Page 49
He was sitting in the middle of his bed, getting water everywhere, his shoes getting the sheets filthy. His arms were locked firmly around his legs and his head was slung down between his knees. His whole body shook. . . but not from the cold. He shook, because he was softly crying.
He said nothing as I sat down next to his dripping body, he didn't look at me, and he didn't stop crying either. Emotions flooded through me - hate, guilt, grief. . . even desire. I settled on sympathy, and put an arm around his shoulders. A sob escaped him and turning into me, he slipped his arms around my waist and laid his head on my lap. He completely lost it. He clutched at me like I might vanish at any moment. He sobbed so hard he could barely breathe.
I leaned over him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back, as new tears sprang to my eyes. The hurt of his words evaporated in my mind at his pain. Guilt at what I had driven him to flooded through me. He was right. . . in a crude, vulgar way. I was a tease. I did lead him on. I continually brought him to the brink, then left him for another. It obviously had hurt him. I was obviously hurting him. He blew up at me, and I had kind of deserved it. . . and he hated himself for it.
He was shaking uncontrollably. His chill was seeping into me, so some of his trembling must be because he was soaked through. I reached behind me, and he clutched me tighter, like he was afraid I was leaving. Grabbing the edge of a blanket nearly falling off his messy bed, I pulled it up and wrapped it around the both of us. I laid myself over his back, slipping my arms around him. My body eventually started to warm, in turn warming his body, and his shaking slowed.
After what felt like an eternity, his sobs eased to gentle crying, and then those eased as well. I continued to silently hold him to me, surprised to realize that I was lightly rocking him, like he was a child. After a moment, his arms around me loosened, his breath became smooth and regular, and I realized that, also like a child, he had cried himself to sleep on my legs.
My heart ached with so many emotions, I couldn't keep track of them all. I tried to forget our horrid night, but it started replaying itself in my mind. I shook my head to clear the bad memories, and softly kissed his hair, running my hand down his back. Gently, I shifted out from under him. He stirred, but didn't wake up. As I pulled away from him, he instinctively reached out for me, grabbing my legs again and holding me tight, still asleep. That stirred my heart again, and swallowing, I gently released his hold on me. He cringed and said "no" and for a moment, I thought he was awake, but after another minute of watching him, he didn't move again or speak again.
I sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Tears sprang, yet again, and I desperately needed out of that room. I fixed the blanket around him so he would stay warm, and then slipped from his room and into mine.
Chapter 17
Like It Should Be
The next morning, Kellan came into the kitchen after me. He was wearing the same clothes, and his hair was styled back from how it had dried overnight. His eyes were dreadfully tired and still a little red; he had cried an awful lot last night. I looked over at him uncertainly. He stopped in the doorway and paused, looking at me equally uncertain. Finally, he sighed and came up to the coffee pot where I was standing, waiting for it to finish brewing.
He held his hands up in front of him. "Truce?"
I nodded slowly. "Truce. "
He leaned back against the counter, putting his hands behind him. "Thank you. . . for staying with me last night," he whispered, staring at the floor.
"Kellan-"
He interrupted me. "I shouldn't have said what I did, that's not who you are. I'm sorry if I scared you. I was so angry, but, I wouldn't ever hurt you, Kiera. . . not intentionally. " He met my gaze, his voice was calm, but his eyes looked worried. "I was way out of line. I never should have put you in that position. You're not. . . You are in no way a. . . " he looked away, embarrassed, ". . . a whore," he finished softly.
"Kellan-"
He interrupted me again. "I never would have. . . " He sighed and in a barely audible whisper, he said, "I wouldn't ever force you, Kiera. That's not. . . I'm not. . . " He froze and stopped talking, looking at the ground again.
"I know you wouldn't. " I suddenly didn't know what else to say. I was equally responsible, and I felt horrible for my part in what had happened. "I'm sorry. You were right. I. . . I led you on. " I lightly grabbed his cheek and forced him to look at me fully. His gorgeous face was horribly sad and equally remorseful. "I'm sorry for all of it, Kellan. " His pained eyes broke my heart.
He looked at me oddly. "No. . . I was just mad. I was wrong. You didn't do anything. You don't need to apologize for-"
I cut him off. "Yes, I do. " I lowered my already low voice. "We both know I did just as much as you. I went just as far as you did. "
He frowned slightly. "You clearly told me no. . . repeatedly. I didn't listen. . . repeatedly. " He sighed again and pulled my hand away from his cheek. "I was horrible. I went too far, much too far. " He ran a hand down his face. "I'm. . . I'm so sorry. "
"Kellan. . . no, I wasn't being clear. I sent mixed signals. " My words may have been telling him no, but my body certainly had been telling him something else. How can he feel responsible for that?
His voice heated. "No, is clear, Kiera. Stop, is pretty damn clear. "
"You're not a monster, Kellan. You never would have-"
He cut me off again. "I'm no angel either, Kiera. . . remember? And you have no idea what I'm capable of," he finished quietly, eyeing me warily.
I didn't know what he meant by that, but I refused to believe that he would ever, that he could ever. . . force me. "We both messed up, Kellan," I said, softly reaching out for his cheek again. "But you would never force yourself on me. "
He watched me with a torn look on his face, and then he pulled me to his chest in a tight embrace. I threw my arms around his neck and for just a moment, let myself believe that it was months ago, and we were just two friends giving one another a moment's comfort. But. . . we weren't. Our friendship had enflamed into passion, and once ignited, that burn was impossible to turn back down.
"You were right. We have to end this, Kiera. "
He took a hand and brushed aside a tear on one side, then the other; I hadn't even realized I was crying. Then he cupped my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. It was such a tender gesture that my heart sped, but I knew he was right. I had known it awhile ago. "I know. "
I closed my eyes and more tears dropped to my cheeks. His lips brushed mine softly. I half-sobbed and pulled him harder against me. He kissed me back, but not in the way I expected. It was so different, soft and tender, in a way our kiss had never been before. It terrified and thrilled me. His thumb continued to stroke my cheek softly.
He kissed me tenderly for a minute more, then sighing, he pulled away. He moved his hand from my cheek and ran his fingers through my hair and down my back. "You were right, you made your choice. " He pulled me close to him, almost touching my lips. "I still want you," he growled intensely, then his voice softened, and he pulled away again. "But not while you're his. Not like this, not like last night. " He said it wistfully, his eyes looking even more tired.
"This," he ran a finger down my lips lightly, as more tears fell on my cheeks, ". . . is over. " He exhaled heavily, his own eyes glistening. "I don't seem to be very good at leaving you alone. " He dropped his hand from my lips and swallowed. "I won't let last night happen again. I won't touch you again. This time. . . I promise. " His tone rang with finality.
Then, smiling sadly, he turned to leave. He stopped and paused at the doorway, turning to face me again. "You and Denny are good together. You should stay with him. " He looked down and tapped the doorway with his hand a couple times, and then nodding his head, he looked back up at my face, a tear dropping to his cheek. "I'll make this right. It will be like it should be. "
Then he turned and left. I watched him leave, confused, tears dripping from my eyes.
Once I couldn't hear him anymore, I sighed and put my head in my hands. Isn't this exactly what I wanted? Why do I feel so sad then, like I had suddenly just lost everything?
*******************
Kellan stayed true to his word, he never again made any inappropriate moves towards me. In fact, he tried to never touch me. He stayed as far from me in a room as possible, without being obvious about it. He would make sure we never brushed against each other, and he would even apologize whenever we accidentally did touch each other. He still watched my every move though. I could seemingly always feel his intense eyes on me. In some ways, I would have preferred his touch to the intensity of those stares.
I tried to focus on school, but my heart was only half in it. The lectures, while still interesting and thought provoking, weren't as captivating as they once were, and my mind drifted on more than one occasion. I tried to focus more on Denny. He had perked up some since our evening at the club, which made me feel horribly guilty, but he was still miserably trudging through his work day. I listened as he went on and on about Max and the meaningless tasks he had him doing, but in all honesty, I wasn't really hearing a word of it. My mind continually drifted. I tried to focus on Jenny and Kate, on being closer friends with them. We sometimes all met for coffee before work, and they would chat about the guys they were seeing. Not really having a whole lot to add to that conversation, I would listen half-heartedly, and my mind would drift. . . to Kellan.
I even tried to focus on my family, on calling them more often. My mom picked up on my mood, and immediately wanted me to come home and see her. My dad blamed Denny for breaking my heart when he left, which I assured him he didn't. If anything, I broke his, when I dumped him for ditching me, even though that had never his intention. And my sister. . . well, I couldn't even talk to her yet. I wasn't mad at her or anything. I'd even grudgingly forgiven Kellan in my head. Well, maybe not forgiven him, but I had forced the memory to the very back corner of my mind. But I couldn't speak to Anna yet. I couldn't even bear to hear his name pass her lips. Not yet. . . or ever.
As the days went by, I found myself missing Kellan - missing his touch, missing our quiet conversations, as we cuddled in the kitchen over coffee, missing his laugh, as he would relay a funny story while driving me all over town. I began to wonder if we should try again. Maybe this time, we could find a way to make it work. . .
"Kellan," I said softly, as he walked by me one morning when I came down for coffee. "Please don't leave. We should be able to be alone together. "
He paused and looked back at me, his blue eyes sad. "It's better if we're not, Kiera. It's safer. "
I frowned. "Safer? You say that like we're time bombs or something. "
He half-smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Aren't we?" His smile dropped and he suddenly looked exhausted. "Look what happened. I'll never forgive myself for talking to you like that. "
I blushed at the horrible memory and looked down. "Don't. . . you were right. Horribly rude, but right. " I peeked up at him under my eyebrows.
He cringed and took a step towards me. "Kiera, you're not-"
I cut him off, not wanting to start that horrid conversation again. "Can't we have just some of our friendship back? Can't we talk?" I made a move towards him, until we were only a step apart. "Can't we ever touch?"
He immediately took two steps back and swallowed, shaking his head. "No, Kiera. You were right. We can't go back to that. It was stupid to even try. "
I felt tears stinging. I missed how it used to be, so much. "But, I want to. I want to touch you, just hold you. . . no more. " I was in withdrawals from my addiction. I wanted his warm arms to slip around me. I wanted to put my head on his shoulder. It was all I wanted.
His tired eyes closed and he took a deep breath before opening them. "You shouldn't. You should only hold Denny. He's a good guy for you. . . I'm not. "
"You're a good guy too. " I couldn't stop the thought of him sobbing in my arms. I'd never seen someone more remorseful.
"I'm really not," he whispered, as he walked out of the room.