How the hell do I keep ignoring my feelings when I’ve had a glimpse of how alive he makes me feel?
There is no way we would work either. Neither one of us has ever been in a romantic relationship. We always fight and bicker about the stupidest things. There are a million reasons why we disliked each other. Then again, we shouldn’t even be capable of being alone for an hour without a bomb going off, and we’ve achieved that too. Leonard and I shouldn’t work, but we do. Fighting or not, we’re always there for each other when it matters the most. God, I feel closer to Leonard than I’ve ever felt to another person in my entire life, even Mamma. A wave of fear takes my lungs hostage, preventing me from being able to breathe.
Leonard returns to the living room where I’m chained to the armchair by my feelings. He sits down on the couch beside the chair I’m in, studying my face with those beautiful brown eyes of his. To anyone else, they wouldn’t seem like anything special. Billions of people have brown eyes, but, to me, they are the most breathtaking pair in the world. They’re warm as they trace my features like a soft caress. Heat rushes into my cheeks in response, which he notices immediately. He leans forward, his elbows propped onto his knees.
“Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks softly, reaching out to touch my thigh. My eyes flutter shut in response to the warmth of his touch.
“I hate overthinking,” I admit because I don’t want to keep my confused feelings hidden from him.
“Let me hear your concerns so I can take them away from you,” he offers, and as wonderful as the thought is, it makes me feel nauseous to consider sharing my thoughts with him right now.
“That kiss, Leonard, was—” I cut off, and he gives me a serious look before answering for me.
“Everything.”
It was. It really was, but I can’t tell him that, can I? I can’t risk the job opportunity he’s given me in case we can’t make whatever we have work. I can’t let this continue, no matter how I feel about him.I can’t let the meteorite hit my world. He said he doesn’t have time to break my heart. We wouldn’t work, we can’t, it’s impossible. I swallow hard to get rid of the knot forming in my throat.
“It was a mistake,” I mumble, and he stares at me for a minute or so before letting his head drop and shaking it.
“I don’t know why you’re lying to me, but alright. If you’d like to call it a mistake, go for it. I’m not the type of person to fuck around, so I’m going to tell you something right here and right now. I’d very much like to kiss you again, kiss every part of your body until my lips are tattooed onto your skin. I’d like to fuck you in whatever way you love the most and then hold you after and tell you how beautiful you are. I’d like to cook for you, play my guitar for you, read the same books as you, and do everything else we’ve already been doing.
“If you don’t want that, I won’t pressure you, but I know you care for me. I know all this time we’ve been spending together has had an effect on you. If you don’t want me, I understand, but don’t try to tell me some shit like our kiss was a mistake. It was far from it,” he says, sending me spiraling in my own head, but he rips me out of my thoughts again. “There is somewhere I’d like to take you. Please get ready. We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” he adds and then stands up, staring down at me for a moment. “That kiss, whatever you decide for it to mean, will not change how things are between us, I promise. You’re too important to me.” He leaves without giving me a chance to respond, not that I would have.
My head hurts. Leonard just described what I’d imagine a relationship between us to look like, and I didn’t hate the image he was painting one bit. I simply can’t wrap my head around the fact that he wants to…date me? Is that what he’d want? Is it what I want?
God, I should have never let him kiss me. I should have never kissed him back either. Everything is upside down now, and I feel like throwing something at the wall to release some tension.
A truth is weighing heavy on me, one I can’t address without risking everything.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
leonard
We kissed. She kissed me. I kissed her back. I’m fucking giddy.
Apart from her lips on mine being everything I’ve been missing my entire life, it was simply the best kiss I’ve ever had. The way she tasted like something I can only describe as Chiara, so sweet and dangerous, is still making my head spin. The way she wanted me as much as I did her is doing things to me I can’t even begin to understand. And the way I can feel her on my lips even as I stand in the kitchen, waiting for her, is making me smile like I’m the happiest person in the world. Then I remember her calling it a mistake, and everything implodes.
Starling doesn’t want to be with me. She regrets the kiss. I feel like crawling under my covers and hiding from her until my heart stops burning from pain. It felt good for her, I know it did, but something is keeping her from being with me, and not knowing what it is only makes the ache in my chest worse. There is nothing I want more than to take her worries away, prove to her how good we’d be together, but I’ve hardly wrapped my own head around it.
How am I meant to convince her not to have doubts when I have a million?
I don’t doubt how great we’d be together or that I have feelings for her. My doubts are all rooted in fears of fucking everything up when I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’m not a protective man with anyone but my family. Yet, here I am, ready to burn the world down for ever bringing her any sort of pain. I’m not possessive either, but I’d very much like to call her mine and tell everyone else who looks her way to fuck off. I don’t laugh or cook for anyone but myself, and yet, Chiara has made me do everything with her.
We may not have had the healthiest of relationships, but we’ve always needed each other. Bickering let us blow off steam we never had the chance to blow off with anyone else. Instead of having everything pile up, we worked through our frustrations together, even if it was in a fucked up way. Now that we’re closer, I’d very much like to use a different method for us to deal with our frustrations, but she doesn’t want me like that. We’ve known each other for twenty years, and I’m only beginning to realise how oblivious I’ve been.
I always went over to Graham’s and her apartment when I knew she’d be there. I always looked for any type of interaction with her. I always wanted to push her buttons so she’d be frustrated with me because any type of emotion she felt for me was better than none.
I never stopped thinking about her. I never let another woman get emotionally close to me because, deep down, I knew there was never going to be anyone as perfect for me as Starling. I never spent time alone with my feelings for her, but, if I had, I would have woken up a lot earlier to see how perfect she is for me.
We’ve found a good rhythm together. Things work smoothly between us now, even if we still fight occasionally. I’m surprised it isn’t nearly as much as one would expect to argue with the person they’re spending all of their time with. Moving in together shouldn’t have gone as well as it has, and it’s making me desperate to keep her in my flat. Graham leaving, turns out, was one of the best things to ever happen to me. Him not returning also helps. Instead of the six-month deadline, we haven’t even addressed the possibility of her leaving again. I don’t like the thought of her not having anywhere else to go, but I very much like the thought of being able to protect her here. Tim may not have shown his face in a while, but there are an endless amount of dangers out there. Here, with me, she’s safe. Chiara will always be safe with me, no matter what she decides we will be.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she says, dragging me back to reality while my heart remains in a trance of pain.
Looking at her now when I know what she tastes like and how well we fit together brings me more sadness than I’ve ever felt before. I try my best to keep my feelings off my face so she doesn’t feel guilty for not reciprocating them. No matter what has happened, that’s the last thing I want.
“Let’s go,” I reply and grab my keys out of the bowl at the entrance. I reach for Benz’s leash, and she comes running with a happy tail moving from left to right at Formula One racing speed.
“Will you tell me where you’re taking me?” Chiara asks as we head down the stairs and outside. I do my best not to look at her to avoid any further stabbing sensations in my chest.
