Page 60 of Blindly Yours

My eyes travel down to his scarf and linger there. It’s the green one he gave me to wear yesterday. Less than twenty-four hours ago, it was wrapped around my own neck. Why does that fact feel so intimate?

He speaks again. “You mean you don’t want to go back to your luxury apartment in the sky?” There’s a hint of a smirk in his voice. “You might miss the chickens and the cheap beer?”

“No,” I reply. Because those are not the things I’ll miss.

“What, then?” Irritation seeps into his tone.

“I hate that I am the way I am.” I exhale. “And I hate that it matters.”

There’s a pause before he responds. “We’re all raised a certain way. That’s just how it is.”

I know he’s right, but that’s not the truth I want to be reminded of right now. I lift my eyes to his lips. “Yeah, but for just a moment this weekend, I forgot all that.”

Nate doesn’t say anything.

“And for a moment, it felt right.” I close my eyes at the admission.

The chilly wind whips around us; the only sound in our silence. I immediately regret my honesty, because I know he wants nothing to do with me. I’m definitely not what he needs in his life, but I’ve said what I needed to say. It’s over now. I can’t take it back.

I begin to turn toward my door, eyes still closed, accepting the defeat: this was never meant to be. But Nate catches my hand before I can turn fully, and my eyes fly open to find his just as he slides his hands up to my face. His gaze darts across mine, but only for a second before he crashes his lips into mine. They’re hot and desperate in a way that completely catches me off guard and I almost lose my balance, but he loops his arm around my waist and anchors my body to his as he presses me against the side of my car.

He’s not asking permission. He’s kissing me like it’s a necessity. Like he has no other option. And almost immediately, I’m kissing him back too. My hand slides up to his jaw and against his beard, and yes, it’s just as soft as it looks.

He’s holding me like a vice, and he steps even closer still until I swear I can feel his heart beating against my own. And again, it feels…right. Somehow, through my shock and surprise, I’m able to understand that I’m not just kissing Nate. I’m kissing the man who I’ve been more honest with than anyone else. The faceless man who’s quickly taken up residence in my heart in just the last few days. And he’s sucking my bottom lip in between his and he tastes like cinnamon, and my head is spinning.

God, I’ve never been kissed like this before. He moves his hand to my neck and holds me to him. It’s forceful, and purposeful, and it’s a brave move for a first kiss on his part, but he’s lucky because Iloveit. I never want him to let me go.

Yet, after a moment, he does. He slides his hand from my neck and pulls away slowly. When he opens his eyes, they stare into mine, fiery and decided as he retreats.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, just as out of breath as I am.

I lick my lips and lift my hand to my heart like it might stop beating. I open my mouth, but no words come out. I’m having trouble forming coherent thoughts.

“Please,” he gulps, watching me with mild desperation.

“I…” I begin, but I don’t know how to continue. I tuck a strand of misplaced hair behind my ear and look away from his pleading eyes. “I’m not sure. I have to think about it.”

“Ok,” he replies in a quick breath. There’s no disappointment there. I haven’t turned him down, yet.

“I, uh, I should go.” I turn to my door.

“Ok,” he says again.

Awkwardly, I slide into my seat and look up at him. His hand is on my door. He’s not holding it open, but he doesn’t want to say goodbye, I can tell.

“I’ll think about it,” I repeat, and then I pull my door closed and try to remember how to start the engine.

***

An hour later, I arrive home still unable to comprehend what just happened. When I walk in, Daisy greets me with a stroll around my legs. I check her bowl to find she hasn’t finished the last meal Junie gave her. She usually clears it in minutes.

“Missed me, huh?” I pick her up, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and sink down onto the sofa. She purrs in my lap while I stroke her ears.

“What should I do, Daisy?” I grab the remote for my electric fireplace and turn it on. Fake blue flames fill the frame, but it’s all wrong. They don’t even crackle.

I’ve never cared before, but I do now. I care so much that I turn it off.

I wonder what Nate’s doing. Kara’s probably collecting eggs from the chickens and they’re about to make omelets together. I usually get a manicure on Sunday mornings. Sometimes I shop online or catch up on whatever TV show I’m binging. But today I wish I were pulling eggs from under pecking hens and frying them up in an outdated kitchen.

---