Laura's POV
Ross's eyes pleadingly watch my reaction as the unyielding pain in his eyes fogs up the love he has for me. He heaves out a disgruntled sigh and regrettingly removes himself from my embrace to stalk out of the room in slow strides.
I lift my arm as if to call him back, but I know not even stripping my clothes off and begging Ross to take me will be compelling enough.
With a familiar void in the room, I hear Ross's words echo in my head: "I'm afraid to let down my guard again." There was a peculiar aftertaste in the way he said "again", as if it was a bug he was trying to shoo away. Judging by the way he threw it in my face, not in a way to hurt me, but to emphatically drive it home that he needed to be sure of me, I was certain there was no one else to blame but myself.
Again, the guilt eats me up. Within only one week, Ross did what I tried and failed at for six months: he broke up with me because he knew our relationship was formed on the wrong reasons.
Karma's a bitch.
I smooth my hair with my hand, breathing deep so that thoughts both hopeful and deprecating brim my mind. My eyes flutter open and I peel off the oversized sweatshirt to throw it in a laundry hamper. Taking a quick look in the mirrors, I adjust my hair and grab a water from my fridge. A minute later I run out of my house in the Nike's Ross bought me when we were dating.
My strides head for Ross's house, which I briefly stop in front of. I want to knock on the door and ask if he'll join me, and perhaps it'll give me an opportunity to patch things up a little. On the other hand, I know I have to earn back Ross's trust, and simply going for a run together isn't the answer to my problems.
So I continue on, heading for the open-space park about two miles from my house. Already my head begins to swim with thoughts of Ross and me and what we might be, and what we are.
For certain, Ross loves me with the same love I have for him. The way he acts around me, and the way I can't help but blush around him, there isn't a doubt in my mind to convince me of the opposite.
Unfortunately for us both, Ross called out my bluff, which leaves me utterly dumbfounded in where we go from here.
Will we remain friends if I can't prove I truly love him? If I fail to earn back Ross's trust, then I fear it's not likely he'll want to be near a lying backstabber.
It's too staggering to think of in one moment, so I pause underneath the shade of a towering oak tree. As I swish water around in my mouth and then swallow, I consider what Ross and I have been through, thick and thin.
From the first time we officially met, years ago, on that warm summer night when we did karaoke, to when he told me that we weren't ready for a relationship, one factor stuck with us: above all, though we're separate souls, our intertwining lives somehow form a harmony.
When I was in London and when we were trying to rebuild a friendship after I came back, the connection we'd built in the past never faded. Ever since everything clicked that one night, we've maintained a friendship connecting the people we are as individuals, not as a couple.
Before we dated, we were simply two people that found reasons to hang out. Ross admired the vibrant emotions I put into my dancing, and attended as many of my competitions as possible in support. Similarly, I respected how devoted Ross was to the arts and how he absolutely lit up when discussing literature. His enthusiasm for learning is the reason I have regrets about not living out the college experience and instead choosing to be a dancer. Knowing this, Ross always offers me some of his reading material from his classes so I get a taste of what college is like.
This is what I've always loved about our friendship: we're always there for each other to be the person that one of us is missing. And just like a tattoo can't be removed, neither will the bond we share be broken.
Conclusively, I won't ever be for sure of what happens to Ross and me. As I continue along my path en route to the park, I suppose the uncertainty and apprehension I feel now is precisely what Ross must have felt when he first asked me out. Ross had to put up some type of display to convince both of us that we could be more than friends.
And now it's my turn to do just that.
I turn some ideas over in my head, wondering what I can do that will help Ross see that I truly love him. Should I go for quantity or quality? Should I blow all my money to make it the most extravagant night of our lives or plan a special, romantic evening that's the perfect combination of both low profile and unforgettable?
On nights when Ross stayed over at my house or when I stayed overnight at his, right before we fell asleep, he reminded me of what I meant to him. He told me I was special, and that he never took what we had for granted.
Ordinarily, I consider myself to be as plain as vanilla, but when I'm with Ross, I can't remember what I think of myself. I'm only familiar with what Ross thinks of me: that I'm one of a kind and that we're absolutely meant to be.
Before I have the courage to stop myself, I whip out my flip phone and hit speed dial number three. He picks up on the second ring, "Hey Laura. What's up?"
"Hey Ross. I was wondering if you're doing anything this Saturday night?"
He pauses, and I can almost hear him biting his lip as he tries to remember, "I don't think so. Why?"
"Sweet," I smirk, "I'll pick you up at seven. The dress code is semi-formal. See you then."
***
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Steph (yesifeelgoodr5)
YOU ARE READING
Like a Tattoo (Raura)
FanfictionI'll admit. He's got irresistible looks, and he's a damn good friend. In fact, we're so close, it's almost like he's my tattoo. There's just one problem to all of this: he's my friend. Why would he want to risk our friendship by asking me out? And e...
