Page 50 of Forked (Frenched 2)
“Then what? Why won’t you even listen to me?
What are you so afraid of?”
I looked at him, fighting the urge to tell him the truth. I might have beaten it if he wasn’t shirtless and I couldn’t see the sheen of sweat on his chest or my name near his heart. Maybe I’d have won if his hair wasn’t a little messy, or if I hadn’t looked down at his wrists, that Shinola watch glinting in the sunlight. “It’s a list a mile long.”
He let go of my arm. “Starting with…”
“Starting with being afraid to hear your excuse for leaving me.”
“It’s not an excuse—nothing excuses what I did. It’s just an explanation.”
“Well, I don’t want to hear it. It will only make me feel worse.”
“Why would that be?”
“Because no matter what you say, the fact remains that you didn’t love me enough to stay, Nick. You didn’t even love me enough to say goodbye.”
Nick closed his eyes and exhaled. “Go on. What else are you afraid of?”
“I don’t trust you.”
He met my eye. “I understand that. I hurt you deeply.”
“You did. Many times, but especially the final time. So you can tell me you love me all you want, but it won’t mean a thing to me. You said it then, too. You still broke my heart.”
He set his lips in a grim line. “Is that everything?”
“I’m afraid of being hurt again, obviously. I don’t want you to have that power over me. If I don’t believe what you say, if I don’t tell you how I’m feeling, if I don’t even admit it to myself, then I can keep you from breaking my heart again.”
“That’s ridiculous, Coco. Just because you don’t admit to a feeling doesn’t make it vanish. Look, we said last night we were just going to be friends, I get it. But things are different now.”
“It’s been less than twenty-four hours!”
He put a hand on my leg. “But we have history. That has weight. It has meaning. And you of all people know that just because something is in the past doesn’t mean it’s dead and buried.”
Oh, how I knew. I closed my eyes, feeling just how alive our feelings for each other were. But the fear was there, too. Would it ever go away? Would I ever kiss him goodbye in the morning and be absolutely certain that he’d be there in the evening? What if every time he walked out the door, I had that uneasy feeling he was leaving forever?
Then again, what if I never felt for anyone the things I felt for him now? What if my first love was supposed to be my last?
Give me a sign, I begged the universe. Anything.
But the universe remained silent.
“What do you want from me?” My voice was small, retreating, just like my defenses.
“Right now, I just want you to say that we can talk about…things. Maybe the past, maybe the future, but I want to hear that you’re at least open to the idea.”
You will regret this, said common sense, but I heard my voice say, “Fine. We can talk. But not right now, OK? I need some time to think things through.”
“No problem. I’m ready when you are.” He stood and reached down to help me up. “I mussed you,” he said, smoothing a few stray hairs away from my face.
“It’s OK. I think it was more the convertible than you. I’ll redo it when we get to Noni’s.” We gathered up our things and folded the quilt. “You want to know something else that scares me?” I asked as we walked back to the car.
“What?”
“I liked your daydream about our alternate present a little too much.”
He looked at me sideways, a smile hooking up one corner of his mouth. “Yeah? The one with the broom and four kids?”
