Dorian’s eyes darken a fraction, the makings of a dark storm brewing behind crystal blue. “You’re overthinking it.”
“Am I? Or am I not thinking about it enough?”
For several heated moments, we stare at each other, both our expressions guarded and defensive. He has secrets, just like I do. But while we may be hell bent on safeguarding the most secluded spaces of our psyches, the devastatingly strong attraction between us keeps penetrating the rouse. In our most intimate moments, he can’t hide from me and I can’t hide from him. And I don’t want to, though I know it’s extremely stupid of me to feel that way.
But looking at him now, seeing how distant and cold he has turned towards me makes me realize that I am just kidding myself. He’s content with obscurity and omissions. He’s content with not caring.
“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Dorian mutters.
Dorian stands and places his hands under my arms, lifting me off the table and onto my feet. I plaster on a fake smile and try to appear lighthearted. And just like that, my wall is back up. I’m back to impassive glares and pursed, tight lips- defensive tactics to protect my already fragile heart. The beautiful man in front of me doesn’t truly want me, and as much as it pains me to my core, I know it’s better this way. It has to be. And hopefully, if I keep telling myself just that, I could actually start to believe it.
Chapter Fourteen
“Let’s pull over here,” Dorian says, stopping a few houses down from my house. It’s been a quiet, tense ride and I’m guessing he wants to clear the air before we say goodbye.
Goodbye. My heart constricts at the very word.
He turns the car off and we sit in silence for a beat. “Look, I’m not good with this.” I know what he means- feelings, relationships…love.
“Neither am I,” I say quietly. It’s the truth. My longest relationship was two months and it only lasted that long because I was too lazy to break it off.
“I don’t know what you expect of me. I don’t want to sell you this dream then you realize it’s really a nightmare. That I’m a nightmare.” He exhales loudly and looks at me for a reaction. I give him nothing, my face stoic and unreadable. “You’ve made me… happy. I didn’t expect you to, but you did.” His brow furrows at his words and he shakes his head as if to dispel the possibility of true happiness.
Whoa. That was an odd turn. I turn my head abruptly to read his face. I don’t know what to say; I can’t find the words to tell him that I feel exactly the same way.
“I’m not sure what I should do with that,” he continues. “I don’t know what I can do with that.” His expression is so pained. I just want to reach out to him and let him know that it’s ok; he’s not alone in this. But pride keeps my hands twisted in a knot in my lap.
“Don’t do anything,” I urge. “Let it happen naturally. What will be, will be.”
Dorian looks so tortured in this moment. Part of him wanting to give into something he can’t control, part of him wanting to reject it because it’s all foreign to him. And just like that, the strange blue mist slowly enraptures him. He’s covered by the dense fog and I see it. I see him. I know my eyes are not playing tricks on me.
I tentatively reach my hand towards him into the mist, stroking his cheek. He nuzzles against the contact, taking a deep breath and gently kissing my palm. I give him a smile of reassurance. We can take this journey together. We can write our own story.
Dorian leans over and plants a tender kiss on my lips. Within it holds possibility, fear, joy. Neither of us knows what the future holds but we choose to live for this moment. It’s the only one that matters.
After a goodbye kiss that almost developed into something unsuitable for the wholesome Briargate community, I walk the few houses to my house. Dorian is still watching me until I make it inside, then he pulls off in haste.
“Gabriella? Is that you?” my mom calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah Mom, it’s me,” I call out. I scramble to my room to throw on some sweats and a tank top and stow the t-shirtdress and flip flops in the back of my closet. She never comes in here but better safe than sorry. Then I retreat to the bathroom to try to wash the ‘Just Properly Fucked’ glow off my face. I skip down the hall to the kitchen to see Donna. Yeah, dammit, I skipped. Crap, what’s gotten into me? Dorian.
“There you are!” my mom says, breaking me from my inner ramblings.
“Here I am,” I respond.
“Did you have fun with Morgan?” She’s rushing to whip up my smoothie since I missed it earlier this morning. I’ve got to make more of an effort to remember them now that I know their purpose.