Page 111 of Resurrection
Naomi stares at me, deep into my soul. "Why did you really leave?" Her voice cracks on the last word. "And don’t give me that bullshit about wanting what’s best for me. You were the best for me. And you disappeared."
I wish I could say it was simple. But it never is. "I thought I was saving you," I blurt out, and it sounds so hollow.
She laughs, a sharp, brittle sound. "From what?"
"From me." The answer tastes bitter. I shove my hands into my pockets again.
"But you didn’t," she fires back, no hesitation.
"I wanted you to have a chance at your dreams." I close my eyes, trying to find the courage to say more, to tell her what truly happened. But my tongue won’t move. What’s the point of unraveling the past that’s better staying buried? "I never meant to hurt you," I add, but it sounds so lame, even to my own ears.
Naomi watches me for a long moment, the longest of my life. Then she takes a step, then another, until we're close enough to count heartbeats.
The air shifts. I see something change in her eyes, something I don't dare name.
It clicks, like two magnets would. My lips crash into hers, sudden and fierce. A storm of emotion that I've waited years to feel again. It's like waking up, like being alive in ways I forgot were possible.
The kiss deepens, years of distance and mistakes evaporating between us, fading into nothingness, becoming meaningless.
My hands find her face, cup her cheeks. She kisses me harder, and my mind goes blank with the intensity of it, with the rightness. It’s different from that drunken night of sex. We’re both sober, clear-minded. We’re going into this knowing what we both want, knowing what this could be. There's no pretense and no lying.
We stumble against the lockers on the way out, a tangle of arms and knees, and I don't want it to end. My chest swells with something I barely recognize, something terrifying and wonderful. Hope.
Her lips move against mine, a murmured sound that might be my name or a moan. Her fingers run through my hair, tugging and sure, and I've wanted it for so long that it scares the hell out of me.
She pulls back, breathless and dark-eyed, the world spinning in new directions. "You're insane," she says, but there's a lightness to it that lifts my heart.
"Insane about you."
Naomi shakes her head. "Don't make me regret this."
"Won't," I promise.
I know it's fragile, and I know it's huge, but it feels right. So right.
Her hand finds mine again, her fingers twining like they're made to fit. "Let's get out of here," she says.
"Where to?" I ask, a million possibilities sparking to life.
"My place, of course," she says. "Sneaking out of your parents’ house at thirty-five was embarrassing enough after we did nothing but sleep."
I laugh, feeling the joy burst through me like fireworks, like an encore at the end of a killer show. "I can totally relate."
And we're off, running past the ghosts of our younger selves, out the doors, into the night, into whatever comes next.
We rush into the parking lot and head over to her car.
"I’ll take you to pick yours up in the morning," she says, starting the engine. "And you better be there when I wake up."
"Of course I will be. It's my house."
She hesitates for a moment before exiting the lot. Then we’re on the road in no time.
There’s a rock tune softly humming in the background, filling up the stillness between us. As we stop at a light, I reach out and wrap my fingers around hers. She gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
The drive doesn’t take long, maybe just shy of fifteen minutes. Her street is quiet, draped in darkness with not a soul in sight. Nestled between two larger homes is hers—small, painted white and gray, with flowerpots adding pops of color to the facade.
She pulls into the driveway, and I glance around. The view from here showcases the mountains majestically silhouetted against the night sky—it’s stunning.
