Fear of Falling(36)

Blaine turned his palm and laced his fingers with mine, his fingertips massaging the back of my hand gently. “Kami…” He exhaled a breath, then his brown eyes were locked with mine. Being that we were so close, our arms, legs and thighs nearly fused together, the moment felt too intimate. I felt exposed, naked and vulnerable under his gaze, but the feel of his skin was a soothing balm to my soul. I could feel my body growing warm and damp, and this time it had nothing to do with a panic attack.

“Blaine?” I whispered. I don’t know why, but just saying his name made that warmth spread. I imagined saying it over and over.

Screaming it. Crying it.

He licked his lips before rolling his tongue, coaxing the metal barbell while he contemplated his next words. “I know you say that you’re ok. But shit, I don’t think I’m ok. I have no right to ask this, but…can I stay here with you tonight?”

At the sight of my widening eyes, he quickly continued. “I don’t mean like that. It’s just…I know what happened to you was traumatizing. And seeing you react the way you did, seeing how afraid you were, I know that’s not the first time you’ve been in that situation. You don’t have to tell me anything; you don’t have to explain yourself to me. But right now, I need to be near you. I need to see you. And if you let me, I need to hold you.”

Words failed me. They were literally ripped from my brain and replaced with all things Blaine. He encompassed every one of my senses. I couldn’t see beyond this moment with him.

Long seconds ticked by before a simple nod took him out of his misery, causing him to sigh with relief. I didn’t know what had come over me. Was I really about to let him spend the night? In my bedroom? In my bed? But after what had happened, and Dom being M.I.A., I couldn’t think of a good reason not to let him stay. I wanted him there. I wanted to let him hold me and chase away the nightmares I knew would visit me the moment I closed my eyes.

“Thank you,” he muttered, bringing his other hand up to stroke my cheek. “Seriously, I think I would’ve gone crazy worrying about you if I went home. I feel horrible about what happened.”

And there it was. His guilt. Blaine wasn’t staying because he wanted me or was hoping something more would transpire between us. He felt guilty for letting me walk out to my car by myself. The Dive employees were religious about never walking out to the parking lot alone after closing. Dive wasn’t in the best neighborhood, and drunken homeless men were known to litter the streets late at night. Maybe he thought I’d badmouth him to the rest of the staff and try to get him trouble. Or maybe he was just riddled with guilt and felt like staying would somehow make amends. Whatever the reason, it made the warmth of his touch feel like a lie.

“You don’t have to. I don’t blame you for what happened,” I said, pulling my hand away. I stood and started rummaging through my drawers in search of pajamas. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t let him see the pain that clearly painted my face.

“But I want to,” I heard him say behind me. “Hey.”

His hand was around my elbow, stopping me in my mad pursuit to find the ugliest, thickest pajamas I owned.

“Kami, I want to be here. For you. Like I said, I won’t ask you about what happened. I won’t ask you to tell me about your past. But I sincerely hope that one day, you will tell me. That you’ll trust me enough to open up and let me in.”

I spun around to face him, a generic smile spread across my lips. “There’s nothing to tell, Blaine. Absolutely nothing.”

I excused myself to the bathroom to change into lounge pants and a tank, surrendering my pursuit of granny PJs. When I returned, Blaine was standing at my dresser, inspecting the origami that I had accumulated over the years.

“You’re really good,” he remarked, picking up a green paper frog.

“You think so? Feel free to take one. They just collect dust.”

I began to awkwardly fluff pillows, not really sure where to go from here. The silence stretched on until, luckily, Blaine dipped into my bathroom in search of a shower. I quickly flicked on my television and tried to distract my mind from what was on the other side of the door: Blaine, dripping wet and naked.

When he emerged, he was barefoot and shirtless, dressed only in his jeans. His hair was damp, and tiny droplets of water rested on his shoulders. Now I had a full view of the ink that adorned his skin. Vibrant, detailed art roped around his arms and extended up his chiseled shoulders. There were a few pieces that had the privilege of kissing his cut torso, and the carved V that was fully exposed in his low-slung jeans. As if that weren’t enough to turn my belly inside out, I caught the glimmer of something silver gracing his left nipple.