Within seconds, I'm free falling off the edge, and my body goes rigid before my legs give way. The backs of my thighs collapse to meet my calves once again, leaving my entire body warm and flushed from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
The room falls silent apart from the sound of my heavy breathing, and a lazy smile spreads across my face.
“Mmm...I needed that,” I say, slowly opening my eyes. I’m on such a high.
Danny pulls his guitar strap over his head and sets it aside, and my gaze falls to the hard outline threatening to burst through his chinos.
“You need a hand with that?”
His line of vision follows mine. “I can’t.”
Just like that, I’m back on the ground. His answer—the one I’m so desperate not to hear—sounds full of regret, and he buries his face in his hands as a swarm of wasps infiltrate my belly, leaving me nauseous and feeling completely rejected. Again.
“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”
Another image of Belle flashes through my mind. I know the little girl isn’t his daughter, but all I’m hearing is that this man is quite clearly still in love with his wife. How did I not see it before? How could I be so naïve to think that someone like him could be interested in someone like me?
My legs are still weak, but I manage to rise and walk towards the door without resembling Bambi.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.” I thread my arms through my backpack straps and pick up my helmet. I raise my hand to let myself out, but he moves fast, stopping me with his palm flat against the door. I turn to face him, arms folded across my chest.
“Tell me Danny...what doyouwant? Because all of this seems like some sort of game to you. A game I have no interest in playing.”
“I want you to stay.”
“That’s not good enough,” I say. I’m exasperated.
With a clenched jaw, he screws his eyes closed and leans his forehead against the door. I wish I could take the pounding in my heart as a sign for the way I should respond, but I’m unsure as to whether I want to kiss him or slap him.
Moments pass, but I watch him long enough to notice his jaw soften, and his breath slow, and when his eyes finally open, his expression takes on the same one he has when he plays his guitar—raw, emotional, serious, and soft. But he ceases to look me in the eye.
“I woke up this morning, and yesterday, and the day before—and every fucking day since I met you—thinking about you.”
“Then why don’t you want me?” It comes out so quiet, so meek, and I hate myself for it, but it captures his attention. Finally, he faces me. Mirroring his stance, I lean sideways against the door.
“Is that what you think?” He draws in a breath, taking his time to exhale. “I feel so much guilt. What I want doesn’t matter. Until that piece of paper is in my hand saying that I don’t belong to somebody else, I just can’t.”
“You had no issue kissing me in Lilura.”
“I got caught up in the moment. I just think we need to be careful, that’s all. Things with Belle...they’re complicated.”
Thoughts swarm my mind, but the most potent one, the one I still can’t shake, is that he’s still in love with her.
“Well then, I guess there’s no point in me staying.”
“Don’t go. Please.”
“I’m not here to entertain you, Danny. Let me go.”
I don’t want him to, but right now I have no choice but to admit defeat.
He backs away from the door, and I pull the handle. I avoid eye contact, but I can sense his eyes on me. Hesitating, I pull it towards me, the heaviness a perfect metaphor to the weight bearing down on my chest.
Please, beg me to stay.
“Fuck it. I want you.”