"Fuck, babe, you feel so good."
I love knowing I can give this to him, that he can have me completely, with nothing to separate us. We proceed to spend a lengthy amount of time in the shower making love to each other.
After we eat lunch, we decide to spend the rest of the day being lazy in bed. I pull out the DVDs that he had asked for, and as we lie in bed, we watch a production from last year. I show him the two ensembles that I had lead placements in and one of my duets with Maxim.
As he's watching one of the ensembles where I have a standout solo, a hint of a smile appears, and for some reason, that tiny gesture has the biggest effect on me. I scoot down in the bed and nestle my head on his chest as he watches me dance.
"I don't know shit about dancing, babe, but you're amazing," he says as he continues to watch.
I can't help but laugh at him and wrap my arm snuggly around his stomach. When the clip changes to my duet, I know it won't take him too long to make one of his possessive comments, so I close my eyes and just wait for it.
"Hmm..." is all I hear him say for a while, and then it comes. "I don't like that dude's hands all over you."
"Ryan, his hands have to be on me for all the lifts."
"His hands are on you for more than just lifts, Candace."
A giggle escapes me and he says, "I'm serious, his hands are all over you."
"He's gay!"
"I don't give a shit. I still don't like it."
He is really unbelievable, but I love him all the same, so I simply laugh it off.
When the video ends, he tells me again and again how amazing I am, then proceeds to tell me how incredibly turned on he is, so we get a little playful before opting for a nap in the middle of the day. Having this time to be with him like this is making the thought of graduation that much harder. I love him, and I'm pretty sure I would never move away from him. I push all that aside for the moment and simply relish him.
Ryan and I decided to spend the rest of the week at his mom's. Both of us have enjoyed the down time. I love spending time with Donna. We have made a couple days out of shopping and dining. But it's the best when we stay home for dinner, and I can help her cook and clean up. It feels very comfortable and normal, and I crave that feeling at this point.
Ryan took me surfing again, and another day we took his jeep to Long Beach in Washington. We had fun driving up and down the sand along the water. We spent the day out there, building a small fire pit and wrapping up in blankets. I could have spent hours in his arms, staring out at the ocean.
I can't help but feel like part of his family when I'm with him and Donna. I'm sad to be leaving today, but so happy we got to have this week together. As I'm finishing getting ready in the bathroom, Ryan is packing our bags.
When I slip on my sweatshirt, my jeans tug down enough so that I can see a hint of my heart. I don't like what this tattoo reminds me of, and for some reason, I don't think Ryan likes it either. I've never asked him, but sometimes when we make love he covers it with his hand.
I shift my pants down slightly to look at it in the mirror. I've considered having it removed, but I've never done anything to look into what that would involve.
When Ryan opens the door, I quickly yank my shirt down and turn to face him.
Cocking his head, he questions, "What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
He steps over to me and places his hand over mine, which is still holding onto my top. He only looks in my eyes as he lifts my hand and exposes the heart.
I know he's curious, so I admit, "I don't like it."
He lowers my hand and shirt. "Why?"
"Because it's not me. I was trying to be someone different, and it only led to bad things."
He looks confused and asks, "What do you mean?"
"I got it in a moment of rebellion, I guess. It was stupid, really. I got it and started acting foolishly, which led to...umm..."
Ryan stops me so I don't have to finish. "I get it. But, babe, nothing you did led to that."
I can't look at him because I know if I'd never behaved that way, if I'd never led him on, it wouldn't have happened. When I walk out of the bathroom, he follows and grabs my arm.
"Wait. You know that, right?"
When I look at him, I know he can read it all over my face. And by the look on his face, he hadn't known that I felt the way I do.
"Come here," he says as he sits on the side of the bed and pulls me next to him. "Tell me you don't think that."
The way he says his words almost make me feel stupid. Like somehow I don't understand, but I do.
When I don't speak, he says, "Babe, there is nothing you could have possibly done to deserve that."
My throat begins to tighten when the tears come, and I begin to get upset at myself for showing this weakness. I shift away from Ryan and begin choking back breaths to stop the crying, which is actually making it worse. He pulls me back to him, but I keep my head turned away.
"Shit, babe. I had no idea this is how you felt."
My voice trembles when I say, "Please, don't."
"I need you to talk to me about this. You have it all wrong. What that guy did was fucked up, babe, and you didn't do shit to deserve what he did to you."
I don't even bother trying to stifle the tears, and I'm pissed that I can't hold myself together. I yell at Ryan through my cries, "You don't get it, Ryan! What I did was stupid, and I completely led him on. It wasn't right, and I knew it, but I did it anyway."
"What the fuck could you have possibly done, because I know you, Candace, and I know you couldn't have led him on that much. But that shit doesn't even matter because you could've stripped down in front of him, and you still didn't deserved to be raped."
"Don't say that fucking word, Ryan!" I sob out and then begin crying uncontrollably.
He pulls me into his arms and begins apologizing when I lose control and tell him, "I didn't even really like him, but I was stupid and lonely, so I would let him kiss me, knowing that I didn't like him. And I fucking hate my mother for this, because if it wasn't for her being such a bitch, I never would have gone out with him."
Ryan tries to get me to stop, but I continue. "You just don't get it. I did lead him on, and I pissed him off. I never should've acted like that. I should've just been honest."
"This isn't your fault," he says sternly, and I snap back, "Yes, it is!"
Not releasing his hold on me, he says again, "It isn't your fault, Candace."
Turning into him, I fist his shirt in my hands and cry, "But it is."
He doesn't say anything else. We wind up lying down in bed for a while until I calm down. We lie face to face, and with my eyes closed, I finally speak. "It's been seven months, Ryan."
"I know, babe."
"I just want it to go away."
"I know. But it's never going to get easier if you keep blaming yourself. It kills me that you feel this way. It fuckin' kills me that I can't take this away from you."
I close my eyes for a while, and when I feel myself start to drift, I ask, "Can't we stay another night?"
"Anything you want."
On the drive back to Seattle, Ryan suggests that we talk to Jared to see about changing the tattoo. He thinks that it will help if I don't have to look at the heart every day just to be constantly reminded about everything, give the tattoo a new association.