The Promise of Tomorrow - 7

Hey guys! I'm loving the sweet comments that people are writing! Please keep them coming! This chapter will probably explain a lot, so ... I hope you enjoy!
And just one more thing! Judging by my writing, how old do you think I am? I know I've asked this question before... but it's just something I'm curious about. Thank you!

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In complete silence, we stood in the surprisingly deep water. The sight of the pond was deceptive. It looked knee, maybe waist high when you gazed at it from a birds eye view. In actual fact, it came up to our chests.

"We can’t do this," I whispered, because it was evident that we were doing something. Those were the words that spilled out of my mouth, but even as I said them, I was succumbing to Blaze’s gentle hands, which – from my waist – tugged me inexorably towards him.

There was a funny stirring in the bottom of my stomach. It felt like the bottom of it had fallen clean away. I was burning all over – especially from the places where his skin made contact with mine.

"Why?" he asked, his hands trailing twin paths of fire around me as his arms wound around my waist.

"We - we just can’t," I replied in a breathless whisper, my heart racing in a way that suggested otherwise. Oh yes we could do this. And we could do it willingly. We just shouldn’t.

Blaze gazed right into my eyes, in a way that was disconcerting yet hypnotically intoxicating at the same time.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked in this soft and hesitant voice that made my breath hitch in my throat.

I closed my eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. When I opened them again, he was there, his own eyes glowing fiercely with some unknown emotion.

"No," I replied truthfully. Blaze nodded like he understood, and then put a hand on the back of my head to place me gently on his chest. We fit in such a perfect way that I began to doubt my doubts.

"This is enough." He sighed contentedly.

My arms, which had stayed limply at my side, reached up and locked themselves tight around his neck. It was as if we were carved for one another. People say that in books and movie and things, but in my case, it was true to the last contour of his muscled abdomen and curve of his wide shoulder beneath my cheek.

My hands made their way from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, exploring tentatively. I could felt the rhythm of his breathing beneath my touch, and it was ragged and uneven in a way that suggested that his heart was galloping as fast as mine.

His own hands moved from my middle up to the sides of my face. He cupped it tenderly, looking down right into my eyes.

"Please?" he asked; his voice huskier than before. I knew what he was asking, and a weak nod was my only response. My joints seemed to have come unhinged, and my knees felt about as stable as jelly.

And then, with hesitance that just about broke my heart, he leaned down and covered my mouth with his. His lips were soft - far softer than anything I had ever felt before. They gently searched out every curve of my own mouth, making the lump in my throat return. He was so diffident with his movements that I fought hard to contain the tears.

He treated me like I was something to be handled with care, something that he treasured but was afraid to break. He was self conscious around me, just like I was around him. He doubted that I wanted him in the complete and absolute way that I did. He felt he needed to keep me, instead of the truth, which was that I’d willingly follow him to the ends of the earth.

He was perfect.

The trepidation with which he first began the kiss ebbed away, bit by bit, until there was only tender gentleness. I marveled at the smooth feeling of his tan skin beneath my fingertips, at the softness of his dark hair. It smelt like summer and citrus fruits.

And then there was what I felt inside. The emotions stirring in me were indescribable. They did things to my body I had never known before, did things so extraordinary that I was sure no other human being on earth felt the way about anyone the way I did about him.

I tingled, I burned, I grew wings and flew. When he eventually pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine and smiled that lopsided smile.

"Ella Jade Goldman." He whispered my full name. I looked right into his eyes, still high from our kiss.

"Blaze de Luca." I whispered back, smiling.

"Ella de Luca."

"Blaze Goldman."

We both laughed together; a soft, hushed sound in the quiet of the woods.

"Ella…" Blaze began again. He looked troubled. His eyes closed, and he took a deep breath. I waited for him to finish what was so hard for him to say. "Ella…I think I’m falling in love."

I caught my breath. In…love? No. No – that was wrong. It wasn’t possible. I shouldn’t have let it happen, I should have stopped myself, I should have stopped him…I felt the same way back.

"I think I’m falling in love, too." I whispered back. His eyes opened.

They were full of hope. Hope and happiness.

To hell with my rules. I’d hold him close for as long as he needed, just to keep that happiness there, no matter how short lived anything may be. I would let myself be with him, and think about nothing else.

"You … you’ll be with me?" he asked cautiously, carefully.

"Yes." I replied with a certainty that was lacking before. "Yes, I’ll be with you."

His answering smile was so brilliant that it dazzled my eyes. And then Blaze, in a gesture that I didn’t understand, slipped the braided leather bracelet he had always worn on his wrist off and took my hand.
I knew how much it meant to him – it was something I never saw him without, something he would always touch absentmindedly. I had complimented him on it once, and he had smiled sadly. ‘It holds a lot of memories’ he had replied cryptically, touching it with his index finger.

Now, with a warm touch, he slipped it over my hand and let it dangle loosely on my wrist. He tightened the ends so it fit properly and smiled at me.

"It was the last thing my mother gave me before she died of cancer a year ago," he said as he worked on my wrist. It was all explained suddenly. The mood swings, the silences, the hatred of the world.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, but the tears were inescapable this time. They ran down my cheeks, fast and unstoppable, until they plopped on his hand. He looked up at me and was surprised to see me cry. "Ella, what’s wrong?" He murmured worriedly, reaching up wipe my unpreventable tears away. "Shh, sweetheart. Please don’t cry. Please," I could hear the pain I caused him with these unexplainable tears, but that only made me cry harder. I didn’t want to hurt him.

"I’m sorry," I sobbed, tearing away from him. "I’m so, so sorry."

And then I did the only thing I could think of. Which was run. I ran and ran and ran, away from him, away from everything. I grabbed my clothes, threw them on, not caring about being wet. I ran all the way to my house, chest heaving, and tears faster and harder than ever.

My mother found me collapsed on the porch, sobbing my heart out, curled up around myself and rocking forwards and backwards.

"Ella? What’s wrong?! Did he hurt you? I swear I’ll -" she stopped abruptly, seeing just how hard I was weeping, and dropped down beside me.

"I - I couldn’t do it. I love him too much. I couldn’t tell him, mum. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t." I sobbed, clinging to her as she put her arms around me.

"Oh no, baby," she said, and her voice cracked. "Oh no." She held me, supporting me as she pulled me into the house, away from prying eyes. She took me to my bedroom, tucked me up in all my blankets and covers, brought me hot chocolate, held my hand.

I never stopped crying once. Mum, seeing my tears, began to cry, too.
She got into bed and held me like she did when I was little. She laid my head on her lap and stroked my hair as we cried.

"Why my baby? Why my baby?" she repeated over and over, her shuddering sobs getting harder every time.

We stayed up like that all night. Once, when I could breathe enough to talk, I told her about his mother.

"She died of cancer, mum. He told me he loves me. I can’t let him love me. I can’t. I’m going to hurt him too much."

"You have to tell him, sweetie. You have to. It’s going to destroy him even more, not knowing. How will he cope when you…when you go?" her voice cracked, and she cried whilst she said the next words. "All those unanswered questions. Baby, you have to tell him."

I nodded, knowing she was right, and closed my eyes, ignoring the hot tears that flowed down my cheeks and made fresh tracks over the old, sticky ones. I would have to tell him. But not yet. Not just yet.