Clarity 2 (10 page)

“You were really good,” Liam says as he drives me home.
“Are you sure you’ve never done any martial arts before?”

“No,” I say with a laugh, “I haven’t. Unless you count
years of wrestling with my sister—almost every day, for every tiny thing. Even when I first came home, we got physical a few times.”

“
That must be it. The source of your great talent,” Liam says solemnly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell him, but I
am
really happy about my performance.

Snapping his fingers, Liam makes an excited exclamation. “Oh! I have an idea. Let’s delay your surgery so you can be blind enough to compete in the Paralympics
. What do you say? You just have to train really hard, then we can head to Rio de Janeiro for 2016. I was just going to watch it from TV, but being there would be so much better. And James can add your picture to his impressive wall of successful students.”

“
Are you joking?” I ask him incredulously.

“Nope.”

“Liam!” I burst into laughter. 

“What?” he asks in a wounded tone. “What’s so funny?”

“I just had my first lesson today. Cool your balls, buddy.”

“My balls are... at the perfectly appropriate temperature,” he assures me.
“I’m just thinking of the possibilities!”

I growl at him softly. “Are you my pimp now, or am I a
dancing circus animal?”

“Can’t it be both?” he asks whimsically.

“I know you’re just trying to make me feel better,” I tell him, “and it’s working. Just remember that I’m learning to fight to stay alive and protect my sister, not for the glamor of showing off my smooth moves on TV.”

“Can’t you do both?” he asks glumly.

I can’t help smiling at his attitude. Liam is possibly one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. His enthusiasm is apparent in everything he does—it is obvious that he’s very passionate about both judo, and his job. Being around him makes me feel like anything is possible. “Even though you’re insane,” I tell him, “and you push me around way too much—I still think you’re sweet.”

“
I solemnly vow that whenever I manipulate you, I will always have your best interests at heart,” Liam says with complete seriousness.

“Wow,” I say in mock admiration. “That was really romantic.
I need to save those words.” I pull out my phone and press my thumb down on the solitary circular button, and request that it make a recording. Then I repeat his words into the machine: “I solemnly vow that whenever I manipulate you, I will always have your best interests at heart.”

He laughs at this. “Why are you recording that? Are you going to use it
in one of your books?”

“Maybe,” I say teasingly
, “but also, if this dating thing works out? You can use it in your wedding vows.”

“
No way,” Liam says. “My wedding vows would be so much more interesting than that.”

“Like what?” I ask with a challenge in my voice.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. “Like... ‘I vow to love you so much that I will always let you choose what we watch together on TV. If I don’t like what you’re watching, I’m just going to go watch my own thing in a different room anyway.’”

“Really, really romantic,” I say in amusement.

“Also,” he adds, picking up momentum, “this one’s really good: ‘I vow always to leave the last potato chip for you. But it’s the only one you’re getting, because I call dibs on the rest of the bag.’”

He finally manages to get a real laugh out of me.
I have to catch myself to try and stop from laughing too loudly. I have been holding this in for some time and trying to appear cool and sardonic, but now he’s definitely won. I can’t help relaxing a little. “I envy the lucky lady who gets to tie the knot with you,” I tell him with a grin.

“I can be a regular Casanova,” he assures me. “
I picked up a lot from watching Owen over the years. For example, the date we just had? The truth is that I just chose this because it involved a
lot
of physical contact. I’m pretty sure we got to third base there. I got to cop a lot of feels.”

I twist my face up in what I imagine must be a
skeptical look.

“Winter, what are you giving me that look for?”

“I highly doubt that
this
was on Owen’s list of ultimate first dates.”

“Maybe it was,” Liam says.

“No,” I tell him. “It was special and meaningful, and you chose it specifically for me. I won’t let you cheapen it with jokes. It was amazing.”

Liam’s voice lowers a littl
e. “Did you really like it?”

“Yes,” I respond sincerely. “It was a lot of fun. It was also just what I needed.
You didn’t just help me. You helped me help myself, which is far more valuable. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re very welcome,” he responds, “but
you’re not a master yet. We’ll have to keep training, and keep going back, dozens of times.”

The idea of more training
gives me a thrill. I am somehow bursting with energy—even though I have spent much more energy today than I would on an average day, I seem to have more because of this. It’s ironic and puzzling, but I love the sensation.

“When can we do this again?” I ask him shyly.

“Soon,” he responds instantly. “Let’s make a promise that we’ll train with James at least three times a week, for a minimum of two hours. Even if things don’t work out with us—we’ll just quit going there on dates and go as friends. It’s important to do this. It will change your life.”

“
You already have changed my life,” I tell him softly. I think about where I was earlier today, sitting with my back to a dresser and feeling terrified of a door opening. I think about where I have been for several days, confined to my room and unable to get out of bed. Unable to do any work. Unable to think of anything other than my overwhelming fear. I know that I probably don’t know enough about judo yet to actually stand a chance in a fight, but I feel like I have broken through some barrier today. I am not afraid anymore. Tears spring to my eyes, but they are tears of happiness. “Liam,” I say, and my voice is all choked up. However, having learned that touch can be my friend, I decide not to speak and simply reach out and place my hand on his leg. I place a gentle pressure on his thigh to try and convey my gratitude.

He removes
one of his hands from the steering wheel, and places it over my own. He interlaces his fingers with mine, in a gesture which clearly conveys him accepting my sentiments.

The touch is so powerful that there really is no need for speech.

A few more minutes and miles pass,
and our fingers remain woven together. It is so comforting and natural, and I wish that the moment would last forever. I feel like my skin just melts together with his, and disappears into his body. It is like his hand belongs attached to mine—like it always had been there before, but was separated for this lifetime, and only just reunited.

He feels like the missing part of me that I never
even realized I was missing. I never thought I could feel so secure and complete. I don’t know how I’m going to rip myself away from him. All I can seem to think about is how I
need
to be even closer to him than this. I want to be around him all the time—I want to spend as much time with him as possible. He makes me feel like life could be a good thing. He makes me laugh, even when I’m trying to be standoffish and snobby. He easily breaks down all my walls with his gentle persistence. He believes I can do anything, and makes me into a better version of myself. He helps me to see the things I cannot see. He makes me feel fulfilled.

“We’re almost at your place,” he
says quietly.

There is a silence, and we both seem to feel the
ache of the impending loss. However, as he continues to drive onward, my thoughts begin to focus less on how incredible Liam is, and more on the horrible hellhole that is looming in the distance. I have been enjoying myself so much that I had almost entirely forgotten about Grayson. I had forgotten how soon I would be thrust back into the same dwelling with him. I had forgotten that date had to end. I had forgotten how quickly we were approaching my house.

“We’re here,”
Liam says, as he removes his hand from mine and begins to turn the steering wheel.

His words are like a slap in my face.
I am seized with a great panic and I reach out to grab his wrist to halt the turning. “No. No, please.” I take a few quick breaths. “Liam, I’m not ready to go back in there. Can we just drive around for a little? Just a little more?”

“Sure,” he says, without hesitation. He pulls back onto the road and begins driving again.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I just couldn’t—I need a minute to prepare.”

“It’s okay,” Liam says. He hesitates before speaking. “
I’m really not supposed to do this—it could present problems for my job. But if you really want, you could stay at my place. It’s very small, but I could take the couch...”

“No, no,” I say softly. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to impose. You’ve already done so much for me. I just need a few minutes to gather my strength.”

“Would you like a distraction?” Liam asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask him. I am surprised when he pulls the car over sharply into the shoulder.

He parks the car and unlocks his seatbelt before leaning across the center console to place his face near mine. He slides his hand along my neck, just under my ear. His thumb rests lightly on my earlobe. “May I?” he breathes.

I
cannot find the words, so I force myself to nod.

Liam presses his lips against mine with a soft and tender pressure. At first, the kiss is barely a whisper
of a touch, as though I am fragile and made of glass that might shatter. Once my surprise eases away, and I am able to respond, he notices this and begins to deepen the kiss. His hand slips around the back of my head, and his lips become more intense and demanding.

I find myself swept away in
the sensation. His touch is so strong and forceful, yet filled with sweetness and compassion. He seems to have discovered that I am not fragile glass, but a real woman made of flesh and blood—and he treats me accordingly. I kiss back ardently, eager to lose myself in the loveliness of the connection.

I can taste a little bit of masculine sweat lingering on his skin from our earlier workout. It is salty and pleasant, and with a bit of a spicy flavor. I can also smell the muskiness of cologne on his jacket. I am just beginning to relax and pour all of my pent-up emotion into the kiss when he pulls away.

He clears his throat, and speaks in a husky voice. “I had better take you home.”

“Yes,” I say quietly, in disappointment.
I lower my chin and try to catch my breath as my heartbeat races—for the first time in forever, I have butterflies in my stomach from an emotion other than fear. “When can we do that again?” I ask him, trying to conceal my desperation. I want to see him again so badly.

“Soon,” he says with an upbeat tone. “
Maybe next time we can go on a true Owen-style date.”