@wsoed asked : ❛ Is there a line that I could just go cross ? ❜
someone once told her that pondering on regret is neither useful or productive - but from time to time the shadows of doubt creep across her mind, tendrils that extend from her memory and coil their way annoyingly into her waking thoughts. regret for things she’s done to others, things she should have said or done --- but more often than not it’s the things she’s missed that fill avi with the most weight. sinking straight to the pit of her stomach. heavy stones of opportunities that have passed her by. steps she hasn’t taken. times when she’s stepped back from the edge instead of leaping like she knows she should, knows she could. just like she knows there is no line. avi shrugs, her shoulders rolling gently as she throws him a look that she hopes says more than words ever could.
❛ thanks for the ride home. ❜ it’s heading beyond midnight as they sit inside vera ; clouds that roll in from the coast covering the slither of moon that hangs way above the road that runs in front of her navy housing. this is beginning to feel routine - the dance they perform at least twice a week now. one way or the other - though she prefers going over to his place because they get to do the ride home ritual. rob opens the passenger door for her. he lets her pick a tape - he drives the long way around so they can get more songs in. she tries not to sing along but inevitably ends up at least humming. she winds the window down to feel the breeze from the coast. she tells him it’s to help her stay awake - but really it’s because the alternative is staying fixed on him and the sound of the ocean feels distracting enough to draw her attention.
she can see the hard swallow when they park up, the way his adams apple catches at the wave of light stubble cutting across his throat. even under the orange glow of the street light overhead , he still seems so far away -- and everytime they do this, she wants to close the distance more and more. she can feel herself doing it now, the click of her seat belt - the way she slides a little across the long front seat of the chevy silverado towards him with soft wanting eyes and a hand that reaches toward his own. finding it resting on the gear stick as if he doesn’t know where else to put it. it takes her a moment to summon more words, to fight the deep thud of her heart within her rib cage - to drown out the fuzzy pulse of blood that presses swirls at her ears as she moves closer and he looks back to her - not moving a millimeter.
❛ you ever wonder about choices ? i wonder all the time ... ❜ it could have been more a little more poetic, maybe a little more suggestive - but when she looks, really looks into the deep ocean blue of his eyes she knows there isn’t another way. choices. regrets. they tend to go hand in hand.
when she leans in to press her lips against his, she thinks he tastes like how hope should. it takes a moment for him to move, rob’s knuckles flexing against the stick shift - pushing against the worn leather as her fingers follow and he suddenly presses back into their kiss with more pressure than she’d expected - his mouth parting just a little with a faint whine she assumes indicates something very good - filling her ears and coaxing out a small smile. avi can’t help the way her other hand moves to his jaw and then back further to card through the hair that curls at the nape of his neck , her breathing becoming shallow for a second as her eyes flicker and their hands move together from the console, his palm tentatively resting against the curve of her waist, rob’s fingers knotting at the soft worn cotton of her oceana t-shirt as if he needs to anchor himself.
somewhere, across and out over the pacific just after midnight - an engine roars as it pushes up away from the shoreline. somewhere a pilot looks at a picture of her family, of the kids she’s left at home and the husband she misses more than anything. she wonders if all of this is worth it. if it’ll ever be worth it.
pondering on regrets is never useful. certainly never productive. definitely not worth spending time on--- and when avi moves back, their kiss softening into nothing more than another memory she might have to cling onto - she realises suddenly that this isn’t going to be a regret. this is going to be something worth holding, keeping safe. worth cherishing. the orange streetlight overhead flickers as glenn miller plays on the tape still turning in the car stereo. the silence between them speaking volumes. his hand is still wrapped in her shirt. her fingers are still dragging gently at the curve of his neck as the music fades and only the sound of waves though her open window cuts through the tension that finally breaks between them. she notices the way his eyes move - lingering on her lips, the red flush that rises up from his throat to burn at his cheeks. she realises she’s been holding her breath.
❛ ... did you wanna come inside ? ❜ she finally exhales and it doesn’t take a second - his nod telling her more than words ever could as he moves away from her suddenly, the drivers side door flying open as he moves quickly. feet hitting the asphalt to get around to her side of the car and open her door. his cheeks are still burning.
if this is going to be their new ritual, avi thinks they could both get used to it pretty quickly -- she hopes more than anything that it will be - and it’s the hope he offers that sustains her more than anything else.
