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I nodded, unable to talk over the huge lump lodged in my throat.
“This isn’t me running out on you again, okay? I need you to know that, Penny. But things are complicated, and I can’t just walk out on my life. Give me today.”
He pulled me closer and covered my lips with his. His tongue swept hungrily into my mouth and tangled with mine. It was different from the kisses before. This was desperate and full of frustration, and while it didn’t feel like goodbye, it did ignite a wildfire in my stomach.
When he pulled away, I couldn’t stop the rush of tears from my eyes.
Blake paled. “Please don’t cry. I promise I’ll come back later. I won’t lose you again.”
I had to believe him.
What alternative did I have?
* * *
I spent Thanksgiving holed up in my apartment, eating stale crackers and watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
I couldn’t stomach anything else.
After Blake had left, I had woken hours later to a blanket of bright white snow. I couldn’t even make out his tracks down the stairwell.
I didn’t dwell on the fact that it was like he’d never been here.
Marissa had called before she sat down with her family to eat. I didn’t tell her about Blake. For now, it would remain our secret.
Only, it was so much more than just a secret to me.
I wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible because once it was out in the open, and people knew, it would taint what was the best night of my life.
Blake was always supposed to be my first. I’d wanted to lose myself in him long before we turned seventeen—the age Blake insisted we wait until. He said we weren’t ready, that I wasn’t ready.
Not after what Derek did.
I guess he knew best because looking back, I wasn’t ready, and although it hurt so much more to lose Blake when I hadn’t got to experience everything with him, it would have only made it ten times worse if I had.
I didn’t doubt that what I experienced at the hands of Derek resulted in my inability to let people in—to let them get close to me. But after my night with Blake, I felt more certain than ever that the way I closed down and feared touch was also a result of being abandoned by the one person I trusted enough to give myself to.
Of course, a therapist might have argued that my anxieties were a direct effect of my trauma—losing my parents, the abuse by my replacement caregivers—but I felt it.
Blake was intrinsic to everything I had lived with lived.
Everything I had survived.
One single event didn’t change me; it was a series of intertwined incidents, and one way or another, Blake was a part of them all.
He was the other half of my soul.
It’s why I couldn’t stay away; why he couldn’t stay away.
Why, after all this time, the connection between us still burned as brightly as it always had.
Still, despite knowing this in my heart of hearts, as the time dragged on, I lost count of how many times I glanced at the clock. With each passing hour, the doubt I fought so hard to keep locked away inched its way closer to the surface.
His promise was all I had.
Until then, all I could do was wait.
I cleaned, showered, and cleaned some more. Then I applied some makeup, fluffed up the cushions on my embarrassingly threadbare couch, and checked all of the air fresheners.
