| published! under the new title MEET ME IN THE MIDDLE | Eden knows she can't love Truman, the boy with the angelic smile and devilish eyes. Why? He's her best friend Katie's older brother, who she strictly promised she'd stay away from.
But when a...
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E D E N
It started to rain some time later. It pelted down on the road, turning the asphalt a sleek black that shined beneath the moonlight.
Truman's suit was wet. My dress was dripping water from the bottom. It seemed too weird that this night had started off with the two of us at a wedding—a wedding Truman had crashed. And now we were here, standing in the rain, on the road that almost took Katie's life, and it was as if she were here, somewhere in the trees or the shadows or even the rain that streamed down our faces.
I watched Truman unlock the car, his movements stoic. Reflexive. I could see the weight he was carrying in his bones, see it sink him closer into himself. He sat in the backseat, shuffled over, and held the door open for me.
When I sat beside him and shut the door, we were bathed in silence aside from the rain hitting the roof of the car. I wanted to look at him, but the promise of goodbye lingered too heavily between us. This rain may has well had been an ocean that opened up, an uncrossable bridge between our hearts.
Because I was so fond of self-depreciation, I turned to him. His suit was covered in water, tie hanging loose around his neck. Truman's hair was slicked across his forehead, his blue eyes bright in the darkness. I lowered my gaze to his hands, shaking against his thighs. He looked broken, tormented with ghosts that riddled his mind and clouded his heart.
I loved him. I wanted to love him forever. But forever was never in our plan. Instead we had moments, short moments like this, where we could steal a kiss and a gaze and we held onto them, hoping it would be enough some day when the rain turned to dust and the sky brightened up; when our paths ceased to cross and we were nothing more than two people with a doomed past.
"Eden." My name felt so right on his mouth. "Did you mean what you said before?"
My words came back to me. We need to say goodbye to each other. For good this time.
I nodded. I meant it. I had to mean it.
"I don't want to say goodbye to you," he whispered.
I felt him move closer, felt the heat that warmed me from head to toe whenever Truman was within reach. And when his hand found its way to my thigh, I stared at it.
"This is too hard, Eden. It's too hard to go through without you. I need you. I need you," he repeated.
And, god, it was so fucking selfish. The weight of his words. The desperation in his voice. Of course he needed me. Of course I needed him. I needed Truman like the oxygen in my lungs. He was a life line and he was an anchor and I couldn't love him without drowning, too. We couldn't be together without ripping our hearts to shreds.
It was Shakespearean. We were star crossed. We were a tragedy, doomed from the very second we laid eyes on each other.
And still, I reached for him. I grabbed his head in my hands and, for the last time, I kissed him. I pressed our mouths together so fiercely until I could feel the cracks in my heart, the ones ridden deeply into my soul, start to mend with every touch of his tongue and every graze of his fingers.
