Say you'll stay - Channing Tatum

P.31

With shaking hands, I lift the kettle from the counter to fill it with water.

I watch the surface move, it passing the small black lines on the side of the indicator until it reaches the last one and I stop.

My whole body is tense. My hands have turned cold and my movements have slowed down. I can't bring myself to move faster now when the seconds seem to come crawling and earths rotation seems to have stopped altogether.

If I just continue to move this slow, then maybe time will too and he won't leave as fast. The thought of him rushing out of here without as much as a word makes my heart ache.

The white cabinet in front of me is starting to come alive as I focus on the irregular lines and patterns seen in the wood. The clicking sound of the kettle turning off brings my attention from the almost perfect circle I'd just noticed amongst the patterns. I reach to grab two cups from one of the other cabinets and teabags from the drawer closest to me. Carefully pouring the scolding hot water into each of the cups, I watch the steam rise and disappear into nothing.

A sudden feeling of not being alone causes me to look up.

Turning to look to the side, Channing is standing by the end of the counter, a distance between us. His head is bowed down slightly and his gaze directed at the floor.

As soon as he realizes I've noticed him, he looks up, green eyes finding mine.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No, please stop." I interrupt him quickly. "It's okay. You didn't.""

I now feel even worse than before. The last thing I want is for him to think it was his fault, that it was something he did.

We were both caught up in the moment and for a second I completely forgot about everything else; all the things that ever has happened and the things that were to come. Nothing else but us existed for that small amount of time and I wouldn't take it back for anything. If something, I wish it lasted longer, but the reason it didn't is my fault.

I pull the arms of my shirt down over my hands, covering them in the thin material. Although the fire has warmed the apartment up significantly, I'm still shivering from being cold.

"What happened?" He asks carefully, eyes searching my face. "Please tell me if it was something I did."

I can see the hurt and confusion written over his features and it hurts me further knowing that I can't give him an explanation.

He stands quiet and patiently wait, but I remain silent, well aware of my heart that's now in the pit of my stomach.

He is looking directly into my eyes and I turn my head, breaking our gaze.

He must take that as his cue, because he gives me one last glance before moving from his place on the other end of the counter. I don't dare to look his way, afraid of seeing him do the thing I expect him to, but want the least.

The grip on the fabric of my sleeves tightens in my fists and I force myself to blink.

The thought of nothing ever happening between us scares me more than it should. We have done nothing and said close to nothing about what we want or what this is. Yet I'm hoping, even if it seems stupid.

For all I know, I could be nothing more than a rebound to him. Someone who has no connections to any part of the rest of his life. Not his work, friends or family. Someone who's Cynthias complete opposite, just to not remind him of what he lost, or chose to leave. It's sad really, but the only one who'd hurt in the end would be me.