Emilia

Like it was all in my head, the fear I’m on the verge of losing him slips away. It’s courtesy of the feel of his arms around me, his body cocooning me from the terrible thoughts that have haunted me since that night. But as with anything that isn’t real, it’s not long before that feeling of safety is shattered by the truth. Now that he’s caught a glimpse of how deeply in love I am with him, I have no idea what happens next. What if things between us never go back to how they were? What if he decides my feelings are too much, and the best recourse is for him to put distance between us? 

“I can’t lose you,” I whisper against his chest.

Since we were kids, he’s been a constant fixture in my life. Whenever I was scared, every obstacle I faced, I knew without a doubt he’d be there to help me conquer it. As a little girl, I have memories of Lucas helping me onto the large rock at Ruby Creek Park for the first time. It was he who took my shaky hand in his and helped me climb the steps of the big scary school bus that first day. For as long as I can remember, he’s been my guardian and protector, but now something essential to who we are has shifted. 

I can feel it. 

It’s intense and confusing, and worst yet, it’s causing this thick, unbreachable divide to form between us. 

“You’re not going to lose me.” He breathes into my hair. “You didn’t ruin anything, and I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you avoiding me? The guys have all talked to you, and you and Jen are okay. The only one you’re not speaking to is me.” 

I can’t help but bury my face deeper into chest. His warm masculine scent is like a balm that takes the edge off the uncertainty I feel. When his chest expands, he tightens his hold and pulls me closer. It’s why I don’t miss the tilt of his chin as he shifts his face over my hair and breathes me in.

I wish I could see his eyes. Would they betray his tight control and for once give away what he’s thinking? Would they show sadness? Regret? Longing? Or maybe pity for the stupid girl crying in his arms.

“I’m sorry about that. You’re right, we should talk.” While his tone is steady, I detect a hint of uncertainty. After kissing the top of my head, he pulls back. His hands slide over the sides of my face, and with his thumbs, he wipes away the remaining trail of tears. “What do you say we table this until after I eat? We can talk down at the park.”

Nodding, I let him slip away, back to the counter where he grabs his bowl of cereal and returns to eating. This time, however, he doesn’t turn away.

“Now, why don’t you tell me about your week? What did I miss?” When he looks at me this time, it’s like our troubles have melted away. It goes a long way to lifting the weight that has crushed my chest the past week. 

For a girl who can’t stand having people be mad at her and who avoids conflict like the plague, the change in him is like a gift from the heavens that I refuse to question. Maybe it’s a sign that I overreacted. That things between us haven’t changed all that much, and that after today things can return to normal. As long as I have my Lucas back, I’m willing to sweep the offending week under the rug and pretend it never happened. Especially if that’s what he wants.

“Hey you, head out of the clouds.” He shakes the hand that’s resting in front of me on the counter. “Come back to me,” he beckons in that soothing voice that never fails to make me swoon. 

God, I missed this. The wide grin and the warmth behind those sea-green eyes as he pulls me back into the moment. I’m a daydreamer who’s perpetually lost in my thoughts, but he never judges. If anything, the way he smiles when he catches me in the act is like he’s won a hand at his favorite game of cards. Like he’s thrilled to have caught me in a world that only he and I know exists. 

“Sorry.” With warmth radiating over my cheeks, I look down at my hand, which still tingles from his momentary touch. 

With a knowing grin, he scoops one last heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth and then walks the bowl over to the sink. “Let me grab Clara, then we’ll go.”

Clara is the guitar his mom gave him for his 15th birthday. He once told me that playing is how he processes hard feelings and copes with his need for constant perfection. The fact he’s bringing her today is significant because it means he’s serious about the conversation we’re about to have. 

Twenty minutes later, we’re at our rock at Ruby Creek Park. The flat stone surface is at the top of the hill and overlooks the lake. It’s a large enough area that all our friends can fit comfortably, but as per usual, we sit side by side, our bodies touching. 

Time passes while I listen in quiet wonder at the way he expertly strums Clara’s strings. The beautiful tunes flow in the surrounding breeze, further enhancing the silent escape that, over time, has become our refuge. 

I love this about us. The way we can sit quietly together, absorbing the wonder of everything around us with no pressure to fill the silence. Whereas with others that quiet can feel like a void, with him, the opposite is true. With him, the quiet fills all the empty little nooks and cracks inside of me, leaving me with a sense of completeness. Like I’m truly whole. My heart brimming full of happiness and life. 

When the melody he was playing shifts, the tune pulls me back to that awful night. At first, worry trickles in, but that’s quickly negated by the feel of his eyes gently sweeping over my face. He’s staring at me with a look I’ve never seen. Maybe reverence? It sends a fresh wave of butterflies fluttering inside my chest.

“I like this song.” The melody continues to build, as with expert precision his fingers tug at the strings. “I’ve been working on it all week. Haven’t been able to get it out of my head since that night.” He says this out loud, but I’m not sure he meant for me to hear it. 

You and Me by Lighthouse. 

As the memories of that night come rushing back, emotion chokes me, and my eyes fill with that familiar burn. I remember so vividly the moment my gaze was pulled towards him, his eyes connecting with mine just as his arms went around Becca. As their bodies began to sway, I remember the feel of the song as it coursed through my blood, ripping through my soul with the demand that it was me who belonged in his arms. With each perfectly worded lyric, the melody fused into my being like the music wanted me to know it was written specifically for us. 

I was so caught up in what was happening that I realized way too late that I’d dropped all pretense and let my true feelings show. It was there, written in his eyes. A look of shocked realization, which was followed by disappointed devastation. It was in that instant that he broke away and turned his back on me for the very first time in my life. As I watched him walk away, hand in hand with his girlfriend, the rejection was overwhelming. It was like nothing I’d ever felt, and it nearly brought me to my knees.

He must realize that I’m upset, for he stops playing and after setting Clara beside him, he turns toward me and takes my hand.

When my eyes finally meet his, he says, “I’m not mad about what happened that night. I could never be mad at you. Not ever.” 

“Then why?” I need to know. More than anything, I need him to tell me so I can make sure it never happens again.

“Um…” He shifts and looks down at where our fingers are intertwined. “I think you know. I think you feel it too. What’s happening between us? I'm pretty sure you felt it that night, during that song…maybe even before then. I know I have.”

My mind falls into a wayward abyss, and my stomach plunges like the ground beneath our feet has disappeared. 

I’m in freefall. 

Uncertainty and possibilities swirl around me, and the only thing I’m sure of is that we’re headed for a crash landing. I know it. Nothing’s ever going to be the same after this, no matter how much I will it. But what does that mean and where will that leave us? 

But I also can’t deny, his admission soothes a part of me I never knew needed the affirmation. I’m not crazy. This feeling that’s as tangible as the wind, and as glaring as an unspoken truth, must be real if we’re both feeling the same thing. 

However, underneath that and just as prevalent is this dark undercurrent. This tension that’s like a silent warning that what we feel may not be a part of our path. Judging by the furrow of his brow, I can tell he feels that too.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

“Yes, and no.” He looks contrite as he answers. “I don’t want to avoid you. I just don’t trust myself to do the right thing when I’m around you.”

At his admission, tension crawls up my spine, as my biggest fear rises front and center in my mind. Lucas is driven by his need to always do right. What if he decides that to protect me, he has to stay away? 

Terrified and frustrated, I blurt, “What does that mean, Luc? Don’t talk to me in riddles, just tell me straight out. What the hell does that mean?” The tears I’d been holding back break free, as overwhelming fear pushes me over the edge.

“It means that I want you Embree,” he blurts out, his brow twisted in frustration. “Every second of every day, all I want is to be with you. I want to touch you. To kiss you. It’s you I wanted to be on that dance floor …” He breaks off, looking away as a myriad of emotions I can’t decipher mar his face.

When he looks at me this time, the flutters in my belly swell into a wave of wants. I want him to touch me. To kiss me. Most of all, I want him to want me as badly as I want him. He’s the first and last person I think about each day. No matter where we are, I feel him like a current that springs me to life and sparks my awareness. It’s why these past seven days have been so miserable. Because somehow, he’s become as essential to me as the air I breathe.

“And that’s the problem.” He squeezes my hands, likely to ease the words he’s going to say next. “You’re one of my closest friends. You’re Jenny’s best friend. Our parents are friends. There’s just too much that could get screwed up if I allow myself to act on these feelings. Too many people could be affected if we mess this up. Plus, I don’t want to hurt you. It’s why I think it’s best that we remain friends. It’s easier that way. For everyone. It’s the right thing to do.” Though he says that last part with conviction, he shakes his head like his body is in total disagreement with his words.

Shattered doesn’t even come close to what those painful words do to me. Even as I expected them. Even as I know that he’s right, I can’t help the wave of disappointment and hurt that washes over me. Unable to speak and on the verge of tears again, I pull our hands apart and casually lean back on the rock, turning my attention up to the sky. It’s a lame attempt to look unphased as I fight to pull myself together. 

“Sorry, Embree. I’ve stayed away because I needed time to work through all this. I should have been honest.” When I don’t say anything, he grabs my chin with his fingers and forces me to look at him. “I don’t want this to change us. I need you. Can we table all these feelings and weirdness between us for a bit? Just until we figure out if there’s a way to do this without screwing anything up?”

The hope in his eyes and the possibility in his words coax a sad smile from my lips. He’s offering me what I wanted. Normalcy. To go back to who we were before I went and screwed everything up. 

I guess it’s a good thing that suppressing my feelings and needs for the sake of others is on par with who I am. It’s why I choose to school my expression, pushing away all those hurt feelings so I can mirror his hopeful ones. This is what he needs from me and after the hurt of the past week, I’m happy to give it. 

“Okay…” I smile wide, hoping it looks genuine. “Maybe it will all die down and go away, right? I mean, in a year you’ll be leaving for college, and a year after that, so will I. Who knows where we’ll end up after that.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal when in fact that bit of truth makes me want to cry.

“Yeah.” He pauses, his gaze scanning over the profile of my face like he’s searching for my truth. “Maybe someday, after college, when we’re grown. Maybe then if we still feel the same?” 

“Maybe.” I bump my shoulder against his, trying to make it seem like we’re back on firm ground. 

“Okay,” he exhales, a sense of relief washing over him as his gaze joins mine, looking out over the lake.

“Okay,” I whisper back, setting us up for yet another first. 

The first time I’ve blatantly deceived him.