12.
Sydney
I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to go to class. I definitely don’t want to go job hunting again. I don’t want to do anything but keep this pillow pulled over my eyes, because it’s creating a nice barrier between myself and every mirror in this apartment.
I don’t want to look in the mirror, because I’m scared I’ll see myself for who I really am this time. A girl with no morals or respect for other people’s relationships.
I can’t believe I kissed him last night.
I can’t believe he kissed me.
I can’t believe I broke into tears the second he pulled away from me and I saw the look on his face. I didn’t think it was possible to cram so much regret and sorrow into one expression. Seeing how much he regretted being in that moment with me was one of the biggest blows my heart has ever taken. It hurt worse than what Hunter did to me. It hurt worse than what Tori did to me.
But as much as it hurt seeing the regret on his face, it was nothing compared to the guilt and shame I felt when I thought of what I had done to Maggie. What he had done to Maggie.
I knew the moment he put his hand on my chest and moved closer to me that I should have flown off the bed and made him leave the room.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
The closer he moved and the longer we stared at each other, the more my body was consumed by need. It wasn’t a basic need, like a need for water when I’m thirsty or a need for food when I’m hungry. It was an insatiable need for relief. Relief from the want and desire that had been pent up for so long.
I never realized how powerful desire could be. It consumes every part of you, enhancing your senses by a million. When you’re in the moment, it enhances your sense of sight, and all you can do is focus on the person in front of you. It enhances your sense of smell, and suddenly, you’re aware of the fact that his hair has just been washed and his shirt is fresh out of the dryer. It enhances your sense of touch and makes your skin prickle and your fingertips tingle, and it leaves you craving to be touched. It enhances your sense of taste, and your mouth becomes hungry and wanting, and the only thing that can satisfy it is the relief of another mouth in search of the same.
But the sense my desire enhanced the most?
Hearing.
As soon as Ridge placed the headphones in my ears and the music began to play, the hair on my arms rose, chills erupted from my skin, and it felt as if my heart rate slowly conformed to the beat of the song.
As much as Ridge craved that sense, too, he couldn’t experience it. In that moment, all of his other senses combined failed to make up for the one sense he desired the most. He wanted to hear me just as much as I wanted him to hear me.
What happened between us didn’t happen because we were weak. Ridge didn’t run his hand up my jaw and around to the back of my head simply because I was in front of him and he was in the mood to make out. He didn’t press his body against mine because he thinks I’m attractive and knew it would feel good. He didn’t part my lips with his because he enjoys kissing and knew he wouldn’t get caught.
Despite how hard we tried to fight it, all of those things happened between us because our feelings for each other are becoming so much stronger than our desire. Desire is easy to fight. Especially when the only weapon desire possesses is attraction.
It’s not so easy when you’re trying to win a war against the heart.
? ? ?
The house has been quiet since I woke up more than an hour ago. The more I lie here and allow myself to think about what happened, the less I want to face him. I know if we don’t get it over with, the confrontation will only be harder the longer we wait.
I reluctantly get dressed and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. His bedroom is quiet, and he usually has late nights that result in late mornings, so I decide to let him sleep. I’ll wait it out in the living room. I hope Warren and Bridgette are either occupied with each other in a bed somewhere or still asleep, because I don’t know if I can take either of them this morning.
I open the door and walk into the living room.
I pause.
Turn around, Sydney. Turn around and go back to your room.
Ridge is standing at the bar. However, it isn’t the sight of Ridge that’s rendered me completely immobile. It’s the girl he has his arms around. It’s the girl he’s pressed against. It’s the girl he’s looking directly at, as if she’s the only thing that has, does, and will ever matter to him. It’s the girl who planted herself between me and my maybe someday.
Warren exits his bedroom and sees them standing together in the kitchen. “Hey, Maggie. I thought you weren’t coming for a couple more weeks.”
Maggie spins around at the sound of Warren’s voice. Ridge’s eyes move from Maggie over to me. His body tenses, and he stands up straighter, putting a slight distance between the two of them.
I’m still immobile, or I’d be putting distance between myself and all three of them.
“I’m about to leave,” Maggie says, and signs simultaneously, facing Warren. Ridge steps away from her, then quickly breaks his gaze from mine and refocuses his attention on Maggie. “My grandfather was admitted to the hospital yesterday. I got here last night.” She turns and gives Ridge a light peck on the lips, then heads for the front door. “It’s nothing serious, but I’m staying with him until they release him tomorrow.”
“Oh, man. Sorry about that,” Warren says. “But you’ll be here the weekend of my party, right?”
Party?
Maggie nods and takes a step back toward Ridge. She circles her arms around his neck, and he wraps his arms around her waist—two simple movements that completely shatter entire sections of my heart.
He rests his mouth against hers and closes his eyes. He brings his hands to her face, then pulls back and leans in again to kiss her on the tip of her nose.
Ouch.
Maggie exits the apartment without ever having noticed that I was standing here. Ridge closes the door behind her, turns around, and brings his eyes back to mine with an unreadable expression.
“What are we doing today?” Warren asks, moving his head back and forth between Ridge and me. Neither of us breaks our stare to respond to him. After several seconds, Ridge makes the slightest movement with his eyes, motioning toward his bedroom. He turns to Warren and signs something, and I walk back to my room.
It’s amazing how many reminders I’ve had to give my organs in the last three minutes that should be basic, common knowledge.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Contract, expand.
Beat, beat, pause. Beat, beat, pause.
Inhale, exhale.
I walk to the bathroom and head for Ridge’s bedroom. It was obvious he wants to talk, and I still think confronting it now is better than waiting. It’s definitely better than not confronting it at all.
The journey across the bathroom is only a few feet and should take no longer than a few seconds, but I somehow stretch it out for five whole minutes. I place a nervous hand on his doorknob, then open it and walk into his room.
He’s walking in at the same time as I’m closing the door to the bathroom. We pause and stare at each other. These stare-downs are going to have to end, because my heart can’t take much more.
We both walk to his bed, but I pause before sitting down. I assume we’re about to do some serious talking, so I hold up my finger and turn to get my laptop out of my room.
He’s sitting on his bed with his laptop when I return, so I sit, lean against the headboard, and open mine. He hasn’t messaged me yet, so I type something to him first.
Me: Are you okay?
I hit send, and after he reads my question, he turns his face toward mine and appears slightly puzzled. He turns back to his computer and begins typing.
Ridge: In what sense?
Me: All of them, I guess. I know it was probably difficult seeing Maggie after what happened between us, so I just wanted to know if you were okay.
Ridge: I think I’m a little confused right now. Are you not pissed at me?
Me: Should I be?
Ridge: Considering what happened last night, I would say so.
Me: I have no more of a right to be mad at you than you do to be mad at me. I’m not saying I’m not upset, but how will being mad at you help us work through this?
He reads my message and expels a huge breath, leaning his head back against the headboard. He closes his eyes for a moment before lifting his head and responding to me.
Ridge: Maggie showed up last night an hour after I got back to my room. I was convinced you were going to barge in and tell her what a jerk I am for kissing you. Then, in the kitchen earlier, when I saw you standing outside your door, I was bracing myself.
Me: I would never tell her, Ridge.
Ridge: Thank you for that. So what now?
Me: I don’t know.
Ridge: Can we not do the thing where we brush it under the rug and act like it never happened, because I don’t think that’s going to work with us. I have a lot I need to say, and I’m scared if I don’t say it right now, I’ll never say it.
Me: I have a lot to say, too.
Ridge: You first.
Me: No, you first.
Ridge: How about we go at the same time? When we’re both finished typing, we’ll hit send together.
Me: Deal.
I have no idea what he’s about to say to me, but I don’t let it influence what I need to say to him. I tell him exactly what I want him to know, then I pause and wait for him to finish typing. When he finally stops, we look at each other, and he nods, and we both hit enter.
Me: I think what happened between us happened for a lot of reasons. We’re obviously attracted to each other, we have a lot in common, and under any other circumstance, I honestly believe we’d be good for each other. I could see myself with you, Ridge. You’re smart, talented, funny, compassionate, sincere, and a little bit evil, which I like. ;) And last night—I can’t even describe it. It is by far the most I’ve ever felt while kissing someone. Although the feelings aren’t all good. There’s a lot of guilt mixed in there, too.
So as much as the thought of us being together makes sense, it also makes no sense whatsoever. I can’t leave a relationship with as much hurt as I did and expect to find happiness within a few short weeks. It’s too fast, and I still want to be on my own, no matter how right something might feel.
I don’t know where your head is, and honestly, I’m scared to hit enter on this message, because I want us to be on the same page. I want us to work together to try to push past whatever it is we’re feeling so we can continue to make music and be friends and pull ridiculous pranks on Warren. I’m not ready for that to end, but if my being here is too hard or makes you feel guilty when you’re with Maggie, I’ll leave. Just say the word, and I’ll go. Well, I guess you can’t really SAY the word. You could TYPE the word, and I’ll go. (Sorry for the lame joke at your expense, but there’s just too much seriousness going on right now.)
Ridge: First and foremost, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I put you in that position. I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger in that moment. I’m sorry I broke my promise to you about never becoming a Hunter. But I’m mostly sorry for leaving you crying on your bed last night. Walking out and leaving that whole situation unresolved was the worst move I could have made.
I wanted to come back and talk to you, but when I finally worked up the courage, Maggie showed up. If I knew she was coming, I would have warned you. After what I did to you last night and then seeing the look on your face when you saw us together this morning, I knew it was one of the most hurtful things I could have done.
I have no idea what’s going through your head, but I have to say this, Sydney. No matter how I feel about you or how much I think we could work, I will never, ever leave her. I love her. I’ve loved her since the moment I met her, and I’ll love her until the moment I die.
But please don’t let that take away from how I feel about you. I never thought it was possible to have honest feelings for more than one person, but you’ve convinced me of how incredibly wrong I was. I’m not going to lie to myself and say I don’t care about you, and I’m definitely not going to lie to you. I just hope you understand where I’m coming from and that you will give us a chance to navigate through this, because I believe we can. If there are two people in this world capable of figuring out how to be friends, it’s us.
We read through each other’s messages. I read his more than once. I didn’t expect him to be so forthcoming and honest, especially about the fact that he cares about me. I never for one second expected him to contemplate leaving Maggie for me. That would be the worst outcome of all of this. If he left her and we attempted to build a relationship from that, it would never work. The entire relationship would be built on betrayal and deceit, and those two things have never made and will never make for a good foundation.
Ridge: Wow. I’m impressed with us. We’re both so mature.
His comment makes me laugh.
Me: Yes, we are.
Ridge: Sydney, I can’t tell you what your message just did for me. Seriously. I feel like the weight of all nine planets (because yes, Pluto will always be a planet to me) has been crushing my chest since the moment I walked away from you last night. But knowing that you don’t hate me and that you’re not mad and that you aren’t concocting an evil revenge scheme feels so damn good right now. Thank you for that.
Me: Hold on. I never said I wasn’t concocting an evil revenge scheme. ;) Also, while we’re being so blunt, can I ask you a question?
Ridge: What did I tell you about initiating a question with whether or not you can propose a question?
Me: Oh, my God, I can’t believe I ever kissed you. You’re so ANNOYING!
Ridge. LOL. What’s your question?
Me: I’m concerned. We obviously have an issue with the fact that we’re attracted to each other. How do we get past that? I want to write music with you, but I also know that the few moments we’ve had that wouldn’t make Maggie very happy have all been while we’re writing music. I think I’m just too desirable when I’m being creative, and I want to know what I need to do to lessen my attractiveness. If that’s even possible.
Ridge: Keep up the egotism. It’s very unattractive, and if it continues, I won’t even be able to look at you in a week’s time.
Me: Deal. But what do I do about my attraction to YOU? Tell me some personal flaws that I can engrave into my memory.
He laughs.
Ridge: I sleep so late on Sundays I don’t even brush my teeth until Monday.
Me: That’s a start. I need a few more.
Ridge: Let’s see. Once, when Warren and I were fifteen, I had a crush on a girl. Warren didn’t know I liked her, and he asked me if I would ask her out for him. I did, and she agreed, because apparently, she had a crush on Warren in return. I told him she said no.
Me: Ridge! That’s terrible!
Ridge: I know. I need a flaw from you now.
Me: When I was eight, we went to Coney Island. I wanted an ice cream, and my parents wouldn’t buy me one because I was wearing a new shirt that “June Cleaver” didn’t want me to get dirty. We were walking by a trash can, and there was a melted ice cream cone in it, so when my parents turned around, I picked it up and started eating it.
Ridge: Yeah, that’s pretty gross. But you were only eight, so it really doesn’t count. I need something more recent. High school? College?
Me: Oh! One time in high school, I spent the night at a girl’s house who I didn’t know very well. We made out. I wasn’t into it, and it was really gross, but I was seventeen and curious.
Ridge: No. That does NOT count as a flaw, Sydney. Jesus Christ, work with me here.
Me: I like the smell of puppy breath.
Ridge: Better. I can’t hear my own farts, so sometimes I’ll forget that other people can hear them.
Me: Oh, my God. Yes, this is the type of thing that definitely sheds a different light on you. I think I’ll be good for a while.
Ridge: One more from you, and then I think we’ll be equally repulsed.
Me: A few days ago, when I was getting off the campus bus, I noticed Tori’s car was gone. I used my extra key to let myself into her apartment, because I needed a few things I had forgotten. Before I left, I opened all her bottles of liquor and spit in them.
Ridge: For real?
I nod, because I’m too ashamed to type the word yes.
He laughs.
Ridge: Okay. I think we’re good. Meet me here at eight tonight, and we’ll see if we can navigate through a song. If we need to take breaks from the music every now and then in order to replenish our repulsiveness with a few more flaws, just let me know.
Me: Deal.
I close my laptop and begin to slide off the bed, but he grabs my wrist. I turn around, and he’s looking at me with a serious expression. He leans over and grabs a pen, then picks up my hand and writes: Thank you.
I press my lips together and nod. He releases my hand, and I walk back to my room, attempting to ignore the fact that all the repulsive details in the world couldn’t stop my heart from reacting to that simple gesture. I look down at my chest.
Hey, heart. Are you listening? You and I are officially at war.
Ridge
As soon as she’s out of my bedroom and the door shuts behind her, I close my eyes and exhale.
I’m thankful that she isn’t angry. I’m thankful that she isn’t vindictive. I’m thankful that she’s reasonable.
I’m also thankful that she appears to have more willpower than I do, because whenever I’m around her, I’ve never felt so weak.