Page 74 of Devilry

16

Elijah

We’re standing so close. Close enough that the usual heat between us should be getting ready to engulf us in flames. But it’s cold. So cold. And no amount of scalding hot water will be able to warm me up.

Turning, I give him my back and reach to press down the water mixer. A long, strong arm moves around me, stopping me. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” I respond defensively.

“Then what is it?” He places his hand over mine, dragging it down to my side, away from ending our time together. He laces his fingers with mine. “I want to understand it.”

Squeezing his hand, I lean back into him, exhaustion creeping up on me. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, more deflated than defensive. “I think I’ve done enough talking tonight.”

“Look at me, Elijah.”

I feel small and confused, naive and strangely more inadequate in this moment than I have at any other point of our time together. I don't speak about religion and what it means to me. I study it because I'm fascinated with its history, with its transient nature in time, and the way it's been interpreted, translated, and delivered through centuries, but anything beyond that has been one of my best kept secrets.

Cole's reaction would be anyone's. Why give time to something that has no time for you?

I’ve fought with this myself. Struggled with it, but the deeper I delved, the more I found what I was looking for.

If people could find hate and judgement in God and His words, then I sure as fuck could twist it and choose to only see the beauty and the comfort that I was so desperately seeking.

Religion fueled my soul. My spirit. It became my savior, my refuge, my solace.

Loneliness isn't for the faint hearted; it left me heavy and bereft, and I latched on to anything that could help me rise above it.

I needed strength to survive and that's what it gave me.

Cole’s patient breaths sound from behind me, soothing me, bringing me back to him. I didn't want every good thing to be a trigger for something bad. It seemed like it all went hand in hand. A tangled ball of emotions I just can't seem to work through. Every time I think I have one thing sorted, something else pops up.

I didn't want to do this with him again. I didn't want to ruin all the good moments we were having by dredging up shit from the past and giving weight to my insecurities. I didn’t want to give him whiplash and have the ghost of my dad ruin this. That man has already taken so much from me and I wouldn't just knowingly hand him anything more.

Finally finding the strength to turn around, I face a wet and worried Cole. Letting my gaze run up and down his body, I take in the man that is my temptation, and possibly my salvation.

“I…” I start, but the words fail me. I don't know what it is I want to say to him. I want to fix it. Go back to that blissed out feeling I was relishing in only minutes ago. Is it always going to be like this? Such immeasurable highs, followed by extremely crushing lows?

Sensing my internal distress, Cole’s big hands grip my face. His hold is tight and insistent.

“I'll take your lead when it comes to these things, okay?” He rubs his thumb across my wet lips. “You talk. You don't. I'm not going anywhere.”

His words hold so much weight and I wonder if he knows what they do to me, how he's got me all tied up, feeling more than I ever thought I was capable of.

The warning bells still sound in my head, but their incessant ringing seems so far away. There's almost enough distance that every now and then I can forget they exist. I can forget that there is no happy ever after for Cole and me.

Our time together has been short. By all standards and expectations, it should be fleeting and insignificant, but with every passing moment, this is shaping up to be one of the most monumental experiences of my life.

If I’m supposed to walk away from him, consider it impossible. I can't turn away from Cole; the way his steel colored eyes are staring at me, makes me feel like it isn't an option for him either.

Everything has shifted, leaving me with only heart hurting options. Stay and hurt. Leave and hurt. My heart won’t survive either choice.

He's not just my professor, he's the man who’s changing my world. He's leaving marks on every part of me.

Holding onto his wrists, I get lost in his eyes, imagining all the possibilities, while my mouth speaks the brutal truth. “I know this is going to end.”

His eyes fall closed, like the words are just too much. It’s heart-wrenching and twisted that I want the truth to be as hard for him as it is for me. “I don’t know how or why or when. I just don’t want to waste time with anything else but you and me.” I lean into him and plant a surprise, soft kiss on his lips. “The important stuff.”

We come together with grace and poise. Savoring. Prolonging. Holding off the frenzy, keeping the delirium we always find ourselves in when we touch, at bay.

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