All the Missing Pieces (UNDER REVISION)

Twenty One

              James' umbrella has done little to keep us dry in our tangled and passionate reunion. He's wet now, albeit still not as soaking as I am. I look like I just tried to beat Ryan Lochte in the Olympics. I'm breathing hard, and completely wet, and my lungs are on fire. Marina and Emily finally caught up to us finally and probably stood there while we made out in front of the entire city of Charleston. When we pull apart, laughing and smiling at each other, Emily and Marina both stare at us in complete and utter shock. Under the safe confines of the overhead part of the train station I somehow managed to avoid completely, they stare at us with a loss for words. James and I just laugh. I let my hand slide down from his shoulder to his hand, and our fingers lock together in a way that's so natural, this could be the hundredth time we've done it. After staring at us for a solid minute, Marina says, "Let's, uh, go back to Sam's I guess."
"How do you guys know Sam?" He asks, I scratch at the back of my neck. "I may or may not have gone through your emails." He raises an eyebrow at me. "I think I'd rather not know." He says. "All right guys, let's go." I hold his hand as we walk back to the car which has hopefully not been towed.

              When we get back to Sam's, Lila opens the door in almost utter shock. "Sam, they're back!" Sam comes to the door in a bathrobe with sunflowers all over it, and a pair of horned glasses on her face. "Oh my God, James!" She says, throwing her arms around him. He laughs a little, "I'm here." He says, letting go of my hand to hug her back. "Listen, Peyton, I just want you to know we did everything we could to convince him he was out of his mind."
"Shut up!" James says. His face flushes red. "It's okay, turns out all you needed to do was drive for fourteen hours and then kiss him in the rain." Marina says. Now I feel myself start to blush. "Well, we've got an extra queen in the guest bedroom, and a pull out twin, but someone will probably need to sleep on the couch." Sam says. "I'll take the couch." I volunteer. "Are you sure?" James asks, "I'm the one that caused all this trouble." He says. "Nah dude, take the pull out and give the girls the queen." I say.

              I help Sam take the pull out bed out of the attic and roll it into the living room, while Lila helps the girls settle in the guest bed upstairs. James sits awkwardly on the couch, watching Sam and I as we move the bed. The heavy rain outside is finally starting to dissipate, and I can see the moon breaking out between some clouds. "Where can I shower?" I ask, "There's a shower in the basement downstairs. I'll show you." She says. I grab some clothes out of my suitcase and follow her downstairs.

               As soon as I get out of the shower, I realize that the only shirt I brought with me was the soaking one on my body. Will it be awkward to walk upstairs without a shirt on? Should I call James down here to bring me one from my suitcase? I decide I'll just go upstairs and take my chances. James' face turns scarlet as soon as I make it to the top of the stairs. I pretend not to notice, but start to blush myself as I fish around for another shirt. "Do you want to shower?" I ask him. "I, uh, showered this morning."
"Oh." There's an awkward tension, so I say, "Where's Sam?"
"She went to bed."
"Cool." I finally find a clean shirt and start to put it on, but James murmurs, "Don't."
"What, you like what you see?" His face turns from a light pink to a cherry red. He's sitting on the bed, so I sit down next to him. We both stare at the wall for a second. In each others presence, and for the first time having a vague idea of each other's feelings. Suddenly I blurt, "You know, ever since that day in the park I haven't been the same. I don't know what it was about watching you run around and talk about art, but it was the first time I ever really saw you be yourself. I think ever since that day I've been in love with you. I, I am in love with you, I mean." He nods, but doesn't say anything, so I continue, "You know, my sister's dragged me to some random art museums before, and like, I hate art museums and that shit, but when you talk about it, it becomes the most interesting thing in the world." He puts his hand on my knee. "It's you," he says, "it's always been you," and he looks like he wants to say something else, but i'm kissing him before anything else escapes his lips.

              His mouth is warm. That's the first thing I feel. I want to live in his warmth for eternity. Our eyes are closed and there's only this surreal feeling of warmth between him and me. He brings a hand up to my bare back. "Agh," I groan, gasping for air. "What, did I do something?" He asks.
"Your hands are fucking cold." He laughs, his warm breath against my lips. He puts his hand against my back again, slowly like someone adjusting to a cold swimming pool. I pull him onto the bed so that he's on top of me now. "God." He mutters. I kiss him on the neck and whisper, "Do you know how many times I've come so close to doing that?"
"You sound like a fuck boy in a Netflix original."
"Now that's a major turnoff." We both laugh. He puts his head against my chest, and I put one hand in his hair. The other hand finds his and our fingers intertwine. "If it makes you feel any better, it's been a while for me too." He says. "Mmm."

            Sometimes in silence, the deepest words are spoken. We lay there for a while, just him and me. I feel his breathing against my bare chest, and further my face into his blonde hair. "I'm sorry." He says suddenly.
"What for?"
"For everything. Running away. I mean, it was always the plan. We move to Philly and I leave before my dad can do anything. You weren't part of the plan. None of you were. Not Emily or Marina and definitely not you. But after I broke Emily's heart it just felt like the right time to go." His eyelids well up with tears as a single tear sliding onto my chest. "I get it though," I say. "If my dad was like yours I'd probably want to run away too."
"I don't know what to do though. Because I don't want to go back to him."
"I think you should give him a chance. He's going to AA now."
"Really?" He asks. I let one of my hands run through his hair, wrapping his curls around my index finger. "Mhm."
"How do you know?"
"Well, when I snuck into your room to hack your computer, I accidentally ran into your dad. He was crying on the front porch with an Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlet in his hand. He told me he felt like it was too late to get you back, but that he could still get himself back." The tears start rolling with more frequency. "I'm not gonna say that all your problems with him are fixed, but I really do believe people can change. You know, when I came out to my Abuela, she wouldn't look at me for a week, but now she has a big rainbow flag in her house, and she makes me rainbow sprinkle cookies every time I come over."
"Really?" He asks, sniffling and wiping away a tear. "Realy. But just know, if he ever hits you again, We will drive away to wherever you need to go, together. That is, after I personally beat the shit out of him." He chuckles again, and frees a hand to rub his eyes. "Thank you for finding me," He says.
"Thank you for helping me find myself." I say.
"What does that even mean?"
"Exactly what I said."
"Is dating a writer always going to be this hard?"
"Oh so we're dating now?" I tease. He props up over me. "Nonono that's not what I meant. Unless you know. Like if you wanted to I. But like I don't want to make you feel like you have to. I just-" I pull him down and kiss him again. "Of course I want to date you, you idiot."
"Good." He says. And this time he kisses me. "Is that okay?" He asks. "You mean can you kiss me?"
"I guess."
"Whenever you want." So he smiles and kisses me again.

                Eventually we both grow weary. "I'm cold," he says. I realize that we never took the blankets Sam left for us on the couch to the bed, so I get up and grab one. "I think my sweatshirt's on the floor over there." I point to the floor, and he rolls over the bed to snatch it. "Are you cold?" He asks. "Nah. I'm perfect." Then he slides the sweatshirt on over his shirt. "It looks good on you," I say while yawning. He bites his lip a little bit, "Thanks. It's my boyfriends." He says. I spread the blanket over his bed, and lean over and kiss him, and we're both smiling like idiots. He pulls the covers over himself, as I lay out my own on the sofa. "I'm still cold." He complains. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want my blanket too?" I ask. He shakes his head. I sit next to him on the bed again. "Maybe, if we spoon, we'll both be able to fit on here." He says. "Whatever you say now," I get under the covers, and wrap my arms around him from the back. Slowly, I press myself into him. My knees into his, his head under my chin. "Is that better?" I ask him. "Yeah." He says. He nuzzles his head into my chin. "Goodnight, James."
"Good night."

              I think he's asleep before I am, but I don't dare move to see. I silently contemplate everything that is him. Him and me. Us. And now all the missing pieces fall into place. You don't need to put your life together piece by piece by piece. It's already put together. You just need to find the right person to open your eyes.