66
Ryan
“Don’t you realise what’s happening?” I ask her, nearly throwing up from the anxiety.
She shakes her head.
“I’ll tell you. I have to tell you, because it’s eating me up inside, and I have to say it out loud before my head caves in.”
“Should I be worried?”
“I’m about to explode, Christine. And it isn’t over just anything –it probably isn’t a good thing. For me, but definitely not for you. I…I’m no good, and I can only make your life worse. I’m not the right guy for you, for all this – foranyone. But I want it anyway. It’s like I have a bomb ticking away inside me, and it’s ready to destroy me, you, everyone around. It’ll hurt. It’ll probably ruin us both. But I can’t fight it, because I want to feel it – this bomb. I want it to shatter my heart. And even though it could shatter yours too, I’m not going to stop it, because I’m too selfish.”
“Ryan…”
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to make you fall in love with me, Christine,” I breathe onto her lips.
Looking into her eyes, I see my own fear reflected – a fear I’ve been trying to push down – but I can’t let it take hold of her, too.
I want to save her, to keep my pain to myself; I don’t want my wounds to imprint themselves onto her skin; I want my anger to dissolve into the air, without grazing anyone else on the way. I don’t want her to become a victim of my past, of my mistakes. And when these thoughts start to take root in my mind and my heart, I feel the ice melting away, slowly, diffusing into the ocean that is dragging me down.
I lean in to her and grab her hips, pulling her onto my lap.
“I’m drowning, Christine. And I need you to save me.”
I stroke her face, brushing my thumb over her lips.
“Save me. Pull me back to the surface,” I say, breathlessly.
She smiles at me and leans in, whispering into my mouth: “Breathe, Ryan. Breathe.”
“I need air,” I say, gasping.
He lips press lightly against mine; small, tender kisses that slowly bring me back to life.
“Breathe,” she says again, as she keeps saving me, holding my hand and pulling out of the water with all her strength.
Christine gives me all of her breaths.
And I take them. Every single one.
I need them.
I need her.
I slide my hands under her shirt and feel her skin shudder at my touch. Her tongue slips into my mouth, searching out mine. It calls her, tickles her, demands her.
I circle her nipples with my thumbs, and she moans as they begin to harden. She tightens her grip on my hips and pulls them into her.
“Not here,” I tell her, forcing myself to tear away from her. “I can’t do what you want on the sofa.”
I get up suddenly, keeping her wrapped around me. I climb the stairs, carrying her in my arms, stride into the bedroom and head towards the bed, laying her down. I stand there and fill my eyes, my mind and my body with her image.
My chest hurts; my breathing is suffocating me. The fear of making another fucking huge mistake sends my stomach up in flames, but it’s too late to turn back.
I don’t run away from her.
And I don’t run away from myself.
