As Lovers Go
What's the Sense in Waiting?
There were things that Theresa didn't want to remember.
Like the way his hands felt on her skin, or the distinct pattern of rocks thrown against her window every Friday night. The way his eyes searched hers for something more than what she was letting on, and the ink that decorated his skin, so beautiful and perfect. How their bodies moved together in the dark of her room, and how he always wore her hair ties around his wrist.
No, Theresa didn't want to remember these things--the good things. She wanted to forget it all, pretend like it had never happened and that the memories weren't lodged into her brain. But the chances of that happening were slim to none.
She tried hard--incredibly hard--to rid herself of the past, but it was to no avail. If she ran ten thousand miles, he was always right in front of her, waiting. Though she doubted he knew anything about it, he made it impossible for her to live a normal life. Getting close to someone else was not an option, not when the image of him lingered in her mind. Those three years had been three years too long, and it was nearly enough to kill her.
Arizona had been lovely. The weather, the people--everything. Within just a few weeks, Theresa had fallen in love with the state, and it had everything to do with that one particular boy.
Seventeen years on the earth had taught her to be cautious of her heart, but her willpower was no match for him. From the moment he brushed his arm against hers in the frozen food section of the Safeway, she might as well have been done for. He'd smiled--a barely there smile, but still a smile and a rarity that she would come to cherish later on--and asked her if she was new in the area.
She wondered how he'd known, and he claimed to have guessed by her pale, untanned skin--a lie he confessed to later on in her dark bedroom one night. Then he offered to show her around, and she abandoned the grocery list her mother had neatly written out in the cart.
Months later, the roles were reversed. It was then Theresa showing him around, but only in her house. They'd become friends in a short amount of time--mostly due to the fact that he had some disabling quality about him that let her drop down her walls. Something had certainly clicked on that first day in the supermarket, but neither of them knew what at the time.
Then after that, something shifted. Friendship turned to something else, something undefined that hung in the air every time they were together, never being discussed or outlined. Those were the nights where he would come over. The rocks would click quietly against the window, she'd get up to let him in, and then he'd press her down into the gentle creases of the bed, their bodies molding together and drifting apart like sand and water.
It was during one of these nights that Theresa realized she loved him. Lying there beside him, after having been spent and covered in a thin layer of sweat, the fan twirling quietly on the other side of the room--it hit her. She wanted to wake up next to that beautiful boy for as long as she could, to trace his tattoos with her fingers and play with his hair when she was too tired to do anything else. It was him that she saw in her future, though she knew better than to let it get to her head. He had the option to leave at any time, of course--after all, nothing between them had ever been laid out clearly. But Theresa suddenly wanted it to be definite--she wanted him to be hers and hers alone, unconditionally.
But she never said a word. She continued their pattern of sleepless nights, pretending in their brief time together that he was, indeed, hers--a twisted fantasy that she came to hate herself for later.
Because she never said anything, it made it that much easier for him to slip away. Some girl from two towns over slowly swept him off his feet while Theresa kept her desires to herself, and that was the end of him and her. He thought he was being fair, setting her free from whatever obligation she might have felt to him--but all she wanted was to curl her body against his and stay there forever.
Without his nightly visits, Theresa felt him slowly slipping away. At first it was slow, gradual, starting out with missed phone calls and canceled outings--but then it escalated, to the point that it was rare if she even saw him once a week.
And so, when she finally left Arizona for bigger and better things a few months later, she doubted that he even noticed her absence. They'd become so distant, so far apart from one another that she often wondered if he even remembered her--if he remembered those nights in her bedroom, those nights where their skin melted into one another and where she fell in love.
Looking back, Theresa wished he would have just apologized and gone on his way that day in the supermarket. She wished he'd gone off to torment some other girl, to play games with someone else's head. To tease and dangle himself before some other pathetic girl, make someone else fall in love with his gorgeous dark eyes and messy-but-perfect hair. It wasn't fair that only she got to bear this burden, to wake up every day with a tugging on her heart.
No matter what she did, he was always there, like a carrot dangling in front of rabbit--a constant reminder of what she could have had, but didn't. And it was all her fault for not saying anything. It didn't matter who she woke up next to--Jason, Bryan, Walker--for it was always him laying there instead, an easy smile on his face while the sunlight streamed across the bed around them.
It hurt too much to be reminded of that, and that was what always ended the relationships she tried to have. That, or she'd analyze everything and compare it to him. Unhealthy? Yes. But there was nothing she could do about it--he was her one, and it was starting to look like he would always be the one. Every day, his face haunting the back of her mind--it was a never ending cycle that had her ripping apart at the seams.
And then one day he turned up at her door, looking disheveled and perfect all in the same. She was so convinced it'd been a dream--enough that he'd had to kiss her so she would believe he was really there, in the flesh. Tears and stumbling and quiet murmurs of feelings followed, and once again, their bodies met the sheets and they fell into each other.
After, while he played with her hair and kissed the skin between her collarbones, she traced the tattoos on his arms lazily, working up the courage to speak.
"Garrett?"
"Tess?" he replied, glancing down at her. The scene was almost identical to the days of their youth, the sun stretching across their legs while he smiled down at her--but Theresa didn't mind. He was hers right now, and that was all that mattered.
"I love you."
It was quiet for a moment, the words hanging in the air until his smile slowly widened.
"I thought you'd never say it. Oh god, how long I've been waiting to hear that..."
He cut himself off, drawing her against his chest and pressing their lips together.
"Be my heroine?" he breathed, cupping her face in his hand like the most precious treasure in the world. To him, she was.
Theresa felt herself smiling--he was finally going to put an end to all the painful tugs at her heart. He was here, he was hers, and she was his--everything she'd wished for had come true.
"Yes. Yes. A hundred thousand times and then a dozen more--yes."
Like the way his hands felt on her skin, or the distinct pattern of rocks thrown against her window every Friday night. The way his eyes searched hers for something more than what she was letting on, and the ink that decorated his skin, so beautiful and perfect. How their bodies moved together in the dark of her room, and how he always wore her hair ties around his wrist.
No, Theresa didn't want to remember these things--the good things. She wanted to forget it all, pretend like it had never happened and that the memories weren't lodged into her brain. But the chances of that happening were slim to none.
She tried hard--incredibly hard--to rid herself of the past, but it was to no avail. If she ran ten thousand miles, he was always right in front of her, waiting. Though she doubted he knew anything about it, he made it impossible for her to live a normal life. Getting close to someone else was not an option, not when the image of him lingered in her mind. Those three years had been three years too long, and it was nearly enough to kill her.
Arizona had been lovely. The weather, the people--everything. Within just a few weeks, Theresa had fallen in love with the state, and it had everything to do with that one particular boy.
Seventeen years on the earth had taught her to be cautious of her heart, but her willpower was no match for him. From the moment he brushed his arm against hers in the frozen food section of the Safeway, she might as well have been done for. He'd smiled--a barely there smile, but still a smile and a rarity that she would come to cherish later on--and asked her if she was new in the area.
She wondered how he'd known, and he claimed to have guessed by her pale, untanned skin--a lie he confessed to later on in her dark bedroom one night. Then he offered to show her around, and she abandoned the grocery list her mother had neatly written out in the cart.
Months later, the roles were reversed. It was then Theresa showing him around, but only in her house. They'd become friends in a short amount of time--mostly due to the fact that he had some disabling quality about him that let her drop down her walls. Something had certainly clicked on that first day in the supermarket, but neither of them knew what at the time.
Then after that, something shifted. Friendship turned to something else, something undefined that hung in the air every time they were together, never being discussed or outlined. Those were the nights where he would come over. The rocks would click quietly against the window, she'd get up to let him in, and then he'd press her down into the gentle creases of the bed, their bodies molding together and drifting apart like sand and water.
It was during one of these nights that Theresa realized she loved him. Lying there beside him, after having been spent and covered in a thin layer of sweat, the fan twirling quietly on the other side of the room--it hit her. She wanted to wake up next to that beautiful boy for as long as she could, to trace his tattoos with her fingers and play with his hair when she was too tired to do anything else. It was him that she saw in her future, though she knew better than to let it get to her head. He had the option to leave at any time, of course--after all, nothing between them had ever been laid out clearly. But Theresa suddenly wanted it to be definite--she wanted him to be hers and hers alone, unconditionally.
But she never said a word. She continued their pattern of sleepless nights, pretending in their brief time together that he was, indeed, hers--a twisted fantasy that she came to hate herself for later.
Because she never said anything, it made it that much easier for him to slip away. Some girl from two towns over slowly swept him off his feet while Theresa kept her desires to herself, and that was the end of him and her. He thought he was being fair, setting her free from whatever obligation she might have felt to him--but all she wanted was to curl her body against his and stay there forever.
Without his nightly visits, Theresa felt him slowly slipping away. At first it was slow, gradual, starting out with missed phone calls and canceled outings--but then it escalated, to the point that it was rare if she even saw him once a week.
And so, when she finally left Arizona for bigger and better things a few months later, she doubted that he even noticed her absence. They'd become so distant, so far apart from one another that she often wondered if he even remembered her--if he remembered those nights in her bedroom, those nights where their skin melted into one another and where she fell in love.
Looking back, Theresa wished he would have just apologized and gone on his way that day in the supermarket. She wished he'd gone off to torment some other girl, to play games with someone else's head. To tease and dangle himself before some other pathetic girl, make someone else fall in love with his gorgeous dark eyes and messy-but-perfect hair. It wasn't fair that only she got to bear this burden, to wake up every day with a tugging on her heart.
No matter what she did, he was always there, like a carrot dangling in front of rabbit--a constant reminder of what she could have had, but didn't. And it was all her fault for not saying anything. It didn't matter who she woke up next to--Jason, Bryan, Walker--for it was always him laying there instead, an easy smile on his face while the sunlight streamed across the bed around them.
It hurt too much to be reminded of that, and that was what always ended the relationships she tried to have. That, or she'd analyze everything and compare it to him. Unhealthy? Yes. But there was nothing she could do about it--he was her one, and it was starting to look like he would always be the one. Every day, his face haunting the back of her mind--it was a never ending cycle that had her ripping apart at the seams.
And then one day he turned up at her door, looking disheveled and perfect all in the same. She was so convinced it'd been a dream--enough that he'd had to kiss her so she would believe he was really there, in the flesh. Tears and stumbling and quiet murmurs of feelings followed, and once again, their bodies met the sheets and they fell into each other.
After, while he played with her hair and kissed the skin between her collarbones, she traced the tattoos on his arms lazily, working up the courage to speak.
"Garrett?"
"Tess?" he replied, glancing down at her. The scene was almost identical to the days of their youth, the sun stretching across their legs while he smiled down at her--but Theresa didn't mind. He was hers right now, and that was all that mattered.
"I love you."
It was quiet for a moment, the words hanging in the air until his smile slowly widened.
"I thought you'd never say it. Oh god, how long I've been waiting to hear that..."
He cut himself off, drawing her against his chest and pressing their lips together.
"Be my heroine?" he breathed, cupping her face in his hand like the most precious treasure in the world. To him, she was.
Theresa felt herself smiling--he was finally going to put an end to all the painful tugs at her heart. He was here, he was hers, and she was his--everything she'd wished for had come true.
"Yes. Yes. A hundred thousand times and then a dozen more--yes."