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“Not really.” She gives me a sad smile, and I nod.
Our plates are empty, so I guess our night is over. But I don’t want her to leave yet.
“Do you want me to help clean up?” Brittany offers.
“Sure.” Any reason to keep her with me longer. We work together to put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, put away leftovers, and wash the few things that don’t go in the dishwasher. “How much sleep are you getting?” I ask.
“Depends. Sometimes, I barely sleep two hours. Other times, I do sleep, but it’s so restless I might as well have been awake all night. What about you?”
Ah, right. Two-way street. “Two to three hours at the most.” We’re standing in my kitchen once we’ve finished. “Are you ready to head back?” I reluctantly force myself to ask.
“Not really. It’s nice and peaceful here. I think that’s what I hate the most about college. I don’t feel like I ever get any quiet time.”
“That’s all I ever have,” I laugh. And it’s not always a good thing. “Let’s watch TV.” I take her hand and lead her into the living room. I hand her the remote after turning the TV on. I don’t care what we watch, so she can have control over it.
She sits down next to me, tucking her legs to the side. She hesitates before leaning against me and resting her head on my shoulder. “I’ve really missed you, Trace,” she whispers. “I think I rely on you more than I thought.”
“So, you’re not upset that I moved here and then waited so long to tell you?”
She sits upright to look at me. “Are you kidding? No! I’m really happy you’re here. I honestly never expected to see you again. I figured a phone call here and there with some texting was all. Not that I was unhappy with that or anything. It just would’ve been nice to see you, so I’m happy I can now.” Absentmindedly, she reaches for her wrist and simply grips it tightly. “You know,” she continues, “I thought it might be weird.”
“But it’s not?”
“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “It’s not weird to be with you.” Brittany glances to the TV where whatever show she picked is playing. She releases a little sigh. “It’s so peaceful here.”
To me, it’s too peaceful. Too quiet and serene. One would think that would be good, but for me, it’s not. Not when I’m struggling. It makes it easier to wallow and get sucked into the hell I experience. However, I’m glad Brittany enjoys it. She rests her head on my shoulder again. It’s odd to be so comfortable around one another so far, and not just because she has issues with anxiety. All those texts and phone calls seems to have made it seamless for us now that we’re here in person.
After about an hour and countless yawns later, Brittany sits upright. “My body wants to crash and I really want to let it. You should probably take me back before I fall asleep.”
I nod, stand, and take her hand to lead the way. For one crazy moment, I think about asking her to stay. My gut reaction is to claim it’s for her sake since she finds my place so relaxing, but I know it has more to do with not wanting to return to this house without her tonight. It’s making me anxious because I can already feel the claws of my depression tightening around my throat.
I’m supposed to be the calm, in control person. Well, as much as I can be with depression resting on my shoulders. Even then, I can usually gather some resolve to keep my wits about me. Britt though, she undoes me.
That’s one hell of a scary realization.
Trace is quiet as we drive back to campus. The closer we get, the higher my anxiety rises. The sleepiness I felt at his house has left me. Trace parks his car outside of my dorm.
“You okay?”
I turn to face him and nod. “Thanks for inviting me over.” And letting me get cozy with you on your couch, I silently add. With everything going on, it’s somewhat surprising that sitting in such a way with him actually felt normal, which is odd because it shouldn’t.
“Any time.”
Not expecting anything else to come of this, I smile and angle toward the door as I tug on the handle.
“Britt.”
My eyes squeeze closed for a moment, relishing the sound of his voice. How can only half of my name send a shiver through me? I pop my eyes open and glance at him over my shoulder. Trace leans across the console. Holy mother of pearl, is he about to kiss me? My heart kicks into high gear as he cups my cheeks, causing me to turn back toward him. I watch him assessing me as inches are lost between us and then, his gaze drops to my mouth before his lips land softly on mine. My mouth is slack against his, the surprise too much for me as I stare at his closed eyelids.
Trace is kissing me.
Trace is kissing me.
My eyes close, spurring my lips to move finally. This kiss is the opposite of us. It’s slow, carefree, and so relaxed. Trace’s tongue doesn’t have time to skirt over my lips before I open my mouth, so he can deepen the kiss. This is better than I could’ve ever imagined. I might not have expected anything to ever come from my relationship with Trace, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hope. It doesn’t mean I didn’t wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
And now that I know, I don’t want to ever lose it.
Just when my hands are about to lift and dive into his hair, Trace pulls away.
