Work Me Up

I try to smile, but it feels painful, knowing what’s coming in this story.

“That night, though, it was my twenty-first birthday. I wanted to celebrate by actually having some drinks. Daniel agreed to drive me. I didn’t go nuts or anything, but I was definitely tipsy. We had the radio on high, and we were singing along to Top 40 pop songs, making our voices all bad and weird as a joke to make each other laugh… We were laughing so hard.”

She presses her lips together. I rub her arm as gently as possible.

“We never even saw the other car coming. We rounded a blind curve, and it was fully in our lane. We found out later, the other driver was drunk. No, worse than drunk, just completely shitfaced.” She scowls. “He survived, of course, because he was so drunk he just went with the flow when we collided. But Daniel…” She squeezes her eyes shut. A tear escapes. Then another, and another, tracking down her pretty cheeks.

I reach up with one thumb to brush them away, one at a time.

“They say he died on impact,” she says softly. “That he didn’t feel any pain. That’s something, at least. I’m glad it was quick.”

“Selena…”

She clears her throat hard, as if driving a lump away from it. Then she pushes up off my chest and uses the heel of her palm to rub her eyes, one at a time, brushing at her cheeks until they’re dry. When she opens her eyes again, however, they’re redder and puffier than ever.

But she manages a weak, watery smile. “He wouldn’t want me to be like this, though. He’d want me to be able to laugh again. To have fun like we used to. You know?”

I nod, my gaze fixed on hers. “I’m sure he would.”

She presses her lips together tightly, and runs a hand through her hair. Glances away from me. Across the room at the smiling photo of her and her brother. “How did you find out, anyway?” she asks.

“Your mother told me,” I admit.

She turns back to me, surprised, her eyebrows rising. “You talked to my mother?”

“Actually…” I grimace. “I went over to your parents’ house. Your father wasn’t picking up his phone, and I just… wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She laughs softly, under her breath. “So, what you’re saying is you basically stalked me.” She reaches up to nudge me with a foot. But I catch her ankle in one hand, wrapping my fingers around it, rubbing gently.

She relaxes, lets me hold on.

“A little bit,” I say, smirking. “I just kept thinking about how hurt you looked when you left the garage, though. And you weren’t here, so…”

“So you decided you’d play here and come rescue the damsel in distress?” She nudges me with her toes again, and then I use my grip to tug her toward me on the couch, making her fall back against the cushions.

Taking advantage of the moment, I shift my weight, until I’m leaning over her, with her beneath me on the sofa. “Something like that,” I admit with a faint smile, before I lean in to kiss her, soft and slow.

She arches up against me, letting out one of those soft, sweet little sighs of hers, the ones I love so much. She reaches up, running her hands over my shoulders to drape them around my neck, at the same time, and I fold her against me. Just her proximity makes my thoughts run to all the things I’ve done to her before, all the things I still want to do to her now.

But instead, I shift her over a little, until I can lie alongside her on the couch, and I just pull her against me, holding her tight. At first she feels stiff with surprise. But slowly, she starts to relax. To sink against me. Trusting me.

“You can’t blame yourself,” I whisper into her hair. She inhales, sharp, like I’ve touched a nerve there. “It wasn’t your fault, none of it. And you can’t live your whole life under this burden. Like you said, your brother wouldn’t want that. He’d want you to be happy.”

I can feel her nod, where her face is pressed against my shoulder. For a long while, we just lie there together, and it feels so good to have her in my arms that I don’t ever want to have to let go. I want to show this woman what life can be if she lets herself be open to it again. I want to prove to her how much she still has to live for.

More than all that, I want the chance to love her.

There’s that word again, I think, and it warms me from the inside out to know how I’m starting to feel. Because that’s huge. I’ve never told a woman I loved her before. The few long- term relationships I’ve been in were fun, but things never felt completely right. Not like this. I never felt so easy or secure as I do with Selena.