Page 38 of Run

“Sombreros! Cowboy hats! Beanies!”

I wove through the aisles, looking at the items that I passed, feeling almost manic, the wild swing of emotion over these last few days leaving me in a whirlwind. I’d needed some distraction from all of the intensity of these last days.

“Try this on!” I said, reaching for the biggest cowboy hat I could find.

Vincent’s glare would have melted the skin off most people, but I simply laughed.

“Fine. Be a spoilsport,” I said.

I settled the hat atop my head and then glanced at Vincent, who smiled slowly now, his eyes twinkling. I rushed toward the mirror and laughed out loud at how silly I looked. But when Vincent came to stand beside me, my breath caught in my throat.

We were both smiling, happy, and for a split second, we could have been any couple, anywhere. I wanted to hold onto that feeling, but knew that doing so was impossible.

I slipped the hat off my head and then continued to look at our reflections, the excitement of the moment fading.

“I think I’m ready,” I said.

“You’re not going to buy anything?” Vincent asked.

I shook my head.

I didn’t know where I was headed once I left Vincent, so I wanted to travel light. Besides, I didn’t need any more mementos of this time, didn’t want to remember those few seconds where everything had been normal, when Vincent and I had seemed like a real possibility.

The walk to the car was far more somber than the trip inside, and we rode in silence for several more hours before we stopped at a hotel.

All the while, Vincent was silent.

I hated that.

He was outgoing, at least on the surface, but I had always seen that brooding reserve underneath, knew that Vincent put up a wall to keep his deeper thoughts, his true self, hidden. It was just that I had always been able to get past that wall, just like he had always been able to get past mine.

I’d shared parts of myself with Vincent that I had never shared with anyone else, and he had done the same, letting me truly know him, something he’d never done with anyone else. I wanted that closeness back, wanted it more than anything.

He kept his distance, stayed as far away from me as he could and still be in the same room.

Driven by a motion so strong I couldn’t deny it, I went to him, and when I touched him, he stiffened.

But I didn’t take my hand away, kept it there, tracing the ridges of his muscles, the shape of his strong arms. Folded myself into his embrace. He didn’t move, held his body stiff, rigid, a sure sign of the space that was between us. Space that I had put there. Space I’d thought I wanted.

How wrong I’d been.

When I was with Vincent, I was complete, and I knew now I would never find that completeness anywhere else. I’d mourn for that, but in this moment, I wanted to take what I could, show him my regret. So I held him. Held him even though he didn’t move, even though I could feel how much he wanted to push me away. He would eventually, and I would let him, but for now I held on.

He stayed stiff, his body tense, his brow furrowed, his lips turned down. At first glance, I could have mistaken his expression for a scowl, but I didn’t let myself get caught in the surface. I looked deeper, saw the hurt that my betrayal had put there. Saw his determination to keep me from doing so again.

It was almost enough to make me let him go, but I couldn’t, wouldn’t bear failing him again.

Instead I moved closer, flattened my body against his. And then I stretched up on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against the corner of his mouth. He stood taller, stiffened, but didn’t pull away. I kissed him again, lingering this time, trying to tell him without words what I felt so deeply.

I kissed him one last time and then lowered my feet to the ground. I looked at him then and I didn’t look away. Not when his frown deepened. Not when he shook his head, seeming to try to break himself from some kind of trance. I reached up and brushed my fingers against his forehead, down his strong, stubbled jaw, stopping when I felt the light tic that I knew came from the way he clenched his teeth.

His eyes darkened, and then, in the next moment, he let out a breath. In the space of that breath, something changed. His eyes softened, some of the tension in his body fled. When he kissed me, the touch was featherlight, but it carried so much weight my breath rushed out of my lungs.

The moment that had been so tentative, so shaky, changed on a dime. The distance and hurt that had been in his eyes was gone, and now I saw something else. Desire, yes, but something more, emotion that I didn’t want to question. I couldn’t anyway, not when Vincent kissed me again, harder this time, with much more emotion.

As he kissed me, he peeled my clothes away, only breaking the kiss long enough to strip us both naked and lay me down on the bed to fall atop me, resting his weight on his arms.

He pushed himself inside me gently, and I came from just that simple touch.

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