Ready

“Help me help myself?” I stared at the face hanging above me, with tired, glazed eyes boring into the very matter of my mind. My hands simply reached above me and around their neck, pulling them closer, letting my motions say what my vocal cords could not manage in this moment.

Eight months ago, I would have never imagined this, I would have never imagined being this deep in with someone period. His eyes scare me at times, changing and closing so that I can’t see what he’s thinking. He does this on purpose, he doesn’t like the fact that I can know what he is wondering and dreaming when he looks away from me at these times.

“Say you’re ready.” I stay quiet on the bedspread. My stomach is rolling, my eyes are tearing, and my mouth is drying. I swear my heart pounding through my chest is causing the sheets to move each centimeter. His hands find mine, and I stay perfectly still as he pulls me into his chest. I ignore his simple gesture, concentrating on the thing pressing into my leg ever so slightly.

This was supposed to be the perfect moment; we had planned this after all. We had planned for the best date in the world to celebrate our year of being together, officially, and I had decided I was ready.

But as he sighed and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing the back of my neck gently and whispering small, meaningless words into my ear expressing his pride and thanks, a twinge in my heart told me something.

I was never ready.