The Only Exception

My Only Exception

I walked over to her, my hands finding her waist and pulling her closer. 

"Don't be ridiculous," I whispered, and then my lips found hers in a soft, slow kiss. It wasn't rushed or demanding, just a gentle, perfect press of mouths. My hands traced the small of her back as the kiss deepened, a silent, tender conversation. She let out a small sigh against my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. "I missed you so much," I mumbled against her lips. "Tell me about it," she breathed back, her lips brushing my skin as she spoke. "You're all I've been thinking about." 

The words were a quiet confession, and they felt more intimate than anything physical. We stayed like that for a long moment, just kissing and whispering, the world outside my apartment door completely forgotten. "Maybe we could just stay here tonight," Billie whispered, her voice barely audible.

After a few more minutes we decided to make pasta for dinner. 

I was a decent cook, but Billie was a force of nature in the kitchen. She moved with an easy grace, chopping vegetables with a speed that made me nervous, her movements so fluid and natural it was like she was born with a knife in her hand. I just stood back and watched, a quiet smile on my face as she hummed along to the music playing softly on the speakers. The kitchen was filled with the scents of garlic, basil, and warm tomato sauce, and the air was thick with a happy, comfortable silence.

When the pasta was finally ready, we ate it at my small kitchen table, the candlelight casting a soft, warm glow on our faces.

Later, we were finally in bed, my head resting on Billie's chest, the steady beat of her heart a comforting rhythm against my ear. The moon cast a soft, silvery light through the window, illuminating her face in a soft, ethereal glow. I could feel her hand stroking my hair, her fingers a gentle, soothing presence.

I didn't want to ruin the moment, but the words were a lump in my throat, a painful ache that needed to be released. 

"I'm so sorry, Billie," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "For everything I put us through. For that night at the party, for... everything."

Her hand stilled in my hair, and she let out a soft sigh. 

"Stella," she whispered, her voice full of a gentle sadness. "I know. It's okay."

"No.....no..... it's not," I insisted, my voice thick with emotion.

Billie was silent for a moment, and I could feel her breath hitch in her chest. 

"It was fucked up seeing you with her, I'm not gonna lie," she said, her voice a little shaky. "It felt like... a gut punch, for real. I was so mad and so confused. I just... I couldn't figure out how you could do that. And I felt so stupid for being so hurt, for still caring at all."

I lifted my head and looked at her, my hand reaching up to gently caress her cheek, my thumb stroking the soft skin. 

"I could say I'm sorry over and over again," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "But I know that doesn't change anything. I know that I fucked up. But it didn't mean anything. It wasn't even about that girl, it was just... about numbing the pain. I was in such a dark place, and I just didn't know how to handle it. I'm so, so sorry." 

A single tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek. "In therapy we're working on better coping strategies at the moment."

Billie's eyes softened, and she reached up, her thumb gently brushing away my tear. "I'm so proud of you for choosing to go to therpay," she whispered.

I nodded, a small, sad smile on my face. "It's... a lot. But it's helping. So much. It made me realize that I was so stuck in my old patterns, and that I was so afraid of intimacy because of my past that I was hurting the person I loved most." 

I paused, my gaze dropping. I felt a wave of shame wash over me, but I forced myself to continue. "And it helped me realize..." My voice was barely a whisper. "That you... you're worth all the emotional risks. All of them."

I felt a soft smile spread across my face. I reached up and began to gently stroke Billie's cheek with my thumb, my gaze fixed somewhere just past her shoulder as I spoke. 

"There's this song I've loved for a long time, 'The Only Exception' by Paramore. I related to so much of it—the lyrics about building walls and being afraid to let people in. All of it except for the chorus." I looked at her, my eyes welling up again. "I never understood that part, where she sings 'You are the only exception.' I never thought anyone could be. But then I met you, and now I get it." 

And with that, I lifted my gaze to meet hers.

"You really are my only exception."

Billie's face crumpled, her lips trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. I felt my own throat tighten, and a tear escaped, rolling down my cheek. She reached up, her hand gently cupping my cheek, and leaned in, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to the corner of my eye, tasting the salt of my tears. 

A low, choked-up sound escaped her throat, and she let out another sob. I just held her face, my thumb stroking her cheek, my own body shaking with quiet sobs. 

"Oh baby," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "I love you so, so much." Then, she leaned down, and her mouth found mine in a kiss that was a gentle balm to our wounds, slow and full of a quiet, profound understanding.

We lay there for a long time, just holding each other and sobbing, our tears a silent language of all the things we couldn't say. Finally, a small hiccup-like sob broke the silence, and then another, and suddenly, we were both laughing, a shaky, tear-filled sound that was half relief, half pure, ridiculous joy. 

Billie pulled back, her face streaked with tears and a wobbly smile. 

"Look at us," she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. "Look at how pathetic we are."

I laughed again, a full, teary sound that felt so good to release. It wasn't pathetic; it was real. It was everything I'd been avoiding, everything I'd had feared, all out in the open. She pulled me closer, burying her face in the crook of my neck, and the gentle, even rhythm of her breathing was the most comforting sound I had ever heard.

This was the start of it. 

Not a frantic rush, not a desperate escape, but a slow, quiet walk forward, hand in hand. 

It wouldn't be easy; we both knew that. 

There would still be hard days and difficult conversations. 

But this time, we had each other. 

This time, we were choosing to stay. 

And for the first time ever, I knew with a certainty that settled deep in my bones that this feeling, this beautiful, messy, wonderful love, wasn't something to run from.

The End