Lessons On Love

18: Him Or Us

            Tyler was built to be an athlete and within seconds caught up to me and took hold of my arm. The force he used to pull me into him threw me completely off balance and the smell of him – like honeysuckle and thunderstorms – met my nostrils as my face fell against his hard chest. With that one grip he held me in place, his gaze so penetrating that it forced me to look up and meet them. His lips were parted, heavy pants seething out of him as his eyes searched me wild and desperate. “What happened? When we came back, you guys already left!”

            I ripped my arm away from him and gained some distance before crossing them in front of me like a protective barrier. It was a useless gesture in every sense and manner, but I felt more comfortable having it there than if my arms hung freely at my side. “I left because it was pathetic,” I said, staying reasonably calm. “The whole thing was a complete joke.”

            “What are you talking about?” Confusion apprehended Tyler’s face before his eyes found the stain at the foot of my jeans. His gaze rested there, unmoving, before he looked back up at me. “When we came back,” he started, “there was a girl cleaning up a spilled drink at our table. She said that you guys both left after one of you came back from the washroom.”

            Silence handicapped us after, but it wasn’t long before Tyler got the nerve to continue. “It was you, wasn’t it?” He muttered. “The girl that went to washroom. You were there. You heard us. You eavesdropped.”

            “I did not!” I shouted, but one glare at him was enough for me to bite back the words in my mind. “I just… happened to be there.”

            “How much did you hear?” He turned his head away from me and released a bitter chortle after, shaking his head side to side in disbelief. “Nevermind. If it freaked you out enough to make you run out like that then you heard the part you needed to hear.”

            I opened my mouth, but couldn’t seem to form any words in my throat or in my head. All there was in my mind was the image of me rehearsing for my part in the production of Shakespeare’s Tempest tomorrow night at the theatre. Or maybe Diana would actually suspend me this time after I publicly punched Brooklynn’s face. Maybe my dad would think it’s so unfair that he’d finally break up with her. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. All I knew was I wanted to leave that place right then and there. “I have to go,” I told him, and with a quick turn of my heel, started off again.

            “Whatever Mila,” I heard Tyler saying after me, straining not to shout. “You can run if you want and you can hide if you can, but what I said back there? I meant it.” He paused and I turned around to meet his eyes straight on. “Every bit of it,” he said. “I love you.”

            Veins popped out on the side of my temple and I could feel them trembling against my head while I bit my lips to stop them from quivering. “Love?” I asked. “You love me? Love wouldn’t be my choice of word Tyler! You don’t love me.”

            “Are you kidding me?” He shouted. “Who are you to tell me whether I love you or not! You have no say in that Camila! I love you!!! I love you from the tips of my hair to the ends of my toes! Every single pore in me, every breath, every heartbeat is screaming to me that I love you and you’re telling me that I don’t?! Who are you to tell me how I’m supposed to feel! What gives you the right to that?!”