by Riley Jean
I tensed. “And then what? We’re just going to live happily ever after?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
I shook my head. There was no point. He just needed to realize it, too.
“So answer me this: do you think Gwen made the right choice? To give up her goals? Her identity? Her future? Because that’s where we disagree, buddy. She threw away everything for that asshole, and it was a mistake.”
“We are not them. I don’t agree with all Gwen’s choices. But loving someone with your whole heart is never a mistake.” He looked right at me. “No matter what happens between us, I’ll never regret this. Being with you is the happiest I’ve ever been. And if I got another chance, I’d do it all over. Loving you will never be a mistake.”
My eyes started to shimmer at his sincerity.
“But what about what’s best for you?”
He looked at me as if the answer were obvious. “You’re what’s best for me.”
“Then what about your dreams? They’re beautiful dreams, Vance, you deserve to make them happen. But since I’ve come into your life, you’ve put everything else on pause.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then why haven’t you gone back to school? Or sold the condo? Or gotten a new job? If I’m what’s best for you, Vance, why am I holding you back?”
He didn’t say anything for a long time after that. We just sat on our swings and stared out at the park around us, at the place that held so many memories in our past and present lives. We shared pieces of ourselves under this sky, in that field, on these swings, in that tree. But just like leaves at the end of their season, we could do nothing but watch them fall away and die.
Whatever happened to “enough is enough”? Vance was just finding his voice as a man, refusing to settle. And now here he was again. Bending. Breaking.
Because sometimes the best thing that ever happened to you could also be the worst.
“I can’t stay because I’m not good for you, Vance. I’m not some tired old fireplace you can rebuild and polish up. You’re going to fail no matter how hard you try. And I can’t keep letting it happen.”
Breaking his heart was the last thing I wanted. It seemed like no matter what I did, I only hurt him more. It wasn’t right. He was the epitome of goodness. And ideally goodness should always prevail. But “ideal” wasn’t quite realistic, was it?
What was this thing we called love? Nothing but a whole lot of heartache, if you asked me. However you defined it, the only underlying truth was this: love made us all weak.
“I’ll miss you,” I told him. Because I truly would. After all the time and effort I spent pushing him away, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind I would miss what we had once it was gone. There were so many things that I was glad to leave behind, but not Vance. Maybe on the surface I thought it was for the best. But was it what I really wanted? No. As much as I knew our separation was necessary, he would always be what I missed the most.
And that was my something real.
* * *
As promised, he brought me home safely. It wasn’t pitch black out yet, but nearly. Our steps slowed as we approached the porch. We both felt the heaviness of the moment. All that awaited us there was another painful goodbye.
Reading my mind, he took my hand and pulled me to him. Without hesitation, I lifted my arms around his neck and buried my face in his strong chest. His arms encircled me in a familiar warmth. His hands began rub me soothingly, comforting me, when I shouldn’t have been the one who needed comfort.
Being in his arms again was unexpected, heartbreaking, and my solace all at once. I couldn’t imagine what possessed him to remain so loyal to me despite all I’d put him through these last few months. I wished I wasn’t so bad for his life, because he was certainly good for my soul.
We pressed together, unable to get close enough. I already missed him. I missed the heat radiating off his body. I missed the safety of his arms. I missed his smile and his laugh and his goofy faces and the way he called me Rosie. I squeezed him tighter to me, wishing I never had to let go. How could I possibly leave him?
He cupped my face and held me a breath away, staring into my red-rimmed eyes.
“Tell me, Rosie,” he pleaded. “Tell me what you need.”
I knew what he was offering. It would be so easy to escape for another moment, indulge ourselves for one more day. But it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t fix what had already fallen apart.
No. It didn’t matter how enticing I found his lips, or how I knew they’d be incredibly soft and gentle, exactly how I needed them to be. With our separation looming, I physically ached for one more taste. I shut my eyes, drowning out the familiar desires rising within me. We couldn’t go down that road. Not again. It wouldn’t be right.
His lips touched my forehead, slow and sweet. “It’s okay,” he whispered against my hair. “Don’t worry about anything else. Don’t think about right and wrong. Just tell me what you need.” He continued to pepper my forehead and cheeks and hair with the softest kisses, cherishing my skin with each and every one.
He hovered over my mouth, so agonizingly close, I was straining every muscle in my neck to behave. I needed to taste his distinct mint again more than I needed another lungful of oxygen. But as much as I wanted that kiss, I knew it was a bad idea. The relief it promised was deceiving. It wouldn’t fix anything. It’d just make everything worse.
But Vance saw my hesitation. And in my moment of weakness, he forced his lips to mine.
“No Vance,” I pleaded, rejecting his onslaught of kisses and trying to pull away. We couldn’t keep avoiding the inevitable. It made about as much sense as a lactose intolerant person who refused to kick their daily ice cream indulgence. It always ended badly. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not? Because you’re afraid of commitment?” he demanded. The desperation in his voice was sharp. “Why should that stop us now? You’ve given me a damn expiration date. One week. It doesn’t get any further from commitment than that.”
I shook my head. He was going a little crazy, though I couldn’t say I blamed him. “I’ll hurt you.”
“I’m already hurting, Rosie. Don’t you get it? It hurts to be away from you. It’ll hurt if you leave, no matter what. But I’ll regret it if I don’t fight for every single second we have left.”
“It won’t be enough,” I reasoned, trying to convince both of us. It was never enough.
In response, he slammed his lips against mine once more, and my own body betrayed me. I kissed him back, devouring his passion and hating myself for how much I needed it. For how much I’d lost the ability to stop this feeling from building between us.
He tore his mouth from mine, panting.
“I’m not giving up,” he said emphatically. “I want all the black, broken shards of your heart, all your dreams, every scowl, every laugh, every touch, every tear, every breath.” He shook my shoulders and looked into my eyes with sincerity that rocked me down to my toes. “I want every last piece that you have left. And it will be enough. You are enough for me.”
My careful control slipped, each one of his words a brutal beating to my crumbling wall. Tears pooled in my eyes, overwhelmed. It was happening. The boy I’d tried my very hardest not to fall in love with… was reaching me.
Just when it was already too late for us.
His lips made a line of kisses down my neck, then he went straight for the throat. I felt him latch on just above my collarbone, kissing, licking, sucking. This time I knew exactly what he was doing. But I didn’t stop him. I knew what it felt like when all you wanted was to hold on as tight as possible until your fingers bled. It was all kinds of wrong, but my feelings for him had overtaken my sense a long time ago.
I was leaving. This whole situation was out of his control. His desperation was seeping through his body, needing to brand me to him. And I needed it just as badly. Just like our last days together, the mark would fade all too quickly.
When it was done, he held me tightly in his arms. “It’s not too late, you know,” he whispered as his warm breath blew down my nape. “You can always change your mind and stay.”
I sighed, but made no vain attempt to leave his embrace. I always knew once Vance learned the truth, he’d be just as resigned to keep me as I was to go.
“I’ve been nothing but selfish with you. Why can’t you just walk away?”
Still wrapped in each other’s arms, he paused, as if to point out my own need to be near him. “Why can’t you?”
“I can,” I said firmly, trying one more time to drill it in. “I will.”
Disbelieving, he sighed into my hair. “We’ll see.”
Chapter 37
Fallout
“Push” by Matchbox Twenty
I felt like Judas at the last supper.
True, moving to a new state and getting into a great school was an occasion to celebrate. However, of the eighty-plus guests that showed up to this “farewell party,” not even the five familiar faces seemed all that sad to see me go. It was no secret that their presence had more to do with supporting the one person in the room likely to miss me (which spoke volumes about the solidarity of this group). Though that one person was still in denial that I was leaving.
Summer spared no expense in organizing the Texas-sized bash. You name it, she arranged it: hay bales, barrels, and potted cacti in the corners, red-checkered tablecloths centered with “happy trails” trail mix and floating candles in mason jars, and let’s not forget the extra cowboy hats and bandanas for the guests who hadn’t already dressed “country” enough. The Sheriff badge name tags were helpful considering most of the guests were complete strangers to me.
It was all so charmingly southern it was borderline offensive.
I wasn’t deluded enough to believe that any part of this bash was actually for me. Oh no. This was a “good riddance” celebration for Summer, and an excuse to throw a fun theme party.
Not that I was complaining. If you asked me, the less attention, the better.
The room surged in a sea of lassoing arms and echoed with the sound of heel stomps. Girls danced along to the Electric Slide and Slap N Leather in jeans skirts and cowboy boots. Summer moved nimbly and laughed in fun at Gwen who kept messing up. Kiki looked adorable with her orange hair twisted into two short braids. The three danced and smiled and took selfies together among the crowd.
Kiki left to join us at the table. She took a seat on Cole’s lap and he wrapped his arms around her, telling her how beautiful she looked and making her giggle.
“And you make a sexy cowboy,” Kiki said, fiddling with his prop hat.
Cole sighed dramatically at having to partake in the festivities, but he did it in such a way that said he truly would do anything for her. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Vance and I just watched them.
“So Scar,” Cole turned to me, “Two more days. Are you road tripping it?”
I shook my head. “To get there in time I’d have to be gone already. I’m going to fly in and just spend this semester getting comfortable on campus. I’ll probably come back for my car next year.”
“Check it out Rosie,” Vance showed me his phone. “There’s a Shinedown concert in LA next month. Want to go?”
Cole and Kiki exchanged a look. I lowered my eyes and swallowed. “Vance…”
“I know, I know, the tickets are expensive, but they’re one of your favorite bands! We can do the tourist thing and make a whole day of it. Like the La Brea Tar Pits, or The Getty,” he chuckled. “I’ve never actually done that.”
Why was he doing this? The unease grew thicker by the minute. I had no idea what to say.
“So Scar,” Kiki came to the rescue. “Are you going to live in the dorms?”
I gave her a small, grateful smile. “Yes. I’ve been emailing with my roommate this week. She seems pretty nice. She’s a business major like me.”
“You’re not a business major,” Vance interjected.
“I am now.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
I buried my face in my hands and groaned. Why were we even putting ourselves through this? What an awkward, awkward night.
Kiki stood up when the song changed. “Yo! Cole! You gonna dance with me or what?”
He sprung into action. “Yup.”
And just like that, hand in hand, they left us. Alone. And I didn’t blame them one bit.
“Come on, Rosie,” said Vance, offering me his upturned palm. “I’ll teach you how to two-step.”
“No,” I snapped.
He studied me. “You okay?”
“No, Vance, I’m not okay! Why are you acting like this? I’m trying to say goodbye here and you’re making that really, really hard.”
“Good.”
Did he really just say that? I shook my head to clear it. “Excuse me?”
“There’s no reason why we have to say goodbye, Rosie. You have everything you need right here. You can transfer to fifty colleges within driving distance. You can go swimming at the beach and snowboarding in the mountains all in one day! Where else are you gonna find that?”
He was doing this on purpose. I pinned him with my stare. “Vance… I’m leaving. I’m moving away in two days. I need you to accept that.”
He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I just… I can’t right now.”
For some reason that made me angry. “What did you think was going to happen? We were always meant to turn back into pumpkins, Vance, how many times did I say it?”
His eyes pinched shut. “I need an escape, Rosie. Right now.”
“Fine,” I snorted. “Go, then.”
“No, I mean this,” he grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “I need to escape reality. Just for a little while longer. This is what I need.”
I looked down at our hands. Why did they have to fit together so perfectly? I hated the tingly warmth I got whenever we touched. I hated that I didn’t want him to let go. And I hated that he knew it.
I sighed. He wanted an escape from the reality that I was leaving. He wanted to carry on this vestige of a relationship for one last night. While a part of me knew it was wrong, another part whispered a question in my ear: what more could it hurt?
I had no idea what to do here. I was so tired of hurting him but it seemed inevitable at this point. Could I really refuse him the one thing I’d been asking him for all along? Comfort? To pretend? Maybe… Maybe it was how we both needed to say goodbye.
My smile was apprehensive, but kind. “I’m surprised you know how to two-step.” I squeezed his hand apologetically.
He gave me a grateful grin, instantly filling me with warmth and regret.
“I’ll give you one guess who made me learn.”
I laughed at that. “Sorry I snapped at you. I just… I don’t really like country line dancing.”
His grin stretched wider, as if learning this fact was like winning a small battle. “Then we’ll do it California style.”
Without waiting for an answer this time, he pulled me towards the center of the dance floor.
We stood facing each other as couples danced in circles around us. He didn’t even look down when he took the bottom of my button-down shirt in his hands. He tugged the two sides apart, pulling the metal snaps undone—one, two, three, from the bottom up. Then he tied the shirt just above my navel. I gawked at what he had done. Now my skin was showing, and there were other people in the room!
Before I could speak, he turned me around and pulled my back against his chest. My entire body flattened against his.
“I need to touch you,” he whispered in my ear. “To hell with who’s watching.”
That well may be, but I didn’t want to see the room or the couples twirling around us either. I closed my eyes so I could block it all out and focus on him. I could feel him there. His lips right by my ear. His long fingers trailed all the way down from my neck to my hips, then splayed across
my bare stomach. Smoothing over my skin slowly, sensually.
He spun me out just for a split second before pulling me in tight again, this time face-to-face. My fingers clenched in his shirt as I conformed to his shape once more. Not even an inch came between us. I looked up at him and he looked down, so close our noses almost touched. And just by the look in his eyes I knew what he was doing. This was his escape, the ultimate game of pretending… this was how he’d touch me if I were his.
He grabbed my leg and hitched it up around his hip. I licked my lips, nervous, yet trusting him. His strong hands found the smooth skin of my lower back. I followed his cue and lowered myself into his hold. He bent me backwards, all the way. So low my curls brushed the floor. I felt his soft lips feather kisses on my exposed neck. Though I knew he had me, I tightened my grip as his tongue made a shallow sweep. Then he lifted me up just as slowly as he brought me down. His eyes held mine all the way.
I thought the guy could dance at the concert.
That was nothing.
My breaths were coming quickly now. Almost like one gasp after another. I didn’t want to look away from those eyes, didn’t want to separate myself from his warmth. I was pretending now right along with him, both of us too far gone to stop.
The song changed to something faster and harder. Maybe to keep up with us. Everyone had stopped twirling and packed in tightly. That’s when we started to move.
This time I kept my eyes open. I no longer wanted to escape. I wanted to live every precious moment of tonight to the absolute fullest.
Music never ceased to amaze me. Neither did Vance Holloway.
* * *
He stood out the second he walked into that house. A dark spot amongst the happy reds and blues, a heavy presence amid the light-hearted celebrators. I could tell by his unsteady gait this wasn’t his first party tonight.
We were seated when he approached, taking a breather from all the dancing.
“Surprised to see me?” he asked.
