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1
NOVEMBER
BRYN
Every timeI want to talk first, but each time, the talking comes later.
The moment the heavy door clicks shut, the polite veneer disintegrates. Hannah's arms snake around my neck, mine circle her waist, and our mouths meet with the frenzy of reuniting lovers. The familiarity of her taste, the sensation of her soft lips moving against mine, and the warm skin beneath my hands drags me back in time, as if the last time I saw Hannah was yesterday.
This time it's been four months, but when she walked into the hotel lobby this afternoon, the days disappeared. The tall woman in her summer dress, striding confidently across the tiled floor to pretend she's here on business, stops my heart every time. Hannah's honey blonde hair is pulled from her face, glowing from her walk through the Australian summer heat. Natural. Beautiful.
She isn't my sixteen-year-old Hannah, but she's still my Forever Girl.
We don't talk when we meet. We don't even use the same elevator. Our routine is clockwork. I arrive and wait in the cafe area, hoping she doesn't change her mind. Hannah arrives half an hour later, checks in, and goes to our room.
Our room.
Being here each time is like warping time, a day that loops through my mind in the months we're apart. The upgraded furnishings in the room are brighter coloured; a sleek modern design to match the new hotel chain who own the place now. This disorientates me; the time and place aren't the same as before.
Hannah's lips are familiar yet alien because she isn’t mine. I attempt to hold her head and kiss her gently, but she's pressed against me, as if I let her go, she might fall away and never pull herself together. Her body curves against mine, soft cotton dress thin between us. Hannah runs her fingers along my arms, digging into my biceps as our kisses deepen.
I drag my mouth away. “I've missed you,” I say hoarsely.
She doesn't reply but instead pushes her mouth back on mine, running her tongue along my lip. Control is useless. I slam Hannah against the door, hitching her dress and grabbing her ass. She wraps her legs around my waist, gripping my shoulders, refusing to take her mouth from mine.
Slow comes later.
Hannah’s soft skin beneath my fingers bolts arousal through me. This is my girl and she wants me. I'm blinded by the desire, the need to get naked with Hannah overriding any plans to talk first. Unzipping Hannah's dress, I shift to kiss her collarbone, lips against her pulse point where her own desire beats through. As the soft cotton falls to the floor, I pull at the buttons on my shirt, aching for her naked touch.
Hannah doesn't say anything; her hot breath against my cheek as she shifts and curls her hand into my hair.
“Bryn,” she whispers. “Wait.”
Abruptly, I release her legs and she stands, steadying herself against my chest. “What's wrong?”
“I can't.”
Pissed off with myself, I push a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and cup her heated cheek. “Too much?”
She smiles, but her eyes don't and the first dig of pain pushes in. “We usually are. Don’t stress about that.” My Welsh girl is an Aussie girl now; Hannah lost her accent the same way I lost her when she left. Something's wrong. Am I about to lose her again?
“We can go downstairs to the restaurant,” I suggest. “Maybe that's a better idea. I might be able to keep my hands off you then.”
Hannah doesn't return my smile and the sadness doesn't leave her eyes. “I don't want to be seen.”
This is the clincher, her refusal to be seen with me, the fierce protection of her privacy. I thought we were moving past this. “Last time we spent a couple of days together, we went out a few times. Everything was fine then.”
Hannah pulls her dress back on, and zips it, hiding herself away. She's my Hannah from ten years ago; the girl I lost and try my hardest to keep hold of, and she's hiding. Herself and something.
I lean in for a kiss but she dips her head. “I can't stay long.”
“That's okay. I'm here for a few days,” I say, running my fingers along Hannah's arm.
“I can't see you again this time.”
“Why not?”
“I can't stay. It's tricky...”
