Eternity Will Never Be Enough - Chapter Eight

Delaney:

“Will, I’m sorry.” I whisper, staring at him. But he’s not looking at me, instead he’s staring at the wall, the hardened stare of somebody whose been rejected on his face and his shoulders shaking with what I’m sure are unreleased tears. I reach out to him, my fingers flexing momentarily before I feel Rylee beginning to steer me out of the room. He pauses at the door, his hand still on that spot on my hip that I hate people touching, and looks over his shoulder. I wonder, for a moment, if he’s going to take one look and Will and decide it’s not worth the satisfaction that he’s getting by taking me from him. I try, in vain, to wiggle out of his arms and back to my boyfriend, but Rylee holds me tighter, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into the skin under my shirt, which he can now reach as he’s pushed his fingers underneath the hem of my old and worn Nirvana t-shirt. I adjust my arms, tugging my shirt up a bit and sliding my fingers over his knuckles, trying to push his hand away, but I see him smile a bit as slides his fingers to intertwine with my near limp ones.

“Are you coming, Braydon?” He asks instead, simply, and in such  a cold manner that it makes me nervous. I’ve heard other men use that tone of voice before, and it’s never ended well for me. First, there were my mother’s boyfriends, the men who would ask me to get them a beer from the fridge and then would suggest to my drunken slut of a mother that I join them that night in bed. And then there was Joseph, the only boy I dated in high school, a possessive, athletic man with shaggy blonde hair and gray eyes. And then, most recently, Grant, and as I think this, I can almost see the flashing red light of the video camera before my eyes. I can hear the low rumble of his growl against my ear as he’d tell me that he loved me and that everything he did, he did because I deserved it. After the first few days of this, I actually began to believe it, and had he not left me there and fled, I would probably still be with him now, be there, in the last few snowy days of the year, the frost biting my flesh and numbing my body so the only sensation was the sharp, tugging feeling in my wrists. I almost feel myself begin to slip away, but then I hear Will laugh from inside and it pulls me back into reality. It’s a cold, bitter laugh, and one that I never hear from Will.

“Why on earth would he do that?” Will snaps angrily and I try to twist to look at him. Rylee stops me, instead pulling me to nestle into his chest.  My nose crinkles up in protest, I absolutely hate the way Rylee smells a majority of the time. It’s sharp and it hurts my head. There’s a strong sense of vanilla wafting off of him, and that in itself is pleasant. But his clothes, his skin, retain a remarkably strong mixture of the smell of cigarettes, marijuana, and booze. I long to pull away from him and move back into the arms of Will, who smells fresh and clean and strongly of axe. The combination of that and his natural smell, like summer air, is my favorite scent in the world and it’s nearly painful to be pressed into somebody that smells so much different than my perfect boy. But I’m weak, and I can’t fight him, and right now I’m not sure if he’d fight back. This is a side I’ve never seen of Rylee, it’s cold and hard and I’m so used to the sweet, nervous boy who’d smile at me and stutter through his sentences. I manage to look at Will from under Rylee’s arm, and he’s snarling at him, “I’m sure he’s had enough of your cheating ass.”

“He’s coming with me.” Rylee snaps back, his arm tightening around my waist and I whimper, staring at Will pathetically from underneath Rylee’s arm. He doesn’t even look at me, keeping his eyes focused primarily on Rylee’s face. I’ve never seen him like this, so hateful towards one human being. Will isn’t a hateful person. I’ve honestly never met somebody so absolutely full of love and happiness and joy. But now, he’s growling and angry and he looks like a predator about to pounce. He tears his eyes away from Rylee for a minute, adjusting his position so he’s nearly facing Braydon. Braydon is standing a little bit to the side of Will, and ten feet away from Rylee and I. He’s biting his bottom lip, staring at Rylee with large, sad eyes. His shoulders are slumped and he looks utterly defeated, such a change from the mischievous smile and quirky posture that he usually demonstrates. Rylee adjusts me so I can stand awkwardly at my side, though he’s still holding me in a way that there is no hope in getting back to Will, who turns to stare at us, the feral snarl back on his features.

“I think…” Braydon says slowly, his dark eyes looking between Will and Rylee slowly. He’s torn about which person he’d rather stay with, Will, who needs his comfort, or Rylee, who has his heart. Braydon bites his bottom lip, pulling his eyes off of Will and looking up at Rylee slowly, nervously, and Rylee smirks at him, his arm tightening on my waist. Braydon smiles unhappily, and I don’t think Rylee notices because he holds out his other arms for Braydon to fit neatly under. Will continues to stare at us, angry tears cascading down his cheeks now, and I whimper, my mind struggling to keep focus on him. It’s so hard to do that, with him already slipping so far away from him. I’ve never hated Rylee as much as I do right now, but then, I’ve never hated Rylee. It’s so hard to think of this little boy in a way that he could be dangerous. He’s never been dangerous to me before, but he’s hurting Will and that’s absolutely unacceptable.

With one last look at Will, Rylee ushers us both back to the car. Braydon moves out of his arm to get to the front seat, but Rylee coughs, staring at him threateningly. It’s quiet for a minute, awkward, with Rylee and Braydon staring at each other. Braydon looks scared, like Rylee will hurt him if he doesn’t do what he says, and I don’t blame him. Rylee is giving him a look that could kill, his eyes narrowed and hate pouring out of them. Rylee slowly opens his door, but he doesn’t get in, still staring at Braydon as if he’s waiting for something. Braydon takes a deep breath, unmoving, and begins to open the door of the passenger’s seat, and Rylee lets out the same kind of growl that Will did. “No,” He says, his eyes flicking to the back seats. “Delaney is sitting in front with me.”

Braydon stutters incoherently for a moment, before nodding slowly and moving away from the passenger’s seat, sliding into the back with a dazed look on his face. Rylee then smiles at me, contrasting the dark look he had had on his face moments ago. And I see a glimpse of the Rylee I know who told me over and over again, about a year ago, how much he loved me. I smile back at him anxiously and watch as he very slowly slides into the driver’s seat. I follow suit, settling myself into this unfamiliar car. Car rides always make me nervous and I feel myself wanting to curl into a ball, but Rylee grabs my hand and pulls me towards him, his lips landing on mine smoothly. My eyes widen and I try to pull away a bit, but his hand moves up to the back of my head, holding me there until I un-tense and lean into his kiss a little bit. I don’t want to, but I figured he wouldn’t let me go until I did. I feel his tongue prodding my lips and I whimper, shaking my head, and he very reluctantly lets me sink back into the passenger’s seat. I curl up into a ball, turning so I’m facing out the window hopelessly.

“It’s going to be okay,” Rylee says softly and I almost want to laugh the same, bitter laugh that Will had moments ago. When I don’t respond, Rylee sighs and backs out of his parking space, putting the car into drive. Rylee drives fast. He doesn’t know how much I hate cars. I shut my eyes, trying to keep focused on the present, but it’s so insistent and nearly painful that I let myself slip away. When I feel my reality come back into focus, it’s warm outside. I look around briefly and realize that I’m in Will’s backyard, holding on to string between my fingers. Upon looking down, I realize that I’m hanging onto his hammock and sitting between his legs. My arms are still covered in freckles, something that I’ve grown out of by now. But I smile, these are the days when I was happiest. These are the days that were spent in Will’s backyard, laying under the spring sun until the stars were out and his Momma called us in for dinner. I know which memory this is immediately. He smells like summer and his breath smells like the orange tic-tacs we’d shared earlier.

“I want to try something.” I feel myself say nervously, my hands trailing up to hold his shoulders. He smiles and his hands are automatically placed on my waist, as if to balance me, and I take one shaky breath. It took weeks for Becky, in Jamaica now with her parents and little sister, Alexis, to convince me to do this. To make my move to Will. Originally, her plan had confused me. I’ve seen the way she looks at him, blatantly oblivious to the fact that my eyes are on her. She looks at him like a piece of candy, a new toy, a treasure, something for her to play with. I’ve seen her look like this as she stares at other boys - the seniors at the High School up the street and the rockstars on TV. I let my hands slip off of his shoulders for a minute, I’m loosing my nerve, something that I absolutely hate about myself. I have absolutely no courage. I’m the biggest chicken you’ll ever meet. But I shut my eyes, taking another deep breathe and stretching myself upwards to plant my lips on his.

It’s awkward and harsh and our lips don’t press against the other’s quite right, but before I know it he’s kissing me back. I pull back a little bit, not enough to signify that I want the kiss to stop, but enough so it doesn’t feel like I’m smothering his lips with mine. I keep my eyes squeezed shut, my arms trailing up around his shoulders so I’m holding myself to him. His lips taste like citrus and so does his tongue, I can feel it pressing against my lips, willing them to pry open. I hesitantly part my lips and his tongue darts into my mouth nervously, but after the initial awkward of it, it’s the best kiss I’ll ever have. It’s better than so many of the desperate kisses I’ve lain on his lips. It’s so much better than any sort of kiss I’ve ever had. I can feel the sun burning my back and Claire watching us from the living room window, and I can feel his hands tightening and loosening on my hips. He does that when he’s anxious, clench his fists. That, and stutter, but he can’t really stutter right now. I’m occupying his lips. Finally, after what feels like hours, I pull away and stare up at him nervously, and he looks shocked as he stares down at me. I blush and feel myself look away.

“Delaney…” He whispers, and I know what comes next. He’s going to tell me that he likes Becky more than me, that she’s so much prettier than I am and that she probably knows how to kiss better. But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and very carefully lowers both of us so we’re laying together, his limbs entangled with mine, and his lips come down to land on mine again. It’s much shorter than the first kiss, but it’s still just as perfect, and I’m left panting afterwards. I’ve just had the first two kisses of my life with the boy of my dreams, and he’s still smiling down at me. I can feel my hair tangling with the hammock but I don’t care, and instead of untangling it, I stare back up at him with wide, adoring eyes. He lowers himself back down, resting his chin on the top of me head, and that’s when I realize that he’s perfect. He has to be more than human, more than just a fourteen year old boy. He has to be an angel. That sort of majestic being that was sent here specifically to be mine. I giggle nervously and he slides one of his fingers through my ratty hairy. “Delaney,” He says softly. “You’re beautiful.”

And for the first time in my life, I believe it. I wrap my arms around him awkwardly, sparing a glance at myself. Compared to him, I look like a slob. His hair is cut in the latest in-fashion way, and he’s wearing neat blue jeans and a band t-shirt. I’m wearing jeans that have holes in the knees and patches all over them, and a sweater ten times too big for me. It hangs off of me in awkward ways but I love it, it’s red and black striped and it’s fraying and ripped in places. But it’s the same one Kurt Cobain has in the picture that hangs above my bed at home. I found it in a thrift-store last time Momma had the common sense to take me shopping. But still, I feel beautiful. I feel like a princess that is worth the attention he gives and I feel like I can do anything. I move my head and press my lips against his jaw, wiggling closer to him in a way that makes it so there is absolutely nothing separating us. There are no gaps, no spaces, there’s just us and the slowly setting sun. In the back of my mind, I think this must be perfection. I think this must be love. I want to tell him that but I’m so scared to.

“Will?” I ask, and look up at him, staring at him with suddenly frightened eyes. Because I’m so scared he’s going to leave me, just like Jayden did. But he can’t do that. Not this beautiful, perfect, good creature who thinks I’m beautiful. He wouldn’t just get up and leave on me. But I’m still so scared. I whimper and press my face into his neck, whimpering softly and sliding my hands up to his shoulders again. I hold him to me even tighter, trying to pull my thoughts off of Jayden and the way he left me. I’ve never told Will about that, but I still expect him to just know. I want him to wrap his arms around my waist and tell me that I’m being stupid, that he’s not going to leave me and that he loves me, too. I want him to be able to read my mind, but that’s such a stupid thought and I realize it, so instead I look up at him again, breathing softly. “Will, you’ll never leave me, right?”

“Never.” Will says firmly and leans down to kiss me again. I feel fluttering in my chest and then I’m being pulled out. I try to stay here, to stay in this reality by there are hands on my shoulders pulling me ever so forcefully away. I whimper and squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately to get back to the happy times. I vaguely process that I’m screaming at the hands to let me go, to let me get back to him. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry at something I don’t know. And then it occurs to me that It’s Rylee and I feel myself calm down a bit, pulling myself out of his arms and squeezing my eyes shut again, willing my body to let itself sink into the time when I was maybe just a little bit happier. I feel myself beginning to slip again when I hear his voice. It’s persistent and clear, and I know it’s not in the dreamy reality I was just apart of. It’s from the here and now and I look up. We’re in a parking lot. I’m curled on the ground, in a ball, screaming at the top of my lungs.

“You couldn’t find anything sharp.” Will tells me softly and I feel my eyes beginning to prick with tears. He wraps one of his arms around my waist shakily, and I begin taking short, panicked little breaths, feeling myself curl into him. For once, his scent doesn’t calm me down. It presses against the anxiety and makes it go reeling even further. I sob into his chest, pressing my hands against his shoulders in a similar fashion to how I had in the past reality. I want him to know that I thought of him this time. That it was happy this time, that it was our first kiss on the sunny spring-break day. I want to tell him that I wish we could go back to that hammock, that I wish we were there instead of this hotel parking lot in Chicago with the sound of cars rushing past behind us. I miss the quiet days spent in his room or in his backyard, or at the park up the street or down by the creek. I would give anything to go back to the first week before Her. But I can’t, I tell myself, I have to stay here. I have to stay here from now on.

“I love you,” I tell Will desperately, my lips finding his. “I love you more than anything. You’re my prince, baby, you’re my angel, my knight in shining armor. You’re the peanut butter to my jelly and the chips to my salsa.” I whisper shakily, a small, bittersweet smile working up on my lips as I choke out soft laughs. I want him to know that there is no possible way that I could live without him. I want him to know that he’s still my best friend, that he still means more than anybody else to me. I feel so bad, I feel the aching guilt in my chest for not trying to fight Rylee when he took me. I should have fought him, gone back to Will instead, curled up in his arms and let his scent and his arms and his lips and just everything about him calm me down the way he always does. I look up at him, my eyes wide, and his lips come down to land on mine, a final kind of kiss but not really. His hands lace with mine and he pulls me closer to his chest. It’s then that I’ve realized I’ve been saying all of this out loud. I slump against his chest, my eyes shutting as I breathe out against him. You can breathe, the words echo around my head, instead of the pulling feeling that’s always there lately - though I can still feel that in the background. You can breathe.