Shrinking

Chapter Twenty-one

 NOTE: Wattpad for some reason decided this chapter was R-rated, even though it 100% should not be at all. I'm unsure why it is. Sorry everyone! 

***Peyton’s POV***

I had been terrified; shying away from Connor like he was the voice itself. The way he spoke, like he knew I was a mess inside, turned me into slick sheets of ice. The way he sat there until I finished my lunch, the way he stayed on the phone with me until two am, the way he hugged delicately were like ‘STOP’ signs on the road.

I did not have an eating disorder. I was in control. I’m just a little emotional, just a little bit rocky sometimes. I hated, despised, the fact that Connor was on to me. He had no business in my diet – none at all. My body was my own, and the voice’s, I suppose. And yet, when I looked into Connor’s milk-chocolate brown eyes, it was like a gravitational pull. I migrated towards him, toward his warm arms and chest, and inhaled the way he smelled of boy and post-rain breeze. When his arms were around me I felt a better sensation of fullness than food would ever give me. 

It wasn’t until I got the phone call from my mother on that chilly, October afternoon that my entire body composition was suddenly changed. It’s difficult to explain. One second I was napping with Connor, curled into him, subconsciously horrified that I’d eaten too much that morning and the next I was wide awake, my spine feeling like a steel rod, everything in me; evaporated.

I began to cry, as I often do. My eyes burned with the salty tears, my tongue tasting the sea. My vision was blurred; Connor was a mush of concern. I felt his soft hand in mine, drawing soothing patterns on my goose-bumped skin. My blood turned warm, my body turned soft, my head turned quiet with a sense of validity. I hung up with my mother in disbelief, my phone an anchor in my palm.

“It’s Jamie,” I said to Connor. My voice did not sound like my own. “He’s awake.” I smiled so wide, a bubbly gasp escaping from my mouth, a weight lifted from my stomach. “He’s awake!”

I threw my myself onto Connor, sliding him onto his back so I was laying on top of him. His long arms wrapped around my waist, hugging my tightly, as he half-laughed in disbelief. “He’s awake,” I said again, still crying. I looked at Connor, his face so caring and lovable, all of the ice inside of me melting.

I kissed Connor, again and again and again, and he kissed me back. The kisses were hungry and happy, filling me up and giving me butterflies. The taste of his lips only heightened everything inside of me. How had we gone so long without kissing? This was addicting, it was real, it was raw.

The kisses deepened and traveled down my jaw. I was intoxicated. Connor’s hands were everywhere, as were mine, and his touch was everything I had missed.

I pulled back, the tip of my nose against his. “I can’t believe he’s awake.”

Connor brought his hands to the sides of my face and swiped his thumbs across my damp cheeks. “I told you it would be okay. It’ll all be okay.” His voice was so low and sure that I had to believe him.

We were kissing again, lovingly, and I felt every cell of my body buzz. Connor’s hands were inside of my large sweatshirt, lighting fire as his fingertips graced my skin. My hands were entangled in his hair and I sighed, missing this. I took everything out of my head that didn’t belong there. The voice was silent.

Time slowed down for a little while. Or at least, my time did. With the fact of Jamie’s health improving nestled in my head, I let myself go for the first time since the accident. And it was beautiful.

*** *** ***

It’s been almost three weeks since I received the good news about Jamie. In that time, I’ve skyped and called him to talk more times than I could count. His voice came back to life in my head – it was magical. My mom told me it was no use to fly all the way to Florida with Thanksgiving break approaching soon enough. She even said Connor was welcome to come along. The thought of five days spent seamlessly with Connor made my heart leap.