Page 40 of Full Court Love
It’sLittle Women.
“It’s what you were reading that day at the coffee shop. I’m sure you already own it, but open up the front cover.”
I flip it open, and scrawled out in his handwriting, it says,Will you be my girlfriend?
He continues explaining.
“Sorry if this is cheesy. I also thought about writing ‘Willyou be the Jo to my Laurie?’ but I’m assuming they don’t end up together. I’ve never read it before now, but after I bought this copy, I started reading it, so—” He snatches it back. “—you actually can’t keep this yet. I need to finish it and then you can have it. So…”
He finally meets my eyes, still looking a little unsure of my reaction. I’m currently at a loss for words at how adorable he’s being, but I need to find some so he knows how happy I am.
Or maybe I don’t.
Throwing my arms around his neck, I pull his lips to mine. I hear the book hit the floor as he grabs my waist. This kiss is deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced. Or maybe my emotions are just deeper than any I’ve ever felt.
Either way, I sink into him. The moment consumes me. He consumes me. I taste him and feel his heartbeat against mine. His lips graze my neck while his fingers stroke my hair. My hands wander to his jawline, brushing against the stubble on his face.
His hands move back to my hips and lift me up, pushing me against the wall. My legs are wrapped around his waist, thanks to the slit up the skirt of my dress, as he tenderly bites my lip. He pulls away slightly and takes a long, deep breath before nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck.
I stroke his hair, letting out a soft laugh. He carries me over to a chair and sits down, still holding me on his lap.
“Sorry, I just can’t help myself. Sheesh, Lucy, I’ve never felt like this about someone before. What the hell are you doing to me?”
I shift into my favorite new spot–my head on his chest with his arms holding me, making me feel so safe.
“Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people.”
He snorts and then tickles me until I’m begging him to stop.
“I’m kidding, I'm kidding! I feel like that too.”
I struggle so much with this part. Articulating vulnerable feelings is not my forte. I’m happy to chat with almost anyone and give them enough information to think that they know me when I’ve only revealed a small sliver of myself, but actually voicing my innermost emotions is like walking on a bed of nails.
I worked through a lot of this in therapy after my dad died–why I push people away, why I have a fear of abandonment, and all the rest of my daddy issues. It was a lot for a kid to deal with, and the wound will never fully heal. I mean, I lost my dad. Some of this stuff will always be hard.
Mix all of these existing struggles with romantic feelings and a new man entering my life, and I’m essentially a toddler just learning to crawl.
But for this guy, I want to learn how to walk.
I can’t do the thing I always do, which is to keep him at an arm’s length and then get frustrated that he doesn’t actually know me. It’s a self-inflicted problem, I admit. But it’s always been easier for me to keep guys outside the wall around my heart so when the relationship inevitably ends, I’m totally fine. It’s a great way not to get hurt. It’s also a great way to end up alone.
With most guys, I don’t care. I’m unbothered by the breakup because I don’t foresee any sort of future. But with Jordan…I want him to know me because I actually trust him with the parts no one else sees.
He rubs my back, patiently waiting for me to continue.
“This is foreign to me. I’m experiencing so much for the first time, and it’s scary. I haven’t ever had a real boyfriend. I’ve talked to guys before, but I never let them get close. It’s too intimate to let someone know every side of me.”
His hand hasn’t left my back, still stroking in a soothing pattern. “I’ll wait as long as I need to. In the meantime, I wantto keep proving to you that I’m worthy of the walls coming down.”
I play with the hand that’s not on my back, intertwining our fingers in and out.
“It’s definitely already happening. Brick by brick…”
We stand up, lock the shop, and stroll back to my house. I might actually be floating. It’s a strange feeling–equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. Like I’m at the door of a plane, waiting to jump. I really, really hope the parachute deploys. It will be the scariest and greatest thrill of my life.
We stop at the front door of the Boat and he kisses me softly. His taste lingers on my lips as he steps down the porch to walk home. Right when he reaches the gate, he turns back.
“I meant what I said, you know. I’m going to keep proving it to you. Just you wait.”