Messy Love(74)

Heart full, body limp and sated, mind at ease; bliss had never been so strong. I sighed and closed my eyes, sleep fast overtaking me with the knowledge, the assurance that whatever this was between us, we were together in this, feeling way more than lust alone.

At that moment, right there after he fully let go with me, showing me a side I was sure he had never or very rarely shown, I knew that nothing would be the same.

We were an us. We were in this. We were together, and our hearts were fully involved.

A powerful declaration was on the tip of my tongue, ready to get out to put words to what we shared tonight, but I held it in.

One thing at a time. We had time after all, didn’t we?





MARISSA


The sun fell on my face. My eyelids turned red as I arose from my deep sleep, sleep that had been only broken by Wyatt when he woke me twice to make love.

Make love.

Yes, because that had been what it was. We made love. Intense, earth-shattering, life-altering love.

I pressed my thighs together at the thought. A smile stretched my mouth wide, waking the muscles in my face in a burning sensation. Gently and blindly with my face now partially pressed in the pillow, I searched for Wyatt in the bed. My palm only met wrinkled sheets and an askew pillow. The mattress was still warm from where he had been, probably a few short minutes before.

I groaned and finally opened my eyes, squinting in the burning sun as it hit me straight in the eyes. Slowly, I sat up and brought a hand to my head as a dizzy spell hit me. I was so not a morning person.

I threw the cover off me and stood up. I rubbed my eyes and then stared at Wyatt’s shirt from yesterday. It was wrinkled beyond recognition on the floor. When I bent to retrieve it and brought it to my nose, Wyatt’s smell hit me. It was musky from a full day wearing it and a hint of fading cologne and something that was so him and that never failed to make me tingle all over and want to bask in his scent. Not creepy at all.

I chuckled at my thoughts and quickly put on the t-shirt, sans panties. If this morning went well, I’d be graced with another round with Wyatt. I bit my lip to keep my smile at bay as best as possible and padded out of the bedroom, eager to find my man. My man. I'd be damned if it didn't sound good.

I walked along the short hall and came in the living room, open kitchen to my right and the front door right in front of me where Wyatt stood, his back to me in only his snug boxer briefs and something in his hands.

His breathing, labored, rung loud in the apartment, giving me goosebumps. Contrary to the goosebumps he usually gave me, these came from apprehension. Something was odd here. He was too still. Too tense. Too…

Then, I saw what he had in his hand. It looked like an ancient stuffed animal, like the ones I used to have in my childhood bedroom lining both my bed and one of the two windows. From here, it was apparent it suffered through the years, so much so that I had to focus on the faded greens to identify the animal. It was a turtle. The shell was a forest green, so dark I first thought it was black. The legs, one of which was missing, and the head were of a light green but smudged in parts and mostly faded to a grayish color that barely reflected the old shade. Some white stuff had fallen at his bare feet. It was weird how my eyes seemed to stay glued to that part of the old thing. Better that than pondering why did Wyatt had such a tight hold on it, or where he found this since he looked like he just opened the front door.

“What’s that?’’ I asked with my voice still laced with sleep. I was glad it didn’t show my nervousness.

His grip tightened further on the stuffed turtle, and more of the white stuff fell to the floor. He closed the door then and turned around. That’s when my heart stopped in my chest. It stopped and broke into thousands of pieces, pieces then crushed to ashes.

I didn’t know Wyatt like the back of my hand, but I could read him well. I always perceived when he retreated from me, when he wanted distance for one reason or another, but this time only cold came to me. It was so damn cold my skin felt like I had been outside in the wind for hours. I started trembling and gripped the hem of the t-shirt that came to mid-thigh. His t-shirt. With his smell that enveloped me.

His face had lost the warmth that had been there last night. His traits, hard and closed off, only made me want to retreat and hug myself. His eyes, so dark, didn’t twinkle anymore, not like when they had these past few days whenever I was around. And his body, so beautiful and attractive, was so tensed that he appeared ready to get hit.

“Please, don’t,’’ I pleaded brokenly, my voice rough and choked as emotions I didn’t think I’d feel already when with him threatened to overcome me until I fell to the floor and rocked back and forth with distress.

He closed his eyes then and turned around. Was he disgusted by my weakness leaking out of my eyes? Was he turned off that I couldn’t contain my crumbling hopes inside and my love for him now wasted?

Anger then took me over, anger at the loss he forced, at the mangled heart in my chest. “If you do this again, I’m not coming back this time, Wyatt.’’

The silence that followed my words stretched out, but he didn’t turn around. His back expanded then, wide, his muscles playing at his deep inhale.

“Then go.’’ Flat voice with nothing there to hang onto, to give me hope, to make me think he wasn’t fully determined. Just two words, two shitty words to end this, us, just when he had given me hope for more.