Lost In Us (Lost 1)

Time. The invisible fabric everyone thinks is magic. They said time would make the pain of Kate's absence fade away. But it hasn't. And just like it can't erase pain, it can't make him say something he doesn't want to say either.

"I'm afraid to, James. I'm afraid time will pass and you'll leave me instead of loving me," I say, my eyes still closed.

"I would never leave you. I—"

"Would you love me if I were more like you?" I cut him off.

"What?" he pulls back, and I blink my eyes open. He's frowning.

"If I'd like stuff like skydiving, rafting." I point to the river. "You know. Danger. Or excitement, as you call it."

"Serena, I like you for not being that way. The world doesn't need one more hotheaded show-off. I don't want you to become that."

"What are you talking about? You have pushed me to do dangerous stuff since our second meeting."

I remember what he told me the first time I met him, in that bar. Not very adventurous, are you? Well, I should have been honest with him back then and said no. Maybe it wouldn't have come to all of this. I'll never be an adventuresome girl. Not a real one, anyway. I might like the thrill that jumping off a plane or diving in a free fall brings, but I will never go out and seek that kind of thrill. Because taking risks will always end up badly for me; even now, I somehow managed to injure myself. And that's what giving in to James would mean now. Taking a risk head-on. I took a leap of faith with him once, when I decided to trust him the night we went to the chocolate factory. What a reward that breathtaking, magical night was. But that all ended with me in shambles. I'm not taking chances again. Even though I know I'll never feel as alive as I feel when I am with him.

James chuckles, running his thumb over my neck. "It was the third meeting. And I didn't do that to test you, or change you. I wanted you to know who I am, and what it is like to be at my side, so you had a chance to run away before it was too late. I hoped you wouldn't run away, of course." His smile fades. "Granted, I also wanted to show you the fun side of life. My kind of fun at least. But I never wanted to you to become like me. God, don't become like me. You're perfect the way you are."

"Then why can't you love me?"

He lets go of me, his jaw tight. "This has nothing to do with how I feel about you. My inability to say… certain things… it doesn't mean I don't feel that way. I…" He takes a deep breath. “Why do these words mean so much to you, Serena? Haven't I proved how much I care about you? I cut off any contact with Natalie. I'll do anything you ask me. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. Just give me time, that's all I ask."

His hands hang in the air at the sides of my hips again, like in his office. It's still there, the invisible barrier that keeps him from touching me. It's growing stronger with all the things we can't do for each other. Him, not being able to tell me those three words. Me, not being able to give him time.

"What did Natalie tell you?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"When you talked at that dinner?"

"She… not much."

I realize it as I say the words. She didn't actually say much. Just enough to instill doubt and fear in me. "What was there to tell?"

"I gave up saying those words a long time ago. Lara always accused me of mixing up love with control. That I used those three words as a means of control." He sighs, shaking his head. "She was right in ways I hope you'll never know. You say I like danger a bit too much. But telling you what you want to hear might be the most dangerous thing I've ever done."

He takes my hand between his, and I search his eyes, trying to understand how three words can mean something so different to each of us. Relief to me. Torment to him.

I press my other hand on his cheek. I think he knows what I'm about to say. "I'm too afraid that waiting for you to say them is even more dangerous, James."

"Don't leave for New York," he begs.

I run my fingers on his cheek. "You can make me stay," I whisper. "Three words are all it takes."

Three words and everything would feel right between us again.

But he can't bring himself to utter a single word, let alone three. I trace the outline of his lips with my thumb, every cell in my body praying for them to move, for him to say something. He's shaking. I'm shaking too. Like a leaf in the autumn breeze, like the drop of water trailing down his nose, to his lips, and then trickling on his chin, not in a straight, but twisted line, as if it's not quite sure of its course. But no matter what course it takes, the little drop will end up on the bare brown earth, where it will dry up and perish.

I'm not sure what my undoing will be either. The torture of James's hot, ragged breaths on my lips or the ice-cold silence. Both of them have the power to crush me. I wish I could have another glass box. I wouldn't collect memories in this one. I'd encase my dismantling heart in it, to keep the falling pieces from vanishing forever in the abyss of pain inside me. There will be no words from James to heal me. So I lean forward, searching for his lips.

They won't heal me either; I know that. But they will make me forget.

For now.

I open my mouth to his in a breathtaking clash. I expect him to push me away, to reject me, but he runs his tongue roughly over mine, his fingers digging in my hair. His other hand presses at the small of my back, holding me closer to him with a need as desperate as my own. The desperation births a bloom of hope in my chest. That he might need me so much, he might say the words after all. He'll tell me he loves me and then I'll never have to endure the dull lapse of life without his lips again.

Yet the hope withers away, bit by bit, as his hands slide to my hips, and his lips trail down on my neck, hungry for my skin, but silent. He's not preparing to say he loves me. He's preparing to say goodbye to me. A sob escapes my lips. He breaks off the trail of kisses and straightens up until we're eye to eye.