By Saturday I'm convinced that there's something in the air. It's almost as if proximity has made us both start to slowly lose our minds. He's everywhere, in the space of a few hours I've become hyper aware of all of his movements. I hadn't realized I was slowly becoming attuned to him until this morning when I'd heard footsteps and could tell it was Dastan just from the sound of it. There's also the fact that I can basically sense his presence; in any room, at any time. I always know where he is. I'd always thought of Dastan as the cynosure of my life, I'd always existed in relation to him. When things were good with us, I was good, when things got bad so did I. My life and Dastan are so intricately tied together that it would take a nuclear explosion to separate them.
I thought I'd outgrown that. Apparently, all I'd done was lie to myself for three years because the moment I'm forced to spend more than a few hours with him I'm suddenly slipping back into old habits. It's like he's my own personal Venus fly trap; everything about him is designed to lure me in. The way he moves with lethal grace, the husky scratch of his voice first thing in the morning, the heady scent of firewood, something minty and the earth right before it rains that clings to his skin. It doesn't hurt that he's also easy on the eyes, all of it works to lull me into a false sense of security, pull me under his spell, and then he snaps his jaw shit and devours me whole.
He's noticed it too, I'm sure of it. Every interaction we've had since our poorly thought-out water fight last night, has been diffident and excruciating. Everything between us is wavering and contrived, as if we're both too afraid to shatter that tenuous peace we've forged. I need to get out of this house. Dastan has the same idea because an hour before lunch he walks into the kitchen where Zia and I had sequestered ourselves to bake chocolate chip cookies. We're both covered in flour and sticky from mixing cookie dough, it's very unbecoming
I hurriedly, and hopefully subtly, rub the back of my hand across my cheek to get rid of any rogue flour smears. It probably doesn't help much but the gesture makes me feel more at ease. Why exactly am I self conscious? This is the same guy who's seen me trip and fall face first into my own sparkly purple birthday cake, this is ridiculous. "We should go to the park for lunch," he declares. Zia squeals and my eyebrows hike up my forehead. "I thought we could all use some time out of the house." He shrugs, answering the unasked question in my gaze. I give a halting nod, unsure what to say. I do need to get out of here but the whole point of that was to get away from him. It all seems pretty redundant to spend my time away with the person I'm trying to get away from. Before I can think to argue or make a case for them to go on without me, he nods and then turns on his heels and leaves.
Within the hour Zia and I have packed sandwiches and snacks into a basket, and we've both dressed for warmer weather considering the surprisingly tepid day outside. Dastan's waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with boots. Is that the only color he owns? We drive to the park down the block, Zia commandeers the radio and we're forces to listen to Disney songs the whole way.
The park is bustling with families enjoying the rare good weather. The sounds of kids shouting and laughing travel to us on the breeze, there are parents scattered around too. Blankets laid out with adults lounging while their kids run wild. Dastan unloads the car while Zia and I try to find an available spot. We managed to get some space around a cluster of families there kids all playing tag in a large group. Once we've put down the picnic blanket, Zia takes off on the bike Dastan packed for her.
"Don't go too far, stay where we can see you." I shout after her retreating form, she makes no move to acknowledge that she's heard me and I sigh, I have a feeling we're going to spend today chasing her down. Dastan chuckles and I turn back to find him reclining on his elbows watching me in amusement. He removed his jacket at some point and his black t shirt does nothing to hide, well anything. That should be a crime. I huff, rolling my eyes at Zia's antics and plop myself down on the opposite side of the mat. Dastan's eyes are trained on the distance, I'm assuming he's watching Zia so I pull a copy of the latest novel I've been reading from the basket and tuck in.
It's surprisingly relaxing, even with Dastan there. I focus on reading and he, thankfully, doesn't try to engage me in conversation or so much as acknowledge my existence. At some point Zia came back, threw her bike off to the side and ran off with the other kids. Her being part of a group with multiple parents watching put Dastan and I at ease and we both decided to just enjoy the day out. I lay on my stomach supporting myself on my elbows as I read, my legs swinging in the air behind me. Dastan's lying on his back next to me using his jacket as a pillow, he's got his eyes closed and from this angle I can study his face without him knowing.
He looks peaceful, so much like the boy I used to know. Obviously, there are some differences. The sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw, for one thing, is much more pronounced, the earring is new too. I wonder what made him get that? As long as I've known him, he hasn't been partial to wearing jewelry now he wears that earring, the rings and a chain that I can see peaking out from beneath the neckline of his shirt.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's rude to stare?" his smooth voice slices through my reverie. I tear my eyes away from his neckline to find him watching me. That's embarrassing. "Just ask," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "I can practically see the questions written all over your face."
My face warms at the accusation, he's not wrong I am curious but is it worth it to ask. I mean he and I still aren't entirely on good terms, we're being civil for Zia's sake but that doesn't mean we're friends again. Despite the warnings ringing through my skull, I pluck up a blade of grass and slide it between the pages to mark where I stopped before turning to him. He's already watching me, with a curious look as he eyes the book. "I'm just wondering about the thought process behind the earring," it's not a question exactly but he knows what I'm asking.
"A friend of mine from London," he begins, a smile softening the harsh planes of his face, it makes me wonder about this friend. Who are they? There's not many people that can put that look on Dastan's face, whoever they are they must be amazing. "Theo… he convinced me to get it. He said I'd look hot with an earring." He gives a genuine smile. Thank you, Theo. Dastan let's out a loud bark of laughter, the skin around his eyes crinkling good naturedly. My skin grows impossibly warmer. I just said that out loud.
"Shut up," I bite out, half-heartedly. Then just to move the topic away from that disaster zone, "So, is this Theo the reason for the recent change in…" I make a gesture toward his general person and he raises an amused brow. "Well, for the change in fashion sense."
"Are you asking if Theo gave me a makeover?" he draws lazily. He's watching me the way a cat watches a mouse right before they devour it whole. I try to ignore the sensations that awakens in my body and forge ahead.
"No," it comes out a little rushed and he just smiles as if he knows some secret that I don't. Folding his arms beneath his head and watching me quizzically. "I mean, yes?"
"Is that a question?" he's playing games with me. I narrow my eyes at his obvious delight in my floundering.
"I'm just wondering if we have him to thank for getting rid of those God awful superhero shirts." I give him a sugary sweet smile.
The smile drops from his face and he takes on a mock-offended tone as he says; "I thought you liked my superhero t-shirts." At this I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek so I don't smile.
"Oh, they were the pinnacle of fashion back in 2012." I offer him a sage nod. "However, I really wished you'd have left them in 2012." I'm still watching as his eyes narrow and perfect pouty lips pucker in displeasure.
"Is that what happened to your sense of humor?" he's frowning but the insult lacks heat and I know he isn't trying to be mean or pick a fight. Rather than respond, I change the topic.
"So, did Theo also think the tattoo would look hot?" I raise my eyebrow inquisitively. His head rolls lazily toward me, the sun filtering through the leaves of the trees around us creates patterns on his cheeks. I want to reach out and trace my fingers over them. Tucking my arms firmly beneath me so I don't do just that, I level him with my best expectant stare.
"I'd been thinking about getting that done for years before I'd left," he does his best to shrug nonchalantly while lying down. The gesture feels forced for some reason, "When I got to London, I'd needed a fresh start." Right. Because I hurt you so bad you had to move across the Atlantic. "It was sort of like something to signify the start of a new adventure." Another shrug.
"Cool," I manage to force out even though my throat is closing around every breath I take. I wonder what it looks like, so far I've only seen glimpses of it over his shirts. Does he have any others? I wonder if he'd let me peel away the layers of clothing and explore his skin for any other marks I'd unintentionally left. Not the right thing to be thinking right now, nut case.
He sees it the moment I think that, I'm not sure what gives me away but he knows. I feel the weight of his gaze as he scans my face, eyes working to consume every vestige of information I put forward. Those black orbs, dark as a starless sky, miss nothing. They drop to my mouth then travel back to my eyes. Stop. My God, he shouldn't be allowed to look at me like that. This is not okay. Whatever the hell this is…
Swallowing harshly, I open my mouth to say something, either to diffuse the tension or make it worse, it doesn't matter. I just know I have to say something, anything. I don't get the chance, Zia comes barreling out of nowhere flinging herself across the middle of Dastan's body. He let's out a loud grunt at her weight then rolls her over to lie between us. Smart move.
"Can have ice cream?" Zia asks, looking between him and I putting her best puppy dog eyes to work.
"What's the magic word?" I counter, smirking down at her when she huffs, annoyed. Dastan smiles softly at the side of her head, reaching over and twisting a lock of her wild black hair around his finger. The way he is in this moment makes me want to pull my own heart from my chest and offer it up to him on a silver platter.
"All the other kids are getting some," she pouts at me. Dastan laughs under his breath, I shoot a glare at him over Zia's head and attempt to grasp for some semblance of normal.
"Try again," I say affecting my best strict parent voice.
"Please?" she asks, dragging the vowel sounds out until the word sounds more like a whine than anything else. I'm helpless when she looks at me that way.
"Sure," Dastan responds before I can, getting to his feet and heading off toward where I assume the ice cream is being sold. Zia shrieks and runs off to join the other kids again. Well, I guess I'll just sit here by myself. That seems like the best option, whatever just almost happened can't be allowed to continue. It's just the forced proximity, we haven't been around each other like this in a long time and obviously the attraction is not going to go away. Therefore, it's only natural to respond to each other's physical presence, right?
I spend all of five minutes in peace before Dastan comes back, he's got a cup of Rocky road and my heart does a queer little stutter sort of thing in my chest as he hands it over. He doesn't even acknowledge it, like he does this everyday. Just randomly remembers my favorite ice cream flavor. He and Zia run off to play catch twenty seconds later, and my heart won't stop pounding against the inside of chest. I watch them together, I'd always known Dastan would make a great dad someday. I mean he's got Haider as an example, but I never realized until this very moment what a large part of myself assumed that he'd be a dad to our kids. I'd long since given up hoping that we could fix things but that doesn't soothe the bite of knowing we could've had this.
Seeing first hand what it could've been like; just the two of us and maybe a beautiful little girl that looked like him but had my eyes. Relaxing days in the park, playing catch and eating ice cream, being adorable together. That's impossible now. He would've given me all of this, everything I'd wanted and all I'd had to do was ask. And what did I do? I broke him, made him hate me, ruined any future either of us could've had. Now, we're both so broken that we'd never be able to have this with anyone. I've lost a future I didn't even realize I'd wanted.