Let Me Go (Owned 2)

“‘Kay, this is it,” I grumbled as we approached my place.

Eli pulled to an abrupt stop in front of the apartment, causing me to lurch forward in my seatbelt. Before I could think, his arm was on my chest, stopping me from flying forward.

We both paused. I looked at his arm touching my chest. It wasn’t meant to be sexual; it was a reflex. He’d thrust his arm out to stop me from smacking into the dashboard in case my seatbelt hadn’t worked. He’d done it a million times before. His car was old and sometimes the seatbelt wasn’t so great. It wasn’t meant to be sexual.

Still, we both paused. His arm against me, the warmth sinking into my body…it had been so long since I’d felt him touching me. My body immediately perked up as if welcoming home a missing limb. I glanced at Eli to see his reaction, but I couldn’t read it. His eyes were half-lidded, his mouth drawn tight, and he was watching me like I was a dangerous animal.

I wished right then that there weren’t months of confusion and ruination between us. I wished I could lean across and kiss him. I almost did, but as I leaned in, Eli withdrew his arm.

Just like that our bond was broken.

Sitting across from Eli was like sitting across from my own personal magnet. It was as if something was constantly pulling at my organs. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t good. The love I had for him was painful. I needed to be close to him; he was pulling at me so much it was going to kill me if I didn’t give in.

When we first entered my apartment, Eli and I scrambled through the door at the same time. Our shoulders caught against themselves, causing us to stick in the doorway. I paused, he paused, both of us locked together in the doorway. Our heads turned and I wetted my lips with my tongue. I watched raptly as his eyes traveled to my lips, hungry for something.

It was only seconds that we were stuck together in the doorway, but it felt like eons. I quickly broke the spell and shoved my way through the door, causing my arm to bruise against the wood.

After that near miss—or near kiss—I made sure we sat on opposite sides of the space. He was on the couch and I was across from him, a coffee table separating us. Like perfect strangers.

“How’s life been?” Eli asked.

“Good,” I lied. “How’s college?”

“Good.”

Neither of us were looking at each other. We sat like awkward acquaintances thrust together at a party. He was opposite me on the couch, and I was sitting in a chair. My legs were tightly pressed together, my hands held as if I was praying. Maybe I was praying.

His stance wasn’t any less uncomfortable. With a stiff back and rigid shins, he looked like a stranger. I think we both realized, either consciously or subconsciously, that the past was off limits. The past was like a live pit of vipers, and neither one of us wanted to jump into that.

“Nice place,” Eli said, gesturing to the empty apartment. Absentmindedly I wondered where Vera was. It was only a little past twelve and Vera rarely left the apartment. I followed his arm as it swept across the apartment Vera and I shared with our ever-absent roommate, Chad. It really was nice. I was constantly in awe that we’d landed ourselves in a place like this.

“Thank you,” I responded robotically.

“Do you live alone?”

“No, I live with two roommates.” Again I wondered where Vera was. She didn’t have a job—well, not one that kept her away from home. I looked up to see Eli nod, but our eyes didn’t meet.

“Eli—”

“Grace—”

We both said each other’s name at the same time. I glanced up just as he did. I didn’t know what I was planning to say to him, just that I needed to say something. The awkwardness between us was as palpable as a chokehold. It didn’t matter, though, because when we spoke it was instantaneous.

My grey eyes met his brown ones and it was like flint and tinder. A fire started that burned down the neighborhood. Eli stood up off the couch and kicked over our flimsy, white-painted plywood coffee table. I was already there to meet him, our bodies ready to collide.

Whenever Eli and I had made love before, it had been gentle and sweet, because that’s what we did when we joined: made love. What we were doing now, though, it wasn’t making love. It wasn’t gentle. It was rough and furious and fast.

It was the alchemy of our current relationship, filled with pain and torture and lo

nging and need.

Eli pulled my lower lip back with his teeth and he groaned, “Why did you leave?”

I kissed him hard, trying to push away the question. “Not now.”

His hand slid up my shirt and the friction of his smooth hands against my stomach felt like tiny shocks. Eli furiously threaded his hand in my hair and the other around my waist. I reached up to pull him in by the neck. My body sung in harmony as it finally joined its match.

He lowered me to the floor, where only moments ago a coffee table had been. He grabbed my breasts with equal parts savagery and gentleness. In a swift motion, his hands left my breasts, leaving them feeling cool despite the t-shirt covering them.