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As I stare into those chocolatey brown eyes of his, I can't help but feel like he's slipping through my fingertips, no matter how hard I try clinging to him.
"I am sure, Kyle," I lift a hand, touch his face. "Whatever leftover feelings I may have for Matt, they're nothing compared to how I feel about you."
He pulls completely away from me, grabs his coffee, a few of his fingers play with the cardboard sleeve. "I'll be back in a month. Let's figure things out then."
A month?
I have to wait a whole freaking month to prove to him that the feelings I have for Matt are pretty much gone? Non-existent? In the past?
God, he is anasswipe.
"Come on," he stands. "I need to get you home. I've had a long day and I still have a two-hour drive back to Boulder."
I grab my cup of hot chocolate, feel my head start pounding again, worry flooding my chest, my head, my bones. Everything aches with every step I take.
This doesn't feel like a pause; it feels like punishment.
For being honest. Transparent. Mature.
We walk to his car in silence, neither of us talking, not even touching. I buckle my seatbelt, lean my head against the cool glass window. He drives and I wonder why he's being so unfair.
So cruel.
I want him. Only him.
Should I say it out loud again? Tell him over and over until he believes me? Would he believe me?
Before I know it, he's pulling into the driveway and I'm grabbing the handle to get out of the car.
I turn to look at him, watch as he rubs his forehead with the back of his hand. He looks exhausted, worn out, beat. I want to wrap my arms around him, beg him to let me be with him, to fix this.
I can't figure out why I don't.
"I guess I'll see you around," I say as I lick my lips nervously, fiddle with the handle on his car door.
"I'll call you, Jenny." He gives me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"Drive safe," I tell him, wishing I could say what I really mean. Don't leave like this. Don't make me wait. Don't sleep with anyone else. Don't doubt me.
Please, please don't leave me.
I shut the door, watch as he backs out of the driveway.
I realize, with a sinking feeling in my chest as he disappears down the road, that he didn't kiss me on the lips.
Not once.
Chapter 22
I climb into the back of Matt's jeep, sit down in the small space behind the passenger seat, fumble with the rarely used seatbelt. While I buckle it in place, I watch Matt help Audra inside. She holds onto his hand, beams up at him. It's nauseating how much she adores him, worships him, ogles him.
Then, she's moving his hand to her stomach, placing it on the tiny, almost non-existent bump. So small, you wouldn't know it was there if you weren't looking for it.
Matt tenses as she holds his hand against her abdomen. His shoulders and his neck and his jaw are all rigid, unmoving, still.
He's miserable.
So miserable.
