I reach out and rest my hand over Vince’s heart. Its beat is strong and steady. Much like his presence in my life, even when he’s nowhere near me.
He’s on his side, arm under his head, elbow bent so the dark ink of his tattoos is stark against the crisp white of the pillowcase. His eyes are closed. A dusting of stubble is on his jaw. His expression is one of peace.
It’s weird how I still see the boy in the man before me. Or maybe it’s the other way around. But they’re both still there. The one who ruined my heart, who filled it up with a love he doesn’t know about, who it will always love.
I prop myself up on my elbow and study the dizzying array of tattoos on his arm and chest. Music notes, a guitar pick, the logo for Bent among others, but there is one in particular that I didn’t notice before that has me leaning closer. It’s on his left flank, written sideways, and completely out of character with the rest of them. C12H22O11.
Tears burn in my eyes, the memories coming faster than I can process them, as I reach out to touch the molecular formula for sugar scarred into Vince.
“You’re not concentrating.”
“Because chemistry is boring.” Vince sighs in frustration. He immediately starts tapping his fingers on the desk to that beat that only he can hear in his head.
I reach over and grab his wrist to stop him. “Maybe so, but you need it to graduate, Vincenzo.” I draw the nickname out I’ve given him. The one I’ve taken to using because not only does it annoy him, but because it makes me feel special. Like I have an inside joke with the cute boy at school. No one else is allowed to call him that.
He rolls his eyes when I say it, but his cheeks flush pink.
“Let’s face it. The minute I graduate I’m out of here. The last thing I’m ever going to need to know is molecular structures and the difference between neurons and protons.”
“Neutrons.”
“Same thing.”
I laugh and slide another glance his way as he lowers his head to read the textbook once again. His teeth are sunk into his bottom lip, and that dark brown hair of his falls over his forehead covering the cut there that he said was from hitting an open cabinet door.
I’ve heard the rumors about him before I agreed to tutor him last week. A loner who doesn’t care what people think. A bad boy who’s quick with his tongue and his fists. The guy your mom warns you about and that a girl like me should stay away from.
We’ve only had two sessions, but I don’t see any of that. I think he’s just misunderstood. Smart but doesn’t like to apply himself. Motivated but only to learn music. Here because he has to be or else his dad will lose his shit. Moody but with a crooked smile that flusters me when he graces me with it.
And hot. In that mysterious, sexy, aloof way that has me stealing glances every now and again.
He shakes his head and sighs. “It doesn’t matter how many times I read them, I’m never going to remember these. Mr. Johnson’s going to fail me. I’ll drop out. You’ll never see me again. End of story.”
“You’re not going to fail. You’re not going to drop out. And if you didn’t come back, I’d come looking for you.”
“You would?” There’s something about the way he says it that has me setting my pencil down and studying him.
“Of course, I would,” I say when he just nods and averts his eyes. “Now, come on. Let’s concentrate so we can get this done. The first compound you need to know is for sugar. C12H22O11.”
“Like that’s easy.” He rolls his eyes.
“Then let’s try and associate it with something. Something you’ll remember that—”
“Like you.”
“Like me?” I laugh.
He nods and angles his head to the side as he stares at me. “You’re sweet. Like sugar.”
“Thanks. I think.” Heat creeps up my cheeks. “The question is how exactly is me being sweet going to make you remember the compound?”
“I don’t know, Shug, but I guess we better figure it out.”
He tattooed my nickname on him. He wears something I gave him years ago. He carries me with him everywhere he goes. Every country he travels to. The different beds he sleeps in every night. Even with the other women he sleeps with.
He loves me in his own way but won’t allow the love to be returned.
I thought I could do this. Sleep with him again. Be with him again. Enjoy him without needing closure or tomorrows or everything in between, but truth be told, I love him. I love him and it only seems to end up hurting me.
There’s a reason we can’t be together. Why that is, I have no clue . . . but it just is and it’s time for me to accept it.
I’ve been chasing the impossible for eleven years. Maybe it’s time to stop chasing. Maybe it’s time to start figuring out how to live without him.
I lean forward and press the slightest of kisses to his lips.
I get dressed.
I gather my things.
I stand and stare at him lying in the bed, and for the first time ever, I understand why Vince left me how he did that last time. Without a word. Without a goodbye. Without closure.
It’s probably best if I’m not here when he wakes up. Call me a chicken. Call my actions chickenshit. But it will save us from pretending that there might be more to this than meets the eye. From making promises we don’t intend to keep. From holding each other back from the people we were meant to be.
At least I know the truth. He does love me. But not enough.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever settle. I’m a selfish bastard, you know that. People come and go, are forgotten and buried when the next big thing comes. I just want to take the ride as long as I can, as far as I can.”
If only Vince realized that he’s already the next big thing.
He can love me all he wants, but he said it himself.
I’ve always loved you,
But could never keep you.
You won’t forgive.
And I can’t forget.
You’ve always been my sweet regret.
