Hopeless

It’s the last day I’ll ever be seventeen. Karen is working out of town at her flea market again this weekend. She tried to cancel her trip because she felt bad for leaving during my birthday, but I wouldn’t let her. Instead, we celebrated my birthday last night. Her gifts were good, but it’s nothing like the e-reader. I’ve never been more excited to spend a weekend alone.

I didn’t bake near as many things as the last time Karen was out of town. Not because I don’t feel like eating it, but because I’m pretty sure my addiction to reading has just reached a whole new level. It’s almost midnight and my eyes won’t stay open, but I’ve read nearly two entire books and I absolutely need to get to the end of this one. I doze off, then awake with a jerk, only to attempt to read another paragraph. Breckin has really great taste in books, and I’m sort of upset that it took him a whole month to tell me about this one. I’m not a sucker for happily ever afters, but if these two characters don’t get theirs I might climb inside this e-reader and lock them both inside that damn garage forever.

My eyelids slowly close and I keep trying to will them to stay open but the words are beginning to swim together on the screen and nothing is even making sense. I finally power off the e-reader and turn out my light and think about how my last day of being seventeen should have been so much better than it actually was.

My eyes flick open, but I don’t move. It’s still dark and I’m still in the same position I was in earlier, so I know I just fell asleep. I silence my breaths and listen for the same sound that pulled me out of my sleep—the sound of my window sliding open.

I can hear the curtains scraping against the rod and someone climbing inside. I know I should scream, or run for my door, or look around for some sort of object that can be used as a weapon. Instead, I remain frozen because whoever it is isn’t trying to be at all quiet about the fact that they’re climbing into my room, so I can only assume it’s Holder. But still, my heart is racing and every muscle in my body stiffens when the bed shifts as he lowers himself onto it. The closer he gets, the more certain I am that it’s him because no one else can cause my body to react the way it’s reacting right now. I squeeze my eyes shut and bring my hands to my face when I feel the covers lift up behind me. I’m absolutely terrified. I’m terrified, because I don’t know which Holder is crawling into my bed right now.

His arm slides under my pillow and his other arm wraps tightly around my body when he finds my hands. He pulls me against his chest and laces his fingers into mine, then buries his head in my neck. I’m very conscious about the fact that I’m not wearing anything but a tank top and underwear, but I’m confident he’s not here for that part of me. I’m still not positive why he’s here because he’s not even talking, but he knows I’m awake. I know he knows I’m awake because the second his arms went around me, I gasped. He holds me as tight as he can and every now and then, he plants his lips into my hair and kisses me.

I’m angry with him for being here, but even angrier with myself for wanting him here. No matter how much I want to scream at him and make him leave, I find myself wishing he could squeeze me just a little bit tighter. I want him to lock his arms around me and throw away the key, because this is where he belongs and I’m scared he’ll just let me go again.

I hate that there are so many sides to him that I don’t understand, and I don’t know if I even want to keep trying to understand them. There are parts of him I love, parts of him I hate, parts that terrify me and parts that amaze me. But there’s a part of him that does nothing but disappoint me…and that’s the absolute hardest part of him to accept.

We lie here in complete silence for what could be half an hour, but I’m not sure. All I know is that he hasn’t released his grip at all, nor has he made any attempt at explaining himself. But what’s new? There isn’t anything I’ll ever get from him unless I ask the questions first. And right now, I just don’t feel like asking any.

He releases my fingers from his and brings his hand to the top of my head. He presses his lips into my hair and he folds the arm up that’s underneath my pillow and he’s cradling me, burying his face into my hair. His arms begin to shake and he’s holding me with such intensity and desperation that it becomes heartbreaking. My chest heaves and my cheeks burn and the only thing stopping the tears from flowing is the fact that my eyes are closed so tight, they can’t escape.

I can’t take the silence anymore, and if I don’t get off my chest what I absolutely need to say, I might scream. I know my voice will be layered with heartbreak and sadness and I’ll barely be able to speak while attempting to contain my tears, but I take a deep breath anyway and say the most honest thing I can say.

“I’m so mad at you.”

As if it’s possible, he somehow squeezes me even tighter. He moves his mouth to my ear and kisses it. “I know, Sky,” he whispers. His hand slips underneath my shirt and he presses an open palm against my stomach, pulling me tighter against him. “I know.”

It’s amazing what the sound of a voice you’ve been longing to hear can do to your heart.  He spoke five words just now, but in the time it took him to speak those five words, my heart was shredded and minced, then placed back inside my chest with the expectation that it should somehow know how to beat again.  

I slip my fingers through the hand that’s resting tightly against me and I squeeze it, not even knowing what it means, but every part of me wants to touch him and hold him and make sure he’s really here. I need to know he’s here and that this isn’t just another vivid dream.

His mouth meets my shoulder and he parts his lips, kissing me softly. The feel of his tongue against my skin immediately sends a surge of heat through me and I can feel the flush rise from my stomach, straight up to my cheeks.

“I know, baby,” he whispers again, slowly exploring my collarbone and neck with his lips. I keep my eyes shut because the distress in his voice and the tenderness in his touch is making my head spin. I reach up behind me and run my hand through his hair, pressing him deeper into my neck. His warm breath against my skin becomes increasingly more frantic, along with his kisses. Both of our breathing picks up pace as he covers every inch of my neck twice over.

He lifts up on his arm and urges me flat onto my back, then brings his hand to my face and brushes the hair away from my eyes. Seeing him this close to me brings back every single feeling I’ve ever felt for this boy…the good and the bad. I don’t understand how he can put me through what he’s put me through when the sorrow in his eyes is so prominent. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I can’t read him at all or if I read him too well, but looking up at him right now I know he feels what I’m feeling…which makes his actions that much more confusing.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he says, looking down at me. His eyes and his words are full of remorse, but the apology still doesn’t come. “I need you to be mad at me, Sky. But I think I need you to still want me here with you even more.”

My chest grows heavy with his words and it takes an extreme amount of effort to continue pulling breath into my lungs. I nod my head slightly, because I can completely agree to that. I’m pissed at him, but I want him here with me so much more than I don’t. He drops his forehead to mine and we grab hold of each other’s faces, looking desperately into each other’s eyes. I’m not sure if he’s about to kiss me. I’m not even sure if he’s about to get up and leave. The only thing I’m certain about right now is that after this moment, I will never be the same. I know by the way his existence is like a magnetic pull on my heart, that if he ever hurts me again, I’ll be far from just fine. I’ll be broken.

Our chests are rising and falling as one as the silence and tension grows thicker. The firm grip he has on my face can be felt in every part of me, almost as if he’s gripping me from the inside out. The intensity of the moment causes tears to sting at my eyes, and I’m completely taken aback by my unexpected emotions. 

“I am mad at you, Holder,” I say with an unsteady, but sure voice. “But no matter how mad I’ve been, I never for one second stopped wanting you here with me.”

He somehow smiles and frowns in the same moment. “Jesus, Sky.” His face contorts into an incredible amount of reprieve. “I’ve missed you so fucking bad.” He immediately drops his mouth and his tongue collides feverishly with mine. He fills me with the sweet taste of his mint leaves and soda, and he’s everything I’ve been imagining he would be and more. Our lips are finally intertwining for the first time, or the twentieth time, or the millionth time. It doesn’t really matter because whichever time this is—it’s absolutely perfect. It’s incredible and flawless and almost worth everything we’ve been through in order to get to this moment.

Our lips move passionately together as we struggle to pull ourselves closer, wanting to find that perfect connection with our bodies that we’ve just found with our mouths. He works his mouth against mine delicately, yet fiercely, and I match him movement for movement. I release several moans and even more breaths and he drinks each one of them in with his mouth.

We kiss and we kiss in every position possible, and remain as restrained as we possibly can. We kiss until I can no longer feel my lips, and until I’m so exhausted and spent that I’m not even sure if we’re still kissing when he presses his head to mine again.

And that’s exactly how we fall asleep—forehead-to-forehead, wrapped silently together. Because nothing else is spoken between us. Not even an apology.