Page 120 of As the World Falls

“Are you jealous, little owl?” he asks, all too happy.

I choose now to focus my gaze on the ceiling. “I’m not jealous…I just wasn’t a fan of you having a date that’s not me. That’s all.”

I feel his hand on my jaw as he turns my head to face him again. Our eyes meet, and I’m frozen in his stare—In our feelings, that feels like a physical palpable being between us.

“Never again,” he says. “You are my everything from here on out.”

A knot forms in my throat, and I fight hard to swallow it down and remain unaffected, but it’s hard. I am so in love with him. I want to scream it at him. I want him to know that he is the only person who has ever made me unquestioningly jump into something despite every urge telling me not to. That he is worth everything to me.

But I wasn’t ready. I was still so scared of all of this.

So, I nod and smile at him. He leans in and gently kisses my forehead, making my body feel warmer than it was.

He slips into bed with me but keeps a distance, lying oddly still. Then it’s eerily quiet, and neither of us speaks for a moment. He looked lost, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. I lay on my side, facing him, watching him.

“I’ve never slept in bed with anyone before,” he admits.

That surprises me, but I keep it from registering in my voice. “Do you want me to go? Are you uncomfortable?”

He turns his head quickly, looking at me now. “No. I want you here. I’m just nervous I’ll do the wrong thing.”

I smile at him. “Just lie here with me. That’s all I want.”

He nods, scooting closer until he’s leaning over me now. His fingers find my hair, sweeping it back. Then he kisses me, and it’s soft and slow, different from how he’s handled me before but perfect all the same. He pulls away, his eyes still shut, like he was replaying it in his head. “Goodnight, Cecilia,” he murmurs.

“Goodnight, James.”

I wake up in a cold sweat, doom filling me as I come to. I lean up in bed, my surroundings unrecognizable. My hand flies to my chest as I try to calm my racing heart, a heart that feels like it had a crack down the middle of it despite feeling so full.

I had dreamed of Lance. The dream was beautiful, full of James's love and affection and my brother's presence, but in the end…there was Lance…all alone.

I look to my side, my heart calming at the sight of James stretched out on his stomach, his broad back exposed to me. I trace my fingers down it, shutting my eyes at the sound of the content sigh that escapes him as I do. He doesn’t wake, though, and I look at his shoulder, seeing it is still swollen. I slowly slipout of bed, careful not to disturb him. He needed all the rest he could get, and I didn’t want to bother him.

I looked around the room, realizing all I had to wear was my dress. So I go to his closet, shuffling through the hangers of his clothes. I find a pair of black sweatpants, shrug them on, and then grab a white men's tank. At the very back of his closet, I spot a gray hoodie. It still had price tags hanging on it, and I try to think of a time I’d ever seen him wear something like this. It was just a simple gray zip-up, but it wasn’t his style. I wondered if he accidentally bought it or tried to escape his comfort zone. Either way, it was mine now.

I slip the hoodie on, and I can’t help but smile, feeling completely wrapped in his clothes, even if they were too big for me. I slowly slip out of the bedroom and walk to his kitchen, looking around for any pen and paper. Thankfully, I found a small notepad and pen in one of the drawers, and I left a note on the counter for him just before leaving.

I had to take care of something before James and I went any further.

I took the train back to Boston, taking a long time to think about what I would do and say. I was still trying to come to terms with a lot of it myself, but I knew there wasn’t any other way. I belonged solely to James. There was nothing else to it, nothing I could do or deny, nothing I could say, but I owed it to Lance to tell him.

I had to let him go for good this time. I knew he’d been hoping my feelings changed after we found our balance again when my father died, and although I thought I’d made myself clear, I needed to make one hundred percent sure this time. He needed to know that James was the only one for me. I couldn’t start a relationship with him without a clear conscience, and I only hoped that Lance would still want to be my friend afterward.

It's nearly eight in the morning once I’m off the train, and I take a cab back to my apartment to change into something more…mine. I loved being in James’s clothes, but I didn’t think Lance would appreciate me wearing them when I told him I was in love with him.

I take a long shower after a grueling amount of pulling out leftover hair pins in my hair and opt to keep my hair down on account of my scalp needing the tension release. I slip into my ankle-length knit maroon skirt that’s higher on one leg on the other side, a black off-the-shoulder sweater, and the old trustee black knee-high boots.

I stopped at my new jewelry case, admiring the newer pieces I had recently added to my collection. I never really cared for jewelry until James, but he has a way of making me like the finer things in life. After working with the design team at Labyrinth, I found a new interest in it.

I opened one drawer in particular and took out the little black box. I opened it, removed the moss earrings, and put them on. My heart did a little dance when I looked at the green crystal earrings hanging from my ears, ones that now felt like James’s stake on me, and I never wanted to take them off.

I added a dangling gold chain, a small diamond charm, and my teddy bear necklace. I ran the towel through my damp hair again before grabbing my purse and heading to the library, where I knew Lance would be opening up for the day.

When I get there, my hair is completely dry and slightly more poofy than I’d like due to air drying in my brisk walk to the library. I slowly walk inside, trying to put off the inevitable as long as possible. I look around, not seeing him anywhere. I go further inside, scanning the long rows of shelves until I’m in the kid's section, where I find him talking with a small boy on the floor.

“Personally, I’d rather be an astronaut than a pirate. I think stars are a lot cooler than water,” Lance says.

The boy looks up at him with a toothy smile. “But pirates get treasure.”

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