I freeze in the middle of pouring a second glass of water for absolutely no reason, since I’m no longer thirsty. His thirteen-year-old taunt rings true in my mind as clearly as if it happened yesterday.
“You’re looking at all the wrong guys.”
“Who are you? Doctor Phil?”
“I’m just saying, you’re being impatient. You’re looking far and wide for something that’s right in front of you.”
“I’ll find someone eventually. Someone who isn’t an asshole like you.”
“Good luck. You’re not going to find anyone who treats you the way you treat a cherry pie. At least I hope not.”
“A very interesting reason,” he continues, and I can tell he sounds closer.
He takes the glass from my hand and drinks its contents before placing the empty glass beside the sink. He takes my hand and tugs gently. Again, out of pure curiosity, I follow. He leads me past the bathroom, past the laundry room and finally to my bedroom.
I halt my steps outside the door and attempt to tug my hand free, but Finn’s grip is strong. He turns to see the apprehension all over my face. Did I miss Finn? Of course. Have I missed the way he makes my body light up? Hell, yeah. But that doesn’t mean that the moment I see him I’m ready to jump into bed with him without so much as a conversation.
Finn smiles warmly at me. “Don’t worry, Cherry. We’re just getting you ready for bed.”
“But you haven’t explained.”
“I will, but you’re also exhausted, and frankly speaking so am I.”
I’m still hesitant, but I trust Finn enough to know that if he says something, he means it. I let him continue leading me into my bedroom, my sheets just as rumpled as I left them this morning. Finn flicks on the light switch and points to the bed to let me know to sit down. Before I can even agree or disagree, he’s heading to my closet and rifling through the drawers at the bottom. Just as I perch myself on the edge of the bed, Finn finds what he’s looking for: a fresh set of plaid pajamas.
He places the clothes on the bed and nudges my knees apart with his so that he can stand between my legs. The action is innocent coming from Finn but triggers some thoughts in my head that are not so innocent, such as that night when he decided to eat me out on the couch like I would be his last ever meal.
Finn must see the lust in my eyes. His eyebrow raises as he sends me a look. “Down girl, that’s not why I’m here.”
I turn into a tomato once more.
Finn grabs the bottom of my top and I jump as the cold of his knuckles softly brushes against my bare stomach. He lifts it up and off me and then dumps it in my hamper. He wastes no time pulling the pajama top over my head, the soft fabric doing nothing to hide the chill I’m pretending is because of the AC.
He kneels down before me, his shoulders forcing me to widen my legs. The air in my bedroom turns thick as he slides my black pants down my legs, giving him a clear view of my red lace panties. His eyes close tightly and he lets out a groan that I hear even though it’s quiet.
I lift my eyebrow. “Down boy, I thought we were only getting ready for bed.”
His hazel eyes flash with heat and mischief, but he returns his focus to the task at hand. The heat, the awkwardness, the feeling that everything is right again now that he’s back with me; it’s all too much, putting too much pressure on my chest and I need to lighten the load.
My pants are halfway up my thighs when I say, “Please tell me what you know.”
“Cherry, I said?—”
“I’m not talking about that,” I say desperately. “I’m talking about why I broke up with you. I’m so confused, Finn. It feels like I did the right thing, and yet it’s like this whole thing isn’t sitting right.”
He fumbles around with the pants, but that’s my only sign he’s heard me, until he says, “I can’t, baby.”
“Why not?”
He taps my thigh, his way of telling me to stand up. I stand and swat his hands away so I can pull up my pajama pants myself. I slam myself back down onto the bed when I’m done, and he remains kneeling in front of me.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s not my heart, Cherry. I can’t tell you how to decipher it. You’ve got to do that yourself, otherwise it’ll seem like I’m just telling you how to feel.”
“But you read it so easily.”
His smile ghosts along his lips. “Because you’re a shitty liar. You wear everything on your sleeve. Well, not everything, I guess, but since we’ve been dating, I’ve learned to decipher what isn’t transparent.”
We sit in this thick silence we’ve created; two people who are fighting something that seems impenetrable. But we try, nonetheless. No, I try, nonetheless.
