Page 39 of Finding London

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I am right. And you know what, Loïc? You pointing out all of my flaws is definitely a huge flaw of your own.”

“We all have them, London. No one is perfect. Wouldn’t you like to know what yours are, so you can work on them?”

She huffs out a short laugh. “Not really. You know, growing up, my parents did nothing but tell me how great I was. I’m really good at listening to the wonderful things about me. You should try that move.”

“Well, growing up, I was abandoned by the only people in the world who loved me. I was left to protect myself from predators who got off on hurting children and telling me how worthless I was every single day. I guess we come from different worlds.”

London gasps, and I realize that my stab at wit about my past didn’t end up humorous at all.

I’m such an idiot.

I wanted to keep the rest of the date carefree after my extremely premature deep confessions back when we were on the bank of the river.

“I’m sorry, London. I didn’t mean to say that. It was a horrible attempt at a joke. Just forget it.”

She nods, her expression one of sadness. She turns around, and we continue down the river in silence. She lifts her arm a couple of times, her hand moving to wipe something at the corner of her eye. I can’t see her face, but I think she’s crying.

Great, I made her cry.This is why I don’t date—or at least, it’s one of the reasons. I suck at it.

I steer the kayak over to the bank. A truck from the kayak rental place is there, waiting to take us back to where we parked, eight or so miles back.

After the kayak hits the sandy bank, I step out and pull it out of the water. Reaching down, I grab London’s hand and help her get out. I hold her to me and hug her tight before lightly kissing her forehead. “Please forget my lame attempt at a joke. I’m not remotely funny. It’s one of my flaws.”

To this, she giggles, and I realize that it’s definitely a favorite sound.

“It’s definitely a flaw. You should really work on it,” she responds.

“I know. I’ll try,” I say with mock seriousness.

I lift her off the ground so that her neck is level with my face, and I nuzzle my lips against the soft skin beneath her ear. I breathe her in, letting her sweetness fill my soul.

I’ve got it bad for this chick.

That fact both terrifies and exhilarates me.

London was right earlier. I did contemplate never returning her texts or taking her out again. In this short time that I’ve been talking to her, something has been happening to me. I’m having feelings that I haven’t had to deal with in a long time. I’m thinking about people and places that I’d rather not think about. Hell, last night, I dreamed about Jessica, a girl from my foster home days whom I hated above all else—well, almost.

London came into my life, and so did a shitstorm of emotional baggage. It’s as if I can’t let my guard down to allow London access to who I really am without letting in all the sadness I’ve been keeping out. Apparently, my emotions are all or nothing.

As I said in my confession to her earlier—when all the feelings in my head decided to flow out of my mouth like vomit, unwanted and uninvited—for some reason, I think she’s worth it. I’ve been closed off for so long. I’ve decided to face my fears for once, and after years of being a coward, I’m finally ready to show an ounce of courage.

We get the kayak loaded up and take a seat in the vehicle. The ride back to my truck isn’t long. My fingers thread between London’s as we hold hands. No words are spoken on the way back. We’re both absorbed in our own thoughts. I would pay good money to know what she’s thinking.

The truck drops us off. The sky around us is getting darker. I come to this area often to go kayaking, so I know that the state park nearby has a hill where we can park. We hop in my truck and travel a few minutes down the road until I park at the perfect vantage point to view the upcoming sunset.

After getting out of the truck, I start to organize the blankets in the bed of it.

London chuckles beside me.

“What?” I ask.

“I just had this vision of our entire dating future taking place outside.”

“Sounds good to me.” I finish laying out the blankets. “Do you have complaints about the last time we were in the bed of this truck together?” I raise my eyebrow in question.

That statement halts her snickers. “Um, no. Definitely not.”

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