Page 68 of All That Remains
Still, the thought of them together disgusted me beyond reckoning. I imagined the things she must've said to him at night beneath the sheets in her trembling voice and shook with contempt. I bit the inside of my cheeks to compose myself and draw my thoughts back to the present. Rome was watching me with those doe-like, absurdly blue eyes, and a brow that had begun to furrow apologetically. But what did he have to apologize for exactly? I was the infringer. This was a world he’d built for himself with her in mind. Without me.I gave him a limp little half smile, but couldn't commit to it for long.
Tell her you love me. Tell her you adore me. Tell her I'm yours. We’re not done yet. I cannot fathom letting go.The words died on my tongue. I squirmed in my seat, wringing my fingers for all things unfit to be uttered. This wouldn’t end well. In fact, it was shaping up to be quite cataclysmic. An extinction event was on the horizon. Somehow, I’d become a nuclear reactor, and the sight of her kissing him threatened to be the spark that ended it all.
I suppose what was most disturbing was they looked so right. They were thecorrectgender, thecorrectheight and coloring and religion—all the makings of theidealpairing. Whenever fashion and music collided, the result was explosive and the headlines profuse. They were perfectly yoked. Thesort of compatibility that sustained life-long companionship. The thought of them marrying, even theoretically, was acutely discomforting because it wouldwork.
Unlike us, who failed on paper—both in theory and in practice. I couldn’t picture us together beyond the next few weeks at best. It’d always been that way. We were a day-to-day sort of thing. A play-it-by-ear ordeal. No commitments, no debts, no declarations—oflove,that is. We weren’t supposed to say love. It muddied things up. I’d always wanted to say love so madly. It’s all I could think whenever I looked at him.My love, my love. The nonnegotiable love of my life.
My phone buzzed and it was the perfect excuse to make an exit. I blinked back tears and glanced at the screen unseeingly, listening to her talk at him in that lazy, quiet way I employed whenever we were drifting asleep. I was beginning to itch all over. I could feel my blood curdling. I needed to fuck off.
"It's getting late. Think I'm gonna take off," I uttered, offering a smile of forfeiture. I didn’t want to trouble him anymore. He registered the quit in me and something fleeting like guilt crossed his face. I stood and he was on his feet in seconds, urging her to rise as well.
"Well, it was good meeting you!" she beamed, with something akin to triumph in her eyes. And although she was totally ignorant of our past, I couldn't help but notice she seemed smug. It likely wasn’t personal. She probably behaved this way around everyone, obnoxiously self-assured now that she’d landed one of the hottest superstars on the planet.
"Wanna stay for dinner?” Rome pleaded. “We could order in again…"
“Again?” she interjected.
"Mate, I'm still full from earlier. We ate so much—"
"He literally eatssooomuch, right?!” she laughed, shaking her head. “But it doesn’t go anywhere! It's hilarious!"
“I think maybe he’s getting taller,” was my pathetic attempt at a joke.
“Right!”
We all made plans to have dinner in the future. She wanted to take us to a Sicilian place owned by a good friend where we could all eat until we passed out. She wasn’t allowed to have carbs, but promised to cheat for us.
After another goodbye, Rome walked me to my car. Except, we didn't stop there. He urged me into the yard, back up the terraced garden steps until we were levels above the house, staring at the surrounding rooftops. The canyon views at dusk were breathtaking, filled with fiery hues and an array of silhouettes leading on into the sunset. I could see why he wanted me to check it out before I left. He sensed I wouldn’t come back after today. Not if I valued my sanity.
"The view is mental—" I began, but was cut short by him shoving me behind a tree and up against the steep hill that fortified the property.
"Rome?" I breathed, landing with a thud. It knocked the wind out of me. He pressed the side of his face to mine in indecision.
"Rome..." I whispered. It's like he couldn't hear me.
"Hey?" I tried again. He slumped in exhaustion—surrender. His dead weight fell against me and I held him for a while.
"I wish you'd talk to me," I whispered, setting my forehead to his. "Tell me what you're thinking."
He pulled away and thumbed my mouth, lids fluttering upon recognizing the permanent scar. The raised line that ran down the center of my bottom lip where it had nearly been split in two.
“Forget about it,” I muttered.
He just needed a bit of encouragement. It was obvious what he wanted, but I sensed the war being waged in his heart, which dictated he halt and return to Mila. Yet here we stood, after everything. After all the pretense of the day. The lies thatinsisted we were mere reunited pals. It had finally come to this. Our truth known to none but each other.
As we eased against the steep incline of the hill—pelvis to pelvis—his lips brushed mine. My eyes slipped into the back of my skull. Out of sheer instinct, my mouth parted, jutting for more. Despite how manifestly insane it all was. No matter the threat that Mila might’ve followed. I could not draw away, could not revert to that tepid reality where we hadn’t touched in years. Where I hadn’t heard him orgasm or grow erect for me. Where I no longer knew the nicotine taste of his spit or the flick of his tongue. The raking of his hands. I savored all, like a child clinging to the final vestiges of a sweet dream. As it would never be this apocalyptic again.
23
His kiss was angry, accusatory. It demanded:Where the fuck have you been?And thoughhe’d technically leftme, I accepted full responsibility for our separation and rebuked myself. I would do anything to win him back. Starve for him, slave for him, kill—anythingto keep him kissing me.
His lips were plusher than I remembered. I ghosted mine against his, enjoying the sensation elicited when they brushed unhurriedly. It was a tender game recalled from my teens. Before our kissing felt like a mortal sin. He pressed past my feathery overtures and brought our mouths together more firmly, demanding my tongue. Flicking it with deep, visceral strokes until we lost our breath.
All that baffled me the first time we kissed surfaced again. His boyish persistence. The dull jab of his erection. The taste of male, peculiar and alarming. I knew I was surrendering to the sort of deviance prohibited in Scripture. I knew it was a gateway to transgressions far more pernicious. Been there, done that. I’m told my soul will bear the toll. Still, there was no pulling back once we got going. It’d always been that away.
Already it was beginning to destroy my life, unleashing a landslide of repression that now threatened to pummel me. I nearly tossed my arms up over my head to ward off the onslaught, losing touch as soundbites from the last five years filled the silence around us.
Fuck’s sake, he was still going. My stomach was in knots. The blood in my legs grew syrupy and slow.Romeoozed his way inside at a measured trickle. Lethal injection. He would not be satisfied until he had consumed my life again. I supposed if that happened, it’d be a greater commentary on the fiber of my character than his. Was I so stupid I intended to let him have his way? After everything?
