Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,74
hear the contradiction in his voice.
I laugh, a little wickedly too, and shake my head. “No, Jack. I’m not. It completely terrifies me. I’m just doing my best not to focus on it anymore. It is what it is and it’s what I need to do to get out of here. So I’ll do it. But I should warn you, I’ll probably pee myself when you do it.”
He laughs and extends his arm over my shoulders, rubbing the farthest one, trying to comfort me. And I hate myself for enjoying it. Because I have to let him go. I should be strong and shrug him off me, but I figure reality’s going to slap me hard enough in the face tomorrow anyway. This time tomorrow I’ll be on my own and I’ll never be able to feel his touch again. So what’s the point of denying myself the pleasure of it today?
“What time is it?” I ask, popping another bite of bread into my mouth.
“I’d say around six in the evening. And I hate to leave you, but you need to rest as well as you can, and I need to get everything together that you’ll need. I didn’t dare pack a bag before now. I was afraid someone would find it and start asking questions. Lately Starla’s been particularly interested in my increased appetite.”
I nod my head slowly, eyes straight ahead. We’re getting pretty close to it now, and the numbness I’ve been feeling off and on is really spreading throughout my body. Like my insides are fighting the idea of me escaping and leaving Jack behind. Tomorrow I’ll have to dig deep to find the courage to fight it off. Because I don’t want to leave Jack. I don’t know how to move forward in a world without him. These past couple of weeks he’s been everything to me.
“Are you sure you want to do this tomorrow?” I ask, wishing him to say no.
It takes him several seconds to reply, “Yeah, Rosalie. You’ve got to get out of here before something worse happens. If something happened to you…”
When he doesn’t continue, my head automatically turns his way. I guess my movement draws his, because the next thing I know, I’m looking up and he’s looking down, and our eyes lock tight. When he finally moves towards me, my heart panics and my beats triple, and my breath catches in my chest. His lips are ever so close and moving towards me...but they stop short, and I feel a warmth against my forehead that I desperately want on my lips. My eyes close, regardless, as I try to soak in this moment with as much clarity as I possibly can. The heat of his touch, the slight movement of his lips as they tenderly brush my skin, the way his hand now splays against the back of my neck, and the way his body arcs toward mine.
My insides gasp in pain when he pulls away, shouting NO! in so many creative ways. Parts of my body are wrenching in pain that I didn’t even know existed, piercing me deep into my core. Our eyes open; mine before his – I didn’t even know he had done the same. There’s pain in his eyes, and I have the feeling mine are conveying the same message. For one split second, there’s hope that he’s feeling what I am, and that he’ll give in and bring his lips down to mine. But the next, he’s leaning farther away and getting to his feet, preparing to leave. Quietly, he says, “I’ll see you around two, Rosalie. Sleep well.”
It pains me to watch him fly away in this moment and not spend our last night together, holding me close. And I’m sure he meant for that to be a heartfelt farewell kiss, but after the fact, it feels more like the kiss of death.
I did it. I actually fell asleep. It seems like it took forever, but here I am, stirring out of sleep, Jack gently shaking my arm, saying my name softly until my eyes open. His lips softly curve upward as I rotate my head to look up at him. Instead of trying to pull me from my slumber, he joins me on the horrible ground. He shifts, squiggling around for a bit, trying to get comfortable. We lay silently for a few minutes, exchanging smiles.
Hating for my curiosity to break the moment, I whisper, “What time is it?”