pelting against the building, I see and hear the door creak open.
“Melanie, what the hell?” Bryan reaches to pull me into his door when he sees me standing there, soaked and shivering. He grabs a throw blanket from his small couch, which is right next to the front door and wraps it around my shoulders after he peels my raincoat from me.
Bryan starts rubbing my shoulders and upper arms as he pulls me close to his solid chest. “What are you doing here? I’m supposed to pick you up in like two hours.” He takes a step back from our embrace and tips my chin up so that I can look in his face. When he stares into my eyes, I swear he can see everything. Concern knits at his brow. “Is something wrong?”
I nod my head and move past him to sit on the couch. Pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders, I feel that sickening feeling creep up in my belly. The couch sinks as Bryan settles in next to me. I try to garner as much strength as possible from the arm that he’s just wrapped around my shoulder.
On a deep breath and a silent prayer, I steel myself for the inevitable outcome of this conversation.
“We need to talk, Bryan.” My voice shakes with both fear and a chill that just will not leave my body. My teeth start to chatter and I’m pretty sure that my lips are blue. Sliding one leg under the other, I twist to face him on the couch and he does the same.
That concerned look hasn’t left his face. “What do we need to talk about, Melanie?” he questions softly as he coaxes a strand of soaking wet hair that’s plastered to my forehead behind my ear. When he softly traces my jawline and cheekbone before placing his hand on mine, I can actually feel my heart split in two.
“I have something to tell you,” I blurt out.
He softly chuckles at me. Tilting his head to the small window behind us, he says, “Well, I kind of figured as much since you walked here in this weather. What’s the matter?”
I’ve run over this conversation a million times in my head and I still can’t figure out where to start. What feels like hours pass between us, and I still can’t find the words.
With two fingers under my chin, Bryan angles my head up to his. “Hey, baby. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here.”
Just as I’m about to speak, he cuts me off. “I know I’ve been distracted lately with my parents. But I don’t ever want you to think that I’m not here for you. I … I’ve actually wanted to tell you something for a while.” Cupping my face gently in his warm hands, the pads of his thumbs trace over my cheeks and his warm lips dance softly across mine. I melt into him knowing that it will be the last time I’ll ever feel
When he pulls away from the kiss, he traces his knuckles lightly across my face. The action makes my eyes flutter open, and what I see before me is amazingly breathtaking. Bryan’s warm eyes are wide and sincere. The soft crinkle in the corners that’s always there seems softer now as his lips pull up gently at the corners.
He pulls both of my hands into his and brings them up to his lips. Returning our laced-together fingers to my lap, Bryan gazes at me one last time as the words, “I love you” tumble freely from his mouth.
Involuntarily, I gasp. My eyes widen and my heart speeds up. Pulling one of my hands from his, I cover my mouth. Not knowing what I have to tell him, Bryan must confuse my reaction for excitement because he laughs at what he must perceive as crazy girl antics.
Without letting me say anything, he covers my mouth with his once again. He starts speaking against my lips, through our kiss. “I’ve never said it to anyone before, but I do. Melanie, I love you and I’m so sorry that I’ve been a crappy boyfriend lately.”
With wide eyes and trembling hands, I inhale a shuddery breath and try to find the words that I know I need to say. But instead of words coming out of my mouth, tears stream down my face and my throat constricts.
“Shh, baby. Don’t cry,” he coos into my ear as he pulls me to his chest. Dancing lightly through the tangled mass of my wet hair, Bryan’s fingers calm me a little.
“I’m so sorry, Bryan. I’m so sorry,” I say I’m sorry over and over again, but he doesn’t know what I’m sorry for.
Yet.
Looking at me once again, his eyes still soft and warm, he calmly says, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it back. Just know that I love you.” He kisses his lips gently to my temple and I lose it.
Wrapping my frail arms tightly around his waist, I tell him the words I wanted to tell him so long ago. “Bryan, I love you too, so much,” I whisper the words a few more times into his heather-grey T-shirt before pulling completely away from him. My body chills again without his warmth pressed up against me.
I wipe at the tears streaking my face and take a deep breath. Straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders, I swallow my guilt and let the words fall.
“I love you too. And no, I’m not just saying it because you said it. I do love you, but I have to tell you something else, and I know that after I tell you, you won’t love me anymore.” He gives me a “don’t be crazy” look and moves to speak, but I cut him off.
“I slept with someone else.”
I wish I could say that I feel lighter for finally having said those words, but I can’t. All I feel now is crushing pressure as my heart begins to implode.
Bryan recoils from me and shoots up from the couch. There isn’t much space in the small room, but he’s frantically pacing the small patch of carpeting that’s there. I can’t imagine what’s racing through his head. Hell, with everything going on with his dad cheating, I
I notice that his hands start to shake so I stand up next to him and try to hold them to calm him. Not surprisingly, he doesn’t let me touch him. Instead, he folds his arms across his chest and stands stoically in front of me. He scrubs his hand gruffly across his face and growls out a loud “fuck” which reverberates through the small living room.
I can feel his anger pulsating off him. The tension is so palpable that I just don’t know what to say. Nothing matters now, anyway.
Roughly, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and stares at me harshly. “With who?” he grits out.
“I don’t know.” A mouse squeaks more loudly than I just spoke.
Seething now, he steps in front of me. “What did you just say?”
“I said, I don’t know.” My eyes are staring at the old, stained carpet – that sight more pleasant than the anguished filled look I’d surely see on Bryan’s face.
“You don’t fucking know? What the hell kind of answer is that? Tell me everything, Melanie.” He yells and it forces more tears to spill past my lids. Still unable to speak, he yells at me again. “Fucking tell me!”
I fall back on the couch at the anger in his words. I hate myself for putting them there, for erasing the beauty that is usually etched onto his face.
Through my sobs, sobs to which I have no right, I choke out, “It was over Christmas break. I’m so sorry, Bryan. Please, I love you. I’m so sorry.”
More pacing and more sobs. An awkward, painful silence. Our hearts are being torn in half, with the hope of ever being repaired off in the vast unsure distance before us.
After a few minutes, my tears stop enough for me to see that his anger has morphed somewhat into sadness. Bryan flops onto the couch and huffs a loud sigh.
I look over at him – his shoulders sag and his face sinks with pain. With his eyes searching the ceiling for some kind of escape, he whispers, “Why?”
His elbows fall to his knees and his head drops into his hands as he whispers “why” over and over again.
“I … I … don’t know. I’m sorry.” I stumble over my words unable to find any that will help to explain my motives.
“No!” he barks. “Tell me, now. Why? Was I not good enough?” The hurt that tramples across his face makes me cave and tell him everything.
“It was because of the text. And then you weren’t calling me. I wanted to come visit you, but you told me not to. I thought you had moved on.” I let the words race out of my mouth and hope to God that they make sense.
