Worth the Risk

Chapter thirty-seven

He's gone, leaving behind nothing but his hurtful words setting fire to the remnants of his touches. They burn my skin like ice. They make me numb from the coldness of the absence of his warmth.

He was clear when I asked him if he wants to forget our shared moments of tonight. His answer left no room for debate. It wasn't a maybe or a perhaps, it was a crystal clear confirmation he wishes to erase tonight from his mind.

I don't understand it. I don't understand him. He kissed me back. I felt the passion. The hunger. The desire. The content of being able to destroy the anticipation by discovering each other's skin with our lips. I felt it through his soft caresses, his lustful kisses, the teasing bites, and nips. He wanted it as much as I still do.

Or at least, I thought he did.

The sound of the door slamming shut vibrates through the silent apartment and it takes Lucie exactly one second to pop her head out of her door to check if the coast is clear before she storms out.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt but I thought someone was knocking on the door as you already know per my foolish rambling mouth. In my defense, it sounded like a muffled knock. I didn't know. Obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn't have, you know, swung the door open on you like that." Her face crunches in self-blame before she covers it up with her hands. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologizing, Luus. You couldn't have known I was-" I stop myself as the image of him greedily pushing me against the door flashes before my eyes and my stomach twists when the image of his clenched jaws and wary expression quickly follow.

When I don't finish my sentence Lucie takes the opportunity to do it for me, portraying her excitement in the meantime."Making out with Colin in the freaking hall." A squeal of excitement leaves her lips, causing a weak smile to tug on the corner of my mouth. When he kissed me I wanted to squeal too. I wanted to release the wave of happiness rushing through me. Now, however, the squeal has morphed into a heavy weight in my chest.

I slowly shake my head as I settle myself into our couch to correct any assumptions that are starting to bloom in her mind when she ushers me to spill the tea. "There's not much tea to spill because he left." I let him leave. I let him walk away without a why. Without an explanation of what happened in that split second that made him switch from holding me close to pushing me away.

"Taking it slow absolutely does not fall under the category of not-tea-spill-worthy material. I bet there is plenty to tell." I wish him leaving was only because we decided to take things slow and not because he put an end to things before they could even start.

"No, Luus. I mean, after you saw us he left, telling me to forget tonight happened." The confusion roaming through my body is now visible on her features too.

"So he didn't want it?"

"I don't know," I sigh. I don't know what he thinks or feels or what's going on in his head. I know nothing except for the curt reply he gave me to my reaction to him leaving. "I thought he did but then he told me to forget about it and I don't know, you can't interpret a 'yes' to the question if he wanted to forget it as anything else than a yes."

"You told him the same a month ago and did you mean it back then?" Her question implies she saw through my half-lie about not wanting to be anything more than friends. A part of me wanted only that because I didn't want to lose him a second time as a friend. The other part, however, longed to have him as more, it yearned to take the risk. It still does.
It never stopped. Not even after our summer. Not even when I told him to forget about our kiss at the party because the honest answer to her question is no. Not entirely. I told him to erase the memory because I wanted to try to forget even though in the deepest of my heart I knew I never would be able to.

"Yes and no," I finally answer.

"You see. Maybe his answer isn't as black and white either. Maybe it's a big grey area filled with doubts and fears." Her description fits the area I've been finding myself in perfectly. It's the border between the simple answers. The area that tries to calculate the different outcomes of your choice in your final decision but the equation never stops running.

"Did you talk to him about everything that happened three years ago?" I nod thinking back on the night I told him about how I was living in that grey area and chose to only incorporate the worst-case scenario's in my equation to find the perfect outcome, the one where no one got hurt. And how I, by trusting my fear, not only hurt myself but the people around me. I shut them out instead of opening up and being honest. I ran instead of facing the truth inside my heart.

"Did you tell him you talked to us about it?" I lift my head to meet her eyes.

"You think that's it?"

"Part of the reason you left is that you were afraid to do so. If he thinks you still haven't talked to us then-" Then he has no reason to trust this is any different. That things have changed.

Before she can finish her sentence my body jolts out of the couch. "I have to go."

Understanding what's happening she jumps up with me. "Take Brooke's car because it's too late to cycle," she says as she hurries to the key locker hanging next to our front door. I run in the other direction to my room to search for the key to my bicycle as I answer her.

"I can't, I did a few shots when we were at the pool."

The jiggling of keys momentarily stops. "The pool?!"

"I'll explain when I'm back," I yell as I rumble through one of my bags. I push away papers and books, snacks, and a bottle of water but my keys aren't here. My eyes scan the room, from my desk to my bedside table to every place I could've mindlessly thrown my keys but I come up empty-handed.

"I wanted to drive you but the car keys aren't here," Lucie states as she bursts into my room. "So we'll cycle together and we'll Speedy Gonzalez through the streets." She grabs my wrist and tugs me forward out of my room but after a few steps of giving in, I stop her.

"Luus, you have to work tomorrow. You need to sleep." She ignores my protesting against her and overpowers me as she pushes forward.

"I'll powernap my way through the day," she responds as she glances over her shoulder. "This is more important."

I stop her again. "But how will you get back because it's too late for you too."

She spins around and reaches up to cup my cheeks. "I'll take Brooke's car and put my bike in the back. And then you'll text me when you want me to pick you up so come on," her fingers clasp around my wrist again as she turns back around to lead me downstairs. "You're wasting time."

"I don't have my keys."

"That's because, for once in your life, you put them in the key locker." Out of her pocket, she fishes a bundle of keys and holds them up against her head for me to see. I snatch them away from her as I pass her by to take the lead.

Out of all the times I had to sprint my way to class or work, I've never cycled so recklessly fast. My heart is beating in overdrive as I try to memorize all the words I want to say to him. Even when they're not reciprocated I need to get them off my chest. I practice the sequence of sentences containing my feelings, afraid that once I'll get there, words will escape me like they do most of the time when my heart is involved.

It's as if my heart is a game of scrabble and I'm helplessly trying to create words but all I pick are an abundance of useless letters.

I shut down. I run away. I ignore the emotion.

It's an instinct to guard and protect myself. A self-defense mechanism. It's like a house protecting me from storms and heatwaves, yet keeping me from the beauty of soft summer rain and soothing spring sunbeams.

He's the soft summer rain I want to feel drizzling over my skin and the soothing spring sunbeams I want to smile at.

I've shut him out once and I don't want to make that same mistake again.

All I hope is that I haven't lost him already.

All I hope is that I'm not too late.