Actions always did speak louder than words.
Her legs spread and I tuck into the warmth of her, hunching over further to deepen our kiss. My thumbs push back the stray strands of her hair and relish in the suppleness of her round cheeks beneath my touch. Christ, everything about her is so soft. Her lips are smooth and responsive. Plump, pliable, and welcoming me to take every ounce of control I want in this moment. Her submission only excites me more. I press into her knowing that if I wanted to, I could take her…right here, right now. I could yank the straps of her tank down and feast my eyes on the bare beauty of Vi before letting my mouth do the devouring.
But that’s not what this kiss is about. That’s not what she is to me. Vi Harris is so much more than just a potentially soul-altering shag.
Pulling away, I rest my forehead against hers. “Please know, there aren’t enough words for me to describe how utterly intriguing I find you.”
I watch her chest heave at my raw and exposing words. With a sigh, a sweet giggle escapes her moist lips. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Amused, I drop one final gentle kiss on her lips and then pinch her nose, smirking at how she’s got such an uncanny ability to make my smile grow. I release her and position myself back on my stool. Once I turn away from her, we manage to get back to our task at hand with a charged, heavy silence. My beguilement fades as I realise my grave error. I was so blindly concerned about hurting Vi’s feelings and fixing her misinterpretation that I let my body do the talking instead of my head. She attempts to fill the quietness with mindless chatter, but the entire time, all I can do is chew on my lip and curse myself for being everything I promised I wouldn’t be. When I delivered that speech at the gala, I did it to prove one thing. One universal truth that I wanted to put on public record.
I’m not weak.
I am strong.
Vi Harris has somehow managed to rattle that truth.
Fear seeps into my soul again. If I’m weak with her, what else can get me? Can the darkness swallow me whole again without warning? Can I fall down the tunnel that is my depression? Can I be sucked back into that place I swore I would never return to?
As I walk Vi back to her flat, I feel distracted and distant. I’m not being a complete arse like I was the night of the gala, but I’m definitely different. She looks at me curiously as she stands facing me in the darkened alley. Her eyes are wide and probing…inviting. She wants me to kiss her again and, Christ, do I want to do nothing more. This would be the perfect time to make up for the last kiss I gave her in this very spot, when I left her abruptly with nothing more than a sodding thank you.
But I refrain. I withhold. I find some pittance of restraint and I move back. By the time she steps into the lift, my body is roaring for the bloody doors to close before I crash through them and capture her with my entire body.
Just as she disappears behind the steel, I glance down at my watch and catch it ticking over to 11:11. I exhale a shaky breath and turn to lean against the brick wall. Slamming my eyes shut, I clench my jaw and wish the same wish that I wish I knew how to stop wishing.
DEAR JOHN
The next day at work, I’m shocked when I receive a text from Hayden. I kind of assumed after his rather sudden brush-off last night at my doorstep that he’d go silent on me again. But in fact, he says that he’s wondering if we can get together tonight to continue his countdown. I suggest a coffee shop, but he explained that he’d prefer somewhere more private for what we’ll be discussing.
We settle on meeting at my flat. Wondering what day two of his countdown entails leaves me feeling anxious the entire day at work. He’s obviously keen to get it all out and I’m quite amazed at his tenacity. To re-live, in great detail, the days leading up to an attempted suicide has to be intense for even the most healed survivors. But one thing I’ve learned about Hayden: He doesn’t back down from a challenge.