Rowan doesn’t pull back though. He wraps me in a hug and crushes me hard against him.
I don’t know how long we stay like this. Long enough for the lot to clear and our breathing to fall into sync.
When he loosens his hold, his palms lower to the metal truck bed on either side of my hips as he pulls his head back to meet my gaze. He looks at me through hazy, low-lidded eyes.
I see the conflict staring back at me, before he even gives life to the words.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, voice strained.
“Because you’re leaving soon?” He nods and I take a deep breath. “And saying goodbye would hurt even more the second time?” The words are as much a confession as they are a question. I can’t be the only one feeling this.
The corners of his eyes pinch. “It already hurts.”
Our gazes drop simultaneously to the hands in my lap. His fingers come to toy with mine, mindlessly burrowing and looping until they’re fully intertwined.
“If circumstances were different,” he starts. “If I didn’t have to leave, what would you want?” My throat shrinks. He answers his own question before I can. “Cause I’d wantyou.”
“I’d want you, too.” The admission is easy but devastating. Our situation hasn’t changed and it’s not going to. Not anytime soon, at least.
Yet, he’s herenow. Even if it’s undefined and comes with an expiration date, why can’t we enjoy it while we have it?
A defeated sigh escapes his lips. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen with my mom or how long it’ll take. And your entire world is here withyourmom and your job. You deserve promises that I can’t make.”
I lift a hand to his cheek, urge his eyes to mine. “I know and I understand.” This round of crappy timing and even crappier circumstances isn’t his fault. It’s nobody’s fault.
“What I feel for you scares the shit out of me.”
“I’m scared too.”
“I wanna be selfish and keep you for myself these next two weeks.”
I offer a weak smile. “Then keep me.”
His grin is reluctant and a little sad. “But what about after?”
My mouth falls open and my heart spills out onto the grass. I don’t know what comes after.
“I don’tdocasual,” he goes on. “It’s not the guy I am, and it’s especially not the guy I wanna be when it comes to you. You deserve better than a summer fling, Hannah. I wanna be the man who promises you the moon, and it kills me that I can’t give it to you.”
Heart on his sleeve, he holds my gaze in a stare that’s so painfullyearnest it leaves me speechless.Flingsounds cheap and meaningless and a terrible word for what I feel for him. And I have zero experience with casual relationships.
“You’re right. You can’t promise me the moon.” I settle a palm over his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat pulsing beneath it. “But what about this? For two weeks, can I have this?”
He moves in, bringing our foreheads together. “Baby, that already belongs to you.”
30
banana bread confessions
Rowan
Me
Home by 11:30. Brownie points please.
Lydia
What’s it like being my favorite?