Smoke

CHAPTER 16

Due to the extent of my injuries, Dawson elected to rain check our date night to ensure I actually spent my time resting and healing. However, that hasn't stopped him from stopping by and spending every free moment he can by my side. Much to his protests about wanting to stay the night to "keep an eye on me," I declined as politely as my lack of brain to mouth filter would allow.

There are shared intimacies in life that connect humans more than others. Trading longing gazes with one another across a crowded room; maybe a smile or two to show the effect their presence has on you; holding their hand to safeguard them from leaving your side; sneaking a kiss, or exploring their body to find what makes them weak - or sets them on fire - or scars of their past.

We've done that. Well mostly him anyway. But, sharing a bed? Apart from my drug induced coma, where I had no say in the matter, I haven't let him cross that barrier. Sharing a bed with someone means letting down walls that I am not willing to crumble yet. It means putting your trust in another human, that they won't f*****g kill you or hurt you in your most vulnerable state. Was I really ready to admit that I trust him fully and completely - without a shadow of a doubt? I can't say that I am. Trusting someone like that is a dangerous game and I'm not willing to play just yet.

As I sit out on our balcony, going over the events of the past two weeks, I can't seem to wrap my mind around just how much my life has fallen back into a familiar disarray of old habits. I have been drinking again, attending parties and going to bars, and getting close with a man that I have no business getting mixed up with right now. I am breaking all of my own rules and inhibiting myself from the healing and change that I most desired by coming here and starting fresh. Hell, my nightmares are back full-fledged, and I am missing class and work due to an attack that I could have prevented - if I had only stuck to my guns and solely focused on myself.

I lean back in the over-sized wicker chair and prop my feet up on the table as I light up a cigarette, inhaling the smoke deeply in an attempt to drown out my imposing thoughts. I watch as the cars drive by, each being blissfully ignorant to the illuminating pain of this poor girl four flights up who is contemplating each life altering decision.

I have yet to see any neighbors surface from their stuffy apartments and step onto their own concrete block of freedom since I arrived. Honestly, it's a good thing. It saves me from any awkward waves and introductions that I am no longer willing to give at this moment.

I hear the clang of the glass door shut behind me, but I keep my focus on the passing cars and imagine the lives led by each driver while I take another drag from my cigarette.

"Those things will kill you, you know?" I don't have to turn around to know it's Dawson. I just shrug and take another defiant hit, blowing the smoke from my nose and watching it disappear into the air as if it never existed.

"A lot of things can kill you Dawson. Just look at me," I usher my hand over my whole body as if it's further evidence to solidify my statement. "But...I'm still here."

"That doesn't mean dance with the devil, woman."

"Maybe I like dancing with the devil. Living on the edge of the unknown. Maybe I like to stare death in the eyes and dare it to make the first move. It's exhilarating...the adrenaline rush that comes from infinite possibilities. Ones you have absolutely no control over. I'm addicted to it...that feeling. Besides, no one ever got anywhere by playing it safe and following all the rules."

I hear a grunt as he pulls a chair up next to me and plops down, angling himself so that he could pull my legs over to rest on his lap.

"I have never met someone who consistently has me at a loss for a decent comeback. It's infuriating," he laughs, to lighten the thickening fog of my thoughts.

"I have to keep you on your toes. The safety net of the 'predictable' that you're used to must get boring," I stick my tongue out at him which causes him to swipe a finger across the bottom of my foot which earns him a swat on the arm in return. "Hey now! I cannot be held accountable for any injuries sustained if you tickle me. I get violent."

He smiles and holds a hand up in surrender. "I'm sorry. I'll try to contain myself. You feeling okay though?" He eyes me while tracing little designs on the skin of my calves which cause goosebumps to pepper up and down my legs, drawing my attention back to his curious eyes.

"I'm fine," I lie. I don't really feel like unloading my cannon fire epiphanies on him when I'm still deciphering them myself.

"Fine huh?" He chuckles softly and shakes his head, "I know that you know, that I know 'fine' does not actually mean fine in girl language."

I blink a few times, processing whatever the hell he just said to me. Once it all finally catches up I give him a small smirk and try to bite back the laughter that's threatening to spill over. I fail. "Touché."

"So then tell me what's wracking that pretty little head of yours that you choose to resort to smoking those cancer sticks?" His question causes me to pause for a moment as I debate on whether or not to just ask him the question that has been eating at me since the first night at the pub.

"Is it the chase?"

The look of confusion on his face tells me to further elaborate as he tilts his head to one side and his brows furrow together. I can't help but think that, that's one of my favorite looks he makes because it brings out a certain innocence in him.

"You know...the chase. People want things that they can't have and I believe I told you on night one that I don't date. Yet here you are. You basically stalked me and then bribed me into playing a game just to win a date with me. Why? If I would've thrown myself at you that night...would you even be here right now?"

"Technically you did throw yourself at me that night," he joked.

"I'm being serious Dawson."

"I can't give you an answer about something that didn't happen. But, I can tell you that I saw something in you that night. Something I can't quite explain. I just knew that I needed to know you. The way you spoke about life...intrigued me. I know you said you don't date but every single day since that night, you're all I can think about. That has to mean something, right?"

I purse my lips and try to analyze him and what he is saying. I like to read people. I like figuring out their tells, whether it be fidgeting or lack of eye contact, but his composure is steady. Before I can respond, he continues.

"You try and hide your life, like you're ashamed of it, but your past is what made you who you are - and I like who you are. I see more than you think I do. I just hope one day, you trust me enough to tell me about the things that you insist on keeping buried. Besides, people need other people to survive. We need that connection, and I want that with you. If you'll allow me anyway."

"Look Dawson, I'm going to give you my speech. It's a long one so buckle up. Listen first and don't f*****g interrupt me. If after, you want to leave, I won't hold it against you. If you want to stay...well then you're just about as crazy as I am." I clear my throat and remove my legs from his lap, allowing myself to sit up straight and look at him dead on.

His weary gaze causes me to suddenly feel like I'm under a microscope, and my heart starts pounding in my chest so hard that my body is visibly shaking. He leans back in his chair, pinching his thumb and index fingers together before swiping them across his lips like you would a zipper.

Here it goes.

"Let me be clear...I do not now, nor will I ever need anyone. If I want someone, that will be by my own accord and volition. However, my world will not cease to turn in their absence. If you need someone to need you..." I pause briefly, swallowing my nerves, "then I'm not good for you. I am not someone who pours herself into relationships. The only romance I care about are in novels. I am not sympathetic. I keep myself emotionally unattached for the most part, almost like it's a reflex. I refuse to filter myself in order to spare the feelings of others."

My grip tightens over the arms of the chair, and my voice becomes steadier - more firm as I continue on. "I trust no one...ever...not fully anyway. I ruin healthy relationships on purpose because I'd rather break their hearts than have mine broken. Pay me too much attention and I'll ghost the f**k out of you. I stopped telling people about myself because the moment they find out something that scares them or they don't understand...they bolt. I have commitment issues. The moment I feel like a cornered animal...I will bite...and I will run. I can't help it. The world has been cruel to me. I am addicted to solitude and significant others have never respected that boundary."

I let out a steady breath as my voice softens, "I am not an easy person to love...or even like, if I'm being completely honest. But, I am fiercely loyal to those who earn it. I will, without a shadow of a doubt, piss you off...a lot! It's really a gift." I laugh quietly to lighten the mood, even if just slightly, "I will push you away. I will hide my feelings. I will disappear for days at a time. I will keep stuff from you. I have nightmares - on the nights that I can actually sleep. I have a cynical sense of humor sometimes and my mental status is absolutely fucked...But...if you can be patient with me, and accept that I am a hot f*****g mess - then I'll give you a chance to prove to me that what you said earlier was true."

He sits there - frozen. His eyes unblinking and brows slightly raised as he processes everything that I just hurled at him like a f*****g grenade. He took a long, slow, deep breath before letting out a simple, "Damn."

I can't lie and say that I wasn't slightly disappointed by his response even though I probably just overloaded his system with way too much information and caused his brain to short circuit. I mean, I have basically been completely aloof about my personal life, much to his dismay - and then out of nowhere I just launched it all directly at his face.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, debating about making a break for it. My eyes dart to the glass door, debating how many steps it would take me before I was finally back in the safety of my dinky ass apartment.

However, my intentions must have been obvious because before I could will my legs to stand, he swiftly moved, hovering over me. His warm hands snatched my face and his lips crash against mine, wiping away every single doubt floating around in my mind. The faint smell of teakwood curled around me, intoxicating my senses as they light a fire in my core.

And I finally...just let go.