so reckless you might start feeling; beth

[adna]

one touch will make you so nervous you might stop breathing
one touch will make you so reckless you might start feeling
one touch will finally show to me what you can't hide

She should ask him questions, she thinks. She is so hungry for everything that he has to say and everything he thinks, but for some reason, she cannot find the questions to point to him. She cannot find the words for everything that she needs to ask him—everything that she wants to learn about him.

So she lets the silence fill between them.

She thinks about how often she bares her soul to him.

How she cannot find it in herself to truly regret it.

As the edge of the forest looms before them, as she can see her home—her first home—through the trees, she feels her throat tighten. Her vision swims a little bit and she struggles to breathe. When he pulls up next to her, she stops and shakes slightly, feeling the tremors race through her.

She imagines being a little girl and running up those hills next to her father.

She imagines being a little older and her mother shepherding them out with lies on her tongue.

She imagines being older still and watching the only boy she’d ever cared about with another.

It’s a physical reminder of all the ways that her life has fallen apart but when she catches the sight of him, solid and sure by her side, the ache lessens just a little. She frowns and feels her brow furrow just a little. She looks up and looks at him, studies him, breathes until she feels the bands around her lungs lighten.

“I think so,” she finally answers when she realizes that she’s walking in there with him.

When she realizes that she’s not alone and he’s right there.

“I think I will be.”

A smile, just a little in the corners.

“I hope so at least.”

ADNA