The Reason | ✓

4: Missing Pieces

4: Missing Pieces

"Why are you staring at me?"

I try to hide my embarrassment with a sly smile. "Daydreaming," I correct him, and he winks at me with a small grin.

"About me?" Frowning, I shake my head and he sighs louder than necessary. "Fine, I guess I'll never have you fall for my charming chivalry and exponential good looks."

"Do you even know what 'exponential' means?" I ask, and he closes his eyes as if trying to dig through his memory.

"Very rapid increase," he says, as if reading the definition in the back of his eyelids, and then opening them only to find my eyebrows raised. "What?"

I had no answer. Instead, I ask what's been on my mind. "What happened to the last girl you hung out with?" He bites his lip, his body going rigid and his face sucked of any color. Good going, Penny. "Sorry... again."

He doesn't reply, but he nods. We're quiet for a moment, the only sound being a group of people laughing outside the window as they passed the cafe. Will cringes at the sound, as if afraid of their words, although he has nothing to fear - he's facing away from the window to where they can't see him anyways.

"You're quite a sketchy guy," I remark, trying to make the subject light. He winces, though, and I know I've made things even worst.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, looking down at his empty mug in shame. "I'm so sorry."

My lips pull down at the corners out of concern, me instinctively reaching out for his hand to hold - to comfort. He jumps slightly at the touch when my fingers brush his, but when my face heats up and I start to pull away, he quickly recovers and takes my hand in his. It's cold.

"You don't need to apologize," I say, trying to persuade him to hear the sincerity in my words.

He lets out a deep breath and shakes his head stubbornly. "No, I do. I'm keeping so much from you right now, and I can't even explain how difficult it is. You don't understand, Penny, how easily you make it for me to be... me. Well, not me, but the old me."

When I give him a curious look, he explains further.

"The old me, being lighthearted and egotistical - even though I had no right to be. How I would smile so easily and make jokes that other people would laugh at. How I could hold someone's hand and not cringe at their touch."

My heart stops and I realize how hard this must be for him right now. I slowly try to slide my hand out of his grasp, but he gently holds it in its spot in his and gives it a light squeeze before continuing.

"You make it very easy to get back into that state of mind." He pauses and leans in a bit to where we're eye-to-eye; to where I can see the black flecks in his mesmerizing gaze. "Thank you for that."

I nod, completely at a loss of words. What can I say to that? Yes, you make me forget about the world completely when you touch my hand like this; you make me forget my past when you hold my gaze, when you lick your lips, when you smile that crooked smile.... But instead, I say, "Ditto." Stupid.

I expect him to roll his eyes, but instead he just smiles and says, "Fine, don't tell me what's on your mind then."

I roll my lips inside my mouth, scared out of my mind. He rubs his thumb against my palm and my heart races erratically. Stop, I want to scream. No, wait, don't. I like this.... I smile. I really do. "Why do you effect me like this?" I wonder out loud, and I find myself not caring that he heard me.

His lips spread wider and he replies, "Why have you been hiding from me?"

I can't stop the urge to roll my eyes so I do, and his laugh rings throughout the empty cafe. "Oh shush," I murmur, and he just grins at me childishly.

"Aw, did I make you blush? I'm sorry," he apologizes, although I know he doesn't mean it. I stick my tongue out at him, also childishly, and he shrugs and admits, "Okay, no I'm not. It's kinda cute when you do that, actually."

My breath hitches in my throat and I have to cough a bit to get it going again. Shit, I'm pathetic. "Er, thanks." Yep. Pathetic. But when he sighs and looks down at our hands, I know that his mind is too preoccupied to even process my weak attempts at flirting. "You okay?" I ask, and he doesn't bother looking up at me.

Instead, he continues to slide his thumb against my palm and whispers, "I need to tell you something."

This is it.

This is what I've been waiting for.

But do I want to hear it now that we've gotten closer? Now that I know how much him telling me will hurt him? Now that I actually want to be in his life longer than just this one night?

So I do the unthinkable.

"Don't," I say. His eyes immediately meet mine and looks at me speculatively, as if disbelieving my words entirely.

"What?" he asks, clearly befuddled.

Taking in a deep breath, I squeeze his hand and he looks down at them as if he's just realized that his hand was intertwined with mine. "Don't tell me."

His brows furrow and he meets my gaze once more. "Why?"

I give him the only answer I can offer without losing my breath. "Because I don't mind the missing pieces right now. Tonight, I just want..." I hesitate. His eyes smooth over and he looks at me as if he gets it.

He nods. "I want you too."

The weight on my chest lifts and a smile forms on my lips. "Okay." Rolling his eyes, he tugs at my hand and looks pointedly at the door. "Oh!" Wow, I'm bad at this.

"Let's go," he says, and although I don't mean to, I practically jump out of my seat.

Our hands do not loosen when we stand from the table, thank the bustling woman that's grinning like a fool behind the counter, and walk out the door into the bone-chilling night.

And I can't help but notice how he slips his sunglasses back on despite the dark, and pops up his hood once more.

But I say nothing.

Not tonight.