19. Pick Truth
19
PICK TRUTH
TEMPORARY INSANITY, ALEXZ JOHNSON I’m an emotional mess of highs, lows, and confusion, and I can’t shake the feeling that everything is spiraling out of my control.
“No, not because you dropped it, but because of how you reacted to dropping it. Let’s go to the hotel or let’s go sit, yeah?” he asks, wrapping my arm with his and guiding us both out of the hall.
“I don’t want to go,” I whisper so quietly I think he may have missed it. But he nods, letting me know he did, per usual showing me how easy it is for him to listen to me. To respect me.
We walk back outside to the boisterous crowd, but instead of joining them like before, he leads us to a set of tables in the garden near the water. The view is spectacular. Many people say they prefer things like glaciers or mountains, and they don’t appreciate the natural wonders in front of them every day. For the people here, this may just be a river, but for those who have never seen a river, this is a miracle.
Manny pulls the seat out, letting me sit down before he takes the one across from me, sitting down and propping his feet up on a bar under the white metal table between us.
We sit there in silence before it’s so uncomfortable I have to break it. I used to be able to sit with myself and be fine in the silence, just being in the moment. But sometimes my thoughts are my worst enemy and I’d rather fill my thoughts with joy instead. Fiddling with my bracelets, I remind myself that even if joy is not real, it’s better than the alternative and sometimes you have to fake it ‘til you make it, right?
“Are you excited about Nashville tomorrow?” I ask.
“Are you going to change the topic and not tell me what happened back there?” Manny retorts, nodding and pointing his chin toward the dancing area.
Because suddenly you make me nervous. Because I can’t think straight when you’re around. Because I shouldn’t want you but I do. Desperately.
“It just slipped,” I say shyly, my cheeks burning.
“Why are you hiding from me?” His frown deepens, and for a moment, his gaze flickers away from mine, landing instead on the pretty waitress gliding toward us. She’s wearing a tiny black dress that clings in all the right places, her long dark hair cascading down her body.
“Can I get you guys anything?” she asks, her smile bright, as if the world revolves around her.
“I’ll take a water,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady but it wavers like my heart, which feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something painful.
“Same,” Manny agrees, but there’s a subtle shift in his tone, a hint of annoyance I can’t quite place.
“Coming right up!” she chirps, and as she puts her hand on Manny’s shoulder, a flash of irrational fire ignites in my chest. What the hell?! Why does this bother me so much?
“Cara,” Manny starts, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his lap, as if he’s bracing for something.
“What?!” I snap, the tension in the air crackling like electricity, the fear of losing him—losing this moment—making me crazy.
“No, no, don’t snap at me, sunshine. I need you to talk to me. What happened back there?”
I wanted you to kiss me. The thought is at the tip of my tongue. I fidget with the skirt of my dress and look down at my lap, trying to avoid this conversation and his stare. I feel soft hands under my chin, slightly tilting up until my eyes are on him and he has nearly closed the space between us.
“Truth or dare, Cara,” he asks, serious and certain. He might be asking me to play this game but his face says the opposite. It feels like a challenge; more profound than the silly game I like to play. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing though? Using this game as our arsenal? Playing dirty under the disguise of a dare to get the other person to do what we feel is right. His eyes lock onto mine, piercing and intense, as if he’s searching for something buried deep within me.
“I don’t want to play this game now. Just drop it,” I add.
“You’ve never been one to back down from a truth or dare, right?”
My eyes roam back and forth, switching between his eyes nervously, waiting for a tell to clue me in on what’s actually going on here. Give me a sign, Manny.
Maybe it’s the universe conspiring against me or maybe it’s telepathy but Manny says, “Pick truth, Cara. I want you to tell me the truth.”
Shivers run down my spine and I close my eyes. My eyelashes gently brushing my cheeks and letting out a deep breath, I reply, “Truth.” I hope I won’t regret this but I’m so tired of hiding.
I open my eyes and find Manny’s eyes on mine, looking at me with unwavering focus as he asks again, “Why did you freak out back there?”
I look at my lap, while my heart races in my chest. I’m sure he can see my hesitation and although the temperature around us is dropping, I can feel my skin flushing and heating me from the inside out. I’ve never backed out of a challenge so, despite my uncertainty, I say, “I thought you were going to kiss me.”
“Cara, look at me,” Manny commands with a firm but sweet tone. Bringing his fingers under my chin, he lifts it up so my eyes are right on him.
I do and find him frowning. He swallows hard. I can see him straining to keep his hands in his lap. “The thought of kissing me was so bad that you dropped a glass and were ready to run for the hills?”
“Well considering you rejected me the other day? Yeah. The thought of wanting you to kiss me and realizing you don’t find me attractive enough for even a pity kiss in that moment I thought we were sharing, definitely had me spiraling.”
I get up from the chair, following the deep shades of twilight above the river, and walk as fast as I can away from Manny. The quiet murmur of the water barely breaks through the loud music left behind. But the further I get from the party, the more I hear the rest of the world around me. Loud cars passing by on the road and over the bridge, horns in the distance, and crickets in the garden. Before I can fully distance myself from the moment, Manny reaches out and grabs my hand in his gentle but firm grip.
“Cara, stop, please,” he whispers, pulling me toward him. I turn to face him and he adds, “Why on earth do you think I don’t find you attractive?”
“Well, I’m not your typical conquest,” I snap, my voice trembling with a mix of frustration and raw vulnerability. “You know, brunette, skinny, and leggy. So maybe I’ve been misreading things, and I freaked out, okay? Happy now?” My eyes burn with the intensity of my emotions, feeling like they might spill over any second.
I turn away sharply, needing to put more physical space between us, as if that might help me regain some semblance of control.
“Just… let me keep whatever dignity I have left,” I beg, my voice softening but still strained. “Give me a minute, and we can leave in a few.”
The air between us is thick with tension, almost suffocating. My plea hangs in the silence, and the weight of what I just said seems to linger in the space around us. Even with my back to him, I can feel it. I can feel the unspoken understanding of what’s been said. I just told him I want him and he didn’t say anything back.
“No,” he finally says, and considering how I feel my whole body warms up even more, I’m sure he can tell. Manny slides his palm into mine, his fingers gently cupping my own and then he’s pulling me toward him. He grabs my hand and brings it softly to his mouth, kissing it gently before placing it over his chest, right above his heart. I can feel his heart beat fast, matching my own. The hand that previously held my hand slowly goes up my arm, over my shoulder and holds my neck.
The warmth of his hand contrasts with the cool evening air, and there’s a brief, electric pause before he says, “I don’t know why you would think you’re not everyone’s type, Cara. And I didn’t kiss you the other day, yes. But not because I don’t find you attractive, totally the opposite actually. I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. It was because I don’t think I can kiss you once and ever stop kissing you, Carita mia.”
My breath hitches with that revelation as his soft breath tickles my lips. Before I can say anything, he tightens the hold he has on me and leans in to touch his lips to mine. His kiss is gentle, as soft as the way he whispered my name while we danced. Each movement is careful and tender as if he’s savoring the delicate connection between us. He takes his time kissing and caressing my lips, allowing every bit of emotion between us to build up.
He starts changing the dance between our lips from slow affection like a ballad to a faster, deeper, rhythm like a tango. Both of us explore each other’s lips. The kiss shifts, growing in intensity as his hands find their way to my face, holding me in place as if I was a precious thing he didn’t want to lose. The rhythm quickens, now more urgent, and the sweetness of the beginning gives way to a consuming heat, pulling a moan from my lips and that’s when I remember what’s happening. I’m kissing, Manny.
I pull back, snapping my eyes to his, and cover my mouth with my hand leaving a gasp hanging in the silence between us that was just filled with the rhythm of the dance we just had with our lips.
“Cara, stay with me. Don’t get lost in that pretty little head of yours,” Manny adds, taking a step forward and smiling gently at me. “And before you can ask me, this was not a pity kiss. There was never a reason for me to give you a pity kiss. I’ve been dying to kiss you since I can remember.”
“Please, don’t lie now,” I scoff after dropping my hands.
“I’m not,” he says softly, his hands guiding my face to his and tenderly stroking my cheek. The warmth of his touch is at odds with the absolute chaos inside me, and his eyes, filled with genuine concern, only intensify my confusion.
“Don’t do this, Cara. Talk to me,” he urges.
“I just want to go back to the hotel, Manny,” I reply, my voice strained as I struggle to keep my emotions in check. The last thing I want right now is to figure out what just happened between us. He told me not to get lost in my head, but that ship has long since sailed, leaving me adrift in a sea of conflicted feelings.
He takes my hand, his grip firm but comforting, and I can feel the weight of Manny’s gaze as he searches for some sign of where I stand. I know he’s looking for a hint about how I feel after that kiss. The truth is, I can’t admit that it was the best kiss I’ve ever had—one that left me breathless and wanting more. I can’t tell him that every part of me is screaming to keep kissing him, even though I know I need to stop. My heart and mind are in a tug-of-war, and I’m caught in the middle, desperately trying to cling to whatever sense of control I have left. And to try to make sense of what the hell just happened.