A/N: I've had this written for a little while, and I really wasn't sure about posting it because I'm not entirely happy with it. BUT, then I decided to let you guys be the judge of whether or not I should be happy with the product, so here it is. Enjoy. As always PLEASE review, otherwise I won't have any idea if this is good or bad.
This will be a one shot (and not in the way that "For You, the World" was a one shot. I really mean it this time.) and it was inspired by the song "Let Me Go" by Christian Kane. If you like country music, check him out. He's awesome.
"You're leaving?"
Payson's voice cuts through the early morning stillness, half accusatory, half questioning. Sasha slams the tailgate of his truck, the sound echoing around them, and turns to her. For a moment he just stands there, staring at her. He drinks in her beauty one last time; her shining blonde hair and her clear blue eyes. He wishes she would smile that easy smile that's just for him. He wonders if she even realizes that she has one smile that's his, exclusively, never directed at anyone else.
"I am," he finally says. Payson shakes her head like she doesn't believe it. He doesn't understand why she's upset; she's not a gymnast anymore, none of the Rock Rebels are. They retired just days ago, after a gold medal victory in London. She doesn't need him.
"Why?" She demands.
Sasha wants to tell her why; that he's leaving because he's hopelessly in love with her and that he would only hurt her. Part of him thinks this may be the only chance he ever has to tell her how he feels, but he knows it would only make leaving her harder. He steels his resolve and keeps his eyes locked on hers.
"Because you don't need me anymore," he says.
Payson moves forward, walking slowly towards him, and the closer she gets the more tears he can see tracing their way down her cheeks. It hurts him, not like a physical blow, but like something much deeper, farther down in his heart than he thought even existed.
"Who says?" She asks, her voice soft and broken. He itches to touch her, to take away the tears and to get his fill of the silkiness of her skin one last time, but he holds himself back.
"Payson." Confusion, hope, and sadness flash through her eyes at the same time and he knows why; they way he says her name is half prayer, half confession. He knows that for the past two years she's loved him, ever since their infamous kiss or maybe even before, but he doesn't know if she's ready for the full force of his feelings.
Sasha is so lost in thought, he doesn't realize she's moving closer until he feels the heat of her hands against his cheeks. She's cradling his face between her hands, lightly brushing her thumbs over his stubble, and looking at him like she knows he's lying. He wants to look away from her, look anywhere but her eyes, because he's pretty sure she can read his every thought, but he can't. Her gaze traps him like a siren's song, pulls him in until he's drowning in those bluish grey irises that are so much like a stormy sea right now. He tries to pull himself away, but the attempt is half-hearted.
"I need you, Sasha," she whispers. Then she's rising up on her toes with all the grace of an Olympic gold medal gymnast and she's kissing him.
This isn't like their first kiss, so rash and joyful. This is slow and consuming as she first runs her tongue over his bottom lip before pressing her lips fully against his. He opens his mouth for her, inviting her in and she wastes no time sweeping her tongue inside.
He wonders who taught her to kiss, because the way she's kissing him now is not the way an untried young girl kisses her suitor. She's taking enough charge that his dumbstruck state hardly matters, her lips move confidently against his instead of timidly, and she presses the full length of her body against his.
The feeling of her chest pressed against his, of their legs tangling together, spurs Sasha into action. He holds her tighter and deepens the kiss until she's bent slightly backwards and clinging to him. He pulls away slowly, feeling unable to catch a breath.
"Let me go," he begs. Instead of answering, she just kisses him again. It's all he's dreamed of for the past two years, and the reality is so much better. Carefully, tentatively, he slides one hand down Payson's side, over the slight flair of her hip, and around to the firm globe of her bum, her incredible gymnast bum. He squeezes lightly and she groans into his mouth, hitching herself up and holding even more tightly to his shoulders.
"Take me with you," she orders, putting just enough space between their lips to speak. He sighs and shakes his head once, loosening his hold on her and slumping against the wheel well of his truck.
"I can't, Payson. You have a life here, a family and you're just about to start college. I'm sorry." He pushes himself from the support the truck offered him and starts to walk towards the cab, but Payson stops him.
"You're just scared," she whispers. He stops in his tracks because he knows she's right. He is scared, of loving her, of hurting her, of making her hate him. He isn't sure he could stand that.
"I am," he agrees.
"We could go far away, to a place where no one knows us, no one cares who we are," Payson offers. She sounds so calculated, like she's been planning their escape for a long time. She approaches him again, not kissing him this time, just wrapping her arms around him. He's grateful for the contact.
"Payson…"
"Let me go," she urges. "Take me with you, baby."
He feels his resolve crumble. When she looks at him with those pleading eyes, when he pictures the life they could have together far away from Boulder, Colorado, he can't think of a single reason to say no. Not anymore. What he can think of is how much he loves her, how he wants to make a life with her. He can provide for her, and even if he couldn't she can provide for herself. He wants to take care of her, even though she doesn't need it and she probably won't let him. He wants to watch their tow-headed little children run and play.
This moment has been years in the making. Looking back over all the moments they've shared together, all the innocent flirting and the long talks about anything and everything they could think of, all the struggles, defeats, and triumphs they shared, they all add up to this moment, this decision. He can pretend that he doesn't see in her eyes how much she loves him, just like he always has, or he can embrace it and let someone else into his life, forever. No running when things get hard, no throwing in the towel because it's easier than fighting for a relationship. He'll have to show her all of him, the good and the bad, even though she's already seen most of it. She's seen it, but he's always been able to remove himself at the end of the day, to allow her to go home to her warm, safe, happy family. That won't happen if he lets her go.
Sasha leans forward, pressing his lips to hers. He feels her tense in hesitation, wondering if this is an acquiescence or a goodbye. When he pulls away, he tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
"Get in."