Page 93 of You and Me, For Real
Tears slip from my eyes.
Quietly, he asks, “What do you need? What can I do?”
I stare at the floor, the black-and-white mosaic tiles blurring. I can’t form sentences. I can’t share my needs because I don’t know how. I’m shaking uncontrollably, though my body isn’t cold.
“Can I touch you?”
I stop moving and lift my head, my chin wobbling.
He steps closer and clasps his hands around my biceps. “Is this okay?”
I bob my head up and down. He continues inching forward until he’s flush against me. I press my chin into his shoulder, stilling it. His arms wrap around me. He holds me tighter and tighter.
I melt.
I mold.
I collapse into him, not realizing how much I need the hug until he’s fully embraced me.
My convulsions slow.
His hand encompasses my entire back, his hold gripping me tighter. My breathing is still irregular. His is slow and even. I inhale deeply, trying to absorb more oxygen, my chest shuddering. His soft, clean scent calms my nerves.
“That’s right. Breathe. Slow and steady. Match your breathing with mine.”
I nuzzle closer, pressing my nose into the crook of his neck. Slowly, the tension in my body loosens. I ease my arms around his solid, steady middle.
Emboldened by his generosity, I vocalize my needs. “Can you hold me tighter? Please.”
“Sure thing.”
His hold tightens, and I’m enveloped in a sense of peace…calm…strength. We stay motionless for…seconds? Minutes? Until a knock sounds on the door.
“Everything okay in there?”
It’s Wren.
Suddenly, I remember where we are. I lean backward from his cocoon, my focus jolting to his face.
His grip loosens, but his arms remain lightly wrapped around my waist. His eyes stay on mine. He calls out toward the door, “We might need a few more minutes.”
“No problem.”
Wren’s voice turns from the door. “You heard the man. It’s going to be a while. Go find one of the other five bathrooms. Shoo. Shoo.”
A smile slips to my lips, squeezing out the last bit of tears stored in my eyes. I tuck back into Griffin and try to discreetly wipe my nose on the back of my hand.
“Are you wiping your snot on me?”
I cover my mouth to stifle my laugh.
“There she is. There’s my girl.”
His words settle inside me with their rightness. Despite all the drama of the night, he’s here. With me. And impossibly, I am his.
Releasing one arm from my waist, he reaches toward the bathroom counter and retrieves a Kleenex, handing it to me.
“Thank you.”
