One Moment More by S. J. Evans (book series for 10 year olds .TXT) 📖

traveled up towards the man's face, and the moment I fully took into account who the voice belonged to, whose arms I had managed to stumble into, my stomach somersaulted. 

        No, it couldn't be, I thought, as I stared into those same icy blue eyes I'd never wanted to see again. Not him, not now. Not like this. 

        "Gavin."

 

3. ♡

In that moment, right after I spoke his name, it was as if nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. It was just him and me, so close I could feel his breath on my face, hear the beat of his heart as it ever so slowly began to pick up its pace, while in the meantime my own heart pounded mercilessly against my chest. My knees began to shake; my entire body trembled in his arms, solely surrounded by all things him.

     It was too much. I wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t prepared for a confrontation, and especially not one with him; I’d thought he would never come back. And despite the small part of me that had wanted to see him again, I had been desperately hoping I’d never have to see—or talk to— him ever again.

     When realization finally dawned across Gavin’s face, he froze, his grip on my arms tightening, as he stared at me, mouth hanging open. “Reina,” he breathed, his voice husky, deep, just as it had been before. “Is it really you?” The death grip he had on my arms loosened, his body slowly relaxing. Meanwhile I was far from relaxed, my entire body thriving off the tension of being near to him again, rigid with anxiety. “Oh, Reina,” he repeated, in the same tone as before, only a little softer. “I was hoping that I’d find you here.”

      No, stop, I tried to say, but the words stuck in my throat, blocked by the lump that had formed the moment his eyes bore into mine. I averted my gaze, looking down at the black Converse he was wearing (typical Gavin) instead, feeling my face burn. You need to go away. Stay away from me. 

      Why had I suddenly lost all courage to even mutter one simple plea to him?

      Why was he even here? Not miles away, where he should be.

       I had so many questions, so many doubts, so many fears all bottled up inside, I didn't even know where to start, what to do. I just stood there, stunned, still trying to process what was happening. Still holding onto the ever thinning thread that this was all just a dream, all just in my imagination. Not actually happening, right here, right now. 

       “You okay, Reina?” he asked, rubbing his hands up and down my arms, leaving a trail of heat in the wake of his warm, calloused palms. His touch, so familiar and yet so unfamiliar in the wake of his departure, provoked the hairs on my arms to stand on end, goose bumps spreading along the tender skin, which tingled as an unexplainable energy coursed through my bloodstream, nerves on fire. “You’re shaking.” With one of his hands still holding me steady, he used the other to pull my chin up, so that he could see my face, which I was desperately trying to keep blank, free of all the emotions bottled up inside of me. “You don’t look so well, either.”

        My stomach twisted into knots as I caught another glimpse at his well-sculpted face— big, icy blue eyes glazed over with concern, eyebrows mirroring that same concern as they furrowed together, the left one twitching as it always did when he was perplexed or worried— and for a moment I thought I might puke; but I quickly pushed any of the urges away. “I-I’m fine,” I managed to stammer, my tone harsh, swallowing that sticky lump wedged in my throat. “I just need a little fresh air. So if you’ll just excuse me . . .” With all the fleeting strength I could muster, I tried to pull myself out of his grip, turning away from him so I wouldn’t get the chance to have any second thoughts.

         But he was stronger—and heck of a lot quicker— than I was, and crushed me into his arms before I could get far, his well-toned arms captivating me with one of his  familiar, trademark bear hugs. “It’s so good to see you again, Reina,” he said, his hot breath rustling my now messy curls, his tone incredibly soft and surprisingly genuine. But that didn’t matter. Because genuine or not, I didn’t want him to be happy to see me; I didn’t even want him here—not like this, not when I was trying so hard to forget he’d ever even been a part of my life. “I’ve really missed you.”

          Oh, he did not just say that. He did not just go there.

         Blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes and dampen his tight, black cotton T-shirt, I tried to calm the raging fires of anger and bitterness that scorched a hole in my already bleeding heart. He left you, all alone, was all I could think of when he said those haunting words, words I’d longed to hear for months after he disappeared, while I sat by my phone for hours on end, holding it out in front of me and desperately hoping his name would flash across the screen, signaling he did care, he hadn’t forgotten me. He lied to you, broke his promise. Then he gave up and forgot about you. You owe him nothing.

         My first instinct was to run. To slip out of his arms and get as far away from him as possible, before he managed to make an utter fool of me again. But then I remembered he’d probably just follow me, as he had done any of the other times I’d ran away from him while we’d been together, when I was afraid that we were getting too close, too fast. So surely running wouldn’t work. Which meant the only thing that could stand a chance at working was hurting him like he’d hurt me, striking him at his heart. And as much as I didn’t want to do that— as much as I wanted to just hold him forever and pretend he’d never hurt me in the first place, forgiving and forgetting—it seemed like the only option left. It was the only way I could be sure that he’d never come running back to me, just to build me up and tear me back down again when he left abruptly.  

        Taking a long, shaky breath, I told myself this was it: the time had come to tell him what he’d done, tell him all that he deserved to hear after everything he’d put me through. There was no turning back now, no second chances. I had to do this; I had to end things once and for all, otherwise I’d never forget. I’d continue to torture myself with all the memories, all the false hopes and dreams. I’d never move on, or let go, as everyone told me I should. 

         I’d been left open and scarred for too long. It was time I finally got the closure I’d longed for all these past months dwelling with the unknown.  

         Pressing my palms against his firm chest, I looked up at his face, forced a fake, cheery smile, and silently prayed that I could somehow pull this off. “Gavin,” I began, feeling the knot in my stomach grow and tighten as his name left my lips for the second time, “stop lying.” His countenance dropped, the resolved look on his face unraveling into one of confusion. “Stop pretending that you care. Stop acting like nothing bad happened between us. Just stop. Before you make a bigger ass of yourself.” Despite my frazzled state of mind, the words came out in an even, measured tone, calm and crisp, as if it wasn’t killing me to say them. I nearly stopped right there, my conscience catching up with me, warning me that I could cross a very thin line here. But I didn’t. The pain left from his departure was overwhelming my every thought, all those nights feeling alone and helpless and insignificant flooding back to me, and I couldn’t help but keep going. “I mean, did you seriously think that you could just waltz back here to find me and then sweep me up off my feet and into your arms again, after everything that happened, pretending that everything was perfectly fine? Did you seriously think that I wouldn’t care that you’d left me, all alone in the blazing summer heat, with no fair explanation? That I’d just forgive you and admit that I have, in fact, ‘missed you’, too?” His upper lip twitched, eyes widened, hurt splaying across his features in one quick beat of the bass echoing around us. “Is that what you expected? Because I hate to break it to you, Gav, but that won’t work here. I’m not that desperate.”

        “Reina, I—”

        “I’m not finished,” I cut in harshly, pressing my finger against his lips. My heart was pounding; my mind reeled with what to say. I swallowed, took a quick, cleansing breath. “I waited for you, you know. After you disappeared, I waited, day after day, for you to call me or text me or message me or something to give a further explanation or update on what was going on with you. But you never did, did you?” He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and I watched as his Adam’s Apple slowly bobbed up and down. “No, you didn’t. You just stayed silent, ignoring all my attempts to get you to talk to me, long gone and miles away.” I had to take another breath to calm myself as the words caught up with me, and quickly wiped away a stray tear that had managed to trickle its way down my cheek, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “And you know what probably hurt me the most? You didn’t care. You just pretended I hadn’t existed and went about your life as if nothing had happened between us. Even after all those long nights spent together on the beach last summer, holding hands and sharing secrets we hadn’t had the courage to tell anyone else, even after you held me in your arms that day at the bench by the park’s pond, promising me that things would be okay, that we could get through this.”

         By this time, as my voice jumped octaves, trembling as I reached the heart of my speech, we had begun making quite a scene— him, a tall and lean eighteen-year-old golden boy, getting yelled at and pushed around by a weak, petite sixteen-year-old little me. But all I could think of was last summer and all of the memories—good and bad—that came along with it. And I couldn’t stop. “You lied to me, Gavin. You promised me things would be okay. You promised we could work through the long-distance. And yet, when it came time to man-up and face me, you couldn’t even take one single second out of your day to make things work. So tell me now, Gavin. Do you honestly think that I’m going to believe that you missed me?”

        “Reina, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, rather breathlessly, taking a step towards me (considering the fact that I’d pushed him a few good feet away from me), “I-I never meant to hurt you like that. You have to believe me.”

        “Get away from me!”