I can feel his eyes on me but for some reason I can’t take my eyes off of the water. It’s almost as if I’m too scared to look at him. I’m scared to see the pain in his eyes. I’m scared for him to see the fear in my eyes. I’m scared to be vulnerable with him. I’m scared of being hurt by him. I’m scared of not being enough for him.
“Hillary, look at me.”
I give in to his request and turn to meet his eyes.
“These past few days not talking to you has been nothing short of torture for me. When I got here and saw you sitting here on the dock I could actually feel my heart start beating again. Please Hillary, talk to me. Say something. Anything.”
“Jameson… I… I… I can’t. I’m sorry.”
I get up as fast as I can without tripping over my own feet and walk away as fast as I can.
“Hillary! No! Stop! I won’t let you do this! I won’t let you run away!”
I can feel the tears prickling my eyes.
Don’t stop! Don’t listen to him! Keep walking! Get in your car! You can’t do this! He needs more than what you can offer! You’re not enough.
I make it halfway to my car and I feel a hand grab my arm, pull me and then I’m spun around. Jameson then grabs both of my wrists and holds them in front of me.
“Goddammit Hillary! Stop running away from me! Why are you doing this?” He yells at me.
“Because I’m scared, okay!” I shout back. I can feel myself trembling. My chest is tight, as if I’m struggling for a breath.
“What are you scared of?”
“Everything! Why didn’t you mention going to the hotel to see Gloria? I know your mom set that shit up. Why is she trying to ruin us?”
I take a deep breath to finish my thoughts. “I’m scared that I’m going to fall too hard, too fast for you and you’re going to dump me. I’m scared I’m not experienced enough for you. I’m scared I’m not enough for you physically, mentally or emotionally. I’m a fucking mess, Jameson! I’m just not good enough, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. You are more, so much more! You hear me? Nothing, and no one is going to come between us. I have a handle on my mother. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I’ve unfortunately had to have more talks with her than I’d like. I didn’t say anything because nothing happened and because I didn’t want to upset you.”
He looks up to the sky with his eyes closed and lets out a deep breath I didn’t realize he was holding in. It immediately chokes me up. I can’t understand it. He let’s go of my wrists, looks back down to me and grabs either side of my face. His hands are warm. His thumbs brush at my cheeks.
“Sometimes, all you have to do is forget what you feel and remember what you deserve. You deserve more Hillary, and so do I. We deserve each other. I’m not going to let you run anymore.”
And in that moment I forgot how to breathe. Jameson pulled me toward him and pressed his to lips to mine. It was hard and animalistic, the grip on my face from his hands got harder but it didn’t hurt. It turned me on. My arms immediately went around his neck. He pushed me back a few steps. Our kiss grew rougher with each passing minute. Our hands were all over each other. Our tongues thrashing through each other’s mouth tasting and savoring every bit as if we’re afraid was the last. I know now not to be afraid. I’m not afraid this is the last kiss, it’s just the start of many. I break away first from the kiss. Both of us looking drunk in our eyes, trying to catch our breaths.
“Don’t run Hillary. Please don’t run.”
I hesitate, my heart exploding from happiness. Everything’s alright. “I’m not going to run Jameson.”
“Really?”
I can’t help it but I smile. To see what is usually a reflection of my own fears someone else has now.
“You’re smiling.” He notices. “When I see that smile break out on your face, I feel like I get a high no drug can ever come close to.”
“Oh-my-god Jameson! Stop saying shit like that to me. I don’t have enough underwear in the world to change into because of what you’re doing to me right now.”
He starts laughing. To see that smile on his face, it just warms my heart. Then I see the tension release from his shoulders, brings back some of that hurt knowing I’m the one who caused it. I quickly try to remind myself not to dwell on it and remember that he’s smiling now.
“Can we please start over, Hillary?”
“Can you be patient with me? Emotionally and physically?” I ask.
“Patience is desire that is controlled. I will be understanding, patient, loyal, kind, everything as long as you promise to be open and honest and everything else along with me. NO MORE RUNNING!”