Behind His Eyes

by Claire Kingsley

  His voice is raspy and low. "I love you."

  My heart lurches. Oh my god, he said it. The fire in his eyes tells me he’s dead serious.

  "I love you, too." My voice is breathy, my head spinning. I do love him. More than I've ever loved anyone. Hearing the words spoken aloud feels momentous. I can’t believe this is happening.

  Ryan pulls out and thrusts in again, gently this time. His eyes don’t leave mine. He pushes his cock into me, back and forth, settling into an exquisite rhythm. I rock my hips with his movement, feeling the tension build. My mind is a blur. Nothing exists except the two of us. I am utterly his.

  We don’t need to say a word, both feeling the first pulses as we climax together. I lean back against the window, my legs wrapped tight around his waist, as ecstasy floods me.

  When we both finish, he surrounds me with his arms and holds me close, his face against my neck. I thread my arms around him, enjoying the feel of his skin against mine. We stay there for a long moment, catching our breath.

  He pulls away and helps me get my feet on the ground. He watches me as I walk across the studio to his apartment.

  I feel so good, but I can’t get over the feeling that there is sadness in his eyes.

  MY HEART RACES, and butterflies seem to have taken up permanent residence in my stomach. Ryan pulls the car into the driveway of a spacious home, right on the beach. It isn't fancy or ostentatious, but I can only imagine what the view must be like from the deck on the roof.

  Another car is parked on the street out front. Cody's, perhaps? It sounds like Hunter Evans will be here too. Apparently I’m getting the full Jacobsen family treatment. My hands tremble with nervousness. What if they don't like me? What if they can see in my eyes what their son and I were doing a few hours ago? I smooth down the folds of my dress. Since Ryan didn’t tell me we'd have dinner with his family before I came from Seattle, I only have what I brought with me. Thankfully, I thought to throw a casual lilac dress and a pair of silver sandals in my bag. I showered and blew out my hair, and put on a little makeup before we left, so I feel reasonably put together. But that doesn’t seem to be doing anything for the butterflies, which have progressed from fluttering to outright war.

  Ryan opens the car door for me. He's been quiet since we had sex that afternoon. Not the sort of quiet that means he might snap at me for something stupid. It’s a melancholy sort of quiet. All afternoon, he avoided meeting my eyes, and I had to remind him when we needed to leave. He apologized several times, claiming to be tired, but something seems off. The truth is, something has seemed off for weeks, I just can’t pinpoint what it is.

  I love you.

  The memory of Ryan's words echoes in my mind. I want to bottle that moment—capture it so I can relive it over and over again. He opens the front door and I follow him inside, chewing on my lower lip to keep from smiling too big.

  We walk through to the back of the house to find Ryan's family congregated in the spacious kitchen. The conversation dies, and everyone freezes, staring at us with wide eyes.

  My smile fades. Why are they staring at me like that?

  Ryan puts a reassuring hand on my back. "Hey, everyone. This is Nicole."

  Mrs. Jacobsen puts a hand to her chest. Her dark hair is streaked with gray, and she has it swept up in a loose bun. She wears a floral maxi dress and orange cardigan, a chunky necklace at her throat. "Well, for heaven's sake." A smile breaks out across her face and she walks up to me. "Nicole, it is so lovely to meet you. Welcome."

  "Thank you so much, Mrs. Jacobsen," I say.

  "Please, call me Maureen," she says. "Ryan, why didn't you tell us we were finally getting to meet the mysterious Nicole?"

  Mysterious? Wait, he didn’t... I whip around to look at him. "You didn't tell them I was coming?"

  He gives me a sheepish grin. "I wanted it to be a surprise." He turns his grin on his mom and she bats at his arm.

  "You're lucky you're cute," she says.

  "Sorry, Mom," he says and moves in to give her a big hug.

  Cody and Hunter both greet me with hugs, and Ryan's father, Ed, introduces himself and shakes my hand.

  "Well," Maureen says, clapping her hands together. "This is wonderful. Hunter, will you take another place setting upstairs for me? Boys, help me bring dinner up to the roof. And someone get a bottle of wine. We need to celebrate."

  I follow the family upstairs to the roof. It’s absolutely breathtaking. The ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see, sparkling in the evening sun. A large, slatted wood table is set with bright yellow placemats, white plates, and translucent blue glasses. A built-in grill with a stone counter is on one side, and there’s comfortable seating everywhere. I played with Ryan as a kid, but I've never actually been to his house. It’s beautiful.

  Ryan pulls out a chair for me at the table and takes his seat next to mine. The others lay out the food: two platters of pasta with meatballs and marinara sauce, a huge garden salad, and three baskets of French bread. There’s so much food, I can’t imagine how we'll eat it all. Everyone takes their seats and Ed pours wine.

  "So, Nicole," Maureen says, passing a basket of bread. "How long have you been seeing Ryan?"

  "Mom," Ryan says. "At least let her eat first."

  "What?" Maureen says. "I just want to know."

  "Of course you do, Mom," Cody says. He winked at me. "Tell us, Nicole."

  "Hey, Cody, how's Jennifer?" Ryan asks.

  Cody glares at him. "Really?"

  "You drew first blood," Ryan says.

  Hunter chuckles and Ed seems to ignore the chatter, focusing on his plate.

  "Well," I say. "I guess it's been a few months now?"

  "Ah, how nice," Maureen says. She makes a not-so-subtle eyebrow raise at Cody.

  Cody smiles and shakes his head, digging into his meal.

  The food is delicious. Ryan eats with one hand on my thigh. It’s distracting, his touch sending tingles through me. His family makes me feel totally at ease. My nervousness melts away as they talk and laugh. Maureen does a lot of the talking, but she’s friendly and sweet. Ryan banters with Cody and Hunter, but I can tell it’s good-natured. I feel a little twinge of envy at his relationship with his brothers—because despite the fact that Hunter isn’t technically a Jacobsen, the three of them act like brothers. I’m an only child, so I've never had a sibling relationship. His family seems to genuinely enjoy being together, joking and having a good time as they eat.

  After dessert, a strawberry rhubarb pie that is to die for, I stand against the railing, looking out over the water. The sun has set, but the moon is out, casting its pale light on the water.

  Ryan disappeared downstairs, but he comes back up and settles in next to me at the railing. I shiver in the cool breeze, and he wraps his arms around me.

  "This was fun," I say. "Your family is really great."

  "Yeah," he says. "They are."

  "Do you think they like me?" I ask.

  "Yes," he says, "they like you a lot."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely," he says. "If my mom didn't like you, she wouldn't have fed you pie."

  I laugh, leaning against his warm body.

  "Thanks for this," he says. "It means a lot to me."

  "Of course," I say. "It means a lot that you'd bring me here."

  He tightens his arms around me, leaning his cheek on my head. His family is amazing, and it seemed like Ryan enjoyed having me here. But there’s something else, a feeling I can’t put my finger on. Despite the great day, the incredible moments we had, he still seems so sad.

  22

  RYAN

  N icole needs to get to work early on Monday, so she leaves Sunday afternoon. I can tell she’s concerned about me. Despite my assurances that nothing is wrong, her eyes are tight with worry. Although she offers to stay longer, I more or less push her out the door. I don’t want to mess things up at her job. I already feel guilty. For what, I’m not even sure. We had a nice weekend together. M
y family loved her. She fit right in, talking and laughing like she's been a part of the Jacobsen crew all along. That should lift my spirits, but I spend the rest of the weekend wanting to do nothing more than crawl into bed and stay there.

  I made it as far as my couch after Nicole drove away and haven’t moved since. I glance up at the clock. Seven-fifteen. I feel groggy, almost as if I've been sleeping, but I know I haven’t. My bladder protests, so I muster the energy to get up and use the bathroom.

  When I come out, the letter on my dresser catches my eye. It’s at the back, a folded sweatshirt covering all but one corner of the white envelope. I put a finger on the edge and slide it out, handling it as if it might burn me.

  I’ve kept that letter for well over a year, unopened. I know who it’s from, and I have a good idea of what it says, but I haven't been able to bring myself to read it. Like a fucking idiot, I choose this moment to tear it open.

  My eyes scan the words Elise's mother wrote to me. My stomach turns over. Phrases reach out and grab me, hitting me like slaps to the face. Please don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. You did everything you could.

  Meaningless. Words anyone could say. She doesn’t know. She wasn’t there.

  It was my fault. I failed. Elise is dead, and I wasn’t strong enough to save her.

  I toss the letter to the ground and go back to the couch. Emptiness consumes me. There’s a void inside, eating away at everything I am, feeding on any shred of emotion I have left. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.

  I SPEND the week shuffling between my bed and the couch. When Nicole's car pulls up in the driveway, I don’t even know what day it is.

  Running a hand through my hair, I get up from the couch. I look down at my shirt and sniff my armpits. Shit, that isn’t good. I smell terrible. When did I last shower? Quickly, I snatch up the garbage from the coffee table and shove it under the sink, then dart for the bathroom. Nicole has a key, and I hear her coming in through the studio when I turn on the shower.

  The bathroom door handle turns, rattling back and forth. Apparently I locked it.

  Nicole's voice comes through the door. "Hey, why did you lock me out?"

  I lean my head back, rinsing off the shampoo. "I'll be out in a minute."

  She rattles the door handle again. "I could join you."

  A spike of irritation shoots through me. I just want a fucking shower. "I said I'll be out in a minute," I say, my voice sharp.

  Nicole doesn’t answer, and I finish up. I get out and dry off, noticing a glob of toothpaste on the edge of the sink. I probably should have cleaned the bathroom. Knowing Nicole, she won’t even mention it—just wipe it up herself and not say anything. There’s no reason that thought should make me angry, but it does. She’s going to walk through the apartment and put things away, do the things I haven't found the energy to do myself. Then she'll give me that look—her eyebrows drawn together, her lips pressed tight. Pity. She'll look at me with pity, and I don’t want to deal with that right now.

  Sure enough, she’s washing dishes when I come out of the bathroom. I have the towel wrapped around my waist and her eyes rove over me, a little half-smile on her face.

  "Hey." She takes a few steps toward me and bites her lower lip.

  My dick does nothing. Limp as a fucking noodle. Normally, especially after she's been gone for a week, I'll be hard just at the sight of her. And that little lip nibble? Forget it. But this time, nothing. Son of a bitch, now I can’t even get a hard-on. This day just keeps getting better.

  I ignore her and go over to my dresser to get some clothes.

  "Ryan." Her voice is so soft. She comes up behind me and rubs her hands along my shoulders and down my back. My cock finally stirs. Thank goodness. At least it still works.

  I put my hands on the dresser and close my eyes, feeling her hands caress my skin. The hollow space in my chest gapes.

  "Are you all right?" she asks.

  No. Don't listen to me. I'm lying but I can't bring myself to tell you the truth. "Yeah, I'm fine. I haven't been feeling well this week."

  "I'm sorry. Are you sick?"

  "Something like that," I say. I grab some cargo shorts and a t-shirt.

  "How was your trip?"

  "What trip?" I ask.

  "I thought you were in L.A. this week," she says. "Didn't you have a photo shoot?"

  Holy shit. I missed it. The art director left me a voicemail, but I haven’t bothered to listen to it yet. Fuck. "Right. No, it was canceled."

  I slip my feet through a pair of boxer briefs and pull them on.

  "Are you sure you want to get dressed right now?" she asks.

  I pull the shirt over my head.

  "Because what I'd like to do is easier without these silly clothes," she says, slipping her hands around my waist.

  I step away. My body is responding to her, and for some reason that makes me angry.

  "Not now, Nicole."

  She stands next to my dresser, gaping at me. I pull on my shorts and go into the kitchen. The apartment suddenly feels so small, like the walls are closing in. There isn’t enough room for two people—nowhere for me to get away.

  "Is there someone else?" Her voice is so small, so scared.

  I look up at her. "No. What are you talking about?"

  She tucks her hair behind her ear. "Are you sleeping with someone else?"

  "No," I say. How could she even think that? "No, of course not."

  "Then what's going on?"

  "Nothing," I say.

  "But ... I just got here, and I haven't seen you, and you don't want..."

  I do want. And I don't. I want the emptiness to go away. I want to feel like I can get out of bed in the morning and work, and take pictures, and fix the front steps, and fuck Nicole until we both scream for mercy. I want to love her like she deserves to be loved. But I can’t.

  I’m sinking, and I can’t take her down with me.

  "Not right now," I say. "You just got here, and you want me to jump right in and fuck you over the back of the couch?"

  Her mouth hangs open and a flash of anger crosses her face. "Why do you keep doing this?" she asks.

  "Doing what?"

  "Being an asshole."

  "If I'm such an asshole, why do you keep coming down here every weekend?"

  She puts her hands on her hips. "So this is my fault? Seriously, Ryan, there's something wrong with you. One minute you're the most sensitive, generous man I've ever met. Then something changes. You're cold and closed off. Then you apologize and sweet Ryan comes back, and your excuses always sound so damn reasonable."

  I stare at the counter and don’t answer. She’s right. What can I say?

  She comes closer. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

  I want to. Fuck me, I want to. But this hell I’m living in isn’t somewhere I can bear to take her. She’s beautiful and sweet and pure. I’ll ruin all that. I'll drag her through the mud with me, soiling her along the way. It isn’t right. She deserves so much better.

  "You know what? This back and forth bullshit, I don't think it's working," I say. "We spend all week apart and then you drive down here. It doesn't make any sense. How long are we supposed to keep doing this?"

  "I don't know," she says. "I guess I thought we'd figure it out."

  "Figure what out?" I ask. "There's nothing to figure out. We had some great sex or whatever, but come on, we both knew this couldn't last."

  Her lower lip trembles and I look away. I can't bear to see her.

  "We had some great sex? That's it? That's all this has been to you?" Her voice rises with every sentence. "What about last weekend? You introduced me to your family."

  You asshole. You're hurting her.

  But I'll hurt her so much more if she stays.

  "Maybe that was a mistake."

  I lean against the kitchen counter, my hands pressed against the granite. I don't look up. Without saying a word, Nicole picks up her things and storms out through the studio. Sec
onds later, the front door slams shut.

  I stand there, holding myself up with my arms, feeling like I’ll collapse to the floor. Her tires spit gravel as she peels out and zooms up the long driveway.

  Just like that, she’s gone.

  "Fuck!" I throw my head back and yell. I knock over a box of cereal, spilling its contents on the floor, then pick up a mug and launch it at the wall. It smashes, falling to the ground in pieces, and leaves a dent in the drywall.

  I run my hands up and down my face. I am such an asshole. I am the worst fucking human being on the planet. What the hell did I just do to her?

  I stumble over to the couch and sit down, leaning my head back. Rain patters against the windows and the waves crash against the sand outside. I close my eyes, feeling the awful void taking over. It’s better that she’s gone. I never should have gotten involved with her in the first place. I’m not any good for her, and I knew it all along.

  She’s better off without me.

  23

  NICOLE

  I race down the highway, no idea where I’m even going. Home? I don't really have one. The little room I’m renting is hardly home, and I still haven't found a new apartment. I could go to my parents’ house, but I don't want to explain things to my mom. She'll be all practical and remind me how long-distance relationships hardly ever work. The last thing I need is my mother telling me this is for the best.

  Trying not to swerve off the road, I send Melissa a quick text. In town. Need u.

  Tears run down my face. What the hell just happened?

  I knew something was wrong as soon as I got to Ryan's house. His apartment was a mess. Dirty clothes were strewn around the floor, to-go cartons sat on the counter, and the sink was full of dishes. I thought I could start things off on the right foot by joining him in the shower, but he wouldn't let me in.

  When he came out, wrapped in that towel, little beads of water dripping down his amazing body, I wanted him more than ever. I expected him to come after me, the way he usually does. I even thought about taking my clothes off before he got out of the bathroom, surprising him by sitting naked on his couch, or spreading out on his bed. It’s a good thing I didn't. I feel rejected enough as it is; if he’d denied me when I was naked and ready for him, the humiliation would be unbearable.