Page 92 of Crystal Iris
The second the water hits our skin, we both know what it means—what we can do, feel. We stop walking.
This time, Hoyt kisses me slowly. He takes his time placing one hand behind my head and the other behind my waist. He pulls me closer and I can feel his prism against my chest. I know our lights are glowing, even with my eyes closed. He moves his lips on mine, taking bit by bit until his tongue reaches mine. He teases me with his teeth and I let my body arch against his hands. We are both soaked but we don’t dare move away.
I move my hand to his wet hair. I’d fantasized about doing it since the first time I saw him. His strong, hard body is pushing against mine. He pulls back just enough to say, “I don’t think I can ever have enough of you.”
He kisses me like I have never been kissed before. He tastes like bourbon and I want every drop.I need more.I know we are still in the middle of the park; I don’t care. Until I do. At that moment a lot of things come rushing to my head as I let myself feel all of it. Aaron’s words, all I have gone through these past months, how much I have changed, how much of myself I’m still discovering. I pull away and look him in the eye.
“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” I say.
He takes a step back.
I’m confused. My body aches for his touch, but my mind isn’t ready.
“I’m sorry,” I continue.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I think tonight... I realized I’ve never been by myself. I’m not ready to jump into... something else.”
“I understand.”
I step closer and take his hand. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want this… us.”
He kisses me on the forehead and says, “I will wait.”
I move closer, letting him wrap his arms around me. I rest my head on his chest, allowing myself fully to feel him—for the first time. I know I’m making the right call, even if this is where my heart belongs.
“Let’s take things slow,” I say, looking up into his green eyes. “I have to figure out who I am when I’m not someone’s plus one.”
“You know where to find me.”
We walk back to the street, holding hands.
He puts me in a cab, and I watch him disappear into the rain while my driver takes me home.
I want to scream into my pillow. It took all my strength to walk away, to not ask him to take me right there—in the rain, in the hotel pool, in his shower—wherever and whenever he could.
I take off my dress and put on the comfiest sweats I own. I crawl under the covers and cry. Too many feelings need to get out. But I owe it to myself to get my life together, to not lose myself in another role. I can’t be someone’s anything—not until I figure out who I am when I stand alone. I know I have a journey ahead of me, and it’s time to learn who I truly am when letfree.
I don’t even stop to eat breakfast. I wake up with a kind of energy I haven’t had in a long time. I need to unpack. The mantra comes to mind:messy house, messy mind.
I start by putting my books back on the shelves. First, I pull out the novels, separating the unread ones into a different pile. I have a habit of buying books and forgetting about them, only to buy more the next time I pass a bookstore.
I open another box with my art history books; surprisingly, I’ve gone through all of them.
I rediscover my passion for decorating. I experiment with the placement of my antique objects, including my marble statue of Cupid and Psyche—one of my favorite classical myths. Cupid, son of the goddess Venus, falls in love with Psyche, a mortal, disobeying his mother’s orders. They go through a series of dramatic events, culminating in the gods turning Psyche into an immortal and uniting her with Cupid. The story proves that love cannot exist without trust.
Hours later, I’m happy to see a pile of broken-down boxes by my front door.
I move on to my bedroom, change my sheets, arrange my jewelry boxes, and proceed to take everything out of my closet.
Maybe I should’ve broken the tasks into smaller chunks. I’m exhausted, but I can’t stop now. Half the clothes I own no longer fit my style.I’ve changed in more ways than I realized.
By the end of the weekend, my apartment is put together. It still needs a deep clean, and a few new furniture pieces will be arriving soon, but it feels amazing to see the progress. I can’t believe I waited this long. It’s been almost a year since my place looked this nice. I stand there for a while, admiring the outcome, proud of what I’ve done.
“Can you believe we only have two more weeks left this semester?” I ask Akira, waiting in line for coffee.
“I know. You never told me if you decided to teach that summer class.”
