When we arrive, I take a seat on his couch as I had done so many times before. He heads toward his bedroom and calls out for me to turn on the television, if I like. I do as he suggests, but I can’t focus on the movie that pops up. It’s a comedy and way too slapstick for my current mood. Instead, I opt to scroll through my Instagram, but in truth, I can’t even focus on the images.
It’s not like I expect anything to happen. He’s tired and weak. We broke up. But… there’s still something there. And, as if on cue, he comes back into the room and as he sits down next to me on the couch, he smiles and the world stops for the briefest of moments. It’s the first time we’ve been alone in months and it feels so right, even if my heart feels like it’s trying out for a percussion band.
“I love this movie. Seen it way too many times,” he admits.
I glance up and see “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” although it’s only October and being Los Angeles, the sun is shining. “An oldie but a goodie,” I reply. “It’s a little like me!”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Pshaw,” he says for emphasis.
“Pshaw?” Who are you? My dad used to say that.”
“Well, if you don’t sit here quietly watching one of the best movies ever, I’ll have to put you over my knee young lady.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes, both at his humor, his funny ways, and the way we’ve bounced back to our comforting mannerisms. “Promises, promises,” I tease, keeping up the same tone.
I hug a pillow to my chest, cross my legs underneath me, and settle back onto his couch to watch the antics of Clark Griswold as he tries to keep his cool with a buxom shop assistant. Heading to my house and starting dinner for the two of us can wait. I figure he’s probably happy to be home and that will surely help with his recovery.
As we sit together, similar to the way we used to, I suddenly begin to feel a well of emotions. It’s not really the way it used to be, but I wish for it. When Clark and his wife share their funny ways, I feel like I have to fight to hold back tears. There isn’t anything happening in the movie that warrants sadness, but they love each other and I’m a sentimental sap. Before, I would rest my head on Cole’s shoulder and he would no sooner wrap his arm around me and pull me in even closer. But it isn’t like that between us now, and I can’t expect it to be. That is, until I turn to see him watching me rather than the TV and he growls under his breath, “Damn, I want to kiss you.”
He says it more to himself than me. It’s almost a whisper and sounds as if he’s angry at himself for merely thinking about kissing me… for feeling. Still, my heart soars.
“Then why don’t you?” I whisper, scared to say the words too loudly as if the slightest sound could startle him and make him come to his senses. I look directly at Cole, but he doesn’t make a move — his brain obviously fighting with his other parts.
My eyes smolder into his, commanding him to act on his feelings, but he’s fighting an internal battle. That is, until I see a new sign of defeat. His gaze drifts down to my breasts. The glance is practically involuntary, only for a split second before he catches himself. I see his Adam’s apple rise as if he’s swallowing desire, trying to banish it deep within himself.
My eyes never leave his face and finally, when his own meet mine, I state, “Don’t just sit there.” I’m not big on being the aggressor. Unless role-playing, I’m never the one to make the first move, but I can’t stop myself. I reach for his collar and pull him toward me.
That one move is enough to get Cole to take over. He places his hand behind my head and pulls me toward him with an urgency I didn’t expect. Our kiss is long and passionate, filled with months of emotions that collected while I waited for him to wake.
We don’t so much as stop kissing as simply take a breath, and then as if he regretted stopping, he launches into me with even deeper passion. This time his mouth isn’t as urgent. It explores me, softly covering mine. His hands hold me tightly in place as if afraid the moment will slip away. But I’m not going anywhere. When Cole pulls away once more, I close my eyes. He bends his head to mine and inhales deeply before kissing my forehead and I can feel it. We’ve come to an impasse.
To continue would mean we end up in bed. Instead, he remains sweet and tender, simply letting his lips stroll down to my cheek. I feel a tear release, perhaps running toward his mouth. My tears mirror my desire, running free without hesitation. I never want our kisses to end. He hears my breath catch and looks up at me, questioning the reaction.
“I missed you.” It’s my way of an explanation.
“I know,” comes his response. It’s not the reply I want, but I’m not entirely disappointed by it either. I know he has trouble getting close, and we’ve been through so much. Maybe this is a new beginning.
At least I hope so.
Chapter Three
Cole
That kiss…
The way Kat felt in my arms. Her mouth softly accepting my advances. Her body folding onto my own like a puzzle piece falling into place. It felt so good to hold her once again. I wish it could have gone on forever, but that would be unwise. Regardless of what I wanted, I pulled away from her.
It took all of my will power to do so, but it was the right thing to do. I can’t let us jump into a relationship again and with Kat there could be nothing less than putting everything on the line. She’s not a casual hook-up, never was and never will be. She loves with all of her heart and that’s what makes her so unique.
The look she gave me when I put distance between the two of us nearly sent me right back to her. Actually, it did the first time and then I got a hold of myself once more. It was the only way. The last thing I want is to hurt her again. I knew she was wondering what went wrong.
My first mistake was voicing that I wanted to kiss her. I didn’t even mean to say anything aloud. I just saw her sitting there and she looked so good, she smelled like daisies, and her laughter from earlier in the evening filled me with the hope that maybe I hadn’t completely damaged her soul. In that moment, I wanted to kiss her so damn badly that the sentiment just flew out of my mouth.
The only good thing about feeling so weak from lying in a hospital bed for more than a month is that I had a built-in excuse for acting peculiar. I told her I was feeling tired and we should head to her place or I’d fall asleep on the couch. Maybe she bought it. After all, we were only going to stop at my place long enough for me to pack up some clothes.
But the irony of the situation isn’t lost on me. The entire reason for staying at Kat’s was to avoid what happened here. She has more rooms, more beds, which means less chance of ending up in the same one. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as I leave her on the couch and go to my room to retrieve my bag.
I continue to throw items into a duffle bag, not really thinking about what to take. The only thing on my mind is needing a cold shower to change my current perspective on what I need. Or, I could opt for Kat in the shower with me and then I’d be much happier.
“Damn!”
“You okay?” Kat calls to me.