Playing for Rya

33. Standing Still

Song: Runnin'(lose it all) by Naughty Boy ft Beyonce; cover by Sofia Karlberg.

They flew home Friday evening after saying their goodbyes to Elsa and Gio who were staying until Sunday evening, which was the day they had all originally planned to leave, and though she saw the unasked questions in their eyes, neither of them voiced their questions or concerns, for which she was immensely grateful.

She didn't know what, if anything, Derek had told them, all she knew was that she couldn't have explained her reasons for needing to leave at that time to them, even if she wanted to.

Both of them hugged her and promised to visit her and Derek in New York as soon as they were both able to.

Her and Derek.

She didn't even know if they were still an item, or what would happen once they got back home.

The atmosphere between them had been tense since they'd spoken that morning, and although she had to admit that it was not by his doing, given that she'd gone out of her way to avoid saying more than was necessary to him for the rest of the day, she didn't see any hope of bridging the sudden divide between them.

They returned home by a different aircraft from the one they'd arrived on the island in, and from the one they'd taken from New York to Miami to meet with Gio and Elsa, although it was every bit as lavish and opulent as the others, and from his discourse with the pilots and staff, she got the feeling that it was owned by him.

It was a straight trip home, and in an effort to continue to avoid all forms of communication with Derek, including the various attempts he made to engage her in conversation, she relegated herself to the bedroom just as she had done on their way to the island, except this time she was alone, with only her angry thoughts to keep her company.

Since their earlier conversation, she'd gone from berating herself for opening up to him, to anger at herself for doing so and finally to anger at him for daring to judge her.

It didn't matter that he had barely said anything in response to her revelation that morning, all she kept replaying in her mind was the reprehension in his tone as he'd voiced his objection to, and condemnation of, her and her past.

As she'd expected, all he'd heard and seen was a broken girl who'd been taken against her will, never mind that she'd expressed to him that she didn't consider any of the events of her past as negative, or saw them in the same light as he so obviously did, never mind that if she hadn't been who she was back then, their paths would probably never have crossed.

She had never judged him for his desires which many women would certainly object to or even find repulsive and she'd expected the same from him. If there was anyone she'd expected to understand her and her story, it was him.

She'd expected so much more from their trip, but it had served to be more counterproductive than otherwise seeing as she was leaving with a lot more regrets than she'd had before.

She regretted coming with him, regretted opening up to him, regretted that she'd ever entertained the thought, even for a moment, that they could truly be together, that they could have something meaningful, without a wall of secrets between them.

She regretted that she'd allowed herself to be kept a secret, while he carried on openly with the woman he actually wanted. He would, no doubt, go back to her now and she would be none the wiser about the secret life he carried on behind her back.

Or maybe he wouldn't carry on behind her back. From what she'd understood, he'd lived his life on the straight and narrow for her, desperate to protect her from his oddities.