“What did that girl make you feel?” Chills break out across my skin as I wait for his answer.
“Hope.” There is so much emotion behind his answer I’m almost overcome with the need to kiss him, climb him, cover and smother him with love and kisses and whatever else I have to give. Somehow I remain still, and he continues. “I saw you and I felt hopeful. You were like no one I’d ever seen before. Wild and still all at once. Kind and selfless and beautiful. It’s a rarer combination than you realize.”
“You were hungry. Looking for food. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you.”
It might be the wrong thing to say or too sensitive an issue to bring up, but I have to lighten the mood or I’m going to combust. Or completely humiliate myself with a profession of undying love.
“They weren’t.” He’s smiling, and God, I love that smile. His dimples, his lips, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. “And it wasn’t just my eyes, Bluebird. I felt different. When you ran inside, I thought maybe you were running away from me because I was a mess and I’d scared you or something. But you came back out with food and I knew it was for me, but you didn’t make me ask for it or even act like it was a big deal. You didn’t treat me like a stray dog or a charity case. You and Dallas treated me like a person when no one else did. That meant something to me.” After a beat of silence, he goes on. “It still means something to me. Which is why—”
“Which is why you and I can never be anything more than friends that are like family. Right. I got it. You made that perfectly clear a long time ago and I should’ve listened.”
He’s opening up to me and as good as that feels, this “here’s why we can never be together” speech is breaking me apart on the inside.
“That’s what you think? What you really believe?”
I almost say, “That’s what I know.”
Months. He was here and didn’t tell me. I was on the road alone and then going to bed alone night after night and he was right here. No phone call. No text. Not a single smoke signal to be seen. There has to be a reason for that. The words hang out on the tip of my tongue and new me is bolder and mouthier and says how she feels, but this feels like a lie.
The truth is I don’t know. So I tell him that.
“I don’t know what I think or believe, to be honest.”
“I think you do, Bluebird. But I understand why you would fight it. I haven’t done much to make myself clear, have I?”
“Not exactly,” I whisper, afraid of breaking this magical trance where he opens up. I stare at him, unsure whether he’s testing me or not. His eyes are dark, but his lips are slightly upturned. I could stare at him every second of every minute of every hour for the rest of my life and still not get my fill of him.
My head knows he just wants to keep me in the friend zone where he feels I belong, but my heart is leaping for joy as if he’s made some huge declaration my head hasn’t processed yet. There’s always been something about him, about us. Something magnetic. Something enticing. An unrelenting force pulling us toward one another.
Something more powerful than either of us as individuals.
He remains still, watching me as if waiting for me to catch a clue, but I can’t seem to put it all together. I can tell he’s trying, but his eyes are always so guarded. He’s difficult to read and when you add that to how little he actually verbalizes, it’s like trying to put together a puzzle while someone holds the picture of what it’s supposed to look like behind their back.
With a deep sigh, Gavin stands, leaving me rocking a little harder backward on the swing.
“I should go. Being here, with you, after tonight . . .”
“I’m not going to beg you for one more night, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Whoa. That just shot right out of my mouth. Apparently I have some repressed anger still hanging around.