"Let's play some more," Lucy whines.
I roll my eyes at her and stand up. "We've been playing for more than two hours here. I need a break, Lucy."
"But I'm bored," she wails and pouts at me, as if doing so will make me change my mind. "Please, Sissy."
I leave the bedroom and head downstairs. A headache pounds against my forehead and temples and I grab a bottle of water in the fridge. When I close the door, I jump in fright at the sight of Lucy just behind me.
"Can I go see Russell? At least, he won't get tired after two hours." She scoffs at me.
I grab a pack of chips and as we both go outside, she snatches it from me. "Hey," I call to her, "give it back."
I run after her into the backyard and as I am about to call her name, the pack of chips comes flying back to me. I catch it just in time in surprise and frown as I wonder why she gave in so easily. I am about to open my mouth when I hear Lucy's high-pitched scream.
"Yann!" She cheers and throws herself at him. "I missed you."
I watch as he takes her in his arms and spins her around. "Me too, you brat." He smiles at her before putting her down.
She smiles at him and says, "I was just telling Tracy we needed to go to your house," she says.
"Really? What for?" He asks.
"Need a friend to play." She grins up at him.
Yann smiles brightly again and, crouching at her level, says, "And you were coming to me?"
"No, I was coming to see Russell." And she grins up at him again, as if saying that she wanted to spend time with a dog instead of a human being wasn't – a little – offensive.
She spots Russell as he finally arrives in the backyard – he was probably peeing in some bushes nearby. Yann is slightly taken aback by Lucy's words but recovers quickly with a roll of his eyes.
Lucy jogs happily past him, not even glancing back at me. As Yann gets back up, he finally notices me standing by the backdoor. His lips spread out in a wide grin and he comes to me.
"Hi," he whispers as he dips his head a little to look into my eyes.
"Hi," I reply, biting the inside of my lip.
He lifts my chin with one finger and asks, "When are you going to stop blushing, Tracy?" Dammit, I wasn't even aware I was blushing.
"When I get used to it." I reply.
He smirks and I frown as to why he's smirking. "Once you get used to the idea that we did it or once we've done it enough times?"
I jerk my chin away and roll my eyes at him. "You want to come in?"
He follows me inside the kitchen. I ask him if he wants to eat something but he declines, saying he's already eaten. I ask him if he wants something to drink, but he declines as well. I'm looking for chips in the pantry when I feel his breath on my neck.
I freeze on the spot, anticipating his next move, but it never comes because at that precise moment, Lucy's screams and Russell's joyous barks fill the house.
Yann moves away from me and we both turn to face Lucy who's entering the house and requesting Yann's assistance in the living room. She disappears with Russell and Yann follows her. I watch his back, his hair, until he's out of sight.
I stay in the kitchen for a moment, eating my chips as I think of his words. Once we've done it enough times. It makes me smile to think that he wants this to happen again, that he wants this to last, whatever this is between us.
I've honestly tried not thinking about him too much but I can't. I'm not talking about our near lovemaking but about his feelings – or lack of feelings – for me. Does he feel the same way? Or even a tiny fraction of what I myself feel for him? Or does he simply see me as a sort of friend? Or a sort of friend with benefits? Those are the questions that torture my mind at night or whenever I'm left alone.
I am left alone right now and I don't want to think right now. I push myself off the counter I had been leaning against and make my way to my little sister and her friends.
When I walk into the living room, Yann's playing with Lucy and Russell. I sit down on the loveseat and watch the scene before me, chips in hands. Until Lucy grabs them from me and starts munching on them, throwing some to Russell who wolfs them down in greedy mouthfuls.
When Lucy gets tired of being indoors and offers to go in the backyard, Yann decides to stay inside. She calls him a coward for being afraid of the scorching sun before disappearing with Russell close behind.
His back is to me, his hair falling over his shoulders in soft curls. Unable to resist the pull, I twist a few locks in my fingers, silky and ebony. They're beautiful. Bliss lasts for a few moments until I pull on his hair by inadvertence. He snaps his head to me, surprise in his features until he relaxes. I pull away and recline in my seat, backing. He doesn't stop staring at me though, and no matter how many times I look away, my eyes are always drawn back to the blue of his.
Then he stands, eyes still in mine, and suddenly grabs my hands, yanking me up and slamming me into his chest. A gasp of surprises leaves my lips and my breath hitches in my throat. He smiles, visibly satisfied at having caught me off guard. I roll my eyes at him but smile nonetheless. I stare at him, wondering what he wants to do next. Then, out of nowhere, he lifts me up, and I have nothing left to do but to wrap my legs around his waist.
He carries me into the kitchen as I whisper into his ears, "Yann, what are you doing?"
But he keeps walking, his gait determined. I keep my arms secured around his neck, trying not to fall abruptly as I proceed to unwrap my legs from his waist but he holds them firmly in his hands. I look at his face, waiting for him to look at me but he doesn't. Instead, he arrives in the kitchen, rounds the counter and sits me on the granite top. He stands in between my legs, takes my hands in his and entwines our fingers. I don't stop staring at him as he stretches out our hands, looks at them, keeps looking and then brings them back in between us.
Then he raises his head, allowing me to look into his eyes, to see the emotions that were previously hidden but I can't discern them. I can't seem to get what he says to me. He keeps playing with our hands, intertwining our fingers then flattening our palms.
As he continues his game, he whispers to me, "You shouldn't want a nobody, Tracy." He keeps playing, keeps moving our hands around but never raises his head to me. "Those supposed feelings you have, they're just pure fantasy, right?"
When I don't answer, he at last lifts his head. "They're not," I find myself saying after a while. "And you're not a nobody."
His eyes gleam, and I wonder whether it's from emotions or from the sunlight. He looks past me, staring off into distance. "Black sheep of the family, never fitted in, never will."
"Sometimes we don't have to fit in. We don't have to let ourselves be molded. No one wants to fit in a box." I say then rethink my words, thinking of people that try too hard to be something so I add, "Except those who do."
He smiles. "Do you store your wisdom for the right moments?" And his beautiful eyes capture mine. I know he's dodging the topic so I don't press him, I promised him he could open up when he felt ready.
I shrug and grin at him. "Maybe."
He lets go of one hand and reaches up to cup the side of my face, and I obediently lean in, savoring the touch of his palm to my cheek. Then he says, "My feelings for you..." His words die in his throat and he shakes his head as if he can't finish the sentence. "I can't get you out of my mind."
"Is that a good or a bad thing?"
And he smiles grows even wider, more handsome, digging two dimples in his cheeks. "I'm not sure," he whispers.
He leans his forehead against mine and touches his nose to mine. I inhale, I exhale, in and out, mediocre attempts to calm down my racing heart. I want him, I know I do. But does he? My uncertainty about his feelings, all those questions in my head, they make me want to pull away, to stay away for a while, until I figure out what I want to do. But when he touches me, all I can focus on is him.
"Yann," I breathe, trying to ignore his right hand on my left cheek.
"You're beautiful." He kisses my nose.
I pull back involuntarily, my thoughts scattered and my mind a mess. I need to sort it out, to figure it out I can't give in to my emotions and feelings like that. I want to try and act rational about this.
I'm about to say something when Yann pulls back, probably mistaking my interrupting our moment for rejection. He runs two frustrated hands through his hair and gives his back to me. He leans against the sink, the muscles in his back tensing a little. Just like that, he's snapped from perfectly fine to agitated. I wonder what's going on through his mind right now, if he's having the same doubts as me about my feelings.
Friend-zone him, a voice in the back of my mind screams at me, but I know I wouldn't forgive myself if I did and that's taking the risk to lose him. I don't want to lose him.
"I don't want to lose you." I say softly.
He doesn't turn around. He doesn't look at me. He doesn't budge. "Yet, you just pushed me away."
I run my hands through my hair, wanting to tell him that's not what I was doing but the words that come out of my mouth are very different than what I intended to say. "I'm not sure I can do this."
He still doesn't turn as he asks, "Do what?" I sense the apprehension in his voice, the palpable plea that I've grown used to now, the one asking me to stick with him.
I want to take back those words immediately. This is never what I had in mind to say. But I can't take them back now so instead, I say, "Be your..." Your what? What is it that I think I am to Yann right now? "... lover," I finish.
And that's when he turns. And I am facing the Yann I first met, the Yann with the frown and the emotionless face. "Good, because even if I was looking for a lover, it wouldn't be you."
He walks away.
***
The same afternoon, feeling suddenly and inexplicably lonely, I go over to Will's house as Lucy stays with Yann and Russell. He offers to go out but I am not in the mood for an outing. I just want to stay in, safely hidden, away from everyone.
"Something's wrong."
I give him a look that says, "No shit, Sherlock" before rolling my eyes.
He comes to take a seat next to my laying form on the bed. "Wanna talk about it?"
I nod before taking a deep breath in and dropping the bomb. "I have feelings for Yann."
I turn my head to gauge his reaction. "Finally, you realized!" And he throws his arms in the air as if to say hallelujah! When I give him a quizzical look, he explains, "Oh come on, Tracy. Yes, at first, he got on your nerves but things started changing. I'd catch you staring at him, smiling. You're practically glowing around him now. And I must say, it didn't take long for you to fall for him. And no," he finishes, "you don't have feelings for Yann. You love him. There's a difference."
I scoff, trying to dismiss his words and ignore the last part of what he's said . "Not true. It could simply be that I was glad he was finally opening up to me." I shrug but Will obviously isn't buying my words, and even I don't believe my own words.
"Yeah, right." He rolls his eyes. "Anyways, I'm really glad things are working out for you guys. Hopefully, you've given him another perspective and we can be expecting a miracle soon."
I swallow. "That's the thing," I start, "things aren't so well. He's mad at me,."
"What happened?"
I swallow again. "I pushed him away. He said he had feelings too but –"
Will cuts me off. "You don't think he really does."
I nod. "I think he just likes the idea of me, you know? The girl who was able to see through his shit and put up with him and all that."
Then Will turns towards me. At the solemn expression on his face, I sit up on the bed. "If there is one thing that I am sure of," he says, "is that Yann doesn't like the idea of you." He shakes his head as if thinking so is crazy. "He likes you for who you are. Nice, gentle, patient, judgmental and opinionated, yes but also caring. You care about him. You didn't give up on him. You did in less than two months what took us over a year."
I frown. "What's that?"
Will smiles at me. "Earn his trust. That's the most precious thing Yann could ever give to you. Not his friendship, not his love, not his respect. But his trust. He's said more to you about his life in a month than he told us in the whole year it took to get to know him."
My frown turns deeper. "He hasn't even told me that much."
And Will's smiles grows wider. "Exactly."
I am momentarily taken aback. Has Yann really opened up to me that much? It isn't much in terms of information he gave, but considering the others didn't even know that much about him in a whole year makes me appreciate even more all he's given me so far.
"Trust me, Tracy. He loves you."
I shake my head, refusing to believe the words. "I don't think he does."
I see Will roll his eyes but he says, "Fine. He has very strong feelings for you."
"You think so?"
Will nods with a smile. "Yes. And don't ever believe him if he says otherwise."
***
Back home that night, I tuck Lucy in bed and retreat to the living room. My mind is reeling and I know I won't be able to sleep unless I do a certain thing that's been on my mind for the past hours. Lucy tried to cheer me up as we had pizza for dinner but even her bubbly and cheerful attitude couldn't get to me.
What if I made a mistake? What if by pushing Yann away, I've lost his trust? Because in a way, it shows I didn't trust him myself. I didn't trust him to have genuine feelings for me. I didn't trust him to mean the words as he said he had feelings for me.
I'm walking out the front door before I know what I am doing, leaving Lucy and Ellie sleeping. Once in front of his door, I reach up to knock. Then I let my hand fall. I don't want him to close the door in my face before I say what I have to say. So instead, I turn the doorknob. As always, the door isn't closed and I step in easily.
The eerie silence in the house gives me chills and makes me dread the upcoming conversation – if we do end up having a conversation at all. The house is dark, no light is on. I start to wonder if he's asleep when movement upstairs has my ears perking up in interest. Slowly, I march up the stairs as I follow the noise. It's coming from my parents' old bedroom. His bedroom.
I take a deep breath in before entering and give myself a small pep talk. OK, Tracy, you can do this. It's not harder than the interview you had with that Amherst admissions counselor. It can't be that bad, right? Right?
OK, let's do this. One last deep breath in. I take a step forward and–
The door is flung open and Yann starts walking out, almost crushing me in the process. Trying to dodge his hurtling body, I take a few steps backward and trip over my feet in the process. And very ungraciously, I fall. And it hurts.
"Shit, Tracy!"
Yann rushes towards me and lifts me up a moment, cradling me in his arms as he inspects me. "Are you okay?"
I try to ignore his glistening chest next to mine, his strong arms, his damp hair curtaining his face as he bends over me, his worried expression. But I can't.
I look into his eyes, speechless. I can only nod at his question.
He lifts me up and once he's made sure I can stand on my own, takes a few steps backwards.
And the time it takes for me to regain my composure and lift my head back at him, all worry is gone from his face. All concern, vanished.
"What are you doing here?" That cold voice I've come to despise blankets over me like blizzard and I am suddenly cold.
"I thought we could talk."
He scoffs. "We don't have much to say to each other, Graham."
And he starts walking down the stairs. I scurry after him, following him into the kitchen. He has turned on the light in the living room on the way here but doesn't turn the kitchen light on. I can faintly see as he takes a glass a glass of water and chugs it down in an instant.
"I'm sorry," I blurt out.
He tenses but doesn't turn around. "About what, exactly?"
I spent a lot of time thinking about it, thinking about what it could mean to him that I pushed him away, that I rejected him. I recalled how he told me he was the black sheep of his family. Unwanted, worthless. That's how I made him feel. And it was never my intention.
"I don't want you to feel like I don't want this, like I don't want us because I don't think you're enough for me. I –"
He whirls around, his eyes squinted at me. "Oh, but isn't that what it is exactly, Graham?"
"No, it's –"
"Perfect little student in a prestigious school. Bright future ahead of you. Not much room for a loser like me." He laughs bitterly before facing me again. "Don't bother."
And I don't know what takes over me. Maybe I am suddenly possessed by an evil spirit or maybe my brain stops working properly. I don't know. I can't explain why I did what I do next.
I walk up to him, rounding the counter. I plant myself in front of him, anger sizzling through me.
I kiss him.
•••
*hides face sheepishly* It has been a month, I am aware of that and I am soooo sorry. Senior year and it feels like work has been doubled in the span of a month. I can't even begin to explain. So so sorry guys
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will try my best to have a new one up next week, pinky promise that I will try
Thank you so much to all of those who are still reading and stick with me❤️