Page 123 of Between Hate and Desire

But fuck, I want to.

“Pregnancy hormones, I think. And I’m not looking forward to the flight,” she explains.

I pull her into a hug, and I swear she breathes me in as she rests her head on my chest. We stand there until my vision blurs, and I know we have to get going. The less stress Lennon is under, the better.

After we pack, I swing my bag over my shoulder and grab her heavy suitcase. As I go to walk out of the room, Lennon reaches for me and pulls me close. I turn to her, feeling her breath brush against my skin. Instead of ruining the moment with words, I stare into her crystal blue eyes and wait.

“Hunter…” she says. Letting out a ragged breath, she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, almost begging for me.

Considering this might be the last time I kiss her, I place my palms on her cheeks and pull her mouth closer. When our lips finally touch, the fireworks we watched on the Fourth of July cannot compare to what I feel. We’re lost in each other, falling then floating, in a reality where nothing else matters. It almost hurts to stop kissing her, and I allow every emotion I have to release because our façade ends here. As soon as we’re in the car, I’ll go back to wearing a mask and pretending we’re only friends.

When we break apart and Lennon places her fingertips over her lips, I think I might’ve kissed away her ability to speak. By the way she greedily twisted her tongue with mine behind closed doors confirms something more simmers between us, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. I hold on to the dream of her being mine, as wrong as it is. For a second, she looks as if she’s lost in her head, and it causes the guilt to drip over me.

“I’m sorry. I?—”

“No,” she firmly stops me. “Don’t be.”

Maybe I’ve overstepped the boundary or pushed her too far, which causes my mind to rush a million miles per hour, but she did too.

“Ready to go home?” I ask, changing the subject, escaping the silence that lingers between us.

“I’m ready to walk around braless, eat junk food, and sleep late,” she admits with a smirk.

I laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls as we exit her old bedroom. Lennon insists on grabbing the smaller suitcase, and when we go downstairs, her parents are waiting in the sitting room. I hurry and load our bags into the car, then come back inside and tell them goodbye. Hugs and kisses are exchanged between Lennon and her parents.

“We followed your Instagram account so we can see all your updates. Let us know as soon as the baby’s born, and we’ll come to visit right away,” Mrs. Corrigan says. Her happiness radiates like sunshine.

“It was nice to finally meet you,” I say honestly.

Her dad gives me a hard handshake and a grin. “Glad to have a son now. Happy you’re a part of the family.”

The smile on my face doesn’t fade, and I can’t help but feel like a piece of shit for deceiving them.

Lennon doesn’t wait for a beat before speaking up. “Well, we gotta go. I love you both so much. See you soon!”

They follow us outside and wave goodbye when we get in the car and back out of the driveway. I beep the horn a few times as Lennon waves, and soon, the two-story house fades in the distance. As we enter the highway, Lennon lets out a long sigh, which makes me laugh.

“I’m kinda sad we’re leaving,” she finally says.

“Me too.” I don’t reach for her hand even though I want to. Instead, I keep both hands tightly wrapped around the steering wheel.

“They liked you a lot. Thank you again for…everything.” She grins, then looks out the window.

“Lennon, you know you don’t have to keep thanking me, but you’re welcome.” I meant every word, every touch, every kiss. The guilt I pushed aside for the sake of getting through this slowly returns to haunt me as we drive away from our personal haven. A place where we didn’t allow ourselves to feel remorse for what we were doing—what we had to do—and what I’d do ten times over again if I had to. Instead of pouring my soul out to her, I turn on the radio and try not to ignore the way I feel. A piece of my heart will remain in Utah, a sliver of what’s always been reserved for Lennon.

Once we reach the airport, we return the rental car and get through security in hyperspeed, but a delay in our flight means we won’t get home until after dark. I wish we had known beforehand and could’ve spent time in Salt Lake City. But instead, we sit and wait. With every passing hour, Lennon grows more anxious, and so do I. By the time we have lunch, we find out we’ve been delayed even longer, so the entire day has been spent sitting and waiting. Lennon falls asleep on my shoulder, but I remain wide awake as I process the past three days.

Eventually, we board the plane, and I’m sure every passenger who steps on is pissed. I shove Lennon’s suitcase in the storage compartment and almost worry it won’t fit because it’s stuffed to the max. Lennon packed as much as she could of her mother’s gifts, though she’ll still be shipping packages to us.

As the plane lifts into the air, Lennon takes my hands in hers, and we interlock fingers. Though it’s a small gesture, touching her feels like home. Whether she does it out of habit or comfort, I brush my thumb across the top of hers, and she leans her head against my shoulder, falling asleep. My mind is in marathon mode as I think about how holding Lennon under the booming fireworks will forever be etched into my heart. And brain.

So many people commented on how in love we were, and it’s something I can’t seem to shake.

Was it all pretend for her too? Was she acting the entire time?

Regardless, it can’t turn into anything real, though a part of me knows or rather hopes it were.

Not once did our act falter, and we performed together so well, we both deserve Oscars. But the reality is, I didn’t have to pretend. For the first time ever, the walls I’ve been so adamant about building have crumbled to rubble. Being able to kiss and touch her and openly love her came naturally and too easy.

---