With the laughter dying, leaving what feels like the beginning of a gap between us, Ronan sobers up, and adds, his voice like liquid velvet, "Come here, baby. I need you."
“Nu-uh. I know what you want and I'm tired,” I lie.
“If you don’t get your cute little ass back here, I’m coming to get you.”
I want to tell him to come and get me, but I’m afraid that my voice will betray me, so I just shake my head and continue to stare out the window, braiding my hair. Before I know it, a hand is reaching for mine, helping me to stand up, and I’m enveloped in a choking embrace. Without saying a word, I bury my face in his chest, feeling his skin soft as silk against my cheek, and breathe in his smell. I can also hear the beating of his heart, and like a lullaby it helps to soothe me. After a couple of minutes pass by in silence, our breathing the only sound in the room, Ronan places a hand under my chin and makes me look at him.
“I got something for you.”
“You did? Why?”
He lets me go, walking toward his nightstand. “Just because.” He retrieves a package and makes his way back to me.
“Because why? How?”
He smiles an impish smile that makes him look so much younger than he is. “Just open it, Blaire.”
The memory of what it felt like kissing Lawrence flashes through my mind. “But I don’t deserve it.”
“Let’s agree to disagree on that, shall we?”
“But—”
“Shh. Will you stop being so stubborn for once and just let me give you something?”
I purse my lips as I stare at him with daggers in my eyes. “I hate you sometimes, you know?”
Ronan laughs out loud. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
I’m about to tell him he’s so full of himself when he raises his hand. “Nope. I won’t hear it. Open the gift first, then you can continue telling me how much you hate me.”
“You suck.”
I look down at the small package in my hands, the wrapping paper a soft purple. Smiling, I unwrap the gift, and as the paper falls on the floor completely forgotten, I uncover a Hello Kitty watch. The beating of my heart comes to a full stop as I stare at the dial. There’s an ache in my chest and butterflies in my stomach.
“You remembered,” I whisper softly.
It’s not the same as the one I wanted my parents to get me—it’s better. This is probably the most unassuming and least expensive gift I’ve ever received, but as my vision begins to blur from tears, I know that it’s priceless.
My hands trembling, I stare at the gift when I feel his hand under my chin, gently tipping it up until our eyes meet. And the way he’s looking at me …
Oh, the way he’s looking at me is what love poems are written about.
“How could I forget?” he says softly.
My chest is full of emotions—good, bad, and confusing. It feels as though it might burst with the intensity of it all. And if I had any questions as to whether I was falling for him or not, they are completely answered at this moment.
I am.
Hard.
I look up as I fight the tears that threaten to spill over, ready to thank him, but the words get stuck in my throat.
“Damn. My purpose of giving you that watch was to see you smile, not make you cry.”
He reaches for the watch, but I slap his hand away and cradle the gift close to my chest. “Don’t even think about it! I love it.”
“Then what made you look so sad?”
“No … it wasn’t that. It’s just the nicest thing anyone has ever given me.” I pause, losing myself in his eyes. “Thank you, Ronan. Thank you so much.”
“Here, let me put it on you.”
Ronan takes the gift away from my hands and puts the watch on my wrist.
“So you really like it?”
As I stare at his gift, memories of my childhood, of broken dreams, and of the past few weeks spent with him swirl in my head: Ronan, my parents, happiness and heartache, tears and laughter, loneliness and companionship.
The memory of a particular dream I used to have all the time as a little girl fleets back, flooding my entire being with physical pain. In that dream, I’m holding my mom’s hands as we spin in circles as fast as our legs would allow us. The speed of our bodies propelled us to go faster and faster with each turn, while colors and shapes became a blurred rainbow around us. Careless and free, we threw our heads back laughing as hard as the forever young—the easy moment feeling magical. I shouldn’t have been able to see my dad, but because it was a dream, I knew he was watching us. Reclined lazily against a tree, a smile on his attractive face, he didn’t look drunk as he usually did. Instead, his clothes were immaculate, his black hair smoothed to the side. But it was what I saw in his blue eyes that I loved the most. They sparkled with love for both his wife and daughter. And at that moment, when our eyes connected, my mom’s sweet laugh filling my ears, I knew I was loved.
I knew I was loved.
But then I would wake up, finding myself on a cold bed in an empty room. I would touch my cheeks and find that they were wet because I was crying in my dreams.
Again.
So as I continue to stare at the watch that Ronan gave me, I lose what little composure I have left and break down completely.
But a part of me wonders …
Is love really so bad?
Is wanting something as beautiful and simple as love such an awful thing?
It must be because it hurts. My chest hurts. My heart hurts. The beauty of this is driving me fucking insane. What will happen to me when this ends? Maybe before today, I could have walked away from him unscathed, but I don’t think that’s possible anymore. I can’t continue lying to myself. I’m falling for him, and because of that, it has to come to an end.
I can’t help the hysterical half laugh, half sob that escapes my mouth.
“I’m sorry … I need a moment,” I say, pushing Ronan away and running to the bathroom.
I’m drying my face with a tissue when I feel Ronan come up behind me. He grabs me by the arm and spins me around so we’re face to face.
“Why are you crying?” he asks as his thumb touches some of the moisture left from my tears on my cheeks. “What’s the matter, babe?”
I shake my head. “What are you doing with me, Ronan? You’re too good for me. You should be with someone who doesn’t have so much fucking baggage. Someone who will be able to give herself completely to you. You do something nice for me and I break down and cry. Don’t you see how fucked up I am? I’m not right for you. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”
I keep repeating myself over and over again, hoping that I’ll make him believe those words, and convince my heart that this is over.
But Ronan won’t listen to me. Pulling me into an embrace, he says, “Shhh … You deserve me and I’m not going anywhere.”
I speak into his chest. “You shouldn’t. I’m—”
“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that you’re not worthy of me and that you’re so fucked up. But you know what? I don't fucking care. I don't want perfect—I don't need it. I just want you, Blaire. I just want you. Look at me!”
I raise my face and drown in the depths of his warm eyes.