Contessa (97 page)

“
Wow. Did you get married and have a family, too?
”
I tease him.

“
No time for that.
”
He smiles mischievously.
“
Plus, I kind of lost my dream girl a few weeks ago.
”
A deafening silence fills the car, as I try to figure out what to say next.

“
You didn
’
t lose me,
”
I say, and quickly realize that his idea of losing me may have more to do with whether or not he chooses me than the fact that I would welcome him back this very second.

“
No, the dream girl
’
s definitely gone,
”
he responds.
“
You became real to me that day.
”

“
What do you mean?
”

“
It felt like things were too good, you know? I fell in love with you so quickly. It started to cloud my judgment. I started seeing what I wanted to see, and not what was really there.
”

“
Is that bad?
”

“
It wasn
’
t real. That
’
s all.
”

I stare in front of the car, onto the road, but only see a blur of motion. My eyes refuse to focus on anything. I manage to stave off tears, but I can
’
t process what he
’
s said. After hearing his statements continuously echo in my head, I finally turn on the radio. We listen to local Indie pop the rest of the way to the park, but I really don
’
t hear anything other than,
“
It wasn
’
t real. That
’
s all.
”

He takes his jacket and tie off after getting out of my car, tossing them in the back seat. It
’
s not until he closes the driver side door that I decide to unbuckle my seat belt and get out. I have to face this. I
’
m startled when he opens the door for me and extends his palm for me to take his hand. After he shuts the door, I attempt to weave my fingers between his, but he pulls his hand away.

I stop in my tracks, completely thrown. Had I really misread him that much? He continues to walk ahead of me, untucking his shirt, completely unaware that I
’
m not beside him until his hand drops to his side and he makes a motion to grasp at a hand that isn
’
t there. He turns around quickly, looking at me curiously.
“
What
’
s wrong?
”

“
I
’
m confused,
”
I tell him as he walks toward me.
“
It wasn
’
t
real
?
”
I ask him, the anger beginning to seep through in my tone. I take a deep breath in an effort to calm down. It
’
s a perfect night, in a perfect place, and the last thing I want to do is fight with him.
“
What I felt was
very
real,
”
I explain softly as he stops in front of me. He takes both of my hands in his.

“
That
’
s not what I meant. What I felt was real, too. It
’
s where I thought we were going that seemed a little surreal. I had the rest of my life mapped out, and I
’
m only eighteen. It was a little crazy. After the fight with your dad, I kind of realized that you
’
re too young to be making those kind of decisions. I mean, if I feel like I
’
m too young, you definitely are.
”

“
I
’
m not too young to know that I loved you, Jon.
”
As much as I want to say it in the present tense, I
’
m too afraid to put my heart out there. I
’
m too afraid I
’
ll revert back to that first painting, and I don
’
t want to go back there.

“
I know. But we didn
’
t have to commit our lives to one another to date, you know?
”

“
That
’
s what you regret? The promise ring?
”

“
I don
’
t regret it. I just think it was premature. Very premature.
”

“
Then why did you do it?
”

“
To convince your parents that I was serious. But Olivia, the only person I needed to impress was you. I put way too much stock into what your parents thought of me. I thought, by doing that, they
’
d see the guy they always wanted their daughter to be with: some squeaky-clean kid who could just erase his past transgressions by making lifelong promises to their perfect daughter–
”

“
I
’
m not perfect–
”

“
No, I know that now.
”
He laughs.

“
Thanks,
”
I tell him, a little upset.

“
No, Liv, that
’
s good. Neither of us are perfect. Nobody is, and to think that you were was just ignorant of me. It made what happened a huge disappointment. The way I saw you then, I was so angry at you. You shattered that image that night. Sure, I
’
d seen hints of your imperfections before, but I could write them off individually as little anomalies. But never were those imperfections so prominent than that night. I was honestly devastated.
”

“
I
’
m sorry, Jon.
”

“
It wasn
’
t your fault, is what I
’
m trying to say. I
’
d put you up on a pretty high pedestal. No one–not even the perfect woman–could ever live up to that.
”

“
I guess I kind of saw you that way, too.
”

“
And I
’
m genuinely flawed. You know I
’
d be the first to tell you that. I did, in fact. I showed you. You just chose to see someone else.
”

“
I know.
”

“
And I tried in vain to live up to that image, but I can
’
t keep that up.
”

“
I wouldn
’
t want you to be someone you
’
re not. But Jon, you don
’
t need to be. You
’
re pretty amazing, just being the man you are. If I fell out of love with you over the past few weeks, I have to be honest–
”

I stop myself before continuing, debating whether or not I should venture down this path. I
’
m strong enough. I
’
m Livvy Holland, and I
’
m strong enough to move forward alone, if that
’
s what he wants. I decide to finally start walking down the sidewalk toward a bench overlooking the Hudson. He holds my hand loosely, but lets me walk in front of him. It
’
s good because, should he reject me, I don
’
t want him to see the disappointment on my face.

“
I have to be honest,
”
I continue,
“
I fell in love with you all over again tonight.
”
His tightened hand pulls me to a stop. I look at my shoes, waiting for him to speak. He positions himself once more in front of me, and just like he did in the Art Room, he uses his finger to lift my head up so he can look into my eyes.

“
Olivia, I kind of gathered from your last painting that you didn
’
t need me anymore.
”
It
’
s the first time tonight I
’
ve seen insecurity in his eyes. He
’
s seemed so confident and in control since the moment I first saw him this evening.

“
I don
’
t,
”
I tell him. He lifts his eyebrows, obviously surprised.
“
I don
’
t need you, but I want you, Jon. I don
’
t want to be without you anymore, but if I
’
m not the girl you fell in love with, then–
”

“
You
’
re not the
girl
I thought I loved, but you
’
re the
woman
I want, Olivia. You
’
re not perfect, but you
’
re perfect for the flawed man that I am. What you are,
who
you really are, that
’
s who I love.
”

“
Still?
”
I ask him.

“
Still,
”
he assures me.
“
If there
’
s one thing I know, Liv, it
’
s that I want to be with you.
”

“
I want that, too.
”
He smiles and draws closer, finally giving me the kiss that I
’
ve missed for a month. My heart flutters, my stomach jumps, and
goose bumps
immediately cover my skin. His hands move up and down my bare arms as we continue to kiss.

“
Are you cold?
”
he asks when he slowly moves his lips toward my ear.

“
No,
”
I tell him, out of breath.

“
I want to be with you,
”
he says once more.

I giggle, clutching tightly to his shirt.
“
You said that already!
”

“
No, Olivia,
”
he begins, then traces my jawline with his soft lips. I take in a quiet gasp. He pulls away and stares directly into my eyes, so there
’
s no misunderstanding his meaning.
“
I want to
be
with you.
”

“
Oh,
”
I sigh. I start to look away, but he puts both hands on my face gently, pulling my lips to his once more. This embrace is reminiscent of the one on the street outside the bar on his birthday. He thought it was the tequila that made me so uninhibited that night, but I knew all along I was only intoxicated by him, just like I am now.

“
Okay,
”
I say when we both take a second to breathe. His arms move down my body, pulling me into him. I hold him as closely as I can, having missed the feel of him for too long. We kiss until I start to feel light-headed, nearly unable to stand on my own anymore. I guide him to the bench and take a seat. He squats in front of me, putting his hands on my knees.

I
’
m drawn to him again, needing his warm lips on mine once more. I put my hands on his cheeks and lean into him, hoping that my actions convey what I still might not be ready to say aloud. I know how I feel, though. I know how I feel about him. I
’
m sure about him.

Before I know it, he
’
s falling backwards into the grass. His hands now on my hips, he pulls me with him into a rather compromising position on the lawn. We both start laughing, and I can feel his hands run slowly down my backside, arranging my skirt. His fingers linger at the hem.

“
Sorry,
”
he says playfully.

“
Don
’
t be.
”
I press my hands into his chest.
“
You probably got grass stains on your pants, though,
”
I inform him.

“
They
’
re dark,
”
he says, brushing off my concern.
“
No one will notice, unless they
’
re checking me out.
”