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Needy and flaming with so much heat that it licks at my skin. It licks at my stomach and thighs and I come to a stop.
So he can come at me. So he can grab my face in his big hands.
Because as it turns out, I want Graham close to me too. I want him touching me and if someone is watching, if someone can see, I find that I can’t bring myself to care.
I’m not naïve though. I know my issues won’t go away just because the man I love has his eyes on me but I’ll take this reprieve, even for a few seconds.
So when he does reach me and grabs my face, I clutch his wrists and close my eyes, sighing.
I shut out the world. I shut out the man standing just a few paces away from us.
I shut it out while I breathe the same air as Graham.
Until Richard chokes out and shatters the illusion, “What the fuck was that? What the fuck are you doing, Graham?”
I can hear Richard’s jerky movements, his panting breaths and it makes me flinch and open my eyes.
Graham doesn’t turn around or pay him any attention. Instead, he wipes my splotchy tears off with his thumbs.
Although he does bite out to Richard, “Get out of here, Richard.”
“Are you serious? Are you fucking serious right now? You attacked me and you want me to go away?”
My grip on Graham’s wrists increases and I look at him fearfully. It was a bad thing that Graham did for me. Bad and potentially problem-inducing and I can’t bear the thought that because of me he could be in trouble.
And not only that, Graham is touching me in front of him. It could be dangerous, right? He could even get fired because Richard knows about the scandal. Richard knows what happened back in Connecticut and I’m pretty sure he might’ve put two and two together by now. He could take away my Graham’s job. He could, because Graham attacked him and there’s this girl here, from Graham’s past, because of whom he left his old job.
But Graham shakes his head once, at me. As if he could read my anxious thoughts. He even jerks me closer to him, making me go flush against his hard and heated body.
Like some kind of a claiming, in front of another man. In front of the world. Like he doesn’t care if there could be problems.
And it gets my heart racing.
Racing, racing, racing.
“Stop,” he murmurs to me. To Richard, he growls, “Richard, go away, all right? We’ll talk later.”
My heart is racing so much that I take a step even closer. I go up on his boots and I smell him. I tuck my nose in the triangle of his throat and hide my face, dragging his scent into my lungs. And he completes his claiming of me by wrapping his arms around my trembling body.
Oh God.
He’s picking me over everything.
Me.
“Jesus Christ,” Richard snaps, moving around now; I can hear the muck crushing under his boots. “What the fuck are you doing, man? What’s going on? She’s the girl from Connecticut, isn’t she? Is she even… fuck. Is she even legal? Do you know how much trouble you could get in, shacking up with a teenage girl like this?”
My heart jumps up to my throat and I fist his shirt. I even think of moving away from Graham’s body and screaming at Richard. Screaming that I am, in fact, legal. I’m eighteen. Graham isn’t doing anything against the law.
But he doesn’t let me move.
He plasters me to his body, tightens his hold. He splays his palms over my back and moves them in circles, as if soothing me.
I feel him turning his head to look at Richard. “She’s none of your concern, all right? Just leave. I’m asking you to leave. She’s scared, okay? Just leave before I do something to you for making her that way.”
The vibrations of his possessive words reach through his chest into mine and almost touch my fearful heart, soothing my heartbeats.
There’s silence after that.
I’m not sure what Richard is thinking or what’s going to happen but I have my eyes closed and I’m hiding away in Graham’s arms.
But for the first time in almost a year, I don’t wanna hide.
I don’t wanna close my eyes and hide my face or wear a cap or sunglasses. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever felt that it’s okay if the world sees me.
It’s okay if the world sees me or judges me or finds me lacking because who the fuck cares what they think?
Right?
Who. The fuck. Cares?
Who cares if they think I’m not pretty or not special or not worthy of love or whatever?
I think that I’m pretty. I think that I’m special. I think that I’m worthy.
