And in this moment, as I watch two students volley back and forth while the professor laughs and prompts them to continue, it hits me. This is my dream. It wasn’t Ian’s, it wasn’t ours. It was—still is—mine.
Fat tears fill my lids and, not wanting to draw attention to myself, I quietly excuse myself, quickly walking from the auditorium and out the door we came in from.
Ryan follows me out and, once we’re outside and away from people, pulls me into his arms, where I cry harder than I’ve ever cried. Harder than I cried when I found out Ian died, harder than I did at his funeral. Ryan holds me in his arms while I release every pent-up emotion inside me. When Ian died, I allowed myself to die with him, and this isn’t what he would’ve wanted. He loved me until the day he died, and what happened to him was tragic, but instead of mourning him, I should be living for him—for myself. Because I’m still alive.
But I haven’t been living. I’ve been mourning. I’ve tried to write him a letter a million times, but I haven’t been able to because I have nothing to say. I haven’t done anything worth writing about. I was so caught up in the fact that our plans were destroyed that I forgot I’m still alive and can have a life, have a future. It breaks my heart that I won’t have Ian by my side, but he would’ve wanted me to keep living. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to live—for him, and more importantly for me.
Once I’ve calmed down enough to speak, I back up slightly and look into Ryan’s azure eyes. “Thank you for this. For showing me what I’m missing, what I could still have. I needed this more than you will ever know. I think I’m finally ready to move forward.”
Ryan’s lips curl into a beautiful smile. “Already? But I had an entire week of activities. I guess I’ll be going boating on my own in Newport.” He fake pouts, but I find myself really pouting. I’m not ready to leave Ryan yet. I might be ready to move forward, but I’m not ready to move forward from him yet. I’m enjoying his company. He makes my heart feel full, my head feel less foggy.
“We could still do everything you have planned,” I suggest. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be.”
Ryan glances down at me, and I realize how close we are. Our bodies are molded against each other. His hard, muscular arms wrapped around my backside. My hands planted against his firm chest. He sucks in his bottom lip, then runs his tongue along both lips, wetting them. And I do something I’ve wanted to do since the first time I saw him in the foyer of my parents’ house.
I kiss him.
On my tiptoes, I reach up and press my mouth to his. At first he doesn’t reciprocate and I worry I made a big mistake, but then his strong yet soft lips react to mine. Just like he did a moment ago to himself, he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and then runs his tongue along the seam of my lips. And then he kisses me. His tongue enters my parted lips as my hands glide up his firm chest. His fingers dip into the cheeks of my ass, and he picks me up, carrying me backward until my back hits the hardness of a wall.
Our tongues find one another and move in sync, caressing, stroking… our kiss deepens. Ryan’s skilled mouth devours mine. He captures my tongue and sucks on it, and I moan into his mouth. The noise must startle him, because all too quickly, I’m being dropped to the ground and Ryan’s backing away like a caged animal.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re grieving.”
“It’s been fifteen months.”
“Fifteen months you’ve spent grieving and not moving forward.”
“And now I am. I’m ready to move forward.”
“With someone your age,” he argues.
“You’re a whole eight years older.” I roll my eyes, immediately regretting it, when he raises a brow.
“You’re a family friend,” he volleys.
“I’m not asking you to marry me, but let’s be honest…” I step forward. Ryan looks like he wants to run, but he stays where he is. “We’ve both been dancing around the chemistry between us.”
“You’re right. I am attracted to you. But that can’t happen again.”
I stop in my place and stare at him. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip nervously, and even though he isn’t physically running, he’s still pushing me away. And I get it. There are several reasons why nothing should happen between us, but I don’t care about any of them. However, it’s clear Ryan does. And these last couple days have been the best days I’ve had in a long time. And I’m not ready to leave yet. Do I think we have a future? No. He’s in the military and heading overseas. I’m going to go home and enroll in college and start living my life again. But right now, the only thing I want to do is spend time with Ryan. Help him relax. Let my heart heal. Continue to put one foot in front of the other. And in order to do that, I’m going to have to ignore the sexual tension between us and focus on being his friend.