After we eat lunch, we decide to spend the rest of the day being lazy in bed. I pull out the DVDs that he had asked for, and as we lie in bed, we watch a production from last year. I show him the two ensembles that I had lead placements in and one of my duets with Maxim.
As he’s watching one of the ensembles where I have a standout solo, a hint of a smile appears, and for some reason, that tiny gesture has the biggest effect on me. I scoot down in the bed and nestle my head on his chest as he watches me dance.
“I don’t know shit about dancing, babe, but you’re amazing,” he says as he continues to watch.
I can’t help but laugh at him and wrap my arm snuggly around his stomach. When the clip changes to my duet, I know it won’t take him too long to make one of his possessive comments, so I close my eyes and just wait for it.
“Hmm . . .” is all I hear him say for a while, and then it comes. “I don’t like that dude’s hands all over you.”
“Ryan, his hands have to be on me for all the lifts.”
“His hands are on you for more than just lifts, Candace.”
A giggle escapes me and he says, “I’m serious, his hands are all over you.”
“He’s gay!”
“I don’t give a shit. I still don’t like it.”
He is really unbelievable, but I love him all the same, so I simply laugh it off.
When the video ends, he tells me again and again how amazing I am, then proceeds to tell me how incredibly turned on he is, so we get a little playful before opting for a nap in the middle of the day. Having this time to be with him like this is making the thought of graduation that much harder. I love him, and I’m pretty sure I would never move away from him. I push all that aside for the moment and simply relish him.
?????
Ryan and I decided to spend the rest of the week at his mom’s. Both of us have enjoyed the down time. I love spending time with Donna. We have made a couple days out of shopping and dining. But it’s the best when we stay home for dinner, and I can help her cook and clean up. It feels very comfortable and normal, and I crave that feeling at this point.
Ryan took me surfing again, and another day we took his jeep to Long Beach in Washington. We had fun driving up and down the sand along the water. We spent the day out there, building a small fire pit and wrapping up in blankets. I could have spent hours in his arms, staring out at the ocean.
I can’t help but feel like part of his family when I’m with him and Donna. I’m sad to be leaving today, but so happy we got to have this week together. As I’m finishing getting ready in the bathroom, Ryan is packing our bags.
When I slip on my sweatshirt, my jeans tug down enough so that I can see a hint of my heart. I don’t like what this tattoo reminds me of, and for some reason, I don’t think Ryan likes it either. I’ve never asked him, but sometimes when we make love he covers it with his hand.
I shift my pants down slightly to look at it in the mirror. I’ve considered having it removed, but I’ve never done anything to look into what that would involve.
When Ryan opens the door, I quickly yank my shirt down and turn to face him.
Cocking his head, he questions, “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
He steps over to me and places his hand over mine, which is still holding onto my top. He only looks in my eyes as he lifts my hand and exposes the heart.
I know he’s curious, so I admit, “I don’t like it.”
He lowers my hand and shirt. “Why?”
“Because it’s not me. I was trying to be someone different, and it only led to bad things.”
He looks confused and asks, “What do you mean?”
“I got it in a moment of rebellion, I guess. It was stupid, really. I got it and started acting foolishly, which led to . . . umm . . .”
Ryan stops me so I don’t have to finish. “I get it. But, babe, nothing you did led to that.”
I can’t look at him because I know if I’d never behaved that way, if I’d never led him on, it wouldn’t have happened. When I walk out of the bathroom, he follows and grabs my arm.
“Wait. You know that, right?”
When I look at him, I know he can read it all over my face. And by the look on his face, he hadn’t known that I felt the way I do.
“Come here,” he says as he sits on the side of the bed and pulls me next to him. “Tell me you don’t think that.”
The way he says his words almost make me feel stupid. Like somehow I don’t understand, but I do.
When I don’t speak, he says, “Babe, there is nothing you could have possibly done to deserve that.”
My throat begins to tighten when the tears come, and I begin to get upset at myself for showing this weakness. I shift away from Ryan and begin choking back breaths to stop the crying, which is actually making it worse. He pulls me back to him, but I keep my head turned away.
“Shit, babe. I had no idea this is how you felt.”
My voice trembles when I say, “Please, don’t.”