Jacoby curls a tendril of my hair around his finger, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before he twirls us in a slow spin.  The floor is crowded with people dancing and laughing together.  Although it’s busy, the place isn’t rowdy, which I appreciate.  This night is about us, and I’d rather not have it spoiled by a bunch of drunks.

We move in slow circles, our bodies fluidly reciprocating the moves of one another.  My fingers lightly play with the long strands at the back of his neck.  With each spin, I relax more and more until eventually, I’m floating on air.  The tension from the past few weeks is suddenly gone.  I feel lighter than ever.  I rest my cheek against the warm pectoral of Jacoby’s chest, listening to the gallop of his heartbeat beneath my ear.  This is perfection.

Jacoby’s hands softly caress my waist as we dance, and I can’t help but hope that this is perfection for him, too.

We’ve ridden the ride; a roller coaster of ups and downs, twists and turns.  We’ve pushed each other away and grasped one another as a life line.  We’ve fought for what was right and moral, and when that became too much, we fought against it.  We fought for what was right in our hearts.  We stopped battling the feelings of the rest of the world and instead, held tighter to our feelings for each other.  Because when it comes down to it, the rest of the world doesn’t matter.  Our feelings are true and real.  We found something in one another we’ve both been missing, and what can possibly be wrong with finding your other half?

The answer is: nothing.

When you spend your life living for everyone else, rising to expectations, and trying not to disappoint, you aren’t living.  You’re wasting.  Wasting the gift so many others have had tragically ripped away and cut short.  Live for yourself.  Protect that gift.  Nurture and cherish it so it can grow and have meaning.

Nearly two months ago I was hollow, with only the sharp presence of my blade to remind me I was alive.  Jacoby took that away from me but gave me a gift in return.  He taught me how to live.

As we gently sway wrapped up in each other’s arms, contained in our own private bubble, the song dwindles down to the last few notes.  Jacoby presses his lips to mine in a warm, inviting kiss.  My mind swirls with a blissfully quiet mist as I feel and touch and taste my hopes and dreams on his lips.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against mine.  We breathe our mingled breaths while gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Stay here.  I’ll be right back.”

I hold our spot near the middle of the dance floor while Jacoby walks up to the DJ.  He speaks to him briefly before coming back to me and scooping me in his arms.

“What was that about?” I ask as the melodic piano chords float in the air around us.  Jacoby brings his mouth to my ear and begins singing the lyrics to Rascal Flatts “I Won’t Let Go” in his deep, rich voice.  I gasp when he sings the chorus, and his grip tightens around my waist.  We stay like this, clinging to one another while the music plays.

As the last strains of the song play, and my eyes are watering with tears, Jacoby sends me away from him in an elegant twirl that has me giggling.  He pulls me back into his embrace and halts our slow dancing.  Our eyes lock.  A burning fire of passion is reflected in his gaze.  The deep brown reminds me of quicksand, and I’m stuck.  Sinking.  Sinking.  Sinking.

“I wanted to give something to you.  Something beautiful, something permanent,” he says.  I freeze; my mind a whirlwind of promises and rings and futures.  What does he mean?  He quietly laughs, breaking through my panic.

“Not what you’re thinking, Sweetheart.  Not yet, anyways.”

“Okay, good,” I breathe.  “I mean…it’s not—.ˮ

He silences me with his thumb against my lips while his fingers caress my jaw.

“I know.  It’s too soon for that.  I need to hear you say you love me first.”  Jacoby grins, and his smile cuts through my tension.  “What I was going to say was that these past few weeks have been difficult at times.  We’ve had some rough moments, but we’ve also had some amazing ones as well.  And in the end, every second I’ve spent with you has been entirely worth it.  This weekend is about us.  It’s about showing you that you are loved, and that for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be by your side every step of the way.  I’ll fight for you, for us.  The consequences be damned.  I wanted to give you a memory, something you’ll keep in here,” he says as he places a hand over my pounding heart.  He stares intently into my crying eyes as he professes, “I’m yours.”

I whimper as he places a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth before wiping my tears with his thumbs.  “And I’m yours, Jacoby.”

He smiles a breathtaking grin at me and wraps me in his arms.  “That’s all I’ll ever ask for.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE  

Jacoby

A dream.  That’s what my life feels like these days.  The kind of dream that comes between sleep and awake, where you know you’re dreaming but everything feels so damn real.  If someone were to pinch me, I’m certain I’d wake up.

But it’s not a dream.  The past two months have definitely been real life.  I still can’t understand how I ended up lucky enough to find someone as perfect as Tatum.

Our relationship has been life changing; for the both of us.  My past is still reflected around me when I remember why I moved here, but the guilt doesn’t weigh as heavily as before.  Tatum has helped me with that.  Her thoughtfulness, her words, her very essence has helped guide me back to the light.  I still have my moments; a nightmare here or there after we’ve talked about it.  But when I wake up from thrashing around in my sleep, I have Tatum’s warm body there to comfort me.  Her soothing whispers carry away my pain.

She’s been remarkably strong as well.  Only a week and a half has passed since she told me she wanted to stop, and not once has she needed to hurt herself.  I’ll catch her eyes drift to the bands she still wears as shields on her wrists while we watch TV or lie in bed.  I know she’s thinking about the marks there, possibly even remembering.  But she’s strong.  I know she would come to me before she hurt herself again.  She had her first counseling appointment on Monday, and I’m confident with her newfound support system, she can beat the ghosts of her past.

Today is Wednesday, and I’m sitting in my classroom first period correcting tests.  Or trying to.  My thoughts keep drifting to the weekend we shared, to the way Tatum secured her place in my heart by declaring she’s mine.  No sweeter words have ever been spoken.

After we left the lodge, we spent the rest of the weekend in our hotel room wrapped up in bed.  It was pure bliss.  Every day following seems to be more and more difficult to keep our distance.  I know we’re pushing the limits, but we just can’t stop.  It’s an addiction with the highest power to control our mind and our hearts.

The bell rings, and the hallway fills with sounds as students leave first period to head to their second class.  As students begin trickling in, I can’t help the pang of longing I get when Tatum’s face doesn’t appear.  I miss the days she sat on her stool scowling at me, and bickering, and defying me with her phone.  Mostly, I miss getting to see her twice a day.  I think we need to have an impromptu lunch date.

I quickly type out a text just as the warning bell rings.  Meet me in my room for lunch.

“Okay, class.  I have your tests corrected.  We’re going to review so I can answer any questions.”  Only two hours to go…

***

A soft knock sounds on the door five minutes into lunch period, and a small smile tugs on my lips.  I’ve been desperate to see her all morning.

“Come in,” I yell.  The door clicks open, and Tatum walks inside.  God, she’s a vision in her short jean skirt and fitted black shirt.  The fabric hangs loose around her shoulders, falling off one side to reveal a black bra strap.  There’s plenty of room to pull the loose neck forward to reveal her perfectly round, firm breasts.  Her hair is hanging around her shoulders in a mass of beautiful curls.  Just gorgeous.