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Chapter 25

May 28th

Shane

Bridgit comes over late in the morning, and I have to wonder if it's because she remembers that I wasn't a morning person in high school. Frankly, I'm still not. That's one of few things that hasn't changed about me. But this entire time, we've been sitting mainly in silence. The small talk was almost worst than silence.

I watch as she walks around my apartment, taking in the memories of everything she's missed. A photo of Caleb graduating high school. A photo with my dad as I graduated junior college. An unframed Christmas card of Caleb and his new girlfriend.

She trails her hand along one of the shelves, captivating me with her every move. And for a moment I question if she's moving like this on purpose, slow, leaving me so much room to notice how different she looks. Her hair is darker, shorter, her hips are fuller, and she parts her hair down the middle now.

"You never played me that song," She slowly drags her hands along the neck of my guitar. She slowly makes her way over until she's standing right in front of me.

My throat tightens, and I try to step back, but I hit the wall.

"Maybe we should grab some coffee downstairs." I offer.

She trails her eyes over me briefly before meeting my eyes.

"Coffee." She hums, scrunching up her nose, sticking her hands in her back pockets before shaking her head. 

"How's the hand?" I ask.

"Oh! Fine." She sticks out her hand, showing a bandaid-covered hand. I take her hand in mine and run my thumb over the burn. It's not long before I realize what I did. I pull my hand away but she grabs it again, rubbing her thumb over my hand.

"I missed you." Escapes her lips and I freeze. I swallow the urge to throw up and wonder if it's possible to black out momentarily.

"You don't get to do this," I tell her, shoving my hands in my front pockets.

"I know I don't but—" she takes a step closer, placing her hand on my arm.

And suddenly all I've worked toward the past few years wanted to be thrown out the window. All the times I spent sleepless, wondering where she was, come to mind. All the months I spent searching bookstores and coffee shops around the surrounding cities. All the time Caleb spent helping me learn to let her go, suddenly was right on the edge of jumping out the window.

"I think I need you to go," I whisper.

"Don't make me leave." Almost like a magnet, we inch toward each other. I look down into those beautiful blue eyes, the ones that could get me to do anything. I reach up to caress her face, and hesitate, pulling my hand back down. She fiddles her fingers on the bottom of my flannel, breathing in a sharp breath.

"Bridget," I swallow hard and dip my head slightly, hovering above her lips. My chest burns, and I gently graze my fingertips along her waist.

"You can't just say my name like that and want me to go." Her eyes leave mine and my breathing gets shallow. God, I can't do this. She trails her fingers across the side of my waistband and for a brief moment, her nail drags across the inside of his jeans, and suddenly that's all it takes.

I grab her face between my hands, slamming my lips against hers. My lips trail along her jawline, my tongue sweeps down her neck. I spin around and pin her to the wall with my hips. I bury a hand into her hair, my free hand taking a fistful of her shirt and yanking it up. I break the kiss and swiftly toss her shirt aside.