Chapter 24
Chuck: Did you catch that stroke?
Lou: I must have missed it…
Chuck: It was one for the ages.
Lou: I’ll tell you what’s going to give me a stroke: this out-of-bound time loop.
Clinton swirls one of my pink balls in his hand, but he hasn’t met my eyes yet, which is so unlike him.
Instead of interrupting him, I choose to watch his next move.
His brow is furrowed, and he looks deep in thought rather than interested in watching the movie, his gaze looking straight through the television.
“Clint, are you okay?” I smooth my hand down his bicep, wanting to give him some comfort through whatever has him stuck in his head. “You just seem…not yourself.” I smirk.
“Yeah, Dove, I’m okay. Just have something on my mind. I’m sorry. We’re watching a movie, and I may as well be looking at the wall.”
I tilt my head slightly, giving him a once over.
“You don’t need to apologize. Is leaving tomorrow getting to you?
” This is the first time I’ve really brought up his leaving.
I’ve not wanted to address the figurative elephant in the room.
Not when I’m not ready to deal with my feelings for him, the same feelings I told him he wasn’t allowed to have for me.
When I turn my entire body to face him on the couch, he palms my thigh and gives it a soft squeeze. It’s something he does when I need reassurance or just to let me know he’s here with me at the moment. This time, I think it may be more for him.
“Dove, I need to ask you something.” I release a breathy laugh, trying to calm the nerves his words spark to life in me. When he doesn’t move his hand or return my obviously anxious laugh I look up to him, finding his gaze is already on me.
Taking a deep breath, I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers with his and say, “I’m here. Tell me what’s got you so quiet.”
“You know I leave tomorrow afternoon, and I plan to be at the airport in the morning.” I nod my head, not understanding his worry.
“I lo—” he begins, fiddling with the golf ball and meets my eyes.
“I want this, you and me. You’re incredible and have become someone extremely important to me over the last several months, and I like to think the feelings are mutual.
You still haven’t decided if you’re returning back to school, and I’d love it if you'd come to Europe with me.”
The words suck the air out of my lungs. If I say no, I lose him, and if I say yes—the thought scares the hell out of me. But losing him...losing him makes my chest tight.
“Clint. I—” But this time, he stops me.
“We can go, and you can explore the city, finish school abroad if it's what you want to do. We can make this work. I know that we can, baby. We just have to be on the same page. I understand you’re fearful of love and all that comes with it, but I promise you we can do this. Come with me.”
“Okay.”
“And if you are worried about—wait, you’ll come?” he asks, as caught off guard as I am.
“Yeah, I’ll come. I want to come. I want to figure this out.” Clinton pulls me into his lap, and I nuzzle into his neck, enjoying the feel of safety in his arms.
“Fuck. I was so damn nervous to ask you.”
“I need to pack a massive bag, probably a couple,” I say as he chuckles.
I lean back to look into his eyes, and the happiness I find there makes my heart beat faster.
I slant my lips over his, enjoying how his hands climb up my thighs to my ass.
Grinding into his thickening length, I swirl my hips and soak in the heat of him.
He groans into my ear, “Are you wet for me, Dove?”
“Make me feel good, Clint.”
My palms are slick with sweat as I slide my bags into my trunk, the nerves eating away at me. If I wasn’t sure about Clint, I would have never agreed, but it's me I’m nervous about.
He is worth it.
He won’t break your heart.
I give myself an internal pep talk as my phone buzzes again.
I refuse to look at it. Refuse to do anything other than drive to the airport.
Taking a deep breath, I look at my radio and turn on some music, needing a little bit of background noise as I drive to the airport.
When I pull into the long-term parking, I realize I’m not even sure how I got here so fast—clearly on autopilot.
My hands are still white-knuckling the steering wheel but I’m frozen.
When my phone buzzes again from another notification, I pick it up and stare at it.
Clint
Paloma, let me know when you get here and I will come get your bags.
You’re cutting it close.
Paloma?
Water drops on the screen of my phone, and I reach up, wiping away tears.
I didn’t even realize I’d started to cry, and something in my chest feels locked up.
I look out of the windshield watching planes ascend and descend as passengers make their way to their destination.
Why the fuck did I park here? My breath comes out in short gasps, and I do my best to catch them, but when I look back down at my phone, my breath quickens.
Clint
I tried calling you but it’s going to voicemail. Are you okay?
“Never trust a man with your heart, mija.”
“Not this time, Paloma.”
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare blame this all on me.”
“There hasn't been an us in years, and we both fucking know it.”
“He’ll be here, mijita.”
“Your father will be here in ten minutes.”
“How could I have ever loved you when you’ve so easily forgotten I even existed!”
“I won’t force you to come over anymore, honey.”
Words from my parents stream through my mind like a movie reel, and I try to hold on to reality. Try to be in this moment so I can get the hell out of this car, but I can’t, and I’m a coward for it. I’m a coward because I can’t look at the texts Clinton sent me any longer.
He deserves so much better than me. He deserves someone who can love him in every capacity, and I can’t do that. Love isn’t for me, at least not in this lifetime.
“Fuck!” I scream out, gripping the steering wheel, shaking my head. Fear and irritation coat my skin, holding me hostage in this car, which feels more like a prison now.
Clint
Listen, if you’re scared it’s okay. You don’t have to come, baby. I understand this was a big ask and I would never want you to do something you don’t feel comfortable with but at least tell me you’re okay.
Please.
Time passes by, and soon I’m watching another flight take off. My phone has stopped pinging with notifications. My eyes look at the time, and it's now fifty minutes after boarding time. His last message flickers in my mind, and my tears blur everything once again.
Please.
Please.
Please.