pain that trying to extract any morsel of happiness from them will only end up hurting us in the long run.
But what’s the alternative? Leave Colorado without telling her how I feel?
Stand here and listen to a song about always loving someone and pretend that’s not exactly what I want to say to Maddie?
I must open and close my mouth fifty times, about to begin a speech filled with confessions and apologies and half-formed promises about the future, but in the end, I keep my words to myself and give her time to get used to me standing beside her. That’s all. Just us together again will have to be enough for tonight.
It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done: walking her back to James’ truck, driving her home, opening the door for her, and then watching as she strips off her layers. She stays quiet as she hangs up her jacket and scarf. I contemplate asking her if she’s hungry. She still hasn’t eaten dinner. I could make her something, but before I get the chance to offer, she’s already heading down the hall, slipping away.
Later, as I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, emotions war inside me: anger and regret and longing and this craving that’s getting harder and harder to satisfy. My hand covers my stomach as it churns. I lie still and wait like a man in a jail cell, like a caged animal in a zoo. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep another night, breathe another minute without her knowing the truth.
I sit up, about to throw my blanket off my legs and walk over to her room, when my door opens and Maddie appears there with the dull light of the bathroom behind her.
She looks so delicate, like a swift breeze could knock her right back toward her room, away from me. Her toes barely breach the precipice separating my room from the bathroom. Her arms are locked across her chest, a shield to keep me at bay. Her loose blonde hair hangs in messy waves, concealing the edges of her face.
I sit absolutely frozen.
Ensnared.
“I’m not happy with you,” she says, frowning at my bare chest. “For a million reasons. In fact, I’m not even sure I like you anymore.”
I toss the blanket aside, but she holds out her hands to stop me from standing.
“Don’t get up. Please. Just…”
It’s agony to do as I’m told. I don’t want to stay sitting on that bed. I don’t want to give her the chance to walk away from me again. I’m about to ignore her request and go to her when she suddenly starts to walk toward me.
Step by step, she inches closer. I fill my chest with a sharp inhale as she comes to stand between my thighs, hovering at the edge of the bed.
We stay like that, not touching, millimeters apart. I look up at her. She’s looking down at nothing in particular, lost in her own thoughts. My hands fist the blanket at my hips in desperation, and then she puts her hands on my shoulders and delicately moves to straddle me.
I’m so caught off guard, I can’t form a coherent thought as her lips descend toward mine.
“Just tonight, okay?”
The way she asks it, it’s like she can hardly muster the courage. Her hands shake on my shoulders. Her body feels so fragile as she molds herself against me. Her silky blue pajama set brushes across my skin, so tantalizing I can’t help but reach up to hold her against me, pressing my hand against her lower back.
“Tonight, Aiden,” she repeats.
I nod because what else am I supposed to do? Change the terms? She’ll bolt.
And then, she kisses me, pressing her lips to mine gently. I don’t kiss her back right away. I like what she’s doing, sitting on me, gripping my shoulders, doing the work.
It feels so good to know she wants me, to know she came to me tonight looking for something.
Apparently annoyed by my lack of initiative, she leans back and looks down at me, her face barely visible in the shallow light.
Her brows furrow, but I don’t move. I let her sit on me, loving the way she feels.
She reaches back to grab my hand from where it rests on her back and brings it around to the front of her body. With her free hand, she gathers the material of her tank top and starts to raise it up and over her belly.