Chapter 10 #2
I nod and pull her in closer. Hold her tight enough that I’m not sure she can breathe, but I hear the air filling her lungs and the beat of the blood rushing through her body.
“You’re okay,” Lana whispers, her nails running along my head and down my nape. “You’re okay.”
I cough quietly to clear out the knot in my throat. “It was… It was just a test,” I rasp. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
Her hands falter. “Test?”
“I ordered the drink,” I admit. “I sat there with it in front of me and… I don’t know.”
“You didn’t do it.”
I shake my head.
“Then why are you upset? Be proud. I’m proud,” she says. “Are you proud?”
I nod, swallowing. “It just…feels weird.”
“I think it’s supposed to for a bit, no?”
“Maybe. I didn’t want to but there was a part of me that needed to. It was a fight against myself,” I murmur.
“And you won,” Lana whispers, kissing my temple. “The part of yourself that needed to win, won.”
“Yeah.”
“Christian?”
I sniffle, wrinkling my nose around, and look up at her through my blurry vision. Her thumbs sweep across under my eyes, and when I blink, she catches the tears before they can fall. “I’m fine,” I say. “I’m okay. I’m just going to…go to bed.”
She gives me a pointed look. “Christian.”
“I promise, I’m fine,” I lie. “Go to bed. Sleep. You work in the morning.”
“I don’t care,” she whispers.
“I do. Go ahead, I’ll be fine,” I tell her, knowing damn well I need her beyond comprehension right now. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”
“I don’t believe you,” Lana frowns.
The corner of my mouth quirks. “Believe me, okay? I’m just tired.”
Her mouth opens like she is about to speak but I don’t let her. I surprise her by standing and say, “Go back to bed.” I kiss her forehead. “I’m okay.”
“But—”
I kiss her head again then walk around her toward the bathroom across the guest room. I turn on the shower and let the room steam as I strip out of my clothes, feeling my arms and legs grow weaker with each movement.
As if somehow my body is weaker for not drinking. As if ordering the drink alone had a crippling effect in my progress, including my bodily functions.
You didn’t drink it, I tell myself. You didn’t drink it.
Naked, I step under the hot spray and wash the shame off my skin. I shouldn’t have ordered it.
You didn’t drink it. You didn’t drink it.
I didn’t drink it, and I have room to be proud of that. But now, today, I only feel…empty about it. Like sitting in the bar and ordering was crossing the line. I passed my test but for what? At what cost?
I wanted to drink it—I really did. Maybe if I drank it I could have learned to live with a few sips.
Maybe I would have learned self control.
But maybe if I drank it, I wouldn’t be able to live without sips ever again.
Either way, I’d lose myself and I’d lose her. Again. That is a loss I can’t afford.
After my hot shower, I put on my underwear, pajama pants, and t-shirt with shaky hands. I’m still trying to control my breathing when I step out of the bathroom, trying not to cry again.
I was so close to breaking tonight. To lose everything I worked for. The more I think about it…
I pace the guest room for a bit, and by the time minute three passes, I know I won’t settle down. I can’t be alone tonight. I need her and to tell her I was fine was a mistake. She knew that, but would she be angry with me if I went to her now?
Fuck it.
I walk out of the guest room and up the stairs to find her bedroom door ajar, moonlight casting a glow on the light wooden floors.
I push the door the rest of the way open and she sits up on her side immediately, almost as though she was waiting for me. Her eyes are soft and filled with worry. “Lana—”
“Do you need me tonight?”
“Maybe,” I rasp. “Yes.”
“Come here,” she breathes.
Pouting with the most intense urge to burst into a sobbing fit, I crawl onto her bed.
Lana kneels, holding up her hand to stop me, and I kneel before her.
Her head is tilted back, her eyes locked on mine, and I know I made the right decision.
Not drinking anymore will always be the right decision for the rest of my life.
I won’t hurt myself, I can’t. I won’t hurt her either.
“Lana,” I breathe into the dark room, only a soft glow coming in through the windows.
“We’re going to sleep,” she whispers.
Lana puts her hands on my abdomen, smoothing them down until they’re at the hem of my shirt, pushing it up until it’s over my head. Then her fingers untie the knot I made at the front of my drawstring pajama pants, and her lips part as she peers up at me.
“Sleeping?”
Lana closes her mouth briefly, swallowing, before her lips part again. “Yes,” she breathes, pushing the pants down my hips and exposing my boxer briefs beneath. “Sleep.”
My own lips part as I drink her in—the way her caramel eyes look at me like I might be worth something after all. I need her to look at me like that all the time, every day, until the day I die. Because that is how long I will love her for, and even after death.
“Off, baby,” Lana whispers, tugging at my pants. I remove them completely until I’m left in my briefs. Her eyes roam over me shamelessly as she pushes hair behind her ear.
“Sleep?” I rasp and her breath comes out shuddered, her hand reaching to rest against my stomach.
Lana watches her every move as her fingers trace the lines on my torso, the touch making my muscles clench and relax every so often under her smooth fingertip.
“Lana,” I exhale shakily, watching the way her face softens and the way she wets her bottom lip before biting into it.
Her fingers dance their way up the center of my chest and move across my shoulders, running down the length of my arms before coming back to my ribs. Her fingers coming down my sides and stopping at the V at my hips, the tip of a finger slipping just beneath the waistband of my Calvin’s.
I try not to jerk my hips, to make it obvious that I’m painfully hard. But her eyes are locked right there and I don’t miss the flinch at the corner of her lips. Lana drags her finger tips down the tops of my thighs before moving them back up to my waist.
I could remain here happily like this tonight, with Lana touching me. I just desperately need her touching me all the time. Now there is no chaotic storm in my head, it’s just this—her here with me, bringing me back down to reality.
Lana’s hands remain at the sides of my ribcage, her palms pressed into my skin, and she finally looks at me again with her lips parted.
“Sleep,” she says.
“Sleep,” I say, unsure of who needs more convincing.
Lana’s exhale escapes through parted lips, her fingers curl slightly, and I reach for her. My hands cradle her face, and her gasp is a quiet one as she leans in. As she inches forward, I do the same. She retreats, jerk her heading back hesitantly, before she leans in again.
“Sleep,” she breathes on my lips, the word coming out almost as a moan.
I nod and my nose grazes the side of hers. “Sleep.”
I catch as she wets her lips, her eyes dropping to my lips. “Christian?”
“Lana,” I breathe, leaning in again until she pulls back, pressing her forehead to mine.
Lana pulls back again until she’s peering up at me with those big eyes and I just want to kiss her. All night. Only kiss her and reacquaint myself with her lips, mumble sweet nothings against them. Hear the words that fall from between them and the laughter that sings out of her.
Slowly, she takes her position on the center of her bed, curling up on her side. So I lie behind her, pressing my front to her back and pulling her into the cocoon of my arms.
“I love you,” I whisper in her ear.
The silence draws out the ache in my chest, worsening it until she speaks again.
“I know.”
I kiss the curve of her neck the way I did this morning. “Lana, do you love me?”
“Christian—”
“Do you love me?” My voice cracks.
Lana turns in my arms, finding a position on her side before she throws her leg over my hip, and pushes her fingers into the hair at the back of my head. “What makes you think I don’t?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “My head does this thing…”
“Tell it to stop,” she says gently. “It lies.”
“It isn’t that easy.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But I’m here.”
“I’m here too, Lana,” I say. “For good.”
Her hand comes to rest on my cheek, her thumb brushing up and down its bone. “Okay.”
I nod because that is all I will be getting tonight. She doesn’t seem racked with disappointment or anger, instead it just reads as sadness I wish I could pluck out of her. A sadness I had a big part in giving to her.
“Christian,” she whispers, “I think you’re beautiful.”
“I think you are beautiful too.”
“And you are brave,” Lana says. “And stronger than you think. You’re kind and sweet. And even though I’m angry with you for lots of things, you’re still my person. You are still the person I want to call and tell everything to.”
I swallow, blinking. Thank you, I want to say, but the only thing I can manage is, “Okay.”
Lana inches forward and her lips brush mine softly—a featherlight touch that feels like a ghost passing through. I press back a bit harder to feel it the way I need to, and she does the same.
“Sleep,” she whispers when she pulls away.
I hold her and keep her close because I didn’t know who I was when I lost this. And right now it feels as though I’ve come back into myself. Right place, right time, right person. Lana is always the right person.
She’s my person.
It’s a heavy form of intimacy to be like this with her, vulnerable—to look at her and see her, to have her see me. Like this, I can see her fears, worries. Her happiness and love. And she’s so fucking beautiful—barefaced, messy bed hair, tired caramel eyes. Perfect.
“Lana,” I breathe her name just because I can. I say her name because now I don’t just see her in my head, she’s in front of me. When I say her name, she’ll respond. She’ll say mine back.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Go to sleep.”
I shift even closer. “Lana.”
“Christian,” Lana breathes, positioning herself closer.
I move my head forward, barely an inch, and my forehead is touching hers. Lana presses back. Her breath is sweet on my lips, and I hate not sleeping with her. I hate not having her this close every night and not waking up with the left side of the bed cold.
My hand cups her cheek, my thumb smoothing up and down her cheekbone, and our breaths are in sync. “I’m sorry.”
“Just go to sleep,” she whispers softly. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, Lana,” I repeat. “For bleeding on you.”
“What?”
“Forgive me?”
Her hand holds onto my wrist and she turns into my touch to kiss my palm. “I will.”
Eventually, she means, and I let it be enough for tonight. I take that ounce of hope for what it is.
A small smile draws on my lips, and she gives me one too. “I love you, Lana.”
“I know,” she says. She reaches to kiss my cheek and settles back down onto her pillow. “Turn around, Christian.”
I huff a quiet laugh and turn so my back is to her. Her small body wraps around mine like I’m a branch and she’s a koala, and I ensconce myself in her arms. I let her be my big spoon and I smile to myself as my eyelids grow heavy.
“Goodnight, Christian,” she breathes against the shell of my ear.
I should have kissed her longer. My hand takes hers, locking our fingers together, and hugging our hands to my chest. I smile to myself, remembering all the nights Lana held me like this when I was sad.
She’s so much smaller than me it’s comical to see her as a big spoon, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss the back of it. Sighing happily, I whisper, “Goodnight, Lana.”