He watched her for a moment, just like he had when they’d been making their way to the exit gates. He saw her blink again as a drop of water fell into her eyes; as tiny droplets hung off her dark lashes before they fell onto the curve of her cheek and trailed down her face; and as locks of her hair got plastered to her face, looking like dark brush strokes against a white canvas.
“This doesn’t seem strange to you?” he finally asked, ignoring the rain, ignoring the rest of the goddamn world, ignoring everything that just wasn’t Carmen West.
“What?”
“Us.” He shrugged. “This.” He gestured between them. “I once thought it’d be nearly impossible for us to even be in the same room again. But he we are.”
Carmen smiled softly. “Here we are.”
He took a step closer to her, and Carmen took a surprised one back. He paused in his tracks, forehead creasing at her retreat, before he took another determined step forward so that he was right in front of her. Carmen tried stepping back again, but seemed to realise she couldn’t put any more distance between them when her back hit the surface of his truck.
“Carmen,” Asa said patiently, his eyes not looking away from her face. Stepping even closer, he placed a palm against the vehicle, on the space next to where she was leaning against it, and crouched down slightly to meet her at eye level.
He brought up his left hand to place it next to Carmen’s other side but thought better of it and let it fall back. It was a small gesture, yes, but he hoped she’d see it as him not wanting her to feel trapped or caged-in from both sides, and that he was still offering her a way out if she wanted it.
He had meant it when he said he wanted to be her art journal, and journals were supposed to be a form of liberation, not suffocation—love wasn’t supposed to be an act of suffocation. And he needed to show her that. Even more, Asa needed to show her that he understood that.
“Carmen,” he called again. “Look at me.”
She didn’t seem to acknowledge him right away, but eventually those eyes of hers flickered towards his and standing this close to her, Asa could hear her inhale shakily.
“You keep asking me to look at you,” she said in a hushed breath.
“And you keep avoiding looking me in the eye,” he murmured back.
Asa’s eyes followed a drop of water that slid down the tip of Carmen’s eyebrow and trailed down her temple, before slipping past her shoulder bone and disappearing into the neckline of the jersey she wore.
“You said—” Carmen began speaking but then came to an abrupt stop. Her eyes darted towards the space next to Asa’s right, and then to his left. She was refusing to make eye contact again. The same girl that always had an unwavering ability to look deep into someone’s eyes was now faltering, and that troubled Asa.
“Yeah?” he urged gently, knowing by now that with Carmen, patience was a key factor when trying to communicate with her.
Carmen sighed, shaking her head and lifting a hand to wipe away the raindrops that’d gotten into her eyes. “You said you gave me a loaded gun once.”
Their eyes met for a split second, and then she was averting her gaze again. Asa resisted the urge to take a hold of her chin and turn her face towards his.
“Yes, I did,” he said in a cautious tone, pulling his brows together. “What about it?”
Carmen inhaled deeply, and then let out a heavy, shuddering breath. Her eyes met his again. “You also said you’d be a fool to hand me a second one.” And then she went back to staring at something in the distance or nothing at all in particular.
Asa opened his mouth, about to repeat his earlier question out of confusion but his puzzled state lasted for only a mere heartbeat, before it dissipated and something seemed to dawn on him.
The realisation was watching a sunrise from a hilltop, or witnessing a sunset at a beach, or even laying out on the roof of a car and stargazing, breathtaking at first but too beautiful that it eventually made the heart ache. Because how could such beauty be real?
This time, Asa reached out a shaky hand and placed his fingertips on her chin. “Carmen,” he said softly, and then turned her face to meet his eyes. “Carmen,” he repeated, his breathing still on hold. “Are you trying to tell me you want me to give you that second gun?”
She hadn’t ever explicitly asked him for a second chance, had never really told him she felt enough towards him that she’d genuinely want to try again.
He was too afraid to let himself dare, to let himself hope that perhaps Carmen believed they were worth fighting for.
Asa’s eyes never stopped searching hers, though he couldn’t really tell what it was that he seemed to be looking for. But they looked so vulnerable right then, and it struck Asa that he’d never seen her in such a brutally raw state before, not like this.
“I want…” Carmen paused, swallowed, blinked really hard, and Asa wondered if all the drops of water streaming down her face belonged to the rain and not her own eyes. It was hard to tell. “I want you to give—to give me this one night.” Her tone was cautious, each word dragged out with deliberation and anxiety.
“That’s all I’m asking from you.” She smiled shakily. “This one night from your life, Asa. Let me have it. And whatever I can give you, I’ll give. You asked me to trust you so here’s that trust, take all of it. Take the pieces I’m willing to let you have tonight.
