Forked Roads Back

11 - TESSA

AS THE SOBS COME out of me hard and fast, I feel like there is no way I'll be able to stop them.

An unfillable hole seems to have inadvertently opened itself up - a different hole to the one already there - and if I don't pull myself together soon, Jamie will run for the hills... wondering what the hell he was thinking trying anything with someone like this.

But when two large, warm hands touch my shoulders, turning me around to offer me the relative comfort of crying into someone's chest, I gradually find myself calming. Jamie's hands stroke calming stripes up and down my back as he sways me from side to side before wrapping his arms tight around me, holding me.

I don't know how long we stand like this, but I know we'll soon be in danger of the bar emptying, only for my friends to see me like this. So when I feel like I have my feelings back under control, I pull my head from his chest and look up at him through blurry eyes, praying my make up hadn't run and that I didn't look like a raccoon.

I wipe under my eyes, just in case, as I sniff as rather unattractive, raggedy sob. "I am so sorry." My voice is small and wobbly, making another sob hiccup out of me.

He smiles, keeping one arm where is as he moves the other to help me wipe the tears from my cheeks. The movements are so soft and comforting that, paired with the warmth of his hands, I finally find the strength in my voice, as I go to apologise again.

"You must think I'm so weird," I say, trying to make it sound like a joke, only my throat is burning so much that it can't help but cough out another sob. Thankfully this time there is only one.

He chuckles as I push my head gently back into his chest, using the steady beat of his heart to try and get my breathing back under control.

"It's okay," he tells me each time I hiccup. He sways, holding me, kissing my head, until the sobs turn to sniffs and my tear ducts start to run dry.

When I pull away from him enough to look at him, his eyes are soft and his large hands on my shoulders are soothing as they continue to stroke up and down my arms. He isn't doing what I expected - which was running - and I'll be honest I was very confused as to why not.

"I'm surprised I haven't scared you off," I joke, wiping my fingers under my eyes, relieved when they're clean, meaning my mascara hadn't run.

He shakes his head. "Never."

I frown, but decide to try to explain myself instead of letting my head spiral over what that meant.

"I think I was just a bit overwhelmed."

I turn to look back at the bar, as if looking back would help me understand what I had actually done, but then turn back around when I come up with nothing. "I don't usually do stuff like that." I shake my head. "Correction. I never do stuff like that."

"That as in crying or that as in sing with strangers in bars?" He asks with a chuckle.

"Both" I answer and he nods.

"Good to know. But you know I've never done that either."

I frown again. "Singing with strangers in bars or asking strangers for their phone numbers?" I ask, changing the theme slightly to fit his actions.

He chuckles again and mirrors my answer. "Both."

I can't hide my surprise. For a moment I think to myself that he must be joking because he'd seemed so confident he had to have done it before. But the more I looked at him, watching the pink of his cheeks and noticing the tiny evidence of nerves, the more I could admit that maybe that was the truth.