He shakes his head in an effort to dismiss his emotions. “I told you on the phone. I just missed you,” he whispers as he leans in to brush his lips gently against mine. I can’t help but wonder if his sadness has anything to do with guilt like mine does.
Having been together a little over four months, this is obviously not our first kiss, but it feels new on so many levels.
It’s the first kiss we’ve had since I’ve cheated on him. That’s how I’ll always remember it.
It starts out soft and innocent, but when he nips at my lower lip, I moan in pleasure. The slight opening that my moan offers up is all the invitation that Bryan needs to slip his tongue in to meet mine. He tastes like cinnamon and feels like heaven.
The kiss rises in intensity as he cups the back of my head to pull me closer to him. The other hand roams freely over my upper body, from waist to shoulders and back again until his hand grips at the soft flesh of my hip. Bryan’s fingers tangle in the wavy mass of red hair that falls past my bra strap, as mine travel up the back of his neck causing the skin there to prickle in the wake of my touch.
When we break from our heated kiss, I stare back into his deep-brown eyes and get lost there for a minute. “I missed you too.” My words sound shaky, breathless almost.
“Yeah, I can tell,” he chuckles as he places a far-less searing kiss to my cheek. Brushing a piece of hair out of my eyes and behind my ear, he kisses my forehead and pulls me in the large circle of his arms for a tight embrace.
We just stand there, in the opened doorway of my dorm room while partygoers walk past us to the use the stairwell. We’re both hanging onto each other as if we’re on the edge of some dangerous cliff. There’s a palpable pull between us, a magnetism keeping our arms locked around one another for fear of falling. I know, at least for my part, that I’m holding on because I know once we break our embrace and close the door behind us, I have to face reality. And I just don’t want to do that.
When a group of extremely intoxicated and obnoxiously loud kids from the other end of the hall come stumbling toward the stairwell, I step out of Bryan’s arms and move to close the door. “Come on in. You said you wanted to talk.” I reach down and lace my fingers with his and he brings our joined hands up to his full lips for a sweet kiss.
He tosses his jacket over the back of one of the stools that stand at the small kitchen counter and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him in a simple black T-shirt and tight, but not too tight, faded blue jeans. I try to drink in the sight of him, memorize every bit of him, because as we walk into the living room, it’s as if I can actually hear the minutes that we have left ticking away in my head.
We sit on the couch and twist to face each other. Usually there’s plenty of room on here for two of us girls to sit comfortably, but Bryan’s large frame and long legs swallow up the extra room between us. I put on my cheery face, one I’ve used all too often in my life, and just hope that what he has to tell me isn’t going to crush me. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help it.
He reaches his hand out and I willingly place mine in it. Brushing his thumb over my knuckles, he looks at me with the most sincere look of apology in his milk-chocolate eyes. Taking a deep breath, I know that he’s trying to put together the words to say what his look was just trying to convey.
I think about mentioning the text that Courtney sent me – the one of the two of them making out, but I hold off on it when I see just how distraught Bryan is. Whatever he’s struggling with, I’ll let him choose the words. Guilt permeates my every cell and I swallow down the bile that’s bubbling up one more time. Feeling like I don’t have the right to bring up his indiscretions when mine are so much worse, I sit as calmly as possible and wait for him to say something.
It’s torture to sit here and watch him struggle with his emotions, but the coward in me stifles my words. She’s beating down the person inside who knows that confessing my cheating is the right thing to do.
He clears his throat, and finally speaks up while my inner coward hides behind a thick cloak of shame. “I’m sorry about winter break, about telling you not to come to visit me. I … it’s just that my family … I don’t really know where to begin.” Frustration consumes him as he releases my hand and runs his fingers through his silky- brown hair. He shifts and rests his elbows on his thighs. Hanging his head into his hands, he sighs but says nothing. He’s clearly torn about something, and my issues aside, I want nothing more than to comfort him right now.
I pull his head up from his hands and turn his face to meet mine. “Hey, you can talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Is it something with Emmie?” I brush a few strands of hair out from his eyes and kiss his lips tenderly, trying my best to convey just how much I want to be here for him.
I feel his jaw tense under my hand as I’m cupping his cheek. “No. Emmie is fine. She’s great, actually.” He takes a deep breath and then blurts out, “My parents are getting a divorce.” He’s squeezing his hands together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white under the pressure. “They told me over break. My dad has been seeing some woman he met online and, well, now he’s leaving my mom. Can you believe that shit? Twenty-five years of marriage thrown out because my dad couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants!”
Holy fucking hell! Did he really just say that? Of all the things that could happen to turn his world upside down – it had to be cheating! The Karma Gods must be having a field day with this one. Visions of the first time I met his parents flit through my head. His father was distracted and constantly on the phone on an “important business call”, but now I wonder if that’s anywhere near the truth.
But I can’t exactly bring that up right now.
And I most certainly cannot bring up the infamous Courtney text now. I can’t tell him about me sleeping with some other guy. Those words will have to stay dead and buried.
I can’t focus on the irony of the scene unfolding before me for too long, because at just the mere mention of his parents’ divorce, Bryan’s entire body tenses and anger radiates off of him. My instinct to take care of him kicks into high gear and I sink to the floor in front of him. I kneel before him and wrap my arms around his waist as he remains seated on the couch.
“Baby, look at me,” I plead with him as he tries to avert eye contact. But when his eyes meet mine, I can tell why. Unshed tears shine and shimmer. He’s trying to be strong, trying to hold it together, but he shouldn’t have to. For some reason, it’s easier for me to allow someone else to be weak. My own weakness, however, is a completely different story.
I nuzzle into his solid chest and squeeze him tighter, if that’s even possible. When his hands wrap around my shoulders and his chin rests on the top of my head, I feel him exhale a shaky breath. “I just can’t believe him. I mean, my mom takes care of Emmie full time. He’s walking out on her and leaving her with nothing. He thinks paying for half of the medical bills and the mortgage is enough. Fucking prick.” I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I let him pull comfort from my touch and trace lazy patterns across his back.
After a few minutes in uncomfortable silence, he says, “It’s okay. I mean, I’m okay.” His voice is uneven and it’s apparent that he’s pushing down his pain; he’s clearly not okay. My voice has sounded the same all too often.
“Bryan, it’s okay to be angry. You don’t have to hide how you’re feeling from me. Please talk to me.”
I pull back from him and gaze into his eyes once more. There’s so much pain and anger etched on his beautiful face. From the moment I met Bryan, that’s what I thought of him – that he was beautiful. High cheekbones and a chiseled jawline provide a perfectly masculine structure to the rest of his face. But right now, his beauty is eclipsed by pain, and I want nothing more than to take it away from him.
As he runs his fingers through my hair, I feel some of the tension in his body ebb away. A few deep, cleansing breaths later and he begins opening up. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you over break. I didn’t mean to put so much distance between us.” He looks down at me and softly grazes his knuckles over my freckled cheek.
“I understand that now,” I say as I capture his hand in mine and bring it to my lips. Kissing the pads of each of his fingertips, I hear his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes widen; his pupils dilate. “Let’s forget about that for now. There’s no distance tonight. I think I have something that will help us forget about all of that.” I skim my teeth over the pad of his thumb and then lightly trace over it with my tongue, soothing my little love bite.
His full, soft lips curve into a lazy grin as he traces the pad of his just-bitten thumb over my plump bottom lip. “What exactly did you have in mind, Melanie?” He arches an eyebrow at me and I return the gesture.
“Well, there would be some of this,” I say, as I run my hands up under his t-shirt. I can feel his abs tighten and flex under the light touch of my hands. Raising my hands up higher, over his finely sculpted pecs, I feel goose
