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Days go by. Those days turn into weeks as I spend the greater part of that time thinking about Ellie. I keep seeing flash images of her every time I close my eyes. Like how goosebumps scattered her skin when my finger grazed the sensitive spot at the base of her neck. Or how she gently laid her head on my shoulder, and I actually felt her chest tighten with pain. Even the moment that she looked up at me, her bright eyes so lifeless and weak, as I told her that I knewexactlyhow she felt.
I keep thinking about how all I want to do is hold her pain in my hands and let her walk away without it. Just so that she can leave it behind and not have to think about it again. But that can’t happen. I can never look into her sad, misty eyes and find out what it would feel like to brush her hair out of her face and tuck it neatly behind her ear. I will never know how the soft skin of her nape would feel under the pads of my fingers as they knead out the knot of ache that only I know is there.
To distract myself, I do what I can to stay busy. I go to the gym with the guys, not having gone since I finished filmingUnrestrainedwhen I had to keep up my physique. I go on long drives, often ending up nowhere and driving home long after nightfall, turning off my engine and sitting in the quiet, empty driveway of my house, unable to actually walk inside where my thoughts feel even louder.
But I’m running out of things to do to stay busy. And my mind doesn’t feel any less cluttered.
Today, at the hour when the sun feels the hottest and the brightness has peaked, I walk out of my house and settle into my car. With nowhere to go, I just drive. I drive and drive, hoping the road can provide some sense of clarity. But it doesn’t. It never does. All it does is leave me alone with my thoughts, giving me time to rake through them and pick apart every thought that I want to avoid, making me feel emptier than ever.
And then it dawns on me. I need to see Ellie. I need to talk to her, see her face, something. Once I do, I’ll be able to sift through my thoughts and gain some clarity.
It sounds crazy in my head, but it somehow makes sense. It feels right to want to see her, to talk to her, even if all she can give me is an open display of her pain, not hidden or secured in any way, visible only for me to see.
So I begin driving in the direction of her house. As my hands move over the gear shift and the steering wheel gliding between my fingers, I fight the nagging voice in my head telling me to turn back around and go home. That night of the premiere was about encasing a single moment where we shed our shielded exteriors. That’s what I should leave it at. Isn’t that why I didn’t ask for her number? Why I hadn’t implied or outwardly suggested any type of follow-up meeting, like an actual date? Without the promise of more, I was able to walk away knowing that nothing else was expected. That I didn’t need to lay out the false hope of something more. But staying away is turning out to be more difficult than I thought, not without looking back and wondering why the fuck I can’t stop thinking about her.
I barely remember where she lives, but the roads start to look vaguely familiar, just vaguely. The twists and turns of the streets bring me to her neighborhood, and I drive in a slow crawl for what seems like forever, carefully examining each house and looking for something familiar to see if this is even the right neighborhood.
Then I come to a stop in front of her house. I know it’s her house because she’s standing right in front of it. She’s just gotten out of her car, carrying her backpack over her shoulder, walking towards the entrance. Her hair is thrown back in a loose ponytail, lightly bouncing and flowing behind her.
Holy shit, it's her.
Now I feel like a fucking stalker.
And no, my car doesn’t make a U-turn and go back home where I don’t feel like a total creep. Instead, I tap lightly on the brakes, stopping right in front of her driveway.
She’s still getting into her house, fumbling with her keys, when the sound of my engine cutting draws her attention. She turns to look at me, her eyes squinting as she searches for any signs of recognition.
I don’t really have a choice now.
My body feels like it’s dragging, pushing the door open, stepping my left foot out while my right foot follows. When I fully stand, her eyes go wide.
Every inconsistent and complicated thought that I have balled up in my stomach, making me physically sick, loosens. That knot untangles, and I deeply,deeplysigh. I haven’t even spoken to her, haven’t yet heard her soft, cautious voice, and already, I feel that her being in front of me is the answer to all of my problems.
The disbelief throws me completely off guard, making me shake my head.
But as soon as the silence lingers around us for a minute too long, my nerves return tenfold, making me shy and flustered. I don’t know what to do with myself. My hand moves up to my hair, running rakes of rows through it, then stops to scratch my chin before being stuffed into my pocket. My heart races a thousand beats per minute as I try to still the shake in my hands. But instead of clamming up like I normally do, I find the words spilling out of me. Words that are so embarrassingly awkward that I know I’ll cringe thinking about them for weeks.
“I swear I’m not stalking you.”Ugh, did I just say that?
She doesn’t smile, her expression unchanging. She doesn’t say a single word, making me feel even more flustered.
I laugh, in an unbearably awkward way that sounds more like a cough, before speaking again. “I just came to say hi.” I bring my hand up to wave at her.
Iwaveat her.
With her standing no more than a couple of feet away from me, I wave at her, all clumsy and aloof, trying my best to be cool but coming off as creepy and awkward. After I told her I’m not stalking her.
“Anyways, I guess I’ll get going.” I turn to walk away, mentally banging my fist into the side of my head.
“Rhylan?” I hear her soft voice call after me.
I stop in my tracks, not fully turning to face her.
“What are you doing here?”
I finally turn around as she takes slow, gradual steps towards me before stopping no more than a foot away at the edge of her driveway.
With her face just inches from mine, I’m able to study it. Remember it so that the painful beauty she so cautiously exhibits would be engraved in my mind forever. I notice details that I didn’t before. Like the dark rings surrounding her deep sepia eyes that can only be seen in the sunlight. Or the bottom curve of her face that’s round enough that it leaves an innocent impression on her silhouette. She pulls her full lips into the grips of her teeth and nibbles on them, just as the flush of her cheeks deepens and spreads.
