Human Hieroglyphix - Dex & Leila (25 page)

Oh yeah,
James
.

What James was talking about.

I was beginning to see and really understand what Dex meant about 'nice' and how you really do need to live free or you die.  And I sometimes felt like I was dying when I first woke up, realizing I had to drag myself through another fucking day that would be comprised of complete and utter bullshit.

"Oh yes, James.  I am a bit tired.  Thank you," I said as I got off my barstool and waved at Dirk and Gloria, both with twin looks of concern as they waved back.

"You're awfully quiet tonight, Leila," I heard James say as he pulled his car into my driveway.

"I'm sorry.  I think the day just caught up with me a bit."  I watched as he got out and made his way around to my door.

"Thanks so much for the evening," I said from my place on my porch, holding out my hand, intending to seal our dull, boring, vanilla evening with another handshake.  But James must have took that as his cue to make his move and used my hand to pull me into his body. 

As Caitlin would say, 'Ewww'.

I watched in horror as he closed his eyes and aimed his mouth towards mine.  I leaned back, I mean,
way
back. So far back that if someone was looking, they'd think I was doing some kind of Caribbean limbo routine.

"Oh, Leila, don't be shy," James said on almost a whisper, still leaning over me, seemingly intent on a goodnight slobber, I mean, kiss.

"I really don't want to be rude, James," I said in a slightly louder than normal voice trying to break into whatever spell he was obviously under.  "But would you get your hands off me, please?"

At least I got him to open his eyes.

"Not even a goodnight kiss?" James asked with a pout.  A grown man pouting and using a little kid voice.

Oh, yeah, that's sexy all right.

"She already gave you your walking papers, pal, when she asked you to get your fucking hands off her," I heard from the darkness on the far end of my porch.  I tried to steel my face from showing any reaction at all, but my heart started pounding out a rhythm that almost hurt.

"Who's that?" James demanded looking into the shadows. 

Not seeing anything he turned to me and demanded, "Who
is
that, Leila?"

It only took a couple of beats of silence for me to say it, to admit it to myself before I actually said it out loud.

"He's the only man I've ever wanted on my porch, James."

Chapter Twenty Four

I'm pretty sure what's-his-name left, but I didn't watch him leave.  My eyes were trained on the shadows where Dex's voice came from.

"You okay, Leila?" I heard him ask, his voice sounding closer.

"I'm good, Dex, you?"  My eyes were still on the shadows and I could finally see his silhouette.  He took another couple of steps toward me.

"Can we talk?"  I heard him ask softly.

I didn't know what I was thinking or even feeling because I was caught up in just looking at Dex, staring at him, remembering him.  Finally my mind began working at the same pace as my hearing and I nodded as I unlocked and opened my front door.

I had only left the small light over the stove on, which cast a soft light in my kitchen, just enough to see by.  I left the front door open so he could follow me in as I stood by the dining room table and took off my heels.

I heard the front door softly close and the snick of the dead bolt as I moved, barefoot, to the kitchen.

"Coffee, Dex?" I asked over my shoulder.  Okay, I admit it.  I was practically wetting myself and was afraid that I would completely and totally lose it if I looked directly at him.

"Sounds good, babe."

My hands gripped the counter at his 'babe' until my knuckles were white.  I wasn't his 'babe' anymore and for him to say it was like rubbing my nose in it.  But did I confront him on it?  No.  Because confronting him meant
looking
at him.

I heard Dex sit the breakfast bar as I got the coffee going.  I made a quarter turn and leaned back  up against the stove, a full kitchen length away from where he was sitting.

"You're looking good, Leila," I heard him say.

"Thanks," I said, still not looking at him but gripping the stove behind me.

How can silence be so deep that you can almost feel it against your skin?

I sighed and began taking off my bracelets and necklaces as the coffee finished brewing, still not looking at him, at him sitting in
my
house, at
my
breakfast bar, in
my
semi-dark, silent kitchen. 

I pulled down two mugs and filled them both, before moving to set his in front of him and going back to my position at the stove.

"Why won't you look at me, Elle?" He asked softly breaking the silence.

I raised my eyes to his over the rim of my mug.  I felt the shock of it, our gaze, down deep in my core and I dropped my eyes. 

There's only so much a person can take, you know?

"I was a dick, babe."  He said tightly, almost angrily.

"Yeah, Dex.  You were.  I think you need to go now."  I was not going to swayed this time by his admission. 

We had already played that game last month and I was not going to go there again.

My words seem hang and echo in the room and, for me, it opened up the vault, that secret safe hidden core of memories, of our time together. 

Not content with just avoiding looking at him, I turned my head to the side as I took another sip of coffee because those memories, flying out in all directions from my heart's open door that were that overwhelming, almost too much for me to bear.

"Can we take this into the living room?" he asked, again his voice was soft but tight.

Oh,
hell
no.  We were not going to do the whole fire-lit, sitting close on the couch thing.

"I'm good here, Dex.  But, I think you need to go."

I heard him sigh, but again the silence enveloped us.

I finished my coffee, rinsed my mug and put it in the dishwasher.

"Refill?" I asked over my shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks."

I took the pot from its warming plate and moved to the breakfast bar and poured him another cup.  I felt his eyes on my face but I kept my eyes trained on his mug.  When I started to move away Dex put a hand on my arm. 

I stopped and looked at his hand for what seemed like a long time.  Finally, I raised my eyes and looked at him. 

Really looked.

And what I saw nearly broke the remaining pieces of my heart.

He looked as miserable as I felt.

The lump in my throat began to get bigger and I swallowed thickly.

I slowly moved my arm and he let go. I put the pot back on the warmer and stood there for a minute.  I needed to calm down, needed to somehow slow down.  After I felt like I had it together, I moved to stand on the other side of the bar, right in front of him.

"Appears you're not going. You wanted to talk, Dex.  So, talk."

His eyes speared mine and there was a beat of silence before he began to speak.

"Babe, we were only together for a few days," he began softly, slowly.  "And they were good days, really good."

He glanced at me but I wasn't going to say anything.  I just wanted him to say whatever the freak he needed to say and then get the freak out of my house because I had a date with my pillow and a freaking box of tissues.

"So good they scared me, Leila."

I was still not saying anything.  Dex needed to responsible for his own freaking feelings and not try and push it up on me.

"I haven't been in a relationship since my ex-fiancé, Nancy, back in 2003.  That's not to say that I haven't been with women, because I have.  But I made it real clear to them when we started that they'd only get my body and I'd give them orgasms.  Nothing of my heart."

Yada, yada, freaking yada.  Was he done yet?  Could I ask him to just please freaking leave?  And why, in the name of everything holy, was he making me freaking listen to his man-whore shit?

"Until I met you, Leila."

Say again?

"I'd heard about it from other people, how fucking could be so much more with someone who held your heart.  I didn't believe them because I'd never had that before."

His eyes were centered, straight dead on mine as he spoke.

"But I had it with you, babe.  I finally realized that they weren't talking out of their asses.  That having my cock in the pussy of a woman I cared about was amazing, made the sex more amazing, made
everything
we said or did together, even outside the bed, more amazing.  And that every fucking minute that we spent together entangled our hearts, ensnared our hearts so much that neither of us could scarcely breathe when we were apart."

He was quiet again as he finished the last of his coffee.

"I was falling in love with you, Leila, and it fucking scared the
shit
out of me."

Okay, he had my full attention now.

"So I did what I seem to do best.  I ran.  And I kept running but you were everywhere, in my house, in my car, on my motorcycle, in my booth.  Fucking
everywhere
, Leila."

I knew the feeling. 

I couldn't go to any restaurant in town without thinking of him, that there were mornings when I wasn't quite awake and thought he was in bed beside me.  I had even started taking baths because some days taking a shower, a shower unshared, was too much for my heart to handle.

"Like you, I tried seeing other people and, like you, I couldn't stand the thought of even kissing them.  Because they weren't you, Leila."

I had gotten so caught up in what he was saying, at the bared honesty in his eyes, that I hadn't noticed he was no longer sitting but stood right next to me, that is, until I felt his large, warm hand cover mine.

"I want you, Leila," he said softly, so very soft. 

He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my palm sending shivers along every nerve ending, head to toe.

I slid my gaze from him to some point over his shoulder.  I needed to think, to work out what he said and how I felt about it.

"Now, can we go to the couch, babe?"

"No, thank you.  Uhm, I gotta…I gotta.." I mumbled still processing his words, but sliding my hand out of his.

I don't know how long I stood there, quiet on the outside with my thoughts exploding on the inside. 

All I knew is that I needed to get away from his words, his soft touch, from
him
, for God's sake.

I ran upstairs feeling the skirt of my dress flip and float behind me as I moved.  I made it to my room and grabbed a cammy and their matching short, shorts and locked myself in the bathroom.  As I went through my nightly routine, which now included using the skincare items, I tried to think. 

Tried to think about what he had said, but what I was feeling seemed to be taking up more of my headspace, was more important than what he said.

Did I believe him? 

I think I did.  I'd never caught him in a lie. Of course, we hadn't been together long enough to actually get to
that
portion of the relationship.

I had thought long and hard about our time together trying to figure out why spending a few days with him could mean so much and could hurt so bad when he didn't want to see me anymore. 

But I had no more answers to that than the first time I asked myself that question.

I finished up and changed into my sleepwear.  Then moved to my bedroom and turned on the small bedside lamp.

Could I trust him?

I sat on the edge of my bed as I thought this through for the four-hundred and ninety-fifth time.  In my mind, my logical mind, I knew that trust,
true
trust, builds slowly over time.  It is so precious and so important that I didn't think it should be given too freely or accepted as a fact until you had been able to prove yourself. 

But I had trusted him. 

Maybe too much and too freely for someone I had just met.

I laid down, there on the side of my bed and rolled to my side facing the headboard.

If I let him back in, would he hurt me again? 

Undoubtedly. 

I don't know
anyone
in a relationship that hadn't been hurt by the other person at some point. 

Could I take being hurt by Dex again? 

Now that was the
real
question. 

I lifted up and pressed play on my Nano, releasing Shania Twain's 'It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing'. 

I stretched out again, my arm cradling my head as I listened to the sweet song and watched the sheers, covering the partially opened windows, flutter in the night breeze. 

The song I listened to each and every fucking night since I'd heard that he had been done with me that Sunday.