My heart is racing but my mind is moving so slowly it's almost at a stand-still. I pull back to try and gauge his reaction even though I can't make heads or tails of my own thoughts. Jeremy looks just as dazed and confused as I feel. His strong arms are still around me, his face still inclined towards mine.
Maybe it's the austerity of my situation, maybe it's the anisette and the memories of better days or maybe it's just him and the way he smells and the way he feels... here, now, finally. But before I can stop myself I find myself kissing him again, relishing with great astonishment how gentle his mouth is against mine, how soft his lips are and how they move in perfect unison with my own, like they've done this a hundred times before. His rough stubble grazes my face, leaving a welcome sting on my skin. He tastes like honey, coffee and alcohol and it's intoxicating.
His arms relax around me and his hands wrap around my waist. My hands climb slowly up his chest and as my fingers wrap around his neck, he takes in a sharp breath and leans in deeper into the kiss as though he's just realised what's happening. The intensity, the hunger, his grip on me, our bodies burst into flames and everything around us fades away. There is only the sound of our hearts pounding against our chests, the feel of his tongue exploring my mouth, the avid pull of his hands at my waist.
I go slightly dizzy. I need to come up for air but I don't dare tear my lips away from his. I twist my fingers into his sweater and effectively pull him even closer. He responds by kissing me harder, desperate and urgent. And then, without warning, he brings his hands up to my face, holding me in place while he steps away from me.
It's like being rushed up from the depths of the ocean way too quickly. I open my eyes and am surprised by all the light in the room. The sun is fully risen in the sky. Jeremy is standing about four feet away from me, chest heaving, hands behind his head. His swollen lips are still parted, as are mine. His hair is dishevelled and his sweater stretched from where my fingers were clutching it.
I try to reclaim some control over myself but seeing the look in his eyes, dark and focused and panicked at the same time, I know I have no hope of that. I try to think about what the hell it is that I'm doing, but that's when I realise... I don't care!
A wave of savage recklessness takes over me and in two quick strides, I close the distance between us and I'm back on him, kissing him impatiently. His fingers instantly lose themselves in my hair as he kisses me back greedily. We stagger backwards and forwards until my back slams against the island. He presses further into me, hands tilting my head back so he has better access to my mouth. An insatiable void starts to build up somewhere in my abdomen and my hands wander over his back. But then, his mouth hardens and again, he pulls away.
This time his hands stay on my shoulders, keeping me at a safe distance. But I see the agonizing look in his eyes, as though it's causing him physical pain to do so.
"What?" I say breathlessly.
He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He takes in a slow breath and shakes his head looking defeated. He curses under his breath as his eyes drop to the floor.
"I can't," he groans eventually.
I stare back at him confused. His hands slip down from my face to my neck leaving a red, hot trail behind them.
"What?"
"I can't," he repeats, still obstinately looking away from me.
"You can't what? Kiss me?"
He gives me a brief look as though I'm losing my mind before he lets go of me and walks away, running his fingers through his tousled hair.
"Wow!" I sigh in disbelief, a new kind of hurt weaving its way through my chest. I can't help but think that I'm possibly the only girl Jeremy James Cordina has ever refused to kiss.
I feel very conscious of every muscle in my body, suddenly aching for his arms and his hands and lips, wanting them to make me forget everything. I want to get lost in him and I never wanted something so badly in my life. But Jeremy's guard is back up and I know I have no hope of getting remotely close to him.
He curses again and turns to the kitchen cupboard. I watch patiently as he fetches himself a fancy glass and bottle of whiskey and pours himself a generous shot. He downs it quickly and pours himself another.
Here we go.
"No, Ally, I can't kiss you!" he finally answers, the exasperation sharp in his voice.
"Jer-" I start.
"Just drop it, okay?" he insists, downing the next double.
He heaves in a deep breath and slams the glass on the counter. I cross my hands and tap my toe in frustration, trying my best to control my emotions or at least to hide them from him.
I can't believe we're back to this. I can't believe he's doing it again. Dragging me with him to the edge and then leaving me there, alone and wondering what the hell just happened.
Sure. I kissed him. But that wasn't just me. That was months and months of repressed tension that we've both been holding back for way too long.
"What?" he snaps irritably.
"Nothing."
He presses the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Don't do this," he sighs.
"Do what?" I ask, desperately hoping he doesn't notice the quiver in my voice.
"The immature, stubborn, little girl act."
"I'm immature? God, you are impossible!"
"Great," he exclaims sardonically. "By some fucking miracle I stop myself from taking advantage of you and I'm impossible!"
"Take advantage of me?" I scoff as he pours yet another drink, flicks it down his throat and thankfully moves away from the bottle. Jeremy isn't the most rational person when he drinks. Not that he's very rational when he's sober. "What am I? Fifteen?"
He walks up to the panoramic window conveniently giving me his back, hands back in his pockets. "You just found out your boyfriend is cheating on you with your best friend. You slept on a park bench. You're exhausted and upset. You're not thinking straight-"
"I don't care."
"That's because you're not thinking straight!"
"I don't care!" I repeat savagely.
"You will tomorrow!"
"Who gives a shit?"
"I do!" he yells, turning around to face me with blazing eyes that silence me in an instant. "Trust me, Ally, there is nothing, nothing! I want to do more right now than have you on the Goddamn kitchen island but you deserve better! We are not doing this now just to realise in a couple of hours that we fucked things up more than we already have!"
I stare back at him, forcing my brain to move beyond the idea of him having me on the Goddamn kitchen island.
"I told you," he continues, his voice controlled and patient again. "I can't be that guy with you."
"You don't have to be," I reply, fighting the fresh wave of emotions triggered by his rejection. "You don't have to be anything. I'm not expecting anything from you."
"That's not what I meant."
"No, you're right. I'm not thinking straight." I walk around the island and lean forward on the back of the couch. "I'm not thinking at all, actually, because I am tired of thinking and worrying and breaking my brain over every little thing I do or say because of how people will react or because of what might happen after. Because quite frankly, it doesn't matter what I do. I always get it wrong. Everything is already fucked up. So for once, don't you want to just ignore all the crap that's going on in your head, just for five fucking minutes, and do what you really want to do without worrying about tomorrow?"
Jeremy looks at me for a long time. I can't tell if he's actually considering what I'm asking or figuring out a way of letting me down easily. But as he bites on his lower lip, I find myself wondering what it is that I'm really asking of him and that maybe I should care. Just a little.
"If I do that," he says slowly, "it won't be just your brain that's breaking."
"My heart is already shattered, Jer," I challenge, a part of me surprised he would even go there. "Even with your track record, I don't think there's much more you can do to it."
He closes his eyes, but not before I see it. A glimpse of the truth. His amazement that I hadn't figured it out yet.
"I wasn't talking about you."
His words sink in slowly and the balance shifts. I open and close my mouth several times as words that don't make sense come out of it.
"You mean... Do you have..."
And then it clicks.
"That's why you left," I whisper. "That night when you came over. I saw you and called out to you but you kept walking away."
That night was the first in a series of terrible nights to come, saturated with dreams and nightmares so realistic I could barely distinguish them from reality.
"Why did you come over? You had just said didn't want to be friends anymore."
"Because I wanted to see you," he replies after what feels like an eternity.
"So, did I," I say, unable to keep the hurt from my voice, as I remember how much I needed him that night. "Why did you leave?"
His head hangs between his shoulders but I need to hear him say it. "Why did you leave, Jeremy?"
When he finally looks up, his face is no longer guarded. There is forfeit written all over it and it scares me inexplicably, more than his anger ever could. A lump of cotton wool gets stuck in my throat and I realise I'm in way over my head.
He walks towards me slowly, steadily until the static between us is so strong it's almost painful. I want to run away and yet I want him closer. He is familiar and strange at the same time. The fear he instils in me is equal to the unrestrained invincibility I feel when he's around, and it leaves me immobile and helpless before him as he looks down at me through those clear, blue eyes I have come to know so well.
He lifts his hand up to my chin, cradling my face gently. I cannot ignore the feeling his touch has on me. Electrifying, debilitating, terrifying. He leans in, cautious and slow, so slow it's almost torture, keeping his eyes locked with mine as though he's studying me and guiding me simultaneously, and he kisses me again.
But this kiss is different. This is the kind of kiss that stops time. The kind of kiss that exists only in Jane Austen novels. It's so soft I can feel every cell of his lips on mine. Giving. There is no urge to take or want anything. But it's also harsh and painful and telling, like the blatant truth that has been staring me in the face all along. I open my mouth and let him take charge. I breathe in his soul and seeing it for the first time, my heart rips in two. And I can't stop it. I can't do anything.