Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
The silence between us carried on for several eternal moments. My hand was still resting on his. Eventually, I noticed it there and it felt awkward so I started to draw it back. As soon as I moved, Axel grabbed my hand and held it tightly in his. He leaned in closer to me, and I was compelled to do the same.
"I felt something between us, Kayla, and I think you felt it too."
I couldn't breathe. I just focused on his hand holding mine. It felt like the room was spinning around me, moving like a cyclone and drawing out all of the air.
"Look at me," Axel said in a quiet, commanding voice.
I managed to meet his brown eyes, which were burning into mine.
"I can't stop thinking about our kiss, about your body pressed against mine. I want you, Kayla, and when we kissed, it felt like you wanted me too."
It was too much. Way too much. My internal wall crumbled and everything I was feeling came tumbling out.
"Of course I wanted you." I pulled my hand free of his and felt bitter tears well up in my eyes. I raised my voice and laid myself bare, while I could still talk without crying. "I've wanted you since I first met you. I've wanted you all these years."
Axel stiffened with surprise. I felt like a fool, but I didn't care. It felt good to get it out. All these years of longing, all these wasted years. Maybe this, finally, was the release I needed in order to move on. My confession and my redemption. Maybe I was free.
I glanced up at him; his eyes were wide and then began to search mine. I reached around for my bag, quickly found a few bills, and tossed them on the table as I stood to leave.
Axel was up just as quickly. "Where are you going?"
"I can't be with you, Axel. I can't have a fling with you. My heart can't handle it."
CHAPTER 9
REFLECTION
AXEL
I couldn't believe I was watching her walk away from me again. And yet again, I felt powerless to stop her.
She was hurting, badly, and it killed me to let her go, but I knew that I was the cause of her pain and that I would only make things worse by going after her.
Her use of the word "fling" kept coming back to me. It wasn't a word I used, but it was probably accurate. I had flings, but not much more. And I couldn't imagine having a fling with Kayla. It was clear that I hadn't thought this through. What had I imagined happening when I came down here tonight? I'd tell her I wanted her, we'd sleep together, and then I'd say goodbye, and we'd be… friends?
I hadn't taken Kayla's feelings into account, and how could I, when I hadn't known how she felt. Now that I knew—I shook my head, as if clearing out fog, and was surprised to see activity going on around me in the bar. I'd been totally lost in my thoughts.
Marlee came back to the table then and saw that I was alone. "I guess that didn't go too well, huh?"
"Could you please make sure she's okay?" I asked.
She nodded, and I made her promise to check on Kayla that night.
It didn't feel right leaving town, but I was expected at team meetings in a week, and before that, I needed to visit my mom in Brussels. I hadn't seen her at Christmas, and I'd promised to visit her before the season got started.
During the long flight, I spent a lot of time thinking back to the year that Kayla and I had lived in the same house as teens. I'd never had any idea that she had a thing for me back then. She'd seemed so much younger than me, though it was only a few years, and she'd seemed very shy. She was into school and her friends. I'd always liked her; I thought she was sweet, and I'd hoped our parents would stay together, though I knew from my dad's history that it was unlikely.
I'd always cared about her, though I probably didn't show it at the time, and now I was causing her pain, with no idea how to make things better.
Brussels was cloudy and gray, but it suited my mood much better than the sunny city I'd left. It had been nearly fifteen years since I'd lived in Belgium, and it no longer felt like home, even though it was where I'd been born.
After my parents divorced, I'd lived with my mom, but my difficult teen period started early. When my dad moved to the U.S., I generally made myself unbearable and begged to go live with him. My mom and I had a few rough years back then, but we were close now.