“For what?”
“It’s all my fault you were hurt. It’s always my fault they hate you so…” He tilts his head back just a little, and opens his eyes, looking up into mine.
“No, don’t say that, it’s not your fault,” he insists. “They’re just assholes—”
“Jude!” I admonish him lightly. Instead of replying, his hand goes to the back of my head, pulls it down until our lips meet, and he ends the argument before it’s begun. His mouth is so sweet and it feels so good to kiss him. I think I could live on his kisses forever, if I only had the chance.
There are so many subjects that need to be avoided between us, I fear—
anything having to do with the future, any time past this very night. I won’t lie to him, and I can’t tell him the truth, which puts me in a bit of a difficult position. The only solution is avoidance, I’m afraid.
“Did you have a good day?” he asks, once we pause to breathe, his finger playing with one of my side curls, winding it about his finger. It’s not like he’s never touched my hair before, but it’s never felt quite so…sensual. He has the ability to make me quiver with everything he does. I’m so distracted by his actions, by the feelings building within me, that he’s forced to repeat himself. I see him smiling at me. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s enjoying it greatly.
“I did, yes,” I manage to reply. “Thank you, Jude.” I brush my lips over his again. I cannot get enough of his lips, I’m so hungry for the taste of them, and for all of him, truth be told. “I’m sorry you had to leave, but I thought it’d be better for you, under the circumstances. I mean, considering we wouldn’t have been able to…I mean, we couldn’t…That isn’t what I mean…Just that we wouldn’t have been alone.” I’m babbling again, I know it. He mercifully puts an end to my attempts at a viable explanation by kissing me. Works for me.
“I understand.” He smiles. “It was probably a good thing, even if your mother did have me take her on the scenic tour.” He rolls his eyes slightly, but I know he isn’t upset about it, just putting on for my benefit. “She’s a beautiful woman, your mother, you know, and she’s a very wise one. I think she knew about us even before you did…”
I feel warmth rising in my cheeks; I have to acknowledge I’ve been quite naive in that regard. But this brings my mind back to my previous concern. He’ll find it hard to wriggle out of it now, not face to face as we are. “What happened?” I ask simply. “What upset you so much?”
I can see him struggle with the question, as if he isn’t sure what he wishes to tell me. I know he’s shielding me, I can feel it, but we’re past that point, aren’t we?
We’re almost at the end, no time to dissemble, and no desire to do so. But then I realize how much I’m shielding him from, as well, and I know that I’ve no room to speak. Finally, he draws a deep breath, and murmurs, “Knowing I’m losing you soon.” Tears start in my eyes at his words, for they’re so very true. We’ll be quite lost to one another soon. For a very long time. I find I cannot trust my voice to reply, so we remain silent for now—words are simply too inadequate. I close my eyes, feel the hot tears squeeze between my lashes despite my best efforts to contain them.
“Please don’t,” he murmurs agitatedly. “I can’t bear it, Jesus. I can’t stand to see you hurt. Please don’t cry, baby.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek, attempting to wipe away the wetness, and I can hear the heartbreak in his voice. Oh Father, this is so very hard, I’ve never felt like this before. Never had my heart broken in this way, or any way, until now. I’ve obviously led a sheltered life, relatively speaking, but then again, I’ve never been in love before. And I do love him. With my entire being, and my whole heart. I could never love another as I love him. The only thought that even slightly ameliorates this unbearable pain is the knowledge that we will be together again, in time.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, opening my eyes, finding his own wet as well. “I need you so much Judas, you have no idea.” Our lips meet, stemming any further words, and we kiss as if it were our last chance to do so. I think if I were to quit kissing him now, I’d faint—my head is reeling, and I’ve lost all sense of self as I lose myself in him.
Somehow we’ve changed our positions upon this narrow cot and now he’s holding me, my head against his chest, his arms about me protectively as we talk of past events. Long past events. That’s much safer than discussing the near future.