by Noelle Adams
“It was fine.” He’s talking a lot softer than me and glancing up and down the hall.
I suddenly realize why. He doesn’t want anyone to overhear us.
He doesn’t want anyone to know we’re having this conversation.
He’s afraid someone is going to figure out there’s something going on between us.
It hurts like a stab to the chest. There’s no way I can hide my reaction. My eyes burn, and my lips wobble, and my voice breaks as I say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let the world know that we actually talk to each other.”
He obviously hears the hurt and bitterness in my voice because his face twists in surprise. “Beck?”
“Forget it,” I rasp, turning back in the direction of the office. “Just forget it.”
Wherever Evan had been planning to go, he doesn’t do it now. As I hurry back to the office with my head ducked, he follows me.
He closes and locks the door behind us.
I’m standing in front of my desk, trying to control a surge of stupid tears.
“What the hell, baby?” he demands, coming up at my back. He’d probably have come around to face me, but my desk is in the way.
I take another minute to control myself, and then I turn around. “How do you think it makes me feel that you’re embarrassed by me?”
His dark eyes widen in obvious surprise. “Embarrassed? Why the fuck would I be embarrassed?”
“I don’t know! Maybe I’m not sophisticated enough or polished enough or thin enough or—”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he breaks in, gritting the words out between clenched teeth. He’s angry. I can see it in the flash of his eyes and the flush of his cheeks. “How dare you think that of me? You know very well that I think you’re gorgeous and amazing. I’ve shown you that over and over again.”
“You show it to me when we’re in bed. And yes, I know you like to fuck me. You think that’s the only thing that matters to me? What about the rest of our lives?”
“Where is this even coming from? We do a lot more than just have sex.”
“I know we do, but we do it when no one else is around. So what am I supposed to think? You don’t want anyone to know about us. You don’t want me to know anything about your family. You only want to fuck me and hang out with me when it doesn’t inconvenience anything else in your life.”
I can see my words getting through to him. His expression twists again but with something other than anger this time. “I thought you’ve been happy with me,” he rasps.
“I have been, but it’s been more than two months now and nothing has changed. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
I’m almost choking on my outrage. He’s trying to blame this on me. “Because I didn’t want to pressure you too soon and mess up a good thing. I’m trying not to be unreasonable. But I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want more than we have. I don’t just want a sex partner. I want... I want something real.”
I’m as naked and as vulnerable as I’ve ever been. Far more so than when he’s fucked my body. My heart is utterly exposed to him right now, and I have no idea how he’ll respond.
He makes a sound in his throat and jerks his head to the side. He rubs at his jaw forcefully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I... I guess you can meet my parents if it’s that important to you.”
It’s like a slap in the face. That’s exactly how it feels. Because the words make me feel like I’m expecting something unreasonable when I know—I know—I’m not.
I jerk back in response to the pain and spit out, “Thank you so much for the reluctant gesture. You think that’s what I want? You to do something you don’t want to do just because you feel pressured into it by me. Why the hell do you think I didn’t say anything earlier? This isn’t what I want, Evan. I don’t want to feel like a silly girl with ridiculous fantasies while you’re like Aragorn stepping down off your pedestal to condescend to me. If it feels like you’re taking a step down, then I don’t want you at all.”
This always happens to me. When I get going, I can’t stop. Everything I feel comes pouring out, whether I want it to or not.
He’s staring at me like I’ve transformed in front of his eyes.
But the words keep coming. “Because I’m not a silly girl. And I’m not some bloodless elf goddess who only appears to grace your life when all your important work is done. I’m a real human being with needs and fears and insecurities, but I’m also pretty damn special. I’m full of heart and passion and strength and devotion, and I’m ready to give all that to someone who really wants it. It’s fine if you don’t want it. But you better stop acting like you do. Because I’m not going to give everything to someone who only sees a small part of who I am and who won’t give me everything too. Because that man doesn’t deserve me.”
“Beck,” he says, reaching out to touch me. He sounds like he’s soothing a wild animal.
“No! Don’t try to settle me down. I don’t want to be settled. I’m telling you, Dr. Evan Jones, I could kill the fucking Witch-king of Angmar if I had to, and the only man I want is the one who sees that. Who knows that. Who wants that.”
His face has whitened, and there’s something unspeakable in his eyes. His voice is hoarse when he says, “I do see that, Beck. I do want that.”
My heart leaps in my chest. “Then prove it!”
He reaches out for me, and I know he’s going to pull me into a kiss. I jerk away with a little sob. “I don’t want to be kissed.”
“Then what do you want?” He sounds almost as desperate as I feel.
The intensity of my emotion has climaxed, and it’s leaving me with nothing but tears. They’re starting to slide down my cheeks. I swipe one away. “If you don’t know, then that’s my answer.”
I start to leave the office.
“Beck, wait. Don’t just walk away.”
I turn back to my desk and grab the books and notebook I need for my one-o’clock class and then grab my bag and hook it over my shoulder so I won’t have to come back to the office afterward if I don’t feel like it. “I’m not just walking away. I’m making a decision. I’m doing what’s right for me. And I’m not going to settle for less than I deserve.”
I leave then, before he can say something else and talk me out of what I know I have to do.
I manage to hold back the sobs as I hurry through the suite and down the hall toward the stairs.
I’ve got to make it to Jennifer’s office. Hopefully, she’s in there and available for a shoulder to cry on.
Because right now that’s what I need.
Eight
JENNIFER IS IN HER office, and she helps me get myself together enough to teach my one o’clock.
It’s not my finest teaching hour, but I manage to make it through.
When class is over, I go home. I don’t have office hours or a meeting this afternoon, so there’s no reason to stay on campus to be tortured by Evan’s presence.
I need at least a day to recover before I see him again.
It’s over with him. I know it is. For sure. Even if he had a few thoughts about us staying together for the long haul, I’m sure our conversations killed them dead. He probably thinks I’m being overdramatic and unreasonable. Maybe I am. I don’t know.
All I know is that I can’t keep holding on to a relationship that’s not giving me what I need.
It feels horrible now. It feels like I’ve cut my heart out from my chest.
But it won’t always feel this way. It will get better.
I can only pray it will get better soon.
I get in the shower when I get home and sob for a long time under the hot spray. Then I’m exhausted, so I change into lounge pants and a loose T-shirt and curl up on my couch under a throw blanket.
I turn on the TV and try to think of something to watch.
I need something familiar and comforting but that will absorb me emotionally enough to t
une out my heartbreak for a while.
I’d usually watch The Lord of the Rings, but there’s no way I can do that right now. The movies feel too close to Evan.
I turn on the first Avengers movie instead.
It doesn’t distract me as much as I hoped, but I do feel better after it’s done. I stay on the couch and wonder if I should make the effort to go out and get some ice cream. I don’t have any in my freezer at the moment.
It’s a serious failure of planning for emotional distress.
I haven’t yet made a decision when there’s a knock on my door.
I glance at the clock. Ten minutes after five.
I know who it is.
For just a minute I debate about whether I’m going to open the door for him. I know it’s an unworthy feeling, but I’m emotionally exhausted and I don’t know how much more turmoil I can handle today.
But he keeps knocking, so I finally heft myself up off the couch and limp to the door. My hair is a mess. I’m not wearing a bra. My shoes and bag are still tossed on the floor of the entryway where I left them earlier.
I just don’t care at the moment.
I open the door.
It’s Evan, as I knew it would be.
I don’t have the energy to smile at him or say anything. I just cling to the door and look at him.
He’s in his suit with his jaw shaven and his hair trimmed short. His mouth is tight, and his eyes are strangely deep and aching.
Neither of us says anything for a long moment.
Then, “Can I please come in?” he asks gently. He’s got a grocery bag in his hand, but I can’t see what’s in it.
I nod before I can make a conscious decision, and then I’m stuck stepping out of the way for him to walk in.
Then he’s there. In my living room. Standing only a few feet away from me.
I twine my hands together behind my back and shift from foot to foot.
He clears his throat. Looks down at the floor. Then darts a quick glance up at my face. He looks almost vulnerable, and I don’t know what to do with it. It makes my heart clench.
“You came over here,” I say at last. “You have to talk first.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a long breath and moves his bag from one hand to the other. “I know.”
Being me, I’m distracted by the most inconsequential thing. “What’s in the bag?”
He extends his arms and opens the bag for me to see.
Two pints of gourmet ice cream.
“I, uh, would have been over here a few minutes sooner, but I had to stop by my house to pick them up first.”
I burst into tears. Messy, helpless tears. It’s so annoying, but there’s no way I can help it.
“Oh damn, baby, please don’t.” He puts the bag on my console table and steps forward to pull me into his arms.
I try to respond, but I can’t do anything but sob. I cry into his chest—making a complete mess on his nice suit coat—and I can’t help but feel comforted by his strong, warm arms around me.
It can’t be right. To let him comfort me when he’s the one who made me cry.
It’s not supposed to work this way.
It’s a few minutes before my sobs lessen into little hiccups. Then I’m afraid to pull away from him. I don’t want him to drop his arms. I don’t want to have another painful conversation.
I just want things to continue the way they feel right now. Like he cares about me. Like he wants to take care of me.
“Beck, baby, I’m so sorry about everything,” he murmurs against my ear. “I had no idea you were upset about things, but that’s not an excuse. I have been holding back on you, and I’ve known it all along. I shouldn’t have done it, and I’m so sorry about it.”
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. I have to straighten up and pull away so I can see his face and affirm it’s really him and that he means it.
He does. His eyes hold mine, and they’re as sober as I’ve ever seen them.
And, let me tell you, that’s pretty damn sober.
I sniff and wipe at my face. “You didn’t have to open up to me if you didn’t want to. If you weren’t serious. Just because I want you to be, doesn’t mean you have to—”
“You don’t get it,” he breaks in. “I was serious. I am serious. I’ve been serious about you from the very beginning. There’s no one else in the world I’ve ever felt this way about. I wanted you from the moment I saw you, and every day I’ve known you makes me want you more. I wasn’t holding back because I didn’t want to be close to you. I did. I do. So much.”
I can’t believe this is happening. I hug my arms to my chest. “So why were you holding back?”
“Because I was afraid that if you saw me for real, you wouldn’t want me after all.”
My throat closes up around my words. I have to try three times to get them out. “But... but... but... why wouldn’t I want you?”
“Because I’m not a very good catch. I don’t have much experience with women, and I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. I’m not cool or confident or particularly interesting. I can talk about books and ideas but not much else. And... I’ve spent my life feeling not good enough.”
“Why would you ever think that? You’re so brilliant, and you’re so hot.”
His mouth twists in a dry little smile. “I think you’re the only person who’s really thought I was hot.”
“That’s not true! You are. Other women definitely see it too. Evan, I don’t understand how you could think I wouldn’t—”
“It’s not you. It’s me. It’s me. My parents...” He glances away with a tightening of his features, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “It wasn’t that I was embarrassed to introduce you to my parents. It was that I was embarrassed to introduce them to you. They’re...” He shakes his head. “They’re assholes, Beck. There’s no other way to describe it. They’re narrow-minded and ignorant and racist, and they’ve never really liked me. They wanted two sons like my brother, and they only got one. I wasn’t anything like him. They were always disappointed in me. My brother grew up and worked for my dad at his car dealership, and I became one of those elite academics who’re trying to force their ridiculous ideas on the rest of the world. That’s actually what they think. When they came to visit this weekend, I would have loved for you to meet Sara, but you’d have had to meet my parents too. And I knew if you were there that they’d be terrible. They always are. They’d put me down, and they’d probably put you down, and you’d see it and hate them and want to get as far away as possible. You’re way too good for them. You’re way too good for me.”
“I am not too good for you!” I burst out, overwhelmed by this revelation. “I don’t care about your parents, except that they’ve obviously hurt you a lot. So they’re assholes. A lot of people have shitty parents. It doesn’t change who you are. And you’re not like that. You’re not. I’m not too good for you.”
My impassioned outburst has an effect. His face twists with emotion, and he reaches out to cup my face. “But you are, baby. Because you’ve been in this all the way from the very beginning, and I’ve been holding back because I’m so scared of losing you.”
“I’ve been scared too,” I whisper, reaching for the lapels of his jacket. One of them is still damp from my tears. “I’ve wanted to say something for a long time, but I didn’t want to trap you in a conversation you didn’t want and scare you away. So maybe both of us messed up a little.”
“You could never mess up. You’re never anything but amazing. Beautiful and brilliant and passionate and sweet and generous and sexy as hell.”
I giggle stupidly. “And kind of flighty.”
“I like that about you.”
I giggle again, pulling myself closer to him. “And still a little insecure.”
“So am I. So is everyone. I love every single thing about you, Beck, even the things you believe are faults.”
I gasp and stare up at him in astonished delight. “You do?”
“Yes. Of course I do. How could I not?”
“Then... Then you understand how I feel about you. I don’t care about all the things you’re worried about. I love every single thing about you too.”
His eyes transform with a joy and relief so palpable it traps my breath. “Really?”
“Really.”
“And you don’t mind that my parents are terrible human beings who’ve always treated me like I’m worthless?”
“No. I don’t care about that, except to be angry you’ve had to deal with it.” I suddenly realize something. I gasp and cover my mouth with one hand.
“What?” he asks, a confused frown taking over the soft, fond joy on his face.
“You really are Faramir, aren’t you?”
He freezes for a moment as he processes the question. Then he bursts into laughter and pulls me into a tight hug. “I guess I am. Complete with a dad who prefers my older brother to me. But at least I can recognize the most incredible woman in the world when I see her and want nothing else but her, so maybe Faramir’s not a bad man to be.”
I squeeze him as tightly as I can. Then I pull his face down toward me and say just before I kiss him, “I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”
EVENTUALLY WE COLLAPSE on my couch, cover up with the throw blanket, and eat both pints of ice cream.
Evan has taken off his jacket, tie, shirt, and shoes, and he’s wearing just his trousers, undershirt, and socks. He might not be quite as comfortable as I am—in just my lounge pants and T-shirt with no bra—but he doesn’t seem to mind.
We end up stretched out on the couch together, still too emotional to have sex.
I am at least. And he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to pull out of our full-body hug.
We’ve been lying in silence for a long time, just relaxing together, and I think he might have actually fallen asleep, so I raise my head to check.
His eyes are open. Soft and nakedly fond and completely vulnerable.
I gulp. “Hi.”
He chuckles and strokes my hair back from my face. “Hi.”
“Just checking to see if you’re asleep.”
