Darling,
fourteen
“I don’t care anymore,” he whispers softly from across the room. “Why you left. Why you’re back. I don’t care.”
“Okay.”
He bites hard on his lip, holding back his words like he always does. She sits at the couch, rolling her neck and flipping the page of her magazine. He watches her hair fall over her shoulder, her shoulders rise as she moves and fall as she relaxes. He leaves the table, his feet silent against the floor as he moves towards her. She smiles slightly as he finds his way around the couch and stands in front of her.
“Okay,” she repeats, setting her magazine down and standing. He sighs, letting his hands find her chin, her neck, her arms. He holds her closely, promising silently never to let her go. Never to let her walk away from him like she had. He buries his face in her hair, his hands tight against her back. She holds him back this time, releasing her guard, missing his feel, remembering his touch. She wants to apologize, but she can’t push away her pride.
“Okay.”
He bites hard on his lip, holding back his words like he always does. She sits at the couch, rolling her neck and flipping the page of her magazine. He watches her hair fall over her shoulder, her shoulders rise as she moves and fall as she relaxes. He leaves the table, his feet silent against the floor as he moves towards her. She smiles slightly as he finds his way around the couch and stands in front of her.
“Okay,” she repeats, setting her magazine down and standing. He sighs, letting his hands find her chin, her neck, her arms. He holds her closely, promising silently never to let her go. Never to let her walk away from him like she had. He buries his face in her hair, his hands tight against her back. She holds him back this time, releasing her guard, missing his feel, remembering his touch. She wants to apologize, but she can’t push away her pride.