attractive. Humor too. And that dance you did in the kitchen. Honest to freaking pies, my ovaries haven’t recovered. Slaying hearts, slaying cooking, slaying panties.”
I very nearly choke on my own saliva. “If we go to Ohio, how can I not tell your dad what happened? He’ll hate me a thousand times more.”
“What happened was between us. It can stay between us.”
“Do you think we can be in the same room and people won’t know?” My face might be kind of fucked, but it’s not that fucked up. I don’t think even the paper bag I kept joking about could hide the way I feel about this woman.
Disastrous. That’s what the feeling is.
“Don’t you feel the tension?” I add. “All the electricity from that storm might as well be channeled and directed right between us.”
“We could go to Ohio, and you could make things right with my dad, and then you could just come back here,” she suggests, but her tone is heavy.
“To your home… where you live. The whole thing probably wouldn’t take more than a day once we get there.
I could be in your presence as little as possible. ”
“Ohio is five hundred miles away,” I point out.
She frowns. “Can we make it? Technically, it’s drivable in a day.”
“One day.”
“That’s really all we’d have to endure.” She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Or have left.”
My stomach churns as my chest caves in on itself, jamming my ribs together. “Just one day.”
“And whatever time we have until this storm lets up.”
“I shouldn’t want it to keep raining,” I murmur.
“Me neither.” She makes an effort at a small laugh, but it comes out forced and sad. “Didn’t I just say I hate storms? Maybe that’s a new kink too. Earlier, I thought you could pretty much spit in my face, and I’d be down for it.”
I don’t know if this chair is wobbly or if my nearly falling out of it is just… me. “I could spit on your face?” There’s no way I heard that right.
“If it were you doing it, I’d be weirdly into it.”
I did hear that right.
“We probably shouldn’t talk about it. I’m already getting turned on,” she says.
“We should have ground rules to help ourselves stay away from each other.”
“I don’t regret kissing you,” she blurts. She still hasn’t turned around. She keeps scrubbing whatever she’s been trying to clean for the past five minutes. “I regret the circumstances.”
“Knowing I’m-”
She cuts me off with a soft laugh. “Yes, the age gap is obvious. I knew about it before.” We’re both thinking the same thing, but she says it, and without an ounce of the shame that I feel growing in my belly like thorn-encrusted vines.
“It’s harder for you because you didn’t know any of that, including the fact that I’m my dad’s daughter, but my mind remains unchanged.
I’m also my own person, and as much as I love my family, I refuse to let that be the sole thing that defines me.
I find you exceptionally attractive, and I’d like to do level ten filthy things with you. ”
“What is level ten?” Did I just ask that out loud? Yeah, I did. “No. I’m sorry. Please don’t go there.” Thank twenty-eight-inch pizzas, she’s looking out of the window and not at my extremely red face.
She fans herself, sending soap suds flinging all over the place. “I should probably just step outside and cool off.”
“You shouldn’t,” I tell her.
“You’re right. It’s an incredible turn-on for me to think about you soaking wet, so I can see how it would be for you too. Maybe we shouldn’t fight it. Repression just leads to desperation.”
The burning in my gut only gets worse. What did I come here to do? To tell Dulcie that I wanted to make amends and go to Ohio, yes, but I never meant to end up here with a feeling so strong brewing inside of me that it’s overpowering reason.
Didn’t you mean to end up exactly here?
I can honestly say no. I didn’t mean to. But I wasn’t going to tell her that I regretted the kiss either, because that would be a lie.
I’m going to be reduced to a pile of ashes at this very table as I’m trembling so badly and burning up with…
whatever this is. Every single beat of my heart pounds out a chorus in my head.
Would it be the worst thing to let someone in?
You disappointed people. People have disappointed you.
It doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of being trusted or offering trust again.
You won’t turn to ash. You might just find the most beautiful, astounding world waiting for you if you’d just step into it again.
Besides, a pile of ash would freak Dulcie out and probably blow all over this pizza, and then massive pizzas would be ruined for her for life.
“I thought we couldn’t just bang it out, but we could. We could fuck each other out of our systems, knowing full well it won’t last, and then go our separate ways. The chances of us ever seeing each other again are slim.”
I stand up so fast that the chair catches and stops, tossing me out the side.
I stumble but grab the pizza box, nearly tugging it onto the floor.
My heart revs like a jet engine, but do I offer a protest of any sort?
No. That would be too convenient. My brain likes to punish me.
“Because I’m a recluse who doesn’t do things like leave the house. ”
“And I’m halfway across the country.” She doesn’t turn fully, but she does give me a good side eye. Not a stink eye or a sidelong side eye. Just a stare from the side. She’s watching me carefully, trying not to give anything away.
“We could still… uh… talk. The internet can be a terrible tool, as you’ve mentioned, but it can also be a great means of communication.” Stop. Just stop.
“Or text,” she offers.
“There’s that.”
“Or sext. If the mood strikes us.”
I give her my best deer-in-the-headlights impression. “Your family would never let it happen.”
“Never is a big word.”