"Maybe life should be about more than just surviving. Don't we deserve better than that?"
Even though she's looked away now, her words resonate with me. She's right. Thoughts race through my mind at a speed that I can't even comprehend, but thoughts don't seem necessary a moment later. Not with the way she looks right now. No. We do deserve more than just to survive, but even now I can't admit that fully. Because what if I'm wrong, what if I try to do more than survive and end up being dead with a beating heart still inside my chest? But the words tumble out of my mouth anyways.
"Maybe we do."
And she looks up. Her eyes are magnetic. I can't help looking at her eyes, but a glance at her lips and my mind is made up. I deserve more. We deserve more. So hooded eyes hold onto her, and with parted lips my hand comes up to hold her face. I don't even know what I'm doing or if I even should be doing this, but her eyelids flutter as I lean in. And I'm positive it's because she isn't sure what's about to happen. Neither am I. I haven't come this close to her before, and her mind must be spinning like mine is. Because all I can think about is kissing her. So with closed eyes and with all the hope in the world, my lips make contact with hers. She kisses back. It's sweet and caring, and something no one else has given me in a long time. I feel her hand come up to touch my arm, and I know this was the right choice. The feel of our lips is right. Deserving more is right.
During each parting and closing of our lips, I can feel our foreheads brushing. It is right. I pull back just enough to kiss her from another angle. Our noses brush as I switch to the other side, but as I go in to kiss her again she hesitates. It surprises me. I don't know what to do besides stop. My hand releases her face and hovers in the air for a second before resting back down at my side. A thousand thoughts return to my mind. I made a mistake. I must have. I did something wrong.
"I'm sorry."
My parted lips close and hooded eyes become guarded eyes once more. I feel like a fool for letting my weakness get ahold of me, and this is just a confirmation.
"I'm… I'm not ready to be with anyone."
All I can do is watch her. I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have gotten carried away. I shouldn't have let my heart decide over my head.
"Not yet."
And with those words, I can't trust my voice because I know it will sound weak. I know it will sound hurt. So I just nod my head and hope she won't see that in my eyes. But the way she's looking at me tell me everything. It's written across her face. All I can see is the pity she's feeling for me Because she knows I allowed myself to be weak in front of her. And she knows how hard that is for me. She said so herself. And she knows she let me feel weak. Because I am weak. And she can't bear to let me feel such weakness, but she did. She did, and now she feels bad. Because love is weakness in my book, but I just ripped that page out for her.