Page 23 of Surrender to Me

As it got darker, clouds moved in, and rain softly pattered on the windows. I stayed in a fort of pillows and blankets, burying myself in comfort and warmth, trying to pretend as if nothing had happened. It was a normal day. Michael hadn’t destroyed my film. I still had the basis for my sculptures. I wasn’t miserable. It definitely wasn’t Valentine’s Day. I didn’t want someone I knew I shouldn’t.

The raindrops pounded harder, and when I peeked out from inside of the blankets, I saw that I had a missed call from an hour ago: Owen. I hadn’t heard it vibrate. I turned off the screen and put the covers over my head.

*****

Someone was knocking on the front door. It was getting louder, as if the person was banging it out of the hinge. I yelled for Clay to get it, but when there wasn’t a response, I sat up. It was after nine p.m. Clay and Misty were still out.

My heart crept into my throat as I walked to the door. I looked in the peephole: a large man, dressed in a suit, dark hair, green eyes. Seeing who it was, my heart started to expand, making it hard to concentrate. Wasn’t he supposed to be out of town?

I opened the door but left the porch screen closed. “What?” I asked.

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I didn’t hear it.” He shifted his feet, looked out at his Tesla parked in the driveway, then back at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“Clay called me.”

“He what?”

“He told me you were upset.” The smallest hint of a smile ran across Owen’s lips. “He seemed to think I had done something. What’s going on?”

Tears welled up in my eyes. I looked down at my bare feet on the hardwood. My toes were freezing from the draft coming from outside.

“What happened, Riley?” he said.

“Michael destroyed my film,” I said. “It’s all gone.”

An icy look covered Owen’s face, making his green eyes violent. “He’ll be taken care of,” he said. I didn’t want to make this a bigger deal than it already was, but I didn’t have the energy to fight him. “We can have another party.”

“You’ve already done enough.”

“Riley,” he said slowly. My shoulders were shaking at this point. “Let me in.”

I opened the screen door, then stepped outside myself, feeling the cold cement on the soles of my feet.

“Let me in,” he said again. “You’re going to get sick.”

As if the only reason he wanted to come inside was for my health. That was like Owen, wasn’t it? Looking out for me even when I refused to let him in. My chest tightened, holding back sobs, aching at the things I wanted to say, knowing that I shouldn’t. I thought of the scholarship review, Owen’s ex, how I moved to Southern California to get away from him only to come back weeks later. That my film was destroyed because a jealous asshole wanted to keep me from my scholarship, a scholarship that was on hold because I had chosen to be with a benefactor. Because I had chosen to be with Owen.

And now, even after all of that, with every fiber in my being screaming at me to come to my senses, my heart still wanted—still needed Owen. Let me in, he said. He understood me even when I didn’t understand myself.

“I’m done with boundaries,” Owen said. He stepped closer, and his warmth radiated towards me. My heart raced in my chest as I braced myself for the next words. “I need to know you’re mine, all of you. Wherever you are. Wherever we are.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. The scholarship and exhibition were impending doom clouding my mind. “I can’t,” I whispered. “There’s too much—”

“Those students will never go the places you’re going.”

There he was, reading my mind again, knowing my fears, trying to soothe them. I looked away, tears on the verge of spilling out of me.

“Why can’t you see it, Riley? The Foundation might help you get connections, but you already have an exhibition. You don’t need the film. You don’t even need the Foundation.” He reached for my hand. “You’re brilliant, Riley.”

I squeezed my arms, shivering to my core. I stared at his outstretched hand. “Brilliant?” I whispered.

“It’s your soul. The way you see things, your drive. And I want you in my life, Riley. All of you.”

“We can’t,” I said. I thought of his job, how he was moving to the East Coast, how he didn’t need me hanging onto him. “I’m bad for you too. You have a career. You need to focus on that. And we have rules—”

“I don’t care,” he said. Rain mixed with my tears as he grabbed my face in his hands and his eyes searched mine. “I need you, Riley.”

And he kissed me. His lips pressed on mine, warmth surrounding me. I drowned in his touch, his hands and tongue feeling me, searching me for answers, commanding me closer. As he held me tight, squeezing me closer to his body, I relaxed. It felt right. Maybe it was okay, I thought, to listen to your heart sometimes. My heart swelled, knowing that Owen needed me too, and wanting to believe in everything he had said. Wanting to believe in myself. To believe in us.