I’m brushing my teeth after my little vomitus fit of anxiety and I feel like I can’t even bear to look at myself in the mirror. Luckily the knocking on the door breaks me out of my little pity party for one. Bracing my hands on the counter, I rinse the remainder of the toothpaste from my mouth and hope for the best.
When I open the door and see Bryan on the other side, my pulse accelerates and my heart beats wildly in my chest. It’s not just out of nervousness; it’s out of love and lust too. He’s hot, and no matter how many times I look at him, I’ll never understand how I got lucky enough to have him as my own - even if that time is now running out. His body is perfectly muscled, and even through his heavyweight leather jacket, I can see the clear definition of his upper body. He’s got the strongest arms I’ve ever felt – not that I’ve felt any other arms, but, well, let’s just say they’re pretty damn strong.
I refuse to let my brain think about his arms – the other guy’s arms. I don’t remember feeling them anyway.
“Hey, beautiful,” he croons into my ear and I squeal as he wraps those strong arms around my waist, effortlessly lifting me off the ground. It’s moments like these that I forget about my body issues. Whether I understand why he wants me or not, when I’m with Bryan, I feel feminine and pretty – I feel like every girl deserves to feel.
His arms banding around me also make me forget about everything else – scandalous texts from ex-girlfriends and cheating.
When my feet return to the ground, our eyes lock and I see a storm brewing in his. “What’s wrong, Bry?” I ask quietly as I gently brush my fingertips over his light stubble. My heart swells and breaks a little as he leans into my touch.
He shakes his head in an effort to dismiss his emotions. “I told you on the phone. I just missed you,” he whispers as he leans in to brush his lips gently against mine. I can’t help but wonder if his sadness has anything to do with guilt like mine does.
Having been together a little over four months, this is obviously not our first kiss, but it feels new on so many levels.
It’s the first kiss we’ve had since I’ve cheated on him. That’s how I’ll always remember it.
It starts out soft and innocent, but when he nips at my lower lip, I moan in pleasure. The slight opening that my moan offers up is all the invitation that Bryan needs to slip his tongue in to meet mine. He tastes like cinnamon and feels like heaven.
The kiss rises in intensity as he cups the back of my head to pull me closer to him. The other hand roams freely over my upper body, from waist to shoulders and back again until his hand grips at the soft flesh of my hip. Bryan’s fingers tangle in the wavy mass of red hair that falls past my bra strap, as mine travel up the back of his neck causing the skin there to prickle in the wake of my touch.
When we break from our heated kiss, I stare back into his deep-brown eyes and get lost there for a minute. “I missed you too.” My words sound shaky, breathless almost.
“Yeah, I can tell,” he chuckles as he places a far-less searing kiss to my cheek. Brushing a piece of hair out of my eyes and behind my ear, he kisses my forehead and pulls me in the large circle of his arms for a tight embrace.
We just stand there, in the opened doorway of my dorm room while partygoers walk past us to the use the stairwell. We’re both hanging onto each other as if we’re on the edge of some dangerous cliff. There’s a palpable pull between us, a magnetism keeping our arms locked around one another for fear of falling. I know, at least for my part, that I’m holding on because I know once we break our embrace and close the door behind us, I have to face reality. And I just don’t want to do that.
When a group of extremely intoxicated and obnoxiously loud kids from the other end of the hall come stumbling toward the stairwell, I step out of Bryan’s arms and move to close the door. “Come on in. You said you wanted to talk.” I reach down and lace my fingers with his and he brings our joined hands up to his full lips for a sweet kiss.
He tosses his jacket over the back of one of the stools that stand at the small kitchen counter and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him in a simple black T-shirt and tight, but not too tight, faded blue jeans. I try to drink in the sight of him, memorize every bit of him, because as we walk into the living room, it’s as if I can actually hear the minutes that we have left ticking away in my head.
We sit on the couch and twist to face each other. Usually there’s plenty of room on here for two of us girls to sit comfortably, but Bryan’s large frame and long legs swallow up the extra room between us. I put on my cheery face, one I’ve used all too often in my life, and just hope that what he has to tell me isn’t going to crush me. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help it.
He reaches his hand out and I willingly place mine in it. Brushing his thumb over my knuckles, he looks at me with the most sincere look of apology in his milk-chocolate eyes. Taking a deep breath, I know that he’s trying to put together the words to say what his look was just trying to convey.
I think about mentioning the text that Courtney sent me – the one of the two of them making out, but I hold off on it when I see just how distraught Bryan is. Whatever he’s struggling with, I’ll let him choose the words. Guilt permeates my every cell and I swallow down the bile that’s bubbling up one more time. Feeling like I don’t have the right to bring up his indiscretions when mine are so much worse, I sit as calmly as possible and wait for him to say something.
It’s torture to sit here and watch him struggle with his emotions, but the coward in me stifles my words. She’s beating down the person inside who knows that confessing my cheating is the right thing to do.
He clears his throat, and finally speaks up while my inner coward hides behind a thick cloak of shame. “I’m sorry about winter break, about telling you not to come to visit me. I … it’s just that my family … I don’t really know where to begin.” Frustration consumes him as he releases my hand and runs his fingers through his silky-brown hair. He shifts and rests his elbows on his thighs. Hanging his head into his hands, he sighs but says nothing. He’s clearly torn about something, and my issues aside, I want nothing more than to comfort him right now.
I pull his head up from his hands and turn his face to meet mine. “Hey, you can talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Is it something with Emmie?” I brush a few strands of hair out from his eyes and kiss his lips tenderly, trying my best to convey just how much I want to be here for him.
I feel his jaw tense under my hand as I’m cupping his cheek. “No. Emmie is fine. She’s great, actually.” He takes a deep breath and then blurts out, “My parents are getting a divorce.” He’s squeezing his hands together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white under the pressure. “They told me over break. My dad has been seeing some woman he met online and, well, now he’s leaving my mom. Can you believe that shit? Twenty-five years of marriage thrown out because my dad couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants!”
Holy fucking hell! Did he really just say that? Of all the things that could happen to turn his world upside down – it had to be cheating! The Karma Gods must be having a field day with this one. Visions of the first time I met his parents flit through my head. His father was distracted and constantly on the phone on an “important business call”, but now I wonder if that’s anywhere near the truth.
But I can’t exactly bring that up right now.
And I most certainly cannot bring up the infamous Courtney text now. I can’t tell him about me sleeping with some other guy. Those words will have to stay dead and buried.
I can’t focus on the irony of the scene unfolding before me for too long, because at just the mere mention of his parents’ divorce, Bryan’s entire body tenses and anger radiates off of him. My instinct to take care of him kicks into high gear and I sink to the floor in front of him. I kneel before him and wrap my arms around his waist as he remains seated on the couch.