Let's go.

Part 24: Unraveling

I have put up a wall between us. Created a distance to protect my heart. He hasn't said anything to me about it but I can tell he has noticed.

I hear the shower water turn off then the quiet squeak from the glass shower door opening.

I'm sitting on the edge of the bed struggling to fasten the little buckle at my ankle but my hands are shaking. Maybe I should go home, I think to myself. I look over at the clock and it reads 6:00 pm.

Layne steps out of the bathroom and the steam escapes in a white cloud as he opens the door. His hair is wet and spikey from drying it roughly with the towel. He wraps the towel around his waist and tucks a corner in at his side. I didn't realize how muscular he has become until now. He smiles at me slowly, his eyes intent on mine.

"Here, let me help," he says and motions to my shoe.

He bends down in front of me, his eyes following the line of my bare leg. He takes my heel in his hand and kisses the top of my foot.

"We need to talk," He says in a low voice as he raises his head to look up at me.

I nod.

He fastens the small buckle with his nimble fingers and sets my foot down. He is still crouched in front of me on his haunches, water droplets clinging to the hairs on his chest.

"I don't want to do it now before the show, but we need to," he says then rises from his position in front of me. He leans over me and brushes his lips against mine. He presses his forehead to mine and lets out a long sigh.

"Layne, I don't know what to say," I reply and look down at my hands.

"We will figure it out when we have more time," he answers and looks over at the clock. "I only have twenty minutes before we leave for the venue."

He quickly dresses in a pair of brown pants. He zips the zipper up and buttons the top button. The pants are baggy on his slim waist and hang off him showing his boxer short's white band. He digs around in his bag until he finds a black Western-style belt. He turns to face me as he buttons the silk shirt with the small flowers he wore to the gallery. I can tell he is trying to read me. He tucks the shirt in and then sits next to me on the bed as he laces his black boots. We feel awkward together. Tension and questions lie thick in the air and I feel like I can't breathe.

I rise from the bed and begin to fuss with my short skirt in the mirror.

"You will need a jacket tonight," he mumbles as he is bent over lacing his boot.

I slip my arms into a mid-thigh blazer then turn to show him.

He chuckles and says, "Are you going to spin?"

I smile back at him and do a spin to show him my outfit.

He rises off the bed and stands in front of me. He takes my chin in his hand and tips it up to look down into my eyes. "Wrenna," he sighs and then adds, "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

He touches his lips to mine but my eyes begin to water... I turn my face away from him attempting to suppress the sobs that are evident. I try to stall the quivering of my lower lip by biting the soft flesh as I  fight to maintain some semblance of control.

"Oh, darlin' I'm so sorry," He says and looks down at the ground. "I didn't mean to make you cry like this."

I turn away from him and look to the ceiling to calm myself. He reaches for my hand and says quietly, "We gotta go now."

He threads his fingers through mine as he adjusts his bag over his shoulder. He hands me my purse and then grabs my luggage. We are silent as we exit the hotel room. He's carrying all our bags and I know I look like a pathetic mess.