Page 219 of Lilah
"Figure. Yourself. Out," she speaks slowly, "figure out ways to be able to talk to me. You're not alone anymore and you get that physically, but not mentally. I need you to open up to me, Grey, and I know it's hard but I can't do this if you're not going to be there with me emotionally. I'mherefor you. I don't judge you and I can listen to all of your problems, but you just don't tell me anything."
She might as well be speaking Latin. Some things make sense, some don't. I don't know how to do this. I've never had anyone I've been able to tell everything to. Never.
"You still love me?" I mumble admittedly vulnerably.Please still love me.
"I can't stop loving you overnight," she sighs. I don't know that.
"Where are you staying?" I question. Aaron's?
"Mr. Terrip's couch," she mumbles. I breathe out a breath of relief. But even that's not where she should be. She once told me how he's got a one-bedroom apartment and the most uncomfortable couch that was ever made.
"Come home with me," I grip her side, and pull her just a bit closer to me. She's too far.
"Grey," she starts, "we're not together, I can't live with you. And respect my space, no touching."
I pull my hand off her side, and hold it behind my back. I think it has a mind of its own.
How long is this going to last? How long does it take for someone to 'figure themselves out?' I don't even think I know what that means. I almost reach out to pull her closer and I grab for the scrunchie that usually sits on my hand but it's not there.
God-fucking-dammit.
I hate what I'm about to say.
"Come home. I'll take the couch," I tell her, looking down at the dark blue carpeted floor, "don't stay on his couch. I won't bother you. Just, please come home."
She visibly hesitates. I can't live without her and I can'tlivewithout her.
"I don't think it's a good idea," she shakes her head.
"Please Azalea," I need to see her every day. Ideally right when I wake up and when I go to bed. And all the in-between.
"Friends only."
My heart falls to the fucking floor. Friends? Just like nothing happened? Like she never told me she loved me, like we never made out in the back of this place, like we never stayed up together watching anything she'd want to, like we never touched each other in places onlywe'reallowed to?
I can't fucking go back to that. I don't think it's possible.
But it's whatever she wants. It came from my doings.
"Azalea," I start but she holds her hand up.
"Deal or no deal."
I'd rather have her in my life than not at all.
~~~
I watch in on her as she walks back into our, more likeher, room now.
It was only a few minutes ago that the thought of me being actuallysinglehit me. I wouldn't call myself single though. It's not like I'd fuck anyone else. I'm single but not single.
The show she likes called it a 'break'.
But on that break one of them slept with someone else, whichever the fuck one it was. I can't stand the thought of being with someone else romantically. Let alone letting another woman lay her fucking hands on me.
No matter what, no matter how long we're 'friends' I know it'll never feel right. It'll always feel wrong.
I've gone as far as looking up what 'figuring oneself out' meant. It's taken two days to understand that she doesn't want me to change, she wants the way I hold in my emotions and feelings, and ways I release them to be pushed in a different direction; towards something, not someone.
