Page 70 of Collision

She watches my face intently as I read the message twice over and shoot back a very rushed reply.

Mikaela: Are you coming back today or in a year? Kinda miss looking at you right about now.

Her words are like tiny drops of honey, trapping me in the fantasy of the two of us being more than everything I know we really are.

Me: I’m on my way. Unexpected visitor. Can I use your shower?

I get to my feet and roll my eyes as my mother grins a wolfish smile and pushes herself up from the couch. She picks up the purse from my coffee table, before moving through to the kitchen to cover the walnut loaf she clearly baked while waiting for me.

Mikaela: Yours broken or do you miss me too?

Playful Mikaela is going to break me.

“You know.” Mom pauses to look at me as she stands in the doorway, her grin softening into a small smile that screams of pride and hope. “You won’t know if you don’t try, Ben.”

I nod thoughtfully, guiding her to the door before bending down to kiss her cheek in a goodbye.

When Mikaela’s next text comes through, I follow my mother out and down to the basement car park, smiling to myself the whole time.

Fear is a funny thing.

Mikaela

Maybe this is a step too far.

I’m in the bathroom, the door to my apartment unlocked and the entrance to the building propped open with an old shoe, staring at the tub as it fills with suds and hot water. Steam dances up towards me as I bend forwards, twisting the tap to stop the flow, and bubbles catch against my chest, soaking through the shirt.

Okay, this is definitely a step too far.

I run from the bathroom and begin to hastily unbutton the shirt that now clings to my skin. I need a t-shirt and some goddamn shorts or something. Ben will be here any minute now, and there’s one button that just won’t open, and the sensation of fizzing seems to swirl in my stomach, anticipation and nerves battling for first place as my fingers fumble and snag. And suddenly my heart is in my throat and my breath is gone.

Ben pushes through the door with purpose and determination. His eyes lock on me as his chest rises and falls in staggered breaths. His skin glistens from the thin sheet of rain that started to fall a little while ago and his throat bobs with a gulp as he steps up to me. When he stops, he’s so close I can taste that heady mix of citrus and pine and something that is distinctlyhim.

My fingers still on the button an inch below my breasts and his eyes move slowly, searing into every exposed piece of me as I try to remind myself how breathing works.

We’re on the edge - the precipice - balancing between what was and what could be. Where we will land is a mystery. Which way we will fall is still undetermined. But I can feel it. Sense it. Everything will be decided by what happens next.

His fingers move like the ghost of touches, trailing down from my collarbone, skimming between my breasts and tracing the pattern of my freckles, before meeting mine; still clinging to that fateful button. If he choses to undo it there will be no return for us, no stepping back and away from the truth that I have pushed aside for years; I want Benjamin Haston.

I have wanted him for longer than I can admit.

He peels my hands from the button and pulls them away. His fingers still hold mine, but he shakes his head and closes his eyes.

My heart sinks.

I want to lean in. I want to taste his lips again and pull him in to me. I want him to take his shirt off of me and claim me as something that is entirely his. But I don’t.

“Slow.” His voice catches, so beautifully strained, and his eyes remain shut.

“What?” There’s no disguising the wanton breathiness of my own tone.

“If we do this -” His breath comes in ragged jolts as he he steps closer, pressing himself softly against me and his hand moves to my spine. I have to tilt my chin up to see him clearly. ”- then we have to go slow.”

I nod quickly, despite the fact his eyes are still closed, and when he opens them I’m hit with the electric blue of his desire. Slow. I can do slow. In fact, I want slow. I want to savour every soft second I can steal away with this man.

“But can I keep the shirt?” I whisper, a triumphant smile tugging at my lips as his breath whooshes from him in a laugh.

“Absolutely not.”

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