Page 32 of Zeppelin
Err… minus the love.
At least as a feeling, and more as an action.
Ginny takes forever to eat a single cracker, but at least she gets one down. Even that is a small win. She sips the tea, nibbles another cracker, sips some more. “We should probably talk about what happened yesterday.”
I knew we’d have to do this. I just don’t know what Iwantto say, let alone what I’msupposedto come out with. Does she need reassurances? We talked it out before. Sort of. It’s my nature to fall back on humor as a sort of shield. “What happened? I don’t remember anything happening.”
“Zep. Seriously. I was just- it was just hormones. That’s all.”
“If you want to use me for hormonal purposes again, I wouldn’t mind.”
She finishes the cracker and takes the tiniest swallows of tea. “Would that complicate things? Part of me says yes, but part of me feels like…” She shivers. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m supposed to be feeling it.”
I know what she means. I have no idea what she means. It’s unexpected, but not completely. The most surprising aspect of the whole thing is the growth that’s happened for me in such a short time. I didn’t think she had much growing or changing she needed to do, but maybe I was wrong. I don’t know her innermost feelings. I know almost nothing about her past or her previous relationships. She was seeing Jack without dating. She didn’t want it to be dating. Is that how she approached her past? Does she want more out of this? Isthatwhat she’s fighting against?
“Is it your family? Would they disapprove? I have this not so subtle feeling that your sister would say that someone like me is not for someone like you.”
She smiles, but it’s a bit sad. “No one in my family thinks like that. They just want me to be happy. They might voice their concerns, but in a nicer way than that.”
I can’t allow that to give me hope. I shouldn’t evenwanthope.
Her family might be too kind to voice their thoughts, but my brain has no qualms doing just that. Iknowthat I never should have touched her. Ginny’s sweet. She’s kind and compassionate. She’sgood. To her, the world isn’t just for practical gardens. It’s for the ones that grow flowers just for the sake of their beauty. I might not know her well, but it’s prettyobvious that her family did what they could to keep her sheltered from the bad things in the world. She’s known a life of love from them. She was wanted right from the start, the same way she wants the baby that’s growing inside of her.
I know that the only road I can travel down is one of straight fuckery. I’ll fuck things up for her. I’ll tarnish her beauty. Mar her flawlessness with all my imperfections. I am nowhere near good enough for her at any level. I have no business wanting herstill.
No business at all.
But I do want her.
I want to let myself think about what she’d look like in my arms beyond this night. I want to imagine her coming to me when she’s not sick and hurting, her kindness seeping into me.
I’m everything she’s not.
Where she’s soft, I’m hard. Where she’s kind, I’m brutal. She’s a dream and I’m the nightmare. She’s practical, but at heart, I know that she has to be a romantic in that dreamy, hopeful sense. Me? I’ve never done, or known, one romantic gesture in my life.
“Zeppelin? Did you hear me?”
The sound of my name on her tongue undoes me. I force one of those annoying smirks in place and nod. “I hear you. It was real nice last night. Thank you.”
“Real nice?” she scoffs, parroting my words to make sure she’s heard correctly. A red flush of indignation creeps up her neck. She purposely looks down. “I wouldn’t term taking me upagainst a wall, splitting me in half, and filling me to overflowing as areal nicetime.”
Awesome. Hearing those filthy words uttered in her sweet voice with more than a little edge and annoyance, has me harder than any blunt force instrument. Like hell she can’t feel that. She’s sitting right on top of me.
She exhales, blowing out all that annoyance. I’m glad she has the strength to get annoyed and sassy. “Can I ask what happened?” she asks, her face changes, getting soft and sympathetic. I’m not the one on the offensive anymore. “You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t want you to think that I don’t care. You can’t see someone nearly come apart like that and think it’s just the storm scaring them.”
Fuck. I feel like the total asshat I usually pretend to be. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I never meant for you to see that, just like you never meant for me to see you puking.”
“It’s mortifying, isn’t it?”
Neither of us can look at each other now, but if she thinks that she did something wrong or is anything less than absolutely stunning, even being sick like that, she’s mistaken. I should just let it ride. Be a jerk. Push her away so that she forces me to maintain my distance. I should, but I can’t. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
Her eyes snap up. “If I don’t, then you don’t.”
Great. She sees everything and that stubborn tilt of her chin tells me there’s no way she’s dropping this. I have no idea what Jack told her and not a fucking clue what I should say. Should I lie? Give her nothing?
I’m having trouble arranging my face into my usual off-putting dickhead sneer, and my defenses? They’re lying in a heap of shit and rubble, scattered all over the damn ground.
“Just… shit from growing up.” Even thinking about those times is a black abyss. I don’t want to get sucked down that vortex.
