Between Then and Now

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Bonita

I may be the most terrible person in the world. I’m selfish, I’m unreasonable, I’m pathetic. I know I’m going to flee after tonight. I know my fears are going to win over me. I know all that, but I can’t help it. Because for the first time in my life, I feel genuinely seen. And I’m scared, so scared of what it means.

But every kiss from Ryan feels like a black hole that sucks me in and clears my head–grounding me, calming me, and preventing all rational thinking.

I initiate this kiss because when I whirl around and he tells me that he doesn’t expect anything from me, he looks flustered. His vulnerability mirrors my own, and in that instant, I know I have to act. I need to bridge the gap between us, to feel the connection that terrifies and exhilarates me.

When our lips meet, I feel him take a sharp breath, clearly caught off guard. For a moment, he’s still and unmoving, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. But then, as if he suddenly realizes what’s happening, his hesitation melts away. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and then gently but firmly turns me around so that I’m pressed against the door. His other hand comes up to rest beside my face, bracing himself against the door as he deepens the kiss. I melt into him as I kiss him back, and we spend what feels like an eternity just exploring each other. My hands find their way to the back of his neck as I pull him close, feeling the heat of his skin and the gentle tickle of his hair between my fingers.

It’s as if all the pent-up emotions we’ve both been holding back have finally found their release. Every touch, every movement is filled with an intensity that makes my knees weak and my mind foggy with desire.

His hand moves from my waist to my back, tracing small circles that send shivers down my spine. I feel his lips curve into a smile against mine, a playful, almost mischievous smile that makes my heart skip a beat. I can’t help but smile back, even as we kiss.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. His gaze is intense, his eyes dark with emotion, and he whispers, “I don’t know how I’ve lived for years without having this.”

I hold his gaze, then I smile. “I didn’t know you had this in you, Miller,” I say with a breathless voice that does not sound at all like me.

“Neither did I,” he says. And when I look into his eyes, I see his pupils darkening even more. Our gazes linger for a while and then I see his jaw clench and his throat bob as he moves his hand from the door to the back of my head, gently tugging my hair so my neck is exposed. Dammit. He then plants a soft kiss on the base of my neck, which warrants a soft moan out of me. I feel his lips curve as he smiles at the sound I made, and he trails lower down my neck.

He kisses my collarbone–right where my sunflower is. I never realized that this sunflower is like a bullseye mark for my turn-on zone. I feel lost and dazed, and I don’t know how to react except to hold his arm and his head as his kisses continue.

His other hand rises from my lower back to the middle, where the zipper of my backless dress is. “Can I?” he whispers against my ear, his voice raspy. I’ve never seen him like this before.

On the surface, Ryan looks like a grumpy guy who hates everything, and at times, he is. But I already know that he can be fun when he wants to. I know that he’s funny and that he can be cocky and playful. I know that he can be spontaneous. And now, I also know that he can turn me on with a brush of his fingers because that’s exactly what’s happening as his hand lingers on the zipper and his fingers are resting on my bare back.

I nod and let out a grunt of agreement, and Ryan slides down the zipper of my black dress. “Black never really was your color.” He steps back as my dress falls to the floor in one fluid motion. For a moment, his eyes linger on me, as if taking in what he sees.

“Well?” I ask, when seconds pass and he still isn’t moving.

“So beautiful, I got lost for a while,” he says as his eyes move from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, repeatedly. I roll my eyes and tug him closer as I lift up his shirt. He raises his arms, pulls the shirt over his head, and tosses it on the floor. He smiles slightly, and his gaze finally meets mine. I put a hand on his chest, and I confirm what I’ve been suspecting all along–it’s hard. But not too hard like a male supermodel’s (probably, I don’t know). His body is both hard muscles and softness combined, and I don’t think my hands can ever leave it. I might have to be towed away from him because I don’t think I can voluntarily take my hands away.

“How can a doctor be this ripped? You don’t even have time to watch a movie, how did this happen?” I say as I trace my fingers along his stomach.

“Stress relief is important for doctors too,” he says, his hands now resting on my hips, thumbs brushing against my skin.

I laugh softly. “So, you work out to relieve stress? And here I thought all you did was read self-help books.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling. And then he kisses me again. This time, we’re walking while we’re kissing until we reach his bed. As soon as my back hits the mattress, everything fades. I let myself get lost in the moment, forgetting my fears and doubts, focusing only on the way he makes me feel.

For the rest of the night, our bodies communicate what words cannot. We move together in a rhythm that feels both natural and electrifying. And in this moment, everything feels right. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of us.

We stay cuddled under the blanket, our clothes still on the floor. It’s hours past midnight, but it feels like a brand-new day. I cling to Ryan like he’s my last hope and I’m dying tomorrow. Because that’s what it feels like.

“I’ve never been that undone before,” he says. I can hear the rumble in his chest as he speaks because my head is pressed on it. He continues to trace circles on my back, and I can’t help but marvel at how a small gesture can make me feel a multitude of things.

“Me too,” I admit. “I didn’t even plan on kissing you back there.”

“You never really plan most things.” He chuckles. “But I do. And even I didn’t plan on falling for you.”

I stay silent. He’s falling for me. And I’m falling for him. We lie there, holding each other, the weight of our confessions settling over us like a warm, comforting blanket. The room is silent except for the sound of our breathing, synchronized and steady. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, one that I know will be etched into my memory forever.

But somehow all this makes me more anxious than it makes me happy. Because my thoughts are betraying me as they slowly put themselves back into my head as if to say, “playtime’s over”. But I still try to shove them out. I try not to think about how much of a coward I am. How I’m so scared of being seen and getting hurt that I run away at the prospect of it. I try not to think that in eight hours, I will be on a flight out of here because I am a terrible, terrible person and I’m too much of a coward to stay.

However, as the night progresses, my thoughts refuse to leave me alone. It’s becoming harder and harder to pretend that I’m fine, that everything is as it should be. I wait as Ryan drifts to sleep before I gently untangle myself from his embrace, careful not to wake him.

I move around the room to pack my stuff, not bothering to fold anything neatly. There’s no time for that now. I have to leave before Ryan stops me because I know that one look into his rain cloud eyes could make me lose all rationality again. After everything is packed, I smooth out my bed and write a note, even when I know no words can justify why I’m doing this.

I plant one last kiss on Ryan’s cheek, and I linger for a moment. I take one last look at him, memorizing him. He doesn’t move, probably too tired after the long day we had. And the space beside him is so inviting that it almost makes me stay.

But I can’t. I shake my head and move away. With one last glance at his sleeping figure, I close the door behind me. I don’t walk away; I run, driven by the same fear that’s kept me from facing my feelings for too long.