Maybe Someday

She reaches her hands up to my neck and lightly places her palms against my skin, then slowly eases her fingers up and into my hair. Having her so close feels as though we’ve created our own personal space, and nothing from outside our world can make its way in, and nothing from inside our world can make its way out.



Her breaths fall in waves against my lips, and although I can’t hear them, I imagine they sound like how a heartbeat feels. I let my forehead fall against hers, and I feel a rumble from deep within my chest rise up my throat. The sound I feel pass my lips causes her mouth to open in a gasp, and the way her lips are slightly parted causes my mouth to immediately connect with hers in search of the relief I desperately need.



Relief is exactly what I find the second our lips meet. It’s as if every pent-up, denied feeling I’ve held toward her is suddenly uncaged, and I’m able to breathe for the first time since I met her.



Her fingers continue to sift through my hair, and my grip tightens against the back of her head, pulling her closer. She allows my tongue to slip inside and find hers. She’s warm and soft, and the vibrations from her moans begin to leave her mouth and flow straight into mine.



My lips softly close over hers, and then I part them, and we do it all over again, but with less hesitation and more desperation. Her hands are now running down my back, and my hand is slipping to her waist, and my tongue is exploring the incredible way hers dances against mine to a song only our mouths can hear. The desperation and speed at which we’re escalating this kiss make it apparent that we’re both attempting to get as much out of each other as we can before the moment ends.



Because we both know it has to end.



I grip her waist tightly as my heart begins to tear in two, half of it remaining where it’s always been, with Maggie, and the other half being pulled to the girl beneath me.



Nothing in my life has ever felt so good yet hurt so achingly bad.



I tear my mouth away from hers, and we both gasp for breath as the desperate grip she has on me keeps me locked against her. I refuse to allow our mouths to reconnect as I struggle to figure out which half of my heart I want to save.



I press my forehead to hers and keep my eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling in rapid succession. She doesn’t attempt to kiss me again, but I can feel her chest as her movements change from begging for breath to fighting back tears. I pull back and open my eyes, looking down on her.



Her eyes are shut tightly, but the tears are beginning to fall. She turns her face and covers her mouth with her hand as she tries to roll onto her side, away from me. I lift up onto my hands and look down at what I’ve done to her.



I’ve done the one thing I promised her I would never do.



I just made her a Tori.



I wince and drop my forehead to the side of her head and press my lips against her ear. I find her hand and reach for the pen beside us on the nightstand. I turn her hand over and press the tip of the pen to her palm.



I’m so sorry.



I kiss her palm, then crawl off the bed and back away. She opens her eyes long enough to look at her hand. She makes a tight fist and pulls her hand to her chest, then begins to sob into her pillow. I take my guitar, my phone, and my shame . . . and I leave her completely alone.



12.



Sydney



I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to go to class. I definitely don’t want to go job hunting again. I don’t want to do anything but keep this pillow pulled over my eyes, because it’s creating a nice barrier between myself and every mirror in this apartment.



I don’t want to look in the mirror, because I’m scared I’ll see myself for who I really am this time. A girl with no morals or respect for other people’s relationships.



I can’t believe I kissed him last night.



I can’t believe he kissed me.



I can’t believe I broke into tears the second he pulled away from me and I saw the look on his face. I didn’t think it was possible to cram so much regret and sorrow into one expression. Seeing how much he regretted being in that moment with me was one of the biggest blows my heart has ever taken. It hurt worse than what Hunter did to me. It hurt worse than what Tori did to me.



But as much as it hurt seeing the regret on his face, it was nothing compared to the guilt and shame I felt when I thought of what I had done to Maggie. What he had done to Maggie.



I knew the moment he put his hand on my chest and moved closer to me that I should have flown off the bed and made him leave the room.



But I didn’t. I couldn’t.



The closer he moved and the longer we stared at each other, the more my body was consumed by need. It wasn’t a basic need, like a need for water when I’m thirsty or a need for food when I’m hungry. It was an insatiable need for relief. Relief from the want and desire that had been pent up for so long.



I never realized how powerful desire could be. It consumes every part of you, enhancing your senses by a million. When you’re in the moment, it enhances your sense of sight, and all you can do is focus on the person in front of you. It enhances your sense of smell, and suddenly, you’re aware of the fact that his hair has just been washed and his shirt is fresh out of the dryer. It enhances your sense of touch and makes your skin prickle and your fingertips tingle, and it leaves you craving to be touched. It enhances your sense of taste, and your mouth becomes hungry and wanting, and the only thing that can satisfy it is the relief of another mouth in search of the same.



But the sense my desire enhanced the most?



Hearing.



As soon as Ridge placed the headphones in my ears and the music began to play, the hair on my arms rose, chills erupted from my skin, and it felt as if my heart rate slowly conformed to the beat of the song.



As much as Ridge craved that sense, too, he couldn’t experience it. In that moment, all of his other senses combined failed to make up for the one sense he desired the most. He wanted to hear me just as much as I wanted him to hear me.



What happened between us didn’t happen because we were weak. Ridge didn’t run his hand up my jaw and around to the back of my head simply because I was in front of him and he was in the mood to make out. He didn’t press his body against mine because he thinks I’m attractive and knew it would feel good. He didn’t part my lips with his because he enjoys kissing and knew he wouldn’t get caught.



Despite how hard we tried to fight it, all of those things happened between us because our feelings for each other are becoming so much stronger than our desire. Desire is easy to fight. Especially when the only weapon desire possesses is attraction.



It’s not so easy when you’re trying to win a war against the heart.



• • •



The house has been quiet since I woke up more than an hour ago. The more I lie here and allow myself to think about what happened, the less I want to face him. I know if we don’t get it over with, the confrontation will only be harder the longer we wait.



I reluctantly get dressed and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. His bedroom is quiet, and he usually has late nights that result in late mornings, so I decide to let him sleep. I’ll wait it out in the living room. I hope Warren and Bridgette are either occupied with each other in a bed somewhere or still asleep, because I don’t know if I can take either of them this morning.



I open the door and walk into the living room.



I pause.



Turn around, Sydney. Turn around and go back to your room.



Ridge is standing at the bar. However, it isn’t the sight of Ridge that’s rendered me completely immobile. It’s the girl he has his arms around. It’s the girl he’s pressed against. It’s the girl he’s looking directly at, as if she’s the only thing that has, does, and will ever matter to him. It’s the girl who planted herself between me and my maybe someday.



Warren exits his bedroom and sees them standing together in the kitchen. “Hey, Maggie. I thought you weren’t coming for a couple more weeks.”



Maggie spins around at the sound of Warren’s voice. Ridge’s eyes move from Maggie over to me. His body tenses, and he stands up straighter, putting a slight distance between the two of them.



I’m still immobile, or I’d be putting distance between myself and all three of them.



“I’m about to leave,” Maggie says, and signs simultaneously, facing Warren. Ridge steps away from her, then quickly breaks his gaze from mine and refocuses his attention on Maggie. “My grandfather was admitted to the hospital yesterday. I got here last night.” She turns and gives Ridge a light peck on the lips, then heads for the front door. “It’s nothing serious, but I’m staying with him until they release him tomorrow.”



“Oh, man. Sorry about that,” Warren says. “But you’ll be here the weekend of my party, right?”



Party?



Maggie nods and takes a step back toward Ridge. She circles her arms around his neck, and he wraps his arms around her waist—two simple movements that completely shatter entire sections of my heart.



He rests his mouth against hers and closes his eyes. He brings his hands to her face, then pulls back and leans in again to kiss her on the tip of her nose.



Ouch.



Maggie exits the apartment without ever having noticed that I was standing here. Ridge closes the door behind her, turns around, and brings his eyes back to mine with an unreadable expression.



“What are we doing today?” Warren asks, moving his head back and forth between Ridge and me. Neither of us breaks our stare to respond to him. After several seconds, Ridge makes the slightest movement with his eyes, motioning toward his bedroom. He turns to Warren and signs something, and I walk back to my room.



It’s amazing how many reminders I’ve had to give my organs in the last three minutes that should be basic, common knowledge.



Breathe in, breathe out.



Contract, expand.



Beat, beat, pause. Beat, beat, pause.



Inhale, exhale.



I walk to the bathroom and head for Ridge’s bedroom. It was obvious he wants to talk, and I still think confronting it now is better than waiting. It’s definitely better than not confronting it at all.



The journey across the bathroom is only a few feet and should take no longer than a few seconds, but I somehow stretch it out for five whole minutes. I place a nervous hand on his doorknob, then open it and walk into his room.



He’s walking in at the same time as I’m closing the door to the bathroom. We pause and stare at each other. These stare-downs are going to have to end, because my heart can’t take much more.



We both walk to his bed, but I pause before sitting down. I assume we’re about to do some serious talking, so I hold up my finger and turn to get my laptop out of my room.



He’s sitting on his bed with his laptop when I return, so I sit, lean against the headboard, and open mine. He hasn’t messaged me yet, so I type something to him first.



Me: Are you okay?



I hit send, and after he reads my question, he turns his face toward mine and appears slightly puzzled. He turns back to his computer and begins typing.



Ridge: In what sense?



Me: All of them, I guess. I know it was probably difficult seeing Maggie after what happened between us, so I just wanted to know if you were okay.