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“Well… hm. Okay. That, I can do.”
“Now, I dare you.” She feels so perfect in my arms, just like this.
“To steal a beer?”
“Ha. Right. No, that is not the dare, Miss Temple.”
“Oh… That might be easier.”
She falls quiet.
This time, I don’t rush to fill in the silence. Maybe, if I’m going to see where this thing with her will go, I’ll have to get better at pausing. I’ll have to walk at her pace, talk at her pace, slow down. I know that will be good for me.
My patience pays off.
“Okay… the bottom line,” she says.
There is so much love in her voice that, for a moment, I’m stunned.
She nips her lip in and pauses again. “This is going to be very difficult to say, Brock. The bottom line is I don’t understand this. Not really. But that’s how the best things in life are. They just happen in ways you can’t really figure out. It’s a mystery to me how, on Monday, I barely knew you. I thought I knew you, but I didn’t. And now, three days later, I care about you in a really deep way.”
“In a good way?” It’s hard to speak.
“In a very good way.” She places her hand on my chest, and lets her palm rest there. She feels the area over my heart. “In an intense, sort of magical way. It’s been good getting to know you, Brock. I didn’t expect it. But it has. Really good.”
I thought she was the one unused to receiving, but it turns out I’m in the same boat.
I’ve never had someone speak to me like she’s speaking to me now.
Love pours out of her, through her soft, warm tone. Through her thoughtful eyes, and her loving touch. She’s being genuine and sincere.
For so many years, with so many women, I surfed waves of pleasure. It was pleasure that never lasted. Fleeting, shallow, and sometimes so insincere, I could barely feel anything real about the women I was with.
Sometimes, I felt numb.
Other times, needy, unsatisfied, frustrated.
Always impatient to move on, to find someone new. I talked with those women, about the news, the weather, the places we were visiting. But the discussions never dipped beneath the surface. Those discussions never went deep.
Right now, Gwen is speaking to me from the depths of her heart. That touches me.
It also scares me.
Am I person worthy of her care? Her nurturing, loving touch?
“I’m sorry if that’s a lot,” she whispers. “Maybe I should have kept some of that back. It’s too soon.”
“It’s not too soon,” I tell her.
Her palm whispers over my peck, to my collarbone. Then, her fingers curve around my neck.
She cares about me.
Deeply.
In a good way.
In my mind, I’m reading between the lines. She fell in love with me over the past three days, just like I fell in love with her.
