ACHES

10. try

"I'm sorry," I choked, covering my mouth with my hand. "I can't believe I was that drunk."

"I promise, I didn't mind," he soothed, sitting me down on the bed. He sat beside me, leaning forward against his thighs. "You remember everything?"

"Most of it, I think."

He nodded, staring at his hands. I watched the back of his neck, ashen from the moonlight.

"You were crying, most of the time." He picked at the skin on the side of his thumb.

I laughed, thick and empty, "Why did you ask me out to dinner, then?"

"I was intrigued by your honesty."

"Intrigued?" I let hot, embarrassed tears wash over my cheeks.

"You were very sweet," he looked back at me, frowning with concern. He swiped away a tear from my face. "You were vulnerable with a stranger."

"God," I muttered, "I wish I knew when to shut the fuck up."

"Don't say that," he was firm, "Don't say that." It sounded like an apology.

"Thanks for giving me a second chance, at least," I shook my head, palming at my face to dry it. "I know I'm crying again, but–"

"You're pretty," his fingertips found my jawline, "When you cry."

"Only then?" I smirked, lip quivering. My skin warmed where he touched me. He licked his lower lip, shaking his head. He palpated for my jawbone, tracing it up to my ear.

"Your eyes get all glassy and bright," his other hand brushed over my lower lashes. My breath froze in my lungs as I tried to stay still for him. "Your lips blush up, all flowery and springtime." My lips parted for his thumb, which pulled and pushed my bottom lip.

I was burning from his attentive gaze, his wide-open pupils and concentrated brow. I was convinced he could see the heat coming off me.

"And your skin," he kissed the center of my cheek, open-mouthed and wet. "You taste like the sea."

"I–" Any words I tried to form caught in my tongue as he tasted my skin, inhaling as he moved down my jaw. He exhaled, a sweet breeze, cooling my flushed cheek.

"You're moonlight on water," he kissed my neck. "You're distant rain, clouds falling into the horizon."

I laughed, pulling back to look at him, "What are you, then?"

He shrugged, blinking, "I'm watching."

I bit my lip, trying to find something funny to say, distracted by the warmth spilling inside of me. Uncapped love, sweetness, appreciation.

"You're the sun," I decided. "Putting the clouds back together."

"How many times have you used that line?" he teased, rolling his eyes sarcastically.

"And how many girls have you brought back to this hotel?"

"Just one," he placed a hand on my thigh. "Spent the whole night singing her to sleep, though."

"Want to do something else this time?" I asked, reaching for his neck. I felt his pulse in his neck, heavy and erratic. It matched mine, ringing in my fingertips.

He nodded, "But I'm not going to fuck you."

I was flustered at his direct statement, feeling as if he had skipped over paragraphs of conversation.

"Not that—" he looked at me closely, "Not that I don't want to."

"Do you want permission?" I pulled a curl over his forehead, watching it flick over his eyebrow.

"Well, of course, but–"

"Fuck me, then."

He laughed, short and breathy, "I just thought you might want to take it slow."

"We can do it slow," I replied, all sultry and smoke. I watched his eyelashes, drooping over his honey eyes, beat like wasp wings. He exhaled, restrained.

"I need a cigarette."

I giggled, getting up and standing at the balcony door. I watched his silhouette heave, inhaling and exhaling in giant waves. He shook his hair over his forehead, and got up to follow me. He sat against the brick of the hotel, lighting his cigarette in the dark. I remembered how I used to be afraid of lighters, afraid of any sort of fire. It seemed silly now, watching him fiddle with his black lighter, starting the flame and cutting it off, controlling it. He raised an eyebrow, noticing me staring.

"You have nice hands," I pointed to the fingers wrapped around his cigarette.

He exhaled the smoke from his lungs, "Thanks."

"Perfect size, nice knuckles."

He squinted, "What are you thinking about?"

I laughed. He just stared at me through the haze. I was lightheaded and electrified by the freezing winter air, trying to relax and keep from shivering. I was drawn in by the red ember between his fingers.

I sat in front of him, our knees nearly touching, running my fingers over the outer line of my lips. I listened to his breathing shift as I pulled down my lower lip, sliding two fingers into my mouth. I let him watch my fingers move along my tongue, his own hand twitching on his thigh.

I closed my lips around my knuckles, hollowing my cheeks.

"Fuck," he groaned, "I can't do it, baby."

I pulled my fingers from my mouth with a pop, "How many times do I have to convince you it's okay?"

"I just... No matter what you say, I'm just not going to believe you."

"Why not?" I tried not to feel rejected, reaching for the last remains of his cigarette. I inhaled, shaky and uneven. I coughed, flicking the cig off the balcony.

"I don't know." He stood to go back inside. I was happy to follow him back into the warmth of the room. He sat in the armchair, where I had awoken with him such a short time ago, his fist curled under his chin.

"You know," I sat on the bed. "Come on, tell me."

He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead, "I just realized that– I want to see you again. Okay?"

"That's stupid," I said. "Having sex won't make me unreachable."

"I don't know."

"We can wait for another time," I shrugged. "Any time you want."

"You told me you liked to use sex to replace intimacy." The words spilled out like a confession.

"That doesn't even make sense," I frowned. "Sex is intimacy."

"It's what you told me," he stretched out his legs. "And I've been thinking about it since you said it."

"I don't even understand it, okay?" I laughed. "I was just drunk."

"But," he brushed a hand through his hair, "I want to find that line, the one delineating sex and intimacy."

I watched him run his fingers over the armrest.

"What if we replaced sex with intimacy? What if we reached the very edge of intimacy, if we strained it and found its base elements?" He sighed. "What if we're all craving intimacy, and letting sex distract us?"

"I'd try," I whispered. "If it means I'll see you again."

"Let's try, then," he patted his leg. "Come here."