Page 145 of Collision
It takes him a while to answer, as if he were wrestling with himself. “You should leave me alone,” he says with certainty, before adding, “although I hope you won’t.”
“Because you’re selfish, right?” I murmur, aware and resigned.
He nods. “And I want you to be mine.”
“Why?”
“Because I do.”
“‘Because I do’ is not an answer.”
“Because I feel good when you’re near me.”
I shake my head. “That’s not enough for me.”
He sighs and closes his eyes, bridling at the pressure I’m putting on him. “Ness.”
“No, Thomas. You say you want me, but then you can’t tell me why. I’m beginning to think you only see me as something to use for your own benefits. After all, you said it yourself, didn’t you? You feel good when I’m with you. I am an object you use to feel at peace withyourself,” I retort, getting angry.
He glares daggers at me. “Don’t talk bullshit.”
“Then you explain it to me. Why do you want me in your life if you think you don’t deserve me?”
“Why are you being so difficult about this?”
“Because I’m tired of not being good enough.” He stands up, upset and running a hand through his hair. I can tell by the tortured expression on his face that he would rather be anywhere else right now. But I don’t give up. Not when he leans against the wooden railing, pulls his packet of cigarettes out and brings one to his mouth with a troubled air. And not when he takes a long drag in total silence, refusing to look at me. There is no sound but that of the rain falling on the asphalt and the roof above our heads. I hold his gaze, trying with all my might not to be intimidated and finally, after a few seconds that seem to last forever, he grants me one small admission: “You make me feel like no one else ever has before. Is that enough for you?”
“And how do I make you feel?” I ask in the faintest whisper, clutching the book in my hands in an effort to contain the explosion I can feel brewing inside me.
“What the fuck…” He grinds the heel of his hand into his forehead. “You make me feel good,” he manages through gritted teeth. “But also like a complete asshole.” He looks back at me. He reaches for me, getting onto his knees once more in front of me. Cigarette smoke envelops the both of us. It bothers me, and, as soon as he senses my discomfort, he wafts it away from me. “You’re weird and awkward and sexy like no one else I’ve ever known. Just hearing you talk blows my mind. Or the way you twist your hair when you’re nervous…and how you pull it over your eyes when you get embarrassed.” He puts two fingers under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “When you look at me and, for some insane reason, your eyes shine. When you smile and wrinkle up your nose a little bit and push the tip of your tongue against your teeth… I swear, you drive me crazy.”
He smiles. “I like waking up in the morning and knowing I’m going to see you again. It makes my day better. I like walking into theclassroom and seeing you sitting there in the front row, waiting for who knows how long for class to start. And I like your little pout when I do something or say something that pisses you off. I like you the way you are, even when you try to hide inside these giant clothes you wear. You are the only girl I fuck for pleasure, not just to get off. You’re the only one that I have to watch come underneath me because when you do, you take my fucking breath away,” he adds after a few seconds of silence. He takes one last puff from his cigarette before crushing the butt under his shoe. He put his hands on my hips, and only then do I realize that I have been holding my breath this whole time.
I look at him, incapable of answering. I am so confused and taken aback at the same time. My heart is pounding in my chest but I am insanely afraid that this momentary happiness will be shattered again.
“Are you…are you being honest?”
“With you? Always.”
“Then why do you keep stopping me from being with you the way I want to be?” I ask, my voice cracking.
“Because what I told you the other day in your room is the truth. I will never be what you want. I like you. And I want you. But I won’t make you promises I can’t keep.” I look into his eyes for a few seconds and that is long enough to make me give in.
I want him too. More than anything else in the world. And he’s right here, in front of me, making me tremble all over with just a glance the way he always does. I don’t want to think about anything right now except for him, except for us. So I wrap my arms around his neck and, the very next moment, my lips are pressed against his. I know this is wrong, that I’ll probably regret it tomorrow and that I’m only further complicating a situation that already started off too complicated. But I can’t help it. His mere proximity clouds my mind and makes me so vulnerable. I can’t contain these feelings I have. While the storm rages in the background, I surrender to his passionate kiss.
Thirty-Eight
His mouth moves greedily over mine. He is devouring me, and I’m losing track of my surroundings. I ignore the dark of the night that envelops us, the wind blowing above us, the fact that we are still on my front porch and the very real risk that my mother could come out at any moment and surprise us. I let myself be overwhelmed by the warmth of his tongue and feeling of his hands on me, sliding down my hips, down to my butt. He squeezes me enthusiastically and pulls me tight against him, making my chest press into his. I spread my legs slightly to better accommodate him, while his grip on my backside only gets tighter, dragging a moan out of me.
Thomas smiles against my lips, bites them and worries them between his teeth before slowly loosening his hold on me. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
“Not exactly,” I gasp, my heart pounding. And it’s the truth. I have no idea what I’m doing. Did I kiss him because I had on some unconscious level accepted his proposal of a “non-relationship”? Or was it just the heat of the moment? Hearing him confess all of this stunned me. He knocked me for a loop.
The only thing I’m sure about is what I feel when I’m with him: Rapture. Adoration. Connection. Desire.
Thomas leans his forehead against mine and looks raptly at me. Those emerald-green eyes of his seem to pierce through me all the wayto my soul. “And you’re okay with that?”
I nod, trying to regulate my labored breathing. “I think so.” We stand there just looking at one another for a few seconds in silence, letting our eyes do the talking for us. Then Thomas gets to his feet and I suddenly feel adrift. Like an invisible protection has been torn away from me, leaving me vulnerable to everything. I follow him with my gaze, and my instincts tell me that this will be the last time I see him today. My stomach is clenching. I hate it. I hate this feeling of torment mixed with disappointment that I get every time we separate. It makes me feel weak and dependent.
