by Jenn Hype
Lifting my hands in the air so they could see my finger wasn't on the trigger of the gun, I slowly lowered my arms and sat the pistol on the ground.
"Are you hurt?" One of the officers asked me while two others ran past to cuff our attackers.
"No, I'm fine. That's their gun," I told him while using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe some of the blood from my face. I could only imagine how terrible I looked. One glance in Clara's direction and I knew exactly how bad it was. Her eyes were wide with fear and welling with tears.
"Clara," I whispered, wanting so bad to go to her but the police were questioning us both separately.
Ten minutes later both men were stuffed into the back of patrol cars and we'd given our statements. The officer tried to talk me into making a trip to the ER so they could check out my hand, but I refused. I'd be bruised and swollen but I could tell nothing was broken. I just wanted to get Clara home and to safety so I could make sure she was okay.
We made the rest of the journey from the sidewalk, into her building and up to her apartment in silence. She kept me at arm's length, too. I had no fucking clue what was going on in her head and I hated it. But I wouldn't push her. She hadn't told me to go home or argued when I followed her into the building, so I assumed that meant she was okay with me seeing her to her door. I hoped like hell she'd invite me in, but if she didn't, I'd wait in the hallway until Jo or Blake or someone came over to be with her. The last thing she needed right then was to be alone.
Once she'd unlocked and opened her door, I started to speak, but she stepped aside and held the door. An unspoken invitation. One I accepted quickly and without hesitation.
Still unsure what was going on in her head, I followed her down the hall to her bathroom. She pointed at the toilet before pulling a first aid kit out of her medicine cabinet. I sat, waiting patiently while she retrieved a wash rag and ran it under the faucet.
My chest grew tight when she knelt in front of me. For the first time since the police had shown up, I had a clear view of her eyes. The light, the pure joy, had been vanquished. I wanted to be angry at those assholes for ruining the night, but then she lifted the rag to my face and gently ran it down my cheek and my brain short circuited.
Every cell in my body sparked to life. At the same time, every muscle went completely stiff. My lungs froze, breathing made impossible with her studying me so intently while sweetly, cautiously wiping every inch of my face clean.
The moment felt so damn intimate. More intense than anything I'd ever experienced. I wondered if she felt it too. She didn't seem nervous or anxious. Her chest rose and fell steadily, her hands firm and eyes clear. If anything she appeared... Serene.
Even if my close proximity didn't affect her the way she affected me, I'd expect her to at least be coming down from an adrenaline high. Looking at her now, you'd never guess she'd just been involved in a mugging that involved a gun. Her lack of emotions actually worried me.
While she cleaned my hand, I studied her for signs of... Something. Anything. I kept coming up empty. The silence became suffocating. Still, I couldn't bring myself to break it. Words stuck in my throat and every time I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out.
I winced when she grazed a cut on my knuckles.
"Sorry," she murmured, her eyes apologetic.
"I'm fine. Thank you. For cleaning me up," I clarified when her brows furrowed.
"You're thanking me? I'm the one who should be thankful. You saved my life back there."
I shook my head. "I'd never let anything happen to you."
"I believe you," she whispered before turning her focus back to my hand.
A few minutes later I was all patched up and she stood to put everything away.
The last couple times I'd been in her apartment I had no problem making myself at home. It felt different this time. A shift had taken place between us and suddenly keeping my feelings from her felt like a weight pressing down on me.
The timing couldn't have been worse, though. She felt indebted to me now. In my line of work I had dealt on numerous occasions with clients who became emotionally attached. It had nothing to do with me as a person and everything to do with their trust being misdirected. They took our job to protect them personally and misunderstandings were common.
If I told her now, would she return my feelings simply out of gratitude? She might not even realize that's what she was doing, but I had to be sure.
Then again, if I kept putting it off, I'd just keep coming up with reasons to wait. I needed to man the fuck up and just get it all out there and trust her to be emotionally mature enough to understand and process everything.
"Clara, I-"
"Wait," she stopped me by pressing her finger to my lips. I wanted to bite the tip of it and suck it into my mouth.
"We need to talk," she said on a sigh.
My stomach sank. Nothing good ever came of someone speaking those four words. Still, I followed her into her living room and stood in the middle of the floor while she paced back and forth.
"I don't understand what's going on," she started, her voice and movements a little frantic. "One day we hate each other, the next you're like, this perfect guy. I don't know what to make of it. I can't tell if it's a game or some elaborate prank and I'm afraid to let myself fall for it."
"I know."
She ignored me and kept ranting.
"You intimidate me. You always have. I act out with you because of it and I know it's probably not healthy but I actually enjoy our fights. I never fight with anyone. I'm the person who goes out of their way to prevent the fighting."
"I know."
"I've always been overly emotional. I cry easily. Like, it takes almost nothing to make me cry. I get my heart broken almost daily. I saw a bird get hit by a car and I spent two days in bed once. I'm dramatic and maybe a little crazy."
"No, you're not."
"My relationships never go well. I get too attached and they freak out. Not just boyfriends, but friends too. I come on too strong. I try to push people past their comfort zone because I'm so damn desperate to be loved. Which makes no sense because I have so much love in my life. Most people are screwed up from a lack of love, not an overabundance of it, but I've always envied my parents. I want what they have. I want it so bad that I keep looking for it in all the wrong places."
"Clara."
"I was engaged before. Did you know that?"
She didn't even pause long enough for me to respond. Back and forth, she paced the room, wearing a damn hole in the carpet.
"He cheated on me. Because I wouldn't sleep with him. I'm a virgin. Twenty-three years old and a virgin." She laughed maniacally. "Isn't that crazy? Just the idea of sex terrifies me. I've waited so long and built it up in my head so much that just thinking about sex freaks me out. I think I'm broken."
"Clara!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Clara
I can't stop. I'm spewing so much word vomit that I might drown in it, but no matter how much I yell at my brain to shut the hell up, the words just keep coming.
"Maybe I'm misreading things," I continue, ignoring Liam. "It makes no sense to me that someone like you would be interested in me in... That way. So I'm probably making something out of nothing, but I wanted you to know that I'm defective. You have experience. So much experience. I could never give you what you're used to or want. You'll just be disappointed. So if I'm not misreading things and you really are interested, I needed you to know now that you're wasting your time."
My mouth finally shut the hell up, but not because I told it to and it finally listened. But because Liam's mouth slammed down onto mine in a bruising, ravenous kiss.
His mouth moved over mine, ruining me forever. I'd never done anything sexual with a man, but I'd done plenty kissing. No kiss had ever felt like this one. His lips branded me, claiming me as his own. Even if my confessions finally got through to his brain and he wound up walking away, I'd never be the same. I could spend every seco
nd of the rest of my life just kissing this man and I'd die happy.
And when he backed me into a wall and pressed his firm body against mine? I did die. If his strong arms weren't holding me up, I'd have just collapsed down to the ground.
I parted my lips, hoping he'd deepen the kiss, but he didn't. Much to my disappointment, he pulled back. Not too far. Just enough to disconnect our mouths and press his forehead to mine.
"Sorry, but I needed you to stop talking."
My head jerked back, connecting with the wall behind me rather roughly. I ignored the pain and pushed on his chest. He didn't budge. And I didn't notice how freaking hard his body felt under my hands.
"Get off me," I growled, embarrassment washing over me.
"No," he argued, his fingers gripping my chin so he could force me to look at him. "I'm not sorry for kissing you. I've been wanting to do that since the first time I ever laid eyes on you. I'm just sorry for doing it out of nowhere and after you've endured a traumatic event."
"Oh."
"Also, you're wrong. About everything."
"Oh."
Use more words, idiot.
Hard to be articulate when I was getting whiplash, though. One minute he says he wanted to kiss me, then in the next breath he's telling me I had it all wrong. That he isn't actually interested?
"Stop overthinking everything I say and jumping to conclusions," he said with a knowing smile. "I can see those wheels turning in that head of yours and you're taking everything the wrong way."
"Well you're really confusing!" I shouted defiantly, earning a laugh.
"I know. I've been trying to figure out the best approach to all of this but honestly? I've never done this. I have no clue what I'm doing."
"Done what?"
With a heavy sigh he pulled back. Linking our hands together, he led me to the couch. Then tugged me down onto his lap.
"Oof!"
He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Um, I should probably sit next to you so your legs don't go numb."
He tightened his hold when I tried to climb off.
"Why the hell would you say something like that?"
His anger made me hesitate but the dam had been broken. My ability to keep in thoughts and feelings no longer possible. The muggers didn't get my wallet but they apparently stole my filter.
"I don't know? I'm not exactly the lightest person."
I had curves. I'd spent most of my life hating them. I embraced them now, but that didn't mean I didn't still feel insecure at times. Most of the time I could wear a size eight, but sometimes my hips put me in a ten. I wasn't fat by any means, but I wasn't stick thin like the girls Liam likely spent his nights with.
"I can't tell if you're insulting yourself or me."
My brows furrowed. "How would that be an insult to you?"
"You think your tiny body will break me? How weak do you think I am?"
He jumped to his feet before I could respond, keeping me in his arms. With one behind my back and the other beneath my knees, he proved his strength by holding me effortlessly while doing squats. I giggled when he started waltzing around the room while tossing me a few inches into the air and catching me.
"Okay, I get it. You're buff. Message received."
He smiled broadly and carried me back to the couch. The man wasn't even winded. Knowing my weight wasn't bothering him, I snuggled into our position. With my head resting on his chest, I could hear his heart rate pick up when he started to speak.
"I care about you, Clara. I have for a while now. I didn't really even realize it at first, but I kept screwing up your dates because the thought of you with another man drove me crazy."
"So why now?" I asked without lifting my head. It felt so good to be cradled in his arms.
He inhaled deeply, his breath blowing across the top of my head as he exhaled slowly.
"Just tired of fighting it. I was afraid to do or say anything that could jeopardize things, but the possible reward outweighed the risks. I was afraid you wouldn't trust me, though. I haven't exactly given you the best impression so far. I thought building a more solid foundation would help."
"It did," I assured him. "If you said these things to me two weeks ago I would have thrown a pie in your face."
"Where would you get a pie?"
I shrugged. "I just feel like a pie would have been nearby."
His chest rumbled with laughter and I smiled.
"All that stuff you said about you being broken, though? You're wrong."
I buried my face in his neck. Why the hell had I said all that stuff? I wanted to die.
"I know you cry easily and love hard. I've witnessed it firsthand. And I was there the day you saw that bird get hit."
Ohhh yeah...
"I love that about you, by the way."
I pulled back to look at him. I expected to find that signature mischief he always seemed to have in his eyes. All I found was an intense sincerity that stole my breath right out of my lungs.
"I'm scared."
The confession came unbidden. I wanted to snatch the words back up and run out of the room, but his face softened. And his hand reached up to caress my cheek. Suddenly that fear seemed silly, but it wasn't. It was real. And he needed to understand my insecurities if he truly meant everything he was saying.
"I've been burned. So many times. My ex didn't seem like the cheating type. He promised me the world and he sold his lies so easily. What's worse is how easy I made it for him. I never even thought to question him."
"I get it."
I shook my head. He didn't get it. He couldn't.
"Maybe I'm stupid for not trying to change my personality after all these years. A smarter person would probably try to dial back their crazy a little to not scare people off, but I never wanted to have to pretend. It's exhausting, trying to be someone you're not. I tried it for like, two seconds in grade school and I just couldn't do it.
"I'll do anything and everything I can to make someone happy, to make them like me, but I can't change my personality. I can't compromise who I am or what I want. It has cost me so much over the years, but I kept telling myself it would be worth it in the end. Eventually I'd find someone who loved me exactly for who I am."
I climbed off his lap. He tried to stop me but I pulled out of his grasp and stood. Talking about my faults didn't bother me. I was an open book, always had been. But Liam meant something to me. Despite my efforts to keep him at arm's length, he'd weaseled his way into my heart anyway. If my truth bombs pushed him away, it would hurt more than normal. I couldn't tell you why or how I knew that it would be different, but I felt it to my soul. Liam was just... Different.
Like a freaking saint, he waited quietly in his spot on the couch for me to gather the courage to keep going.
"Heartbreak is a necessary price to pay when you're searching for real connections - romantic or otherwise. I'm okay with that. I pick up and move on, I always have. My ex cheating on me wasn't even what broke me, it was the things he said after I found out."
I'd never told anyone what I was about to tell Liam. Maybe I wasn't as much of an open book as I thought. I had one secret. One that had been plaguing me, following me around every day like a dark cloud hovering over my head. It ate at me from the inside out. My stomach churned just thinking back to that day. The day a piece of my heart died. The day my hope of finding love took a real hit. The day I considered for the first time that I might not actually find my happiness.
"Clara, you don't have to do this," Liam offered softly.
I gave him a sad but grateful smile. "If it's all the same to you, I'd actually like to share this. I've never told anyone what happened. Not even Josi."
Shock faded into understanding before he spoke. "Maybe a drink would help?"
I shook my head. "I don't drink much and I'm not big on using it as a crutch. I've never needed alcohol to help me open up and be honest. No reason to start now
."
He nodded and sat back. If I was reading him correctly, he even looked a little proud.
With nerves making my legs too shaky to stand, I took a seat in the armchair next to my sofa.
"I'm not just a virgin, Liam. I haven't done anything. At all. Never even made it to first base."
His eyes popped open in shock but he did his best to hide it. His struggle had a smile tugging at my lips.
"I know to pretty much everyone else in the world, sex isn't such a big deal. I didn't suffer any trauma or anything to make me wary. I just had this fairytale in my head since I was a little girl that I wanted to experience all my firsts with my one true love." I said the last part using air quotes and rolling my eyes.
"I realize how ridiculous it sounds. But the more time that passed, the harder it became to just let it all go. Eventually, I'd built everything up so much in my head that reality never came close. The older I got, the scarier all things sex-related sounded. I can't even really explain it. It's like I got into my own head. I wound up convincing myself I just needed to wait until I was in love. That once I found the right person, it wouldn't be so difficult. It would just come easily.
"My fiancé claimed to understand. He promised patience and never made me feel silly. And when I caught him cheating on me, he told me it was my fault."
"The fuck?"
I held my hand up to stop Liam when he practically pounced out of his seat. His outrage gave me the strength to keep going, though.
"Apparently all that time he kept claiming to understand, he was fighting his own insecurities. I tried to be intimate with him, but I always wound up freaking out and asking for my time. He started to take it personally. Instead of telling me that, though, he found reassurance between the legs of another woman.
"He claimed if I had really loved him, I would have slept with him and that my unwillingness to rub our naked bodies together meant I didn't truly love him."
"That's bullshit," Liam said through gritted teeth.
I smiled. It was genuine, but still tinged with sadness.
