Salt

The Sweetest Douse

I was fully aware I wasn't thinking straight when I headed for the loft. That blinding daffodil colored window was closed, the drapes covering the inside. But I knew I had to get in there, regardless, I was done with being helpless and waiting around for a man to say when he was ready.

The matter of fact was that Jesse may never be ready, but I couldn't be stationary while he tip-toed around me for the rest of his life. This wasn't just about him, or me, anymore. Other people we loved were involved too.

Everyone else was just collateral damage in this fight. It wasn't right.

I stood in the street for a few minutes. The breeze nipped and killed. It ruffled my hair and messed up more than just the forgotten litter on the sidewalk. Trees bent but didn't break, cars rattled on their spaces, and the water from the puddles shot up my legs and soiled my clothes. Yet, I didn't stay to be submerged in their unrivaled acrimonious agony, I just had to think of a better way to go through with this. Every second thought was a gamble that never alleviated my qualms.

Doubts that had easily inserted themselves into my mind, ones that had to go. I'd overcome this. Mason believed in me.

        I believed in me.

I had to do this. If not for me, then Zoey was counting on me finding out the truth. She didn't lie to me, she wouldn't do that – would she?

Using the spare key Jesse had issued me months into our relationship, I ascended the landing stairs. My footsteps echoed loud and clear, ready and prepared. There was no turning back now, I reasoned with myself. It was all or nothing, I couldn't back down.

Catching my breath, I didn't knock before I threw open his door and strolled in.

As predicted, he was by his desk again, working on that same charcoal drawing. It was smeared right across his tanned cheek, with some leftover dust on his bottom lip. The denim jacket he wore was a duplicate for the same one he'd worn the day I woke up in the lake.

The swirls of color surrounding us wasn't enough to calm the red in my eyes.

"I don't care if you don't want me here. Or if you're not ready. I am. I'm not leaving this time. I deserve answers. All of them."

What I expected was far from what I got. Instead of fury and screams for me to leave, or a two-hundred-pounds body pushing me out the door, I received a look that was nothing short of upset.

He lay down his utensils and pushed back his chair. He stood up, only to lean on the back of it.

"I need to say, I never wanted this for you. Any of it. I'd thought you'd leave, go back to college, mess around and have fun with your mates, and fall in love," Inhaling deeply, I also just stood there. His eyes buried into mine, soft yet demanding. We wanted so much from each other, but it would just begin a reckless train of hurt. "To be around you, to smell you when I come home and your shampoo has soaked into my pillows, to hear that you nearly died... I don't want that. I want you to be happy, it's all I ever did. I thought it was best to cut it off before I couldn't anymore."

I crossed my arms, resting against the door as it clanged shut behind me. The vibration tickled my feet, but there was no giggles to be heard.

So, he ended things with me because he wanted me to be happy? That's so fucking stupid. I mean, how blind could you possibly be?

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know that! But it did to me. Ashley," He breathed my name, left the chair and crossed to me. He was close enough I could taste the banana on his tongue. "There's so much about me you don't know."