Giggling, she snuggles into me, and soon she’s sound asleep in my arms. I turn on Netflix, telling myself I’ll wake her up after and walk her home. But the longer I lie here, the more unwilling I am to let her go.
She’s stunning, a breathtaking masterpiece with chestnut waves tumbling out of her braid, splayed over her neck, dark lashes resting against her rosy cheekbones. I don’t know what she’s dreaming about, but the more her nose scrunches in her sleep, the more she sighs happily and smiles, the more I hope to God it’s me.
I can’t stop myself from picking my phone up and hitting that red Record button. I want to see this face exactly as it is right now, whenever I want to, and when an hour’s passed, I decide to say a big ol’ fuck you to the rules. I turn off the TV and settle into the darkness, pulling Jennie tighter to me.
Her hand coasts up my arm, fingers sinking into my hair. “Garrett?” she murmurs. “Do you want me to go?”
“I want you to stay.”
I wait for her to argue the way she likes to, to say it’s not a good idea. But instead, after a moment that seems to last forever, she shoves her leg between mine.
“Thought you said I snore.”
“Nah, you’re being extra cute in your sleep tonight. I took a video so I can remind myself next time you’re acting like a brat.”
She laughs, then stills. “A what?”
“A video. Don’t worry; I hid it.”
She shoots up, nearly hammering me in the face when she flings herself over me, slapping at the lamp until it floods the room with light, making me all squinty. “Delete it.”
I rub my eyes with my fists. “What?”
“Delete it. Now.”
“You can’t see anything. It’s just your face. You’re doing this cute thing with your nose, all scrunchy, kinda like a bunny, and you keep smiling, and—Jesus, Jennie, watch it.” Her knee narrowly misses my balls as she crawls over me. She rips my phone from the charger, swiping frantically through my photos, searching for the video.
“Where is it?” She shoves it against my chest. “Delete it. Right now.”
“Okay, Jennie. I’ll delete it. Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down.” She storms around the room, snagging her underwear and fumbling her way back into them. “You don’t take a video of someone without their permission, Garrett! What the fuck were you thinking?”
What was I thinking? I was thinking I wanted to feel like she was beside me the next time I’m hundreds of miles away from her. “I guess I wasn’t,” is the lame excuse I offer, rolling off the bed. I show her my phone as I delete the video. “There. It’s gone.” She pulls her shirt over her head, and I follow her into the hallway, cupping my balls, wishing I wasn’t naked right now. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
I rub my temple, right where a headache is forming. “I thought we were gonna…you were gonna…stay?”
“We don’t do sleepovers, Garrett. We have rules.”
My pulse thunders in my ears as she buttons her jeans and steps into her shoes. “We don’t have to have rules. We don’t—we can—” Fuck. I tug at my hair. Here I go again. It’s not that hard to have difficult conversations. I just want her to stay. I just want her. “Jennie—”
“This was a mistake.” She mumbles the words to herself, but I hear them, and they hurt.
“Because of the video? I don’t understand.”
Jennie scoops up her things and flings the door open. I reach out, wrapping my fingers around her elbow.
“Wait, Jennie—”
“Don’t touch me!” Her face flames, eyes piercing as she reels on me, chest heaving with each ragged inhale. Her gaze flickers as a thousand emotions pass through them, and I don’t recognize a single one, except the heartbreak, the deep-seated betrayal. I may see them, but I don’t understand them, not why she wears them with me. “I shouldn’t have let you in. I’m better off alone.”
Fury builds in my chest and bursts through my veins, fists clenching at my sides as the words sink in. She regrets this. Regrets me. Her past hurt rules her life, and I’m tired of sitting by and letting it. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Jennie. Nobody is better off alone.”
I watch it all in slow motion, the way her eyes dim, the fire in them dying, replaced with an emptiness I haven’t seen before, a distance that makes her feel an entire world away as she shuts down on me far worse than she ever has.
“I am,” is her simple reply, right before she lets the door slam shut behind her.
“Fuck.” I snap my pants up off the ground. “Fuck.” I head to the kitchen and fill a glass with water, drain it quickly, then fill it again. I’ve gone from blissful to mindfucked in a matter of two minutes.
Done my fucking ass. She likes to be in control, to act like she calls the shots, but I refuse to let her decide this one on her own. She keeps telling herself I’m someone else, convincing herself she can’t trust me, the same way she shouldn’t have trusted the people who broke her.
But I’m not them.
I don’t want to break her; I want to show her she’s already whole. I want to be her best friend, the person she comes to when she needs help, like she did tonight. I want to be the one she opens herself up to without holding back. I want her to show me it all while I promise to keep those parts safe.
I know she’s wired this way after all these years, conditioned to believe no one could ever want her for everything she brings to the table. She thinks she’s safer in her bubble, keeping out the people who have the power to hurt her, but in the end, she only hurts herself more.
She’s determined to keep parts of herself hidden, hell-bent on keeping me on the outside.
It’s ironic, really, because on the outside is where she hates to be. Right now, she’s the one putting herself there.
So maybe that’s why I’m stunned when there’s a knock on my door at the crack of dawn as I’m standing in my living room, watching the sun rise with a cup of coffee in my hand, my desperate attempt at curing the headache caused by the muddled mess in my brain, the utter absence of sleep as I sat on my couch and typed out fifty text messages, never sending a single one of them.
Because when I open the door, Jennie stands there in a pair of plaid sleep pants and my hoodie, thick hair weaved in her signature messy braid, draped over her shoulder, the smooth skin on her face framed by all the loose tresses that spill from it.
Her cool blue eyes are red rimmed and exhausted, shattered, and her chin quivers as she peers up at me. “I’m sorry, Garrett.”
The words are fractured and hoarse, and when my arms open, she falls into them, burying her face in my shoulder as she trembles in my hold, and I know: My heart hasn’t ever beat so hard for another person.
CHAPTER 25
SAFE LANDING
JENNIE
The door hadn’t even finished slamming behind me and I already knew I’d be back.
There hadn’t been a shred of doubt in my mind as I bypassed the elevator and sprinted down the staircase, as I’d let go of the irrational anger and let the grief take over, tears spilling down my cheeks, blurring my vision for the umpteenth time.
Irrational anger because Garrett’s not the person I’m angry with, nor does he deserve to be on the receiving end of it.
Grief because I’m just giving up the fucking fight here. I’ve lost so much, too much. Missed out on meaningful relationships, avoided intimate connections, tucked so many pieces of myself away for so long I’ve begun to forget where I’ve hidden them.
I’m tired of being a victim of my circumstances. I need to move forward, but I don’t know how. I make strides every day with Garrett, but there are these small steps, the last few at the top of the mountain, the ones I just don’t know how to climb. Each time I try, my steps are too wobbly. I tell myself to close my eyes and do it, but nothing done blindly is ever easy.