21 - No Going Back

21

No Going Back

" I 've never seen the city like this." I look out from the Ferris wheel, and the lights of Philadelphia shine back.

"Yeah, it's pretty up here," he says, but he isn't looking at the city. Isaiah's looking at me.

"You didn't even look." I nudge his leg, my body warm.

"Didn't need to."

I roll my eyes but scoot closer. Our bodies are pressed together in every way. Since getting ice cream, we've played more games—the ring toss, horseshoes, skee-ball—and since, Isaiah's made sure to touch me at every turn. His hands are never far from my body. Whether that's keeping our arms threaded as we walked between the game stalls, his hand on my hip or waist, or intertwining our fingers tightly while he helps me walk. Isaiah hasn't gone far at all. Right now, his hand is resting on my leg between the slit of my skirt, his fingers playing with the skin above my brace.

I'm trying to focus on things that aren't the gentle roughness of his fingertips sending goosebumps over my skin. Spoiler: it's not working very well.

Because all I can think about is falling in love with him. All I can think about is kissing him.

I told him I could fall in love with him again. I didn't say that I knew I could.

That I was .

But I am.

All the parts I loved then are still here. But better. His kindness, his thoughtfulness, his determination to be the best version of himself he can be. There are new things, too. Things that I'd bet were there then, but I didn't get a chance to see fully develop. How much he loves to care for people, how intently he listens and understands.

I knew it would be different with him. The dates I went on previously, the anxiety never stopped, and my stomach never stopped settled. But with Isaiah, there is only peace. Of course, he makes me feel emotionally comfortable, but so does my body. The butterflies are light and fun, not panicky and erratic. My skin sings when he touches me, and I miss him when he isn't.

"Thank you for tonight," I murmur. Isaiah looks over, his eyes soft and earnest.

"Of course. You look beautiful, Aurora. You always do."

I rest my head in my right hand, unabashedly taking every inch of him in. "You're pretty handsome yourself." My eyes track over the ink, and I so badly desire to trace every inch. Memorize every single piece of artwork he has.

"Are you flirting with me?" Isaiah smiles.

"Yes, I am."

"Took you long enough."

I tap him with my foot. "That is so not true." I laugh lightly.

"Yes, it is. I've been begging you to flirt with me."

I raise a brow. "I haven't seen you beg once."

"I can start." Isaiah leans in with playful eyes.

"Don't you dare."

"Why not? You can't run away from me up here, can't act like it's not happening…" Isaiah muses, his lips getting awfully close to my cheek. The tip of his nose grazes my skin, and heat blooms like tiny flowers around my body. My stomach flips, and shivers dance over my skin.

"Aurora," he teases, fingers splaying over my leg.

I turn my head, our noses brushing. "So, I say I might fall in love with you again, and this is how you behave?"

Before tonight, there was still a boundary. A line—a dim, waning one, but it was there. But now…the floodgates have officially opened.

Isaiah smiles, and it's blinding. My own personal light, a mini-sun shining directly on me. "Pretty much. I have to turn that could into a did. How else am I supposed to do that?"

"I'm not sure, but leaving you to your own devices seems dangerous."

The Ferris wheel continues, and we're back on the ascent. "Hm… what should I beg you for?"

"Jesus Christ." I lay my head back, eyes turned up toward the sky.

"There are so many options—"

I place my hand over his mouth because I don't want to burst into flames in public. Isaiah's eyes are devilish, and I feel his body shaking with laughter. But then, his tongue sneaks out and licks the center of my palm.

"Gross! Isaiah," I whine, drawing my hand back but laughing all the same. He lets out a big laugh beside me. This is the side of him that others don't get to see.

An unexpected wave of jealousy hits me—has he shared this with other people? Did he date? I mean, I'm sure he did, but…did they mean something more to him than he might admit? I turn away, my brows furrowing of their own accord.

"Woah, what happened over there?" Isaiah asks, but I'm staring out over the city.

The ride has stopped spinning, and we're only two from the top, so I focus on the view. Trying to ignore the jealousy burning my gut. I try to speak, but I swallow it down.

Isaiah reaches up, gently turning my chin to face him. "Rora, what's wrong?"

I huff, annoyed at myself more than anything. Annoyed that he can read me so easily. "It's nothing. I'm just being crazy."

"I doubt it, but tell me. What's making you feel crazy?"

The hold on my chin loosens, but his hand palms my cheek. "Did you date anyone seriously when you were gone? I know I don't have much room to ask anything since I was seeing someone, but…I just need to know. Because I didn't. I never made it past five dates. Kissed one person and I hated it. I can deal with physical; I tried in college, but—" I say, shaking my head. "Sex…I can—I understand, if you tried to move on or whatever." And that's true.

Isaiah and I were each other's first. It was nerve racking and exciting. It was gentle and playful, and it was perfect because it was us. Even now, I still remember the soft smile he gave me, the touches that were more tender than anything I'd ever felt before, and the way our noses brushed, and how we couldn't stop smiling like idiots.

But the truth of the matter is, shortly after, he was gone.

So, in college, I tried. But I hated every second of it. The kissing, the way they touched me. They weren't him. We never even got there, and even then, I knew they would never be him. Never touch me the way he could. And I've dated since, obviously, but nothing else. But all of that, the physical shit, isn't what I'm scared of.

"But I couldn't stand the idea of someone knowing me like you did," I say, the word vomit quite literally not giving me a chance to breathe. "I won't be mad at you. I just want to know if there was anyone like that."

A loud, cranking noise blares out. We break eye contact and notice the Ferris wheel has completely stopped. The attendants seem to be talking down below, but we're too high to hear them.

Perfect time to ask a question I'm not sure I want the answer to.

"Aurora." Isaiah's voice is firm, but now, I'm a scaredy cat shaking in my metaphorical boots. "Aurora, I'll answer when you look at me."

Exhaling, I revel in the feel of his hand that's still on my leg. I turn to meet his eyes. There's a serious gleam there, but he also looks partially amused. As if the stupid question is even stupider than I thought.

His hand finds my face again, my face fitting perfectly into the palm of his hand. The city lights reflect in his eyes, making the brown glisten. His fingers are soft, his thumb brushing over my cheek.

"Maybe once or twice, Ro, I tried. But it was only physical. It's shitty, but I was only trying to use them to move on. I'm not proud of it, but I imagined it was you touching me. That it was you I was with, even though I knew that wasn't true."

I nod, even though every part of me aches—not that it happened but that we were so lost without each other, and we never even knew it.

"In every other way, Aurora, no one ever stood a chance. I never dated. I never tried. I have never known anyone the way I know you. Never let anyone get close enough to me to try." Isaiah swallows. I see his heart rate speeding up in the crook of his neck. "I couldn't love someone the way I love you if I tried."

Oh, man.

Isaiah's words are like an arrow with a direct path to my heart. And oh, does she melt. My limbs feel languid, and all I can do is stare at him. Whether he means the love of a friend who knows you better than you know yourself or the love of being another half of someone else in a way that no one else could ever be, or somewhere in between, I don't care. Right now, I know he never stopped loving me and never loved someone else.

That's enough.

"Can you say something so I know you don't hate me?" he whispers, his lips so close. So tempting. My melted heart still beats, and it only beats for him.

Of course, my eyes are watering, but I ignore them. I've never been so happy to be stuck on top of a Ferris wheel. Staring at him, I wonder, what the fuck have I been waiting for?

I lean forward, my lips about to brush his. So close not even air could slip through.

"There's no going back after that, Aurora."

My smile is soft. My hand comes up to cup his own cheek. "There was no going back from the moment you got here, Isaiah. I'm not going to change my mind about you. You are the one thing I'm sure of."

I press forward again, and he lets me.

The first touch is merely a spark. Two lips that haven't touched in so long, wondering if they still know how. If they—if we—are still as desperate as we once were. It's a caress, our lips moving together cautiously, patiently. My shoulders fall, tension dissipates, and all I am is the person being touched by Isaiah.

Isaiah exhales, and his fingers find a firm purchase on my skin. They bury themselves in my curls, pulling me as close as he can have me. I press closer. He already has me. Without thought, my fingers grip his shirt.

"Isaiah… closer."

He laughs against my lips, pressing three quick kisses against my lips. I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't do anything that doesn't revolve around him. Good God, he's the sun, and I would fly too close every day if it meant I could feel like this. His free hand lands on my legs, gripping the outside of my thigh tightly and pulling me as close as he can on this tiny seat. And his lips—they are soft and sure. Moving over mine with ease, nipping and pulling. Heat pulses between us, pulses over my skin like tiny fireworks as his lips claim mine.

No wonder I hated kissing. I'm pretty sure I would hate the whole world if Isaiah wasn't a part of it.

My skin is on fire every time his fingers move, pressing and releasing into my skin, sending sporadic shockwaves down my spine. He's everywhere, yet it's nowhere near enough. Heat unfurls in the pit of my stomach, blooming outward, my nerve endings tingling without any sign of stopping.

His tongue brushes my lips, and I go boneless. In my chest, my heart skips and restarts itself as he presses forward, giving me as much of himself as he can. How do I tell him that my heart belongs to him and it always has? A soft sound escapes my lips when his hand slides down my leg and cups the back of my knee in the way only he ever has. It's a gentle caress of skin that is rarely ever touched, and when he touches me, I come to life. The calluses on his hands create friction over the most sensitive of skin, destroying every thought I've had that isn't him. My hand reaches up, cupping his face, feeling the smooth skin, and my teeth pull at his bottom lip.

The two of us—it's like setting off fireworks over a small town. It takes over the sky and fills it with bursts of colorful light. He lets me lead for a moment, lets me set the pace and take control, pulling him toward me and leaning into him until he doesn't. A sure press of his lips, a swipe of his tongue, a soft sound that leaves my lips for him to catch.

"You're the best part of my life, Aurora, even when you weren't in it." Isaiah's lips don't leave mine; he practically whispers the words into my mouth, and I can do nothing but drown in them. His hand tightens, pulling my head back just so, putting me fully at his mercy.

And merciless, he becomes. Kisses are placed on my cheeks, my nose, my temple. His teeth tug at my earlobe and plants kisses over the skin of my neck and the edge of my jaw. Those gentle kisses feel like sunshine. Around and around he goes, touching all the places that have missed him for so long. In doing so, he solidifies himself as the only one I've ever dreamed for.

The only man I'll ever want because I do not come alive for anyone else.

In the dark, he's my guiding light.

In the burning sunlight, he is my shade.

Isaiah makes life worth living.

We are exactly what the other person needs. Even time and distance and anger couldn't change that. This—this love —has been many things. It has been youthful love —pure and innocent, friends forever. It has been teenage crushes—shaking hands and nervous words of two kids who had no idea what to do with that. It has been strong and unyielding. It has been cradled and nourished. It has been set on fire, burned down until only loss and resentment was left, leaving us both wondering if we'd ever find it again.

It was good, it was bad, it was missing. But this love never really left, even when we tried to let go. This love was always going to come back to us. It was only a matter of time.

Isaiah kisses me like he's thinking something of the same. How could the two of us ever believe any different? He finds my lips again, and it's needy. All that there is between us is need. Needing to feel the other person—their touch, their lips. Needing to know that this is it.

It doesn't get better than this.

He tastes like coffee ice cream, and he feels like mine. My hand flattens over his heart, and I find it beating as fast as my own is. Isaiah adjusts my head, pulling me closer, our noses brushing at every movement, his tongue finding mine at the right time, and he never lets go. Not even for a second. Under my palm, his skin is hot, burning up like mine is.

The air seems to close in on us, a bubble around us, reminding us to breathe. We pull back, our lips still brushing together but enough for us to take in air. Though I'm sure we both would've been content to go on without it.

My lips are swollen, my cheeks are flushed, and I've never been happier in my life.

I wrap my fingers around his wrist, finding our tattoo—or one of them—and trace where I know the numbers are. Isaiah touches his forehead to mine, his breath fanning out over my face, and I lean forward again, pressing my lips against his. Just a touch this time. Because now that I can, I never want to stop. I have years to make up for. We have years to make up for.

"I've been waiting for you to do that." He presses his lips to mine again. "Much better than having to beg for it."

I smile against his lips, feeling them turn up with my own. Both of his hands come up to cup my cheeks, pulling me back in for a smooth, simple kiss. Isaiah holds me preciously, like I'm something vastly important to him. I sigh into the touch, annoyed that I can't get any closer. Annoyed that I can't kiss him forever.

"Is it ever going to feel like enough?" I ask, blinking my eyes open to find him already watching me.

"Not likely, is it?" he murmurs, placing a kiss on my nose. Heat fans out over my cheeks as his eyes track over my face. He looks at me like I could turn his world upside down and he'd be content to let it.

The creaking sound returns, and we lurch forward. I lean back, exhaling. "I guess that's the end of that."

"For now." Isaiah sits back but places our hands together.

Reaching over, I run my thumb over his lip, swiping away some of the gloss that survived. "Do you remember our first kiss?" I ask as we slowly descend.

A smile comes over his face. "Of course, I do. You basically attacked me outside the diner—"

"You're such a little shit," I exclaim. "That's not true! You kissed me."

The smile transforms to a smirk. "I know." He raises our hands, kissing the back of mine.

I rest my head on his shoulder, transported instantly back to standing outside our diner, him placing his hands on me for the first time that didn't feel…friendly. It was cold, mid-November, and he'd tugged his sweatshirt over my head without a second thought. I remember it all too well. We were so nervous and unsure, and it was still the best first kiss I could've asked for. Isaiah had held me gently, like if his hands were too pressing, I'd run away. It was as if I would've known how to kiss him if my life depended on it.

"Daydreaming over there?"

We're two stops from getting off, but I could stay here forever. "Yeah. The kiss, our first. I loved it."

"Me too." Isaiah kisses my forehead. I wonder how long this will last. This obsessive need to be touching at all times. "But it doesn't have to be a daydream anymore."

The attendant appears before us, raising the bar. Isaiah steps off first, holding out his hand for me as I step down with caution. We find my crutch. My left arm is threaded with his and hugging my octopus to my chest. He looks so carefree, so at ease. This is real life.

"I know. It isn't one."

"And besides, I can give you far more to daydream about than a measly first kiss."

Heat blooms in my cheeks. "Oh, my God."

"I didn't say anything. Your mind did that all on its own."

I raise a brow. "So, if I say give me something to dream about, you don't have a few ideas in mind?"

Isaiah's eyes darken in the lights. "I have plenty of things in mind."

He stops us at his car and pulls me into his chest. I look up as his hand snakes up and around my neck, fingers curling into the base of my curls. Blood rushes through my veins like it's on fire. The rest of the world falls away when he's there.

The grip of his fingers softens just so. "But I plan on taking my time. Because we have time, and there is so much I have to learn, to relearn."

My breath hitches. "Like what?"

His thumb presses my bottom lip. "How you liked to be kissed now, for one. What touches make you tick. What makes your heart speed up. How to make you blush like that whenever I want."

I almost tell him it's just him. That's it. However he kisses me is how I like it because he knows me, and however he touches me is perfect. And him standing in front of me is enough to make my heart rate skyrocket.

But I also like a little fun. The idea of acting like he has to work for anything is enticing. So, I stay quiet.

"How does that sound?" Isaiah teases me, keeping our lips centimeters apart.

"Sounds like you have your work cut out for you."

"You're not work, Aurora. You're the path my life was always supposed to take. Now, I just have to show you I deserve to be there."

What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? I've never felt wanted like this. Never felt desired. Never thought anyone would ever care like this if it wasn't him. I had accepted that my life was going to continue without him. I wasn't happy, and I wasn't coping—but I had accepted it. That acceptance became a brick wall to protect myself. If I knew it was there, it couldn't hurt me.

Isaiah's back and made it clear that I don't have to accept that anymore. He's here to show me that I no longer have to walk that path. I no longer have to live my life without him. Brick by brick, he's removing the wall, tearing it down with his actions, with his words, and leaving me vulnerable again.

I think underneath the surface, I'm a pretty fragile person. I once thought I had thick skin, but I don't. I heal fast—but I bruise easily. Being vulnerable wasn't something I allowed myself to be very often because all it did was make it easier for people to find pliable spots to turn black and blue. Despite his leaving, standing in front of him, as vulnerable as can be, I don't feel anything but safe.

And because his words have left me speechless, all I can do is rock up on my toes (as best I can) and press my lips to his. "Let's go home, Isaiah."