Come to Me Quietly(35)

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”



Against my better judgment, which apparently was lacking in every capacity tonight, I settled down beside her on the bed.

She rolled to her side, tucked her pillow under her head, and angled herself so she could see the TV. I lay behind her, my head propped in my hand. I did my best at trying to pay attention to what was happening on the television. Instead all my focus was directed at her.

“So I guess I probably need to know who this Gabe is?” I finally asked because somehow I knew not knowing would eat me alive.

I sensed her shrug, and heard a soft breath of air pass through her mouth on a sigh. “I don’t know, Jared. We’ve kind of been seeing each other for the last couple months. I like him okay, I guess.”



My jaw clenched. This time there was no doubt it was jealousy.

I said nothing, turned my attention back to the TV. For the first time since I’d returned, I truly regretted the decision to come. It was easier not knowing what I’d been missing.

Something inside me twisted. The soft spot I’d always held for her now felt raw. I hated her I guess, hated she would even for a second settle for less than what would truly give her joy. I hadn’t been back all that long, but I already knew she deserved joy. And here I was, the sick f*ck who wished I was good enough to give it to her.

Internally I scoffed.

I could wish all I wanted, but it’d never change who I was.

It only took about fifteen minutes for Aly to fall asleep. Her soft breaths evened out. She stirred and rolled to her back. One arm found its way up to drape over her head, her body bowed as she stretched her long legs out, one tweaked to the side.

I knew I should go and find my spot on the couch where I belonged.

But for a moment, I took. Took in her peace. Took in her beauty.

When I couldn’t stand lying beside her any longer, I climbed to the end of her bed, flipped off her TV, and slipped out her door.

Tonight, I refused to sleep. I couldn’t go there. Just for one f*cking night, I didn’t want to see. I dug through my bag and pulled out my journal, sat on the couch in the dead silence. I wrote about things I didn’t know but wished I could have.



TEN


Aleena



The next night, moonlight soaked into my otherwise darkened room. Tonight the moon was high, bright, full. I’d gotten home from work to an empty apartment. There was something about a quiet night like this that fueled my imagination and gave me inspiration, even though the product on my page reflected nothing that shone in the sky. My hand swished in quick strokes. The paper felt thick under my skin. I wet my bottom lip, chewed at it a little, then lifted my face to look out my bedroom window again. I didn’t have the best view in the world, just a portion of the parking lot below that was lit by streetlamps, although at least they were dim enough that I could still see a whisper of clouds stretched thin across the sky. I contemplated the sight for a bit, before I turned my consideration back to the sketch pad I had balanced on my lap.

I still didn’t know what to make of it, what to make of him. The last week had left my head swimming. It was like Jared and I were in this constant tug-of-war that neither of us knew how to play, pushing and pulling, attracting and repelling.

Reading him seemed impossible. Sometimes I thought I saw it – him looking at me the way I looked at him – like maybe he wanted to touch me, to experience what I’d feel like under his skin. Because God, there was no way to describe how much I wanted to feel him under mine.

But every time I thought we were making progress, he’d grow cold.