Page 82 of Torn

I quietly slip into the hallway and pad down to Aunt Katherine’s small kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. It’s odd how at home I only drink coffee, but when I’m here I drink all sorts of assorted teas and don’t go near coffee at all. I’m not sure why this is fascinating to me at 1:00 a.m., but it is. With the steaming ceramic cup in my hand, I go back to my room and close the door behind me with a softclick.

Before I made my tea, I spent a half hour rereading the entire text conversation. Tor’s reactions to my photos and then his detailed description of what he wanted to do to me was definitely a surprising eye-opener.

Tor has an erotic side.

And that just ramped up his yum factor even more.

If his words are true—and I have zero reason to doubt him—he wants to show me that side of him, even though he’s struggling with it because of all the alleged wrongs involved.

I stare out the window at the moon and its neighboring stars casting a shimmering reflection on the water, contemplating as I sip my tea. Is it really wrong for us to feel this way? If we care about each other, love each other, and want each other… is that wrong? And if it is, then why? Because of our ages? Because he’s my dad’s best friend? Because he’s taken care of me?

Do those things make it wrong… or do they actually make it more right? Why is it acceptable to get involved with a total stranger, who could do any number of things to hurt you or betray you, but not get involved with someone who has cared about you since the day you were born?

Is it all a matter of social perspective?

Is it possible that falling in love doesn’t always start when we think it might, and sometimes, it starts way before we’re ready, and grows slowly over time, allowing two people to truly fall in love with every aspect of each other? Rather than the more typical way of meeting a stranger, being attracted to them first, dating them, having feelings for them, and then hoping they’ll like you, too, and not rip your heart out?

I wish I had someone to talk to about all these confusing feelings, but I’m not ready to even attempt to go down that road yet.

Grabbing my phone, I perch on the edge of my bed and read over the text conversation again, frowning at my own words. My replies to his photo and to his sensual admissions are disappointing. I should have come back with an equally honest admission of what I want and felt. He crept over the wall tonight, took a peek at me, and let me see a peek of him. Maybe it was wrong of me to send him the pictures to lure him out, but I wanted him to see me in a new light. As a new adult. And I was hoping to see more of him.

From the dresser, I pull out the decorated box of notepaper and the fountain pen that I brought with me with the intention of mailing Chloe and my grandmother notes while I was here. Instead, I sit on the floor and handwrite a note to Tor. He’s the one who introduced me to calligraphy and he’s always loved the handwritten notes I’ve given him. With the evolution of the cellphone, I’ve used that as my main tool of correspondence with him, but for something special like this, I know he’ll appreciate it in my own writing.

Dear Tor,

Tonight your words were what I have been hoping to hear. You took my breath away and gave it back to me again. I have not been able to fathom never touching again since the first time you kissed me, so don’t be afraid of loving and fucking (your word) me into exhaustion. I want you to show me what that feels like someday. Just thinking about it is making me breathless all over again.

I want you to be my first. I want you to be my last. I want you to be all the in-betweens. I want you. Just you. Only you.

And I want to be all yours, in every way.

I know you’re scared, but I also know how strong you are. We can be scared together, and we can be strong together. Trust that I know what I want. Haven’t I always?

I’m here, waiting, anytime you want to climb over the wall again. And if you have to run back to the other side again, that’s okay. I’ll still be here.

I love you the most,

Kenzi

xo

I take a picture of the note with my phone camera and send it to him. Mailing would be much more authentic but would take too long. I want him to have this when he wakes up.

Five minutes after I get back into bed, a text comes through and I know it has to be from him.

Tor

Why aren’t you sleeping?

Why aren’t you? ;-)

Tor

I’ve been busy treating myself like a playground since you had to tease me with your pictures.

OMG

Tor