Page 82 of Lotus

I think she wants me to stop.

My jaw tenses as I raise my head from the couch, finding her eyes. I pull my hand out from her shorts, my other falling from her breast, and swallow. “I’m sorry. Am I doing it wrong?”

Sydney lifts off me, revealing the wet spot that has seeped into my denim-clad thigh. She smiles, shaking her head as she takes her place beside me. “You’re perfect.”

I’m perfect, but she wants me to stop.

I’m not understanding.

She must notice the confusion and rejection pinching my brow, because she touches her hand to my cheek with hazy eyes. “This was just for you,” she adds.

“For me?” I tilt my head, puzzled. Does her sexual gratification turn this into something else? Something different than what she wants it to be? “I don’t want this to be one-sided—it doesn’t feel right. You can teach me what you like.”

My voice is raspy, still laden with lust. The thought of her “teaching” me things, allowing me to explore her body, taking this further… it’s exhilarating. I find myself becoming aroused again.

Sydney trails her fingers down my jaw, pressing the tips to my bottom lip. She eyes my mouth before pulling back. “You should go home and get cleaned up.”

A dismissal.

Frustration and a hint of anger burns me. “Sydney, this isn’t what I want. I don’t require favors or kindnesses.”

“I didn’t mean…” Her throat strains with a swallow, trembling fingers trailing down my chest and gripping the material of my sweater. “You wanted to learn.”

“This isn’t about learning anymore,” I argue, my chest tight, my emotions scattered. “This is about how I feel for you.”

“I feel for you, too, Oliver,” she grits out, avoiding my searching gaze. “So much.”

“But not the same?” I don’t hesitate, despite the way my heart skips a frazzled beat. My need to know where she stands overrides my fear that her response may not be what I want it to be. “Please be truthful.”

Sydney doesn’t hesitate either, placing my hand, palm forward, against her chest. “You know the truth. It’s right here.”

“Sydney…” I press my palm further into the hurried beats that vibrate through my fingertips. “Do you feel the same?”

Eyes are aligned, holding hard. Skin flushed. Breaths woven and wound. A silent eternity passes before she shakes her head. “I don’t.”

I crumble.

She catches me. “There’s no way you could possibly feel what I’m feeling, what I’vefelt, from the moment Gabe told me they found you. That you were alive. You have no idea what it was like to be haunted by you for twenty-two years, then to hold you in my hands, flesh and bone, like you were back from the dead. You couldn’t understand any of that.” Sydney’s fingers curl tighter around my wool sweater, her gaze tormented. “So, no, Oliver… we don’t feel the same. It would be impossible.”

I drink in her words, feeling them soak into my skin. I realize in that moment that Sydney also wears a mask, much like my brother. She hides behind her humor and sarcasm, a defense mechanism, a strategy to cope with all the ghosts she keeps inside.

Cupping her face between my hands, I feel her turmoil with every blink, every tremor, every jaded heartbeat trapped inside her throat, choking her. “I’m here now, Sydney. I’m right here.”

Another fervent head shake. “The only thing worse thannothaving you, is having you and breaking you apart all over again.”

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.”

“You don’t know that…”

A defeated breath spills out as I duck my head, dropping my hands from her face that is now reflecting wet streaks. I’m not sure how to breach her fears. I’m not equipped to tackle her ghosts. I haven’t acquired the proper tools.

I move to stand as Sydney slips off of me, pausing to reel in my emotions before rising to my feet. She remains seated, nearly shaking with remorse and indecision. “I’m going to head home and get cleaned up,” I say softly, echoing her previous proposal. I need to cleanse my bodyandmy mind. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”

Her grief-ridden voice seizes me as I reach for my jacket. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Sydney wraps her arms around herself, breath hitching, gaze tortured. I worry my lip between my teeth, piecing together my response. “You’re going to lose me by trying too hardnotto lose me, Syd.” A quivering gasp echoes in my ears. “Goodnight.”

Before I turn to leave, dejected and bewildered, I spare Sydney a final glance.

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