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I find myself holding my breath, waiting for her reply. She may tell me to fuck right off, at which point this night would actually be in the running for worst night of my life.
“Sure.”
A strangled sound of triumph falls from my lips. She catches it and raises a brow at me.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I almost yelled ‘fuck yes’ out loud just then but I managed to swallow it down before I could.”
A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. I grab her hand and pull her with me, running for the car. I clasp it tightly, enjoying the snug fit of her hand in mine.
I open her door, watch her get inside, and close it behind her, running around the front of the car to get to the driver’s side. Momentarily forgetting my back pain, I jump into the seat, cursing loudly as a result.
She laughs as I turn the car on and blast some heat on us. It’s a relatively cool June night and the rain is unseasonably cold so we need it.
“Be nice to me,” I say, massaging my neck and groaning once more. “I’ve been sleeping in your parking lot for four months; my back is in absolute bits.” I tilt my neck to each side, stretching it. “This morning, I bent over to grab a pan and I swear one of my vertebrae shot straight out of my spine like it was a PEZ dispenser.”
Nera’s brow drops in concern and her hand reaches out to massage the tops of my shoulders. “I’m sorry you’re in pain.”
My eyes flutter shut the second her hand comes down on me. With one touch she calms something that’s been chaotically unchained and wreaking havoc inside me since the day we broke up.
This is what I’ve wanted, what I’ve been waiting for, for months.
I open my eyes slowly to find her own wide and pinned on me, clearly surprised by my reaction.
Silence stretches uninterrupted except for the sound of rain coming down loudly and forcefully on the windows. She pulls back her arm slowly, dropping it into her lap.
“Don’t be. I deserve it,” I say.
Nera looks out of the window for a long, quiet moment before turning her gaze back on me. “What if I told you to stop?”
I shake my head. “I already told you I wouldn’t.”
“Even though you’re in pain?”
“Emotional pain trumps physical pain.”
“Meaning?” she asks, eyes soft on my face.
“Meaning,” I say, leaning just a little closer and brushing the hair away from her face. “You’re sitting in my car with me right now. That result is well worth a little back pain.”
Her lips twitch in response. “Smooth talker.”
“Only for you.”
She looks away and down into her lap.
“Has it?” she asks, playing nervously with the frayed edges of her sweatshirt. “Been only for me, I mean.”
There’s a tension in her body as she fiddles with the fabric. Her eyes slide away, looking back out of the window. Understanding dawns on me when I realize what I think she’s really wondering.
“Is this your way of asking me if I’ve been with anyone else?”
She flinches, her stare pinned firmly in the distance. Her reflection shows me the hollowness of her eyes, the unhappy slash of her lips.
So that’s really what she was asking.
How she can think it’s even a possibility is beyond me.
