I'm not exactly cocky. Not entirely Snow White material either. I'm a good for nothing that's great at pretending I'm the best around. Being this beast of contradictions keeps me grounded while allowing me to drift above this trap jawing at me from below. I've set myself close to the edge of disappointment so many times with her. I've threatened, cajoled, miscalculated, given in as a sign I've given up. She's that anchor that drags me down but I'm also that diver who emerges pale and shaky after she pulls me back to clear the surface again.
So I always wait for new openings from her. Or I create them for us. A last ditch effort to make her feel worthy on prom night - something Santana said might've been more effective if I'd shoved my cock so deep in her that I magically eliminated any need for her to have doubts. But orgasms flee as fast as her confidence. She doesn't work on that level, either. The one where she could justify cheating based on the depth of attraction between us. It's fairly buoyant, that connection we didn't so much create as watch happen to us as if marionettes on tipsy strings.
She accepted the train tickets graciously. I could easily discern that she was already fast calculating the quickest she could take that trip to New Haven without appearing too needy. Or too much like the girl who wanted to spend time researching and discovering a new place with her kind-of friend instead of planning her wedding.
I was in New Haven two days before she called. Equally anxious, wary, and trickling out words at lightning speed asking if the weekend would be too soon. She'd been in New York all summer, alone and wavering, and wouldn't it be really nice to catch up? Work through some of our "long standing issues?"
She had to know but she wasn't confessing. Her restraint was possibly admirable, though more than likely cause for concern. I'd been careful for the entirety of my existence but nothing will knock that the fuck right out of a person like glancing down to send a text and looking back up at the metallic lights of a hospital room. I was asleep even when awake. Only vaguely aware of her presence as she held my hand, rubbed my legs when they were particularly achy, dried tears I wasn't aware were dripping down my cheeks to her palm.
When I commented that my plumbing still worked, she'd flinched. Forced a crooked smile. Santana – all laser-eyed and loyalty bound to me – cocked an eyebrow in my direction before swinging her gaze to her. She figured it out, that's what Santana's grimace conveyed to me.
Maybe my hospital gown had lifted too high. Shifted in my restless turnings. Or she'd accidentally grazed it when her hands had trailed the length of my thighs, silently begging me to feel her touch when I simply couldn't even in the tangles of my imagination. However the cause, she'd not revealed the consequences of her discovery.
Weeks passed into months of mundane, cordial conversations between us. We were waiting for the distance. We'd be miles apart but closer than we've ever been. Because Lima was always a barrier that wouldn't allow for certain words to carry forth and ricochet from her to me. It would have to be New Haven that unlocked those gates and let the flood pour out.
In true fashion, she'd taken the earliest train out of New York. She was the girl who never squandered time. Her eyes failed to take in any part of me except the crotch of my jeans when she spotted me in the depot. The smile I flashed her faltered at her obviousness.
She was the girl who never squandered time. I couldn't yet determine if that meant I was in trouble…or if I was gonna get deeper into her than I'd ever bothered to dream.