Page 40 of All Stars Fall
Like the universe was trying to do me a solid.
Everything went out, blanketing us in darkness.
I hated it because I couldn’t see her.
I loved it because I could still feel her.
Everywhere.
“Okay, the pretty room just got a bit terrifying.” Her voice was weak. “I’m a wimp, I’m sorry, I don’t even like living alone, but I was like, you know what I should do? Move across the country and start fresh, because I’ve lived in the same town my whole life, with the same roommate, working at the same schooldoing the same thing over and over again and you know what the definition of that is?” She finally took a breath. “Insanity.”
“That was a long sentence.”
“I know.” She exhaled roughly and then her hands were on my chest. She jerked them back. “Sorry. I was trying to find something to hold on to, not someone, just, like a wall to steady myself or—”
“I’ll steady you,” I whispered.
This was bad.
All of it.
I saw her worried face once again as lightning flickered outside. And then it was just us, blanketed in the silent buzz of awareness pulsing between our two bodies.
I’d known her days.
I’d focused on those days instead of the nights.
Because the nights were full of wondering what she tasted like.
Wondering if this would be different if I wasn’t a plus three.
I was afraid to move.
Afraid that if I slid my hand up her arm and cupped her chin, she’d pull away from me, from the kids.
How damn selfish could I be?
It wasn’t just me.
They needed her more than I did.
I took a step back and let out a rough exhale. “I’ll go grab you a flashlight, all right?”
“I can’t see you, don’t go!” Her voice sounded so small.
Reminding me what it felt like to feel needed, and maybe just a little bit wanted too.
I reached out, touching first her shoulder then slowly running my hand down until I found her hand and squeezed it.
She squeezed it back tight.
And I wanted to stay in the darkness and just… exist in that place where uncertainty made me brave enough to hold her hand, and certainty didn’t glare its ugly head and tell me that this would never happen, not in a million years.
“We can go together,” I offered, pulling out my cell with my free hand. “That way you’re not alone.”
She nodded.
When I turned on my cell light, I flicked it to her face briefly. “You have yours on you?”
