After New York

Chapter 11: Yours

Hardin

She drums her fingers softly on the table. Her delicate nails tapping anxiously against the white tablecloth. While her opposite hand fiddles with the stem of her still full wine glass. Twisting it absentmindedly. The white wine flowing gently against the edges of the glass with the movement. She keeps her gaze fixed on the glass, and I can tell she is far away. On her own planet. Completely lost in her thoughts.

I watch her from across the small bistro table.  Any meaningful words caught in my throat as I take the opportunity to drink her in. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail. Leaving all her lovely features exposed to my tired eyes. Just the sight of her soothing them. She is still dressed in her work clothes. She wears a black button down top. A few buttons undone at the neckline, exposing the milky skin of her throat and chest. And despite the obvious wear of the day she looks as beautiful as ever. Her face is completely bare, not a drop of makeup maring her perfect, dewy skin. The absence only highlights her youth. And with the sight I am reminded of the stubborn and innocent girl that stole my heart years ago. 

I try not to stare. And I purposefully alternate my gaze from her, to the fresh flowers on the table, and then around the dim restaurant to avoid making her uncomfortable. But my eyes always see her. Whether it's in my periphery, or in full form. I can't seem to allow myself to let her from my sight.

The waiter interrupts our silence by placing a tray of fresh rolls in front of us, and she gives him a polite, tight lipped smile in thanks, but makes no moves to take one when he walks off. I can feel her unease across the table, and I have felt it since she arrived tonight. She has been quiet and obviously unsure of her choice to meet me here. Only offering me only an awkward hug in greeting when she arrived, and some intermittent small talk since then. 

Neither of us have been bold enough to address the elephant in the room. Staring us down. Threatening to trample the silence.

I grab one of the warm rolls from the basket before buttering it. Offering it to her in hopes that I can help to ease her discomfort slightly with the small gesture, but she declines with a shake of her head. And I find myself setting the roll on the small plate in front of me instead.

"You have to eat, Tess." I say delicately. Offering her a timid smile. I know how she gets, and my concern for her wellbeing overrides my nerves momentarily.

"I'm not that hungry." She notes in a far off voice, as her eyes still focused on the glass that she continues to twist in her hand.

I place my hand over hers gently, stilling her movements. And she glances up at me finally. Pulled from her deep thoughts, and I watch as she removes her hand from my touch swiftly and places it on her lap. "Sorry." She mumbles. And I let out a sigh before I can stop myself. Placing my hands on my lap as well. The sting lingering.

"You don't have to be sorry..." I tell her. And I am sure the exhaustion is evident in my voice, but I try my best to disguise it.

I don't want her to feel uncomfortable around me. But It's difficult being with her - and not being with her. I feel on edge in her presence.. Unsure of what I can and can't say. And what used to be so natural feels tense and fragile. Like one wrong word and I could bring it all tumbling down.

There's so much I wanted to say to her tonight. So many things I had planned to tell her since I last saw her this morning. But now that we're here I can't seem to find the words.