He watched her walk away. Mesmerized not by the sway of her hips as he usually was, but by the simple fact that she was walking away. He was the one who had to prove to her and everyone else that he truly loved her. He was the one diagnosed with the deathly fear of commitment. He was the infamous playboy. He had to convince her he was ready. He was the one they betted against when it came to who would be the villain in their romance. Yet there he stood watching as she walked away.
He hadn't done anything wrong. There were no other women, no pressuring and no other dramatic hindrance one could expect or imagine. There was simply no reason. If anything for the first time in his entire life he was perfect, at least for her.
He had been ready once before, but she said he was mistaken, that it was still a game for him, but she lied. She told him he wasn't ready, she lied. She told him he couldn't handle it, she lied. And when it finally happened and he asked, "Are you sure?" she lied again.
She never lied about loving him, but everything else well that was another story. She was always the reason they weren't together. In the beginning neither could control it, she was just too young. But her eighteenth came and she made sure she was protected by another guy. He never seen it coming, he was waiting back stage to be her escort and when she appeared she already had someone at her side. The faceless escort disappeared days later. The faceless parade always went that way. When he got too close she'd reappear with yet another one.
It was her twenty-first and faceless of the week hadn't shown, but he was there immediately at her side. The DJ played a cruel trick by the name of Time To Be Your 21. And as they danced she broke and then he asked, "Are you sure?" Lying had always been her greatest gift and worst habit.
She was happy despite the fear. It was like a game she could play, a very sweet game. But then he changed the game with three little words. That's when she walked away.
She was afraid. She couldn't commit. She saw only pain. So she ran. She was confused. But above all she was in love.
Head over heels, weak in the knees, one look can say it all love. It consumed her, became vital to her survival. But she just couldn't risk it. If she got out soon enough she wouldn't be burned. If she left her guard up she wouldn't be knocked down. If she never gave it away he'd never hand it back to her in pieces.
She had no clue.
Once he had her he was never letting go. That he had promised himself a long time ago. And he does not break promises. He stopped watching her walk away. He stopped letting her control the terms. He stopped being a helpless victim of circumstance.
He didn't call after her. He didn't walk after. He ran after her. And though in his mind it seemed like that chase lasted forever, he finally reached her. She didn't stop, but neither would he.
"Move," she commanded. He stood firm, "Never again." His resolve was strong and she could see it in his eyes. But did those eyes hold any truth? She didn't want to find out, she couldn't. "You have no choice," she irately said. "No this time you don't get to make the rules. I love you," he firmly stated. As the words left his mouth she shuddered.
"Is that it? You can't grasp that I love you?" She wouldn't look at him as the heated salty tears began to cascade from her eyes. He was in an oblivion of confusion which was only widened when she recoiled away from his touch. "I can grasp it," the barely audible words escaped her lips.
That's when he lost it, lost her. She could grasp it, but couldn't reciprocate it. Or so he thought. "You just can't say it," he accused with a hint of desperation in his voice. Audaciously raising her head she looked into his tumultuous eyes and declared for all to hear, "No I can't!"
He stepped back, maybe a little to late. His insides burned with a toxic mixture of emotions. "So I'm just another faceless guy?" he spat at her. Her previous audacity vanished as soon as the words left his mouth, she was speechless. "Just say it!" he demanded of her. He repeated it over and over again till he was screaming at the top of his lungs, "JUST SAY IT!"
Fresh tears adorning her eyes she spoke, "I can't." In a rough bitter tone he bit back at her, "Speak a little louder my love I can't hear you!" Squeezing her eyes shut she bellowed out her response, "I can't!"
None of it made sense. Connections couldn't have been made even if he was in the right state of mind, unaltered by blind rage and unbearable agony. It didn't add up and he wanted to know, needed to know. "Why?" His simple three letter word question meant everything yet she said nothing.
Her silence pushed him further over the edge. His voice was deadly low as he questioned her yet again, "Why can't you say it?" She couldn't answer him, that would mean telling the truth, admitting her secrets. But as stubborn as she was it was nothing compared to his insatiable need for a reason. "Why can't you say it?" he repeated over and over again, waiting every few seconds in-between incase she decided to speak. She was silent.
Her tears had ceased, but the pain never left her eyes. And this time when she tried to pass him all he could do was cry his own salty tears. He never cried. He was her rock, her shoulder to cry on. He was supposed to be the strong one. But there he stood before her, crying. There was no sobbing or pain staking cries just the simple silent heartbreaking tears of a heartbroken man.
Watching him cry was when it hit her. She wasn't the only one putting her heart on the line and opening herself up. They were in the same predicament. Both could end up heartbroken, shed more tears, alone in the world. Or maybe just maybe they could be happy.
There's always a chance you'll end up hurt, but then again you have the same chance of being happy. But that's the problem, you have to take that chance. And here she stood finally ready. She softly brushed her delicate fingers over his cheeks, ending the streams of tears. He held a bewildered look in his eyes, clearly shocked by her loving actions yet yearning for her touch to never leave. The oddly comforting silence ended when she spoke, "No more tears."
All he could do was nod without losing the confused glint in his eyes. She knew he deserved an explanation but at that moment no words could express her true feelings. But not only that she needed to feel his lips against hers. Not in a delicate loving way but in a ravenous, desperate, I - Can't - Live - Without - You kind of way. And that's exactly what she did.
She devoured his lips hungrily, expressing every emotion she possibly could. He responded slowly at first, but as her tongue grazed along the entrance of his mouth everything else completely faded away. His hands gripped her hips roughly as if his life depended on it as she entangled her hands in his over producted hair. Nothing mattered but that they still weren't close enough. He pulled her even closer to his body. She melted into him, passion exuding from the single form they had become.
Breathlessly pulling apart their eyes remained closed. With her voice steadily wavering she spoke first, "I can't because you're not faceless and because . . . . because I do." He huskily responded, "You do what?" "I love you."
This time he instigated a gentle loving kiss on her. The want and need were still there but it was filled with something different. It may have tasted of salty tears but it was sweet and full of hope for the future.
He was Tom Quincy. She was Jude Harrison. And that's when they truly became a they.
That is my little one shot. You may have heard about my from Loren of Consequences (just the name makes me happy and enticed right?) and I would post my forever and ever on going saga Bittersweet Homecoming but this site does not upload from my normal computer. But I weaseled my way onto someone else's for the day to at least post my little one shot. I hope you enjoyed and if you did please do review, it makes me all giddy when you do! Oh yeah all that jazz about not owning anything but my own expression thing.