Page 101 of Deep In Love
Fuck, I could listen to that sound for the rest of my life, grow drunk off the way it makes me feel.
Her arms wrap around my shoulders as I step between her thighs. I’m overwhelmed by her infectious giggle and the intoxicating scent of the balm she wears, the freckles decorating her nose and how her feet dangle and softly tap my knees.
“I couldn’t care less what other people do, Charlie. I care aboutus. What’s right for us might not be right for someone else.” At my words, she drags her bottom lip between her teeth. “If you don’t want to be physical in public, that’s fine. If you want to hold hands, I’m all for it. But you don’t need to do something because you think it’s what I want or because you think it will make me happy.”
She scans the space, pausing on the different machines and pipettes, but she refuses to meet my gaze. It happens when she’s lost in the maze of her thoughts. I’ve observed it when she’s stuck trying to write parts of her dissertation or struggling to identify and express her emotions.
“I want to,” she admits barely above a whisper. “With you, I think I want to.”
There’s this odd sensation stumbling around my chest—an unsteady beat as Charlie’s fingers drag across the back of my neck to tangle in the edges of my hair.
“I’m trying,” she continues. “I don’t know if I’m doing anything right, but I’m giving you everything I have.”
I don’t think she has any idea the power she holds over me, but I think it’s time she should know. She has complete control over my heart.
Fear grips my chest as I rest my hands on her hips.
There’s no telling how she’ll take the truth I’m going to offer her. I’m baring my soul to her—offering her the opportunity to crush me. But I’m faithful she won’t.
“There is no ‘right,’” I say, pushing a stray curl of blond hair from her cheek. My finger trails down her cheekbone, right along her scar. “There is only you and me. Does this feel right to you?”
Does this feel like fate to her? Like the stars she believes in guided us together?
I feel it, down to the marrow of my bones. With her, there is an inexplicable sense of comfort. She is both the raging wind before a summer storm and the first rays of sunshine at the break of dawn.
“It feels easy,” she says, “and it scares me.” Charlie’s head tilts. “Is it supposed to feel this way?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, shrugging. “It feels that way for me, too, though.”
Charlie’s nose scrunches the way it does when she doesn’t understand something or one of her undergrads asks an obvious question.
“You’re supposed to know,” she says defensively. “You are the ‘knower’ of these things.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m pretty confident ‘knower’ isn’t a word.”
She exhales a large gust of air that tickles against my skin.
“There’s not enough room in this relationship for two people who know nothing about relationships. That’s my role.”
Her head jerks back, and her mouth pops open to form an O.
What is happening to her? I haven’t seen this reaction from her before, so I can’t pull out anything to combat what’s happening inside her mind.
“What’s going on up here?” I tap on her forehead, right between her brows. A crinkle forms beneath the pad of my finger.
“I called this a relationship,” she mumbles.
Oh.
Now is probably an unideal time to tell her she’s done it a handful of times, and each time I’ve wanted to hear it again.
Trepidation settles deep in my gut.
“And that…bothers you?”
My question is neutral, but I feel far from it. Every day with her, my feelings grow deeper—more cemented.
Her chin lifts, and her arms cross over her chest in defiance.
