The days since that night in Liam's room have been hell for me. The next day I tried to be myself, tried to make amends, but found that hiding at my desk was easier. He didn't seek a moment alone, either.
"I can't do this to you, Liam," I'd said.
Not an I can't do this.
I can't do this to you.
I can't hurt him. And I'm convinced that I will.
He looks at me now with uncertain eyes... and I know I return the expression, my own uncertainty and my own sadness mirroring his.
The weekend was spent being the dutiful little woman, taking care of the boyfriend and the house. There was, as usual, a fight or two. At those moments, I wished more then anything that I hadn't fled Liam's suite. During rare moments of calm, I found myself wishing I'd followed him after all. Not for sex so much as for closeness. I saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, and I wanted to go in and... I don't know. To go in and ask for forgiveness, I guess. For understanding. I wanted to go in and tell him how much I wanted and, yes, needed tonight. I wanted to beg him to be patient with me, re-assure him. But running is always easier. So I did.
In the car, driving aimlessly, I pushed our CD in, turned it up, and then replayed the evening in my head. No, not the evening. Just the last half hour. What have I done? Was I just being some tease?
I'd felt like I did the first time he kissed me -- aware of everything, every nuance, every difference. The shape of his lips, the size of his hands, his taste, the way he held me. Not bad, never "bad." Wonderful. Liberating. Delicious. New. And... yes, also a little frightening in that hold-your-breath-at-the-top-of-a-roller-coaster way. I was ready. He's a different size, a different build, and so many years of the same made me so aware of the way we were about to fit together.
We haven't had a moment to ourselves, though I think that's partially my fault. I've been avoiding being alone with him because I just don't know what to do or to say.
No, that's a lie.
I know exactly what I want to do and I know exactly what I want to say. It's whether or not I'll ever be able to that has me.