Page 91 of All In Good Time
When he finally let himself glance her way, his heart stuttered. He’d been so focused on the movie, he’d been missing out on the best part of the night.
Becca’s head lolled to the side, bobbing as she attempted to stay awake.
A silent huff of air came from Derek as he snorted a laugh—the movie had been her idea, and she couldn’t even keep herself upright. He watched her, caught in a cycle of will-she or won’t-she fall over.
The answer was: she will. Her head fell toward him, and her body followed suit. Luckily, Derek was quick and scooted next to her fast enough to catch her shoulders and halt the fall into the couch. He lowered her slowly onto his thighs as the movie played on. He was careful, gentle, worried that if he moved too fast, she would snap awake and out of his hands. The background noise was far less interesting than the girl breathing softly onto his leg.
It wasn’t often they were in this position—her head onhislap. He was always the one lying on hers, while her hands either cleaned up wounds or played with his curls. It wasn’t that Derek didn’t want to do the same for her.
He’dloveto be in this position every single day. The difficulty was having the same courage she had in offering herself as a human pillow. She was much more forward in pulling him onto her, even when he protested, and by now, it became natural. He, on the other hand, still wasn’t entirely sure how to approach these situations that made his heart thunder in his chest so loud he was sure she would hear it so close to his chest.
Ever since his “revelation” in July, things hadn’t been quite the same—for him, at least.
For her, the world continued on as normal. He, on the other hand, was acutely aware of how every little thing she did sent him into a spiral of unrequited longing. His love for her was a pile of stones, and she threw a boulder with every word and blink.
Love.
Love.
He couldn’t say it aloud, but even thinking about it left a bittersweet aftertaste on his tongue.
Love. The way her eyes moved under closed eyelids.
Love. The stray hair that blew upward every time she exhaled.
Love. The hand that unconsciously held the fabric of his jeans.
Love. The flowery scent surrounding her, which now sat on his bedside table.
Love. The seconds that let him take in all of her without worrying about what she might see in return.
He might not be able to say it, but he sure as hell could think it.
I love you. I love you.
35
November 1985 | After
Derek quietly stuck a chair back under his unlockable doorknob, then turned his attention to the window, slowly pushing it open. He readied himself and paused only to look over his shoulder at the glowing red numbers on his bedside clock: 11:57 p.m.
Everyone would be well taken with their dreams by now, not worried whether Derek was in his room or not. He slipped through the window and into the dark night, sliding it not quite closed, so he could get back in before the sun was up. It was clockwork to him now, a new habit formed on the foundation of an old one.
He started his car—parked a little further from the house than usual, to make sure he didn’t wake his dad when he started the engine—and followed the familiar route to Becca’s house.
He used to park in the driveway, but even that felt too close now. He was here purely out of his inability to stay away, nothing else. He wouldn’t go to her door. He wouldn’t even step on the grass that was yellowing in the cold weather. He’d stay here, parked along the curb, and lean against the car door with a lit cigarette.
He never believed his father’s description of him as much as he did in these moments: weak. He hated himself for being weak. Unable to go against his heart and listen to his head. As stubborn as he’d been his entire life, his heart beat him at his own game.
Denying it did nothing now, not when it came to Rebecca. He could resist as much as he liked; it was futile.
She was a weakness he couldn’t shake.
Maybe she made him weak, maybe she made him a fool, but goddamn, if he didn’t want to be with her right now.
He longed for her as much as he longed to be in the sanctuary she’d proven herself to be. He wouldn’t dare go to her door, but he knew that what lay inside was the only place he ever felt truly safe. Now, he was left in the open without the security of the safe haven he’d clung to months ago.
No matter how much he yelled and hit and cursed, it couldn’t keep him away once the sun went down and his father’s words got to him. Even if it was just along the borders of her yard.
