“I’m thinking of trying to get back into my music,” he says and a more genuine one spreads across his face, his eyes practically light up.
“That’s great! You should. You’re really good Chris,” I say, sharing his enthusiasm.
“I’m okay,” he shrugs.
“You’re a little better than okay. You can sing a girl right out of her clothes.” The words come right out of my mouth before I can stop them. I expect awkwardness to float in the air but it doesn’t, he just smiles wider and laughs and I do too.
“Maybe a shirt, not sure about the whole outfit,” he jokes and I’m so thankful. Thankful for at least right now things have gone back to how they were before everything changed. Well, that’s relative since everything is constantly changing with us, a freakin' swinging pendulum.
“I’m sorry about Jenna yesterday,” he blurts out and it’s funny, so much has happened that Jenna’s little outburst is the least of all things that have been on my mind. Then I’m reminded that I’m not sure what their status is. Before everything happened I knew things were rocky and after we slept together I was sure things would be ending but since Chris has no recollection of that happening…my headache is getting worse now.
“Cal was an ass to her. I can’t play naive, her actions weren’t exactly unwarranted,” I say with a shrug and he nods, silence creeps in between us.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember what happened between us,” he says sincerely, his eyes soft and expression apologetic in the way only Chris can be.
“And…I was immature about how I responded to you telling me about you and Cal,” he continues, his eyes on his hands.
“I understand…sort of,” I add with a laugh and he looks up at me with a smile.
“..And when I said or implied that it was probably Cal that pretended to be me to sleep with you…I was full of it,” he says, folding his arms.
“For one I thing I think Cal is too full of himself to even consider pretending to be me,” and I can’t help but laugh.
“And…the way I was feeling before the blackout happened, I’m not entirely surprised that what happened, happened,” he says, letting out a long sigh and with it I can’t help but feel a small smile spread across my face, it takes everything in me to keep it small.
“I want you to know that I ended things with Jenna before we left for Chicago.”
Butterflies are starting to flutter in my stomach.
“It wasn’t fair to be with her and lead her on with the feelings I started to have for you,” he continues and my breathing starts to slow down. He stands, rising from the bed and walks over in front of me.
“I want to remember this,” he says and just like that his lips are on mine. His hands slide across my back and he pulls me into his arms. He’s so warm, his kiss is tender but firm and all the stress and worry that was sitting on my chest has started to melt away. Just being close to him, his body against mine, my lips can’t help but to kiss him back, it’s what they know to do. I feel high, like he’s a forbidden drug, and it feels so good, he feels so good, he smells so good. I stop and wonder if I’m dreaming. I really don’t want to know if I’m dreaming or not because if I am dreaming it means I’m not doing anything wrong. There is no guilt to be associated with this, as his hands slide underneath my shirt, and I have no reason to feel bad as my hands slide underneath his shirt and feel the skin that I want against mine.
I just want a little relief, is that so wrong? Will it be so damaging? Each soft kiss he plants on my neck, makes the past few hours seem so distant and as the shirt I have on goes over my head, the problems we’re facing are being thrown over the bridge, and it feels good.
Really good, but this feels familiar. All too familiar, his lips have trailed down my stomach, and there’s the feeling of being swept away, the rush of everything I’m reminded of, the intensity between us, the things this man can do to my body, how this feeling kept me and Cal tied together when everything was pulling apart. This feeling covered up secrets, and lies…this pattern is starting itself again.
“Chris,” I moan. It shouldn’t be a moan, it should be a stern exclamation.
“This, we shouldn’t,” I say in between pants.
“You’re right. Caylen’s in here,” he says as we both clamor for air. In a few swift moments we’re out the door and he’s pulling me up the stairs. It’s so hectic, I was supposed to be protesting this, stopping what’s about to happen but I haven’t. We make it to his room without bumping into either of the Scotts, but my adrenaline is so high I probably wouldn’t have cared. When the door shuts behind us I’m back to reality, the contrast of this space from the contrast of where Cal and I last made love, the fact that if I sleep with Chris, Cal will be hurt, if I don’t sleep with Chris he’s going be hurt and I lose out either way. Helen’s words echo in my brain about not being the one to divide them instead striving to unite them. How do I do that? I can feel him behind me, his energy so different from Cal's.