My pulse hammers underneath my skin as I follow through and remove my t-shirt and a hoodie I wore while leaving the house. My fingers tremble, yet his hungry and reverent eyes encourage me to keep going.
I don’t know if he’ll like what he sees. Not many do. I have tried getting intimate with a couple guys in college, but they always made me feel like I wasn’t enough, that my weight and stretch marks were something to be ashamed of.
I remember the humiliation of being told exactly that when I wanted something more than kissing for the first time.
That night, I cried myself to sleep, and so many more nights like that followed. That incident followed him breaking up with me in front of an audience.
I didn’t realize that I had lost myself in the thoughts of the past and let a tear escape my eyes. Noah’s hand cups my cheek as he swipes away the tear under my eyes. “Come back to me, Rainbow.” His soft words penetrate the fog in my mind.
Blinking, I clear the haze and take in his worried features. I find myself perched on his lap, my feet dangling on one side, while he holds me in his arms, my t-shirt still in place even if the hoodie is lying around somewhere.
“Come back,” he repeats, his words sounding pained.
I shake my head, banishing all my depressedthoughts as I try to bring my breathing under control. “I’m sorry,” I clear my throat. “God, this is embarrassing.” A throaty chuckle escapes my lips as I wipe my tears.
God, he must be feeling how heavy I am.
I pull back to get off him and relieve him of my weight, but he stops me, flushing me against his chest. I give him a quizzical look, sniffing and trying my hardest not to cry.
“Don’t,” he says, his fingers wrapped around my shoulders. “Don’t hide from me, Andie.”
At his soft plea, an uncontrolled sob bursts free from deep within my chest. I try to hold on to it, not to let the floodgates open.
But Noah’s gentle touch on my back as he rubs it in a soothing motion, and the intensity of his gaze, along with my longing for someone to just want me for exactly who I am, make it nearly impossible for me to suffer in silence. And at the barest hint of compassion, I let go.
Burrowing my face in his neck, arms wrapping around him in a grip that says I’m scared of letting him go, I cry. I cry and sob and mourn the loss of confidence and love for myself.
I cry and cry and cry, and like a rock, bearing all my ache, Noah lets me. He comforts mewithout any hint of judgment. He whispers sweet words in my ear that don’t promise that it’ll be okay.
No, he’s never been good at lying.
He tells me that he’s here for me. He consoles me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, even if he’s only pretending. Because at this moment, at my lowest, I’ll happily take whatever he’s offering me.
Does that make me pathetic? Of course, it does.
But as violent sobs wrack my body, I can’t bring myself to care. And just for this wild moment, I let myself believe that he’s mine as I unload my ache on him, sitting snuggled on his lap, savoring his warm hold on me.
“Who hurt you, Andie?” Noah asks, his voice pained.
“Everyone,” I mumble between hiccups. The memories of the past twist my heart painfully until I can no longer keep it contained.
His hold tightens around me. “I’m so sorry, Rainbow. I’m so fucking sorry that the world couldn’t see just how beautiful you are.”
Noah’s words only make me cry harder, hating that I seek validation. Yet, I’m only human.
“You’re so fucking beautiful that my heartburns for you, Andie,” he confesses, soothing my aching soul like a balm. “I wish I could take away all your pain and hurt so you’d never have to face the ugly side of the world.”
He caresses my hair, his big hand a comforting touch, providing me with safety at my most vulnerable.
His arms around me feel like the warmest of hugs on the coldest of nights, there to love me, cherish me, and protect me. Not that he’s doing any of those things.
But my stupid heart fools itself into believing that he is.
Soon, the tremors subside, and my sobs turn to light sniffles. When I think I can’t hide my face anymore, I pull back and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. My eyes widen when I see my snot and tears covering the side of his tattooed neck.
When I go to wipe it, my fingers touch over something jagged. My hand stills, and his body freezes underneath my touch, all his warmth evaporating as if it was never there.
Unease trickles through my spine, and I dare a glance at him. His hands might still be around me, but he’s not looking at me anymore.