Taking Chances (Rewritten Version)

Chapter Thirty-Four

"Open"

Brielle

                  

I paced in front of the window of Nate's bedroom, my mind whirling. I thought everything that held me down and put me through hell was over. Why did life continue to try and drown me all over again? Why couldn't I just be happy?

The moment I knew it was safe that Peter was gone, Claire decided it was time we left, whether the date was truly over or not. She knew I couldn't sit there and ponder his sudden reappearance while laughing and holding Nate's hand.

Nate...

He was so worried when I tensed up, and I appreciated him being worried, but my reaction and sudden anxiousness to be alone was quite rude. I was being a bitch to him, and I felt so guilty for it. Despite my rudeness, however, he was too kind to demand I tell him what had happened. And that frustrated me more than anything. Why did he have to be so kind?

I probably sounded like an idiot, I know. But could you blame me? No, scratch that, I'd asked that question way too many times, too many times waiting for an answer or a reason not to say it.

The sound of an abrupt pound of rain broke me from my hysterical thinking, quite honestly startling me. With every pelt of water that smashed against the window, I felt even guiltier for holding Nate to worry about me while I threw a pity party.

I'd finally had enough of feeling sorry for myself, and I decided it was time I started doing things that meant I wasn't afraid anymore. I turned to the door of the bedroom and walked toward it, stepping out into the hallway and making my way into the living room. Nate stood by the window and seemed to be pacing, like I had been, when he heard my footsteps.

He turned his head the second I was in the room, and his shoulders slumped forward in relief. He was beyond worried, all thanks to me. "Bri? Are you okay?"

I didn't answer him, just walked faster. When I reached close enough, I jumped up and attached my body to his. My legs wound around his hips, and my arms wrapped themselves around his neck. I buried my head in between his arm and the crook of his neck, breathing a breath of relief.

"I'm so sorry, for everything, Nate. I've been a complete bitch to you and you don't deserve any of it. You've been nothing but kind to me, especially on the day we first met. I fell in love with you because of that, and there's no way in hell that I'll ever make you feel like I didn't. I'm so, so, so, so sorry."

He was first taken aback by my sudden outburst of jumping on him, and then he became flustered at my small speech that I hadn't prepared, more or less just thrown at him. Though he responded. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and held me in place, letting his head fall on my shoulder.

"You've never been a bitch, Brielle."

I shook my head, moving so my head no longer sat in the crook of his neck. I looked into his eyes and held his face in my hands. "Every day, every time I denied my feelings, every time I made you wait for me, every time I wanted a moment alone without even you, those were the moments that I was a bitch. Just now, when I made you so worried over some douche from years ago, I was a bitch. A huge one. And there's no need for me to be so horrid."

He sighed, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. Suddenly, a smile grew, not big or obvious, not one that made a girl swoon, but a proud, amazingly beautiful smile. One that warmed my heart and made me realize that every day, I'd fall in love with him all over again. "I love you so much, it hurts," he whispered.

I broke out in a smile, one almost similar to his, and nodded quickly. "I love you, too, equally so."

I crashed my lips to his before anything else could be said, and I placed my hands behind his neck. As our lips moved together, being the only thing you could hear in the entire apartment, I pressed myself closer to him. I wanted hardly any space between us, for neither of us to go and try to stop whatever came next. He bit softly on my lip, and I wasted no time in giving him what he desired - what we desired. Our tongues danced, and with each breath being stolen, the heat grew.