Seeing you again is like a reset button

November 2, 2012

It’s 2:10 when I pull out of Taco Bell. My heart is beating so fast as I shoot you a quick text, “On my way,” and your instant reply, “Ok :)”

I’m not worried about keeping you waiting. With how well I know you, you’ve been waiting there for an hour, trying to calm yourself down and prep your words.

The drive over stretches on for enough time that I get all worked up and nervous. Not to mention terrified. I turn up the air to ease my sweating. Gosh, I’m going to look like a mess when I get there, and not even a hot mess.

I pull up to Starbucks, do a quick check in the mirror, frowning as I brush the hair out of my face. Sweaty mess. Yup.

I grab my bag out of the passenger seat, lock the car, and walk up to the door. I’m so afraid of tripping, falling flat on my face. Flip-flops don’t fail me now. My hair is clinging to the back of my neck, so I pull it around onto my shoulder. No that’s no good. I flip it back. Jeez, how am I even gonna find you in a crowded Starbucks? I’ll look like an idiot standing there scanning for you. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. My hand is on the door handle and I’m hyperventilating and a cool blast of air hits my face and I can’t see anything—stupid sunglasses as I struggle to take them off and oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.

I look up from the ground, and our eyes meet across the crowded restaurant. I was worried about finding you? I forgot how we’re just.. drawn to each other. Oh Lord, the way you’re looking at me, like I’m not just some sweat mess or screwed up girl with loads of issues, the way you look into me.. beyond the makeup and confidence shirt and mask and scars and depression, the way you see who I am, know me for me, and love me in my entirety. Oh God.

My miniscule worries brushed aside by one glance from you, I mouth a silent “hey” and you smile because that habit hasn’t changed and then I walk over and sit down.

“Hi.” You’re smiling so at me with such kindness.

“Hey.” I set my food down on the table. “I feel so guilty for having non-starbucks food.”

“I know,” you chuckle. “I gave in and bought a drink.”

My eyes sweep the empty table and you elaborate. “Oh, I finished already. I’ve been here a while.”

Knew it.

“What were you working on?” I nod toward the laptop stuffed under your chair.

And from there, it’s just so easy. We fall back into everything we were. This is how I know that it was love and it was real, because after a year and a half, it’s still so simple to slip back. We never stopped caring.

It takes at least an hour for us to come to a comfortable lull in the conversation. I take a breath. Your eyes tighten. You know what’s coming.

“I just.. need to know why.” It’s something that’s plagued me for a year and a half now.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair—unusual for you because you hate getting your hair messed up. This is stressing you out. I feel a twinge of guilt that I shove away.

“Jess.. I can’t give you an answer because I don’t know myself. I loved you so much, I didn’t want anyone but you—I still don’t. So why would I screw that up?”

This speech is so convincing. And I can’t help thinking that I could fall back into you and us in a second. I’ve done it before. It would be so easy.

But easy is not what I need. If I wanted easy, I would’ve stayed with Jacob. I wouldn’t be here now.

“What are you thinking?” Your hand stretches across the table, almost reaching for me.

I fold into myself. “That isn’t good enough.”

“I know.”

I glance at my phone and tense. It’s 3:30 and I should be home by now.

“If I don’t get home in the next couple minutes, Mom will know something is up. I have to go.”

You bite your lip. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

I stand and leave