Page 48 of Still Here Without You

When we’re almost to his door, he breaks the kiss, lifting me into his arms. Carrying me over the threshold, he gently places me on the bed before kissing my tear-stained cheeks. I choke back more tears at his gentle actions, nodding when he seeks my permission to continue. Without words, we slowly undress each other, in between kisses, until we’re both completely naked and Joel’s kneeling between my legs. When he presses inside me, I reach up and grip his back, pulling him close, needing to feel his full weight on top of me.

We rock against each other, breathing heavily but otherwise without sounds. There’s an intensity behind our movements that I’ve never felt before. We’re completely in sync, touching wherever possible, and can’t seem to get enough of each other.

I always assumed the difference between having sex and making love was the much slower pace and whispered words of adoration, but, God, was I wrong.Thisis making love. It’s a deeper connection that I feel in mysoul, and there is no doubt in my mind that it’s going to ruin me.

Joel pulls back, lifts my leg over his shoulder, then lowers himself once more. I cry out his name as a feeling of pleasure and pain takes over, and the first spoken words between us open the gates for more. Before long, we’re both screaming out each other’s names.

The closer we get to ecstasy, the more frantic our movements become, both knowing that this is it. This is the end. Joel leans forward to kiss me, and it’s my undoing. I moan in pleasure as my release consumes me, my heart pounding in my chest as Joel follows me over the edge, cursing through a groan. I hold him close until we both come back down to earth, closing my eyes in the hope that it will keep my tears away. My body aches for Joel, even though he’s still inside me, and I internally curse myself for ever letting these feelings in.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” I whisper, telling him what I should have been telling him all along.

“I’m sorry too,” he rasps, falling to my side and wrapping his arms around me. Tears come straight back to the surface as Joel kisses my temple and sighs. It’s there that we fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms for the last time, until we meet again.

Goodbyes with the person you love are hard. Probably the hardest thing a person will ever have to face. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I wouldn’t know because I snuck out of Joel’s place in the early hours of the morning, collected my bags, and headed to the airport…alone. I’d feel guilty if I wasn’t one hundred percent certain he was awake when I left.

As I stared down at his naked form, wrapped in the loose grey sheet, I realized that while he may have been keeping as still as possible, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, he wasn’t. His chest rose and fell a little faster than when he’s sleeping, and the smallest frown graced his mouth. He let me leave, knowing that’s what I needed. That’s the thing about Joel. His ability to read people and know what they need, even before they do. It’s just one of the things I love about him and a skill that’s going to make him an amazing psychologist one day. But the fact that he used that skill now, and let me leave, breaks my heart and fills it up at the same time.

My chest heaves as I stand in line to board the plane, thinking about that silent moment. I wave off the concern from other passengers and vow to get my shit together—easier said than done—but no matter what happens between us, from here on out, I know I’ll never be the same again.

Chapter Eighteen

Joel

Theprofessordismissesus,and before he’s even said goodbye, I’ve packed away my things, and I’m out the door. I decided to take a higher-level class that I knew would be challenging as a distraction, and it’s definitely working. It’s taking over my life. Not because it’s difficult, but because of the content. It’s a subject that studies human behavior and the mental process, and the case studies are really taking their toll on me. I’m not naive. I know what I’m getting myself into with wanting to work in child psychology, but these cases are among the hardest a psychologist may ever deal with. I’m finding it difficult to pull myself out of the heavy mood long enough to tackle my other subjects, let alone function in society. I’m going to have to learn how to compartmentalize my work from my own life, or I’ll never leave the house.

“You need some kind of outlet,” Dylan says later that day when he finds me sitting on the back porch, staring at nothing. He knows without asking why I’m so drained. We’ve spoken about this a few times.

My eyes look his way, but otherwise, I don’t move. “I do, but I have no idea what. Any suggestions?”

Dylan grins, making it obvious what he’s thinking. “When does Delilah get back?”

“She’s only been gonetwomonths. Thanks for adding to my funk.”

He cringes. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it…”

“It’s okay; my hands are a good substitute, but it’s not really an outlet,” I say with a straight face and wait for him to get my meaning.

“Way too much information, man,” Dylan says with a disgusted look. Like he doesn’t do it himself. Although, maybe he doesn’t. He’s never without a girlfriend, so why would he have to resort to his hand?

Even though I’m joking, the thought of Delilah really does bring down the mood. We’ve only spoken on the phone once a week since she left, and that’s not enough for me. Christmas and New Year’s passed with only a few text messages between us, and fuck, was that hard. Scheduling time to call has been our biggest issue. Especially this week. We’re due to speak again today, if plans don’t change, and while I’m counting down the minutes, I’m not getting my hopes up.

Dylan and I pass the time playing video games, but when my phone rings, exactly as planned, I ditch his ass faster than you can yell “Call of Duty.”

“She’s alive,” I say by way of answering and when Delilah giggles, the sound instantly calms me. “It’s so good to hear your voice,” I add.

“I wish I could say the same. But your voice always makes me want to come home, and that’s not a good thing.” She laughs and there’s a playfulness to her tone, but I know all too well that she's not joking. I feel exactly the same, wanting her here but knowing she needs to be there. I playfully sulk to her about the fact that I’m lonely while she’s living the single life in Paris, and of course, she sasses me.

“Oh Joel, I wish I’d known that I was the only person in your life. Maybe I should come home.”

“Really?” I ask with fake excitement.

“No, jackass. You have loads of friends.”

I bark out a laugh. “But none of them are as cute as you.”

“I’m happy to hear it.” There’s a definite smile in her voice, but then she pauses. “You know you’re free to find someone else that’s cute.”Here we go again.

“Nope, don’t even. Just because we’ve decided that you need to be single over there doesn’t mean I’ve magically stopped loving you.”

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