I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you no matter what I had convinced myself.  I knew the moment the ride was offered to Boston that I would take it and it would end up at Worthington.  I’d find your dorm, seek your room, and end up standing in your hall watching my shaking hand curl into a fist and knock loudly at your door.

And when you open it - you know it too.  That I would come back to you.  The shock on your face quickly melts into relief as you realize all those nights you told yourself one day I’d be back - you were telling the truth.  You know me so well Joey, better than almost anyone.  But there is so much that you can’t know - things you will probably never discover about me because I hide them from you.  I lock them tightly away because if you ever knew them - then you’d own me completely.  So much of me is wrapped up in you that I can’t give anymore away.  I need those truths to be mine.  They are my only protection.

So you will never know what it is like to want someone so fiercely that you would jeopardize everything you have to be with them.  You think you understand that but you don’t.  You could never give Dawson up completely - you sought the security of his friendship again as soon as you got the chance, often putting our relationship on the line in the process.  But I risked everything for you: his friendship, Andie’s, even yours.  It was a heavy, unbelievable gamble but I couldn’t help it.  I loved you.  And I was desperate for you to love me back.  And absolutely terrified when you actually did.

Stepping into your room my eyes take in the symbols of your new life - the computer humming at your desk stacked high with books.  The milk crates full of junk food and the strings of tiny white lights that twinkle along your window sills.  You say you can’t have candles by way of explaining them.  I just smile and tell you they look nice.  What I don’t say is how they remind me of my boat - our boat.  The little haven where we began our lives together.

Maybe you do see the same things as I do when I look at them: I see early mornings setting sail and lazy afternoons sitting on the deck talking and laughing and beginning to know the people that we were with one another.  I see long nights spent in hammocks as stories were read - our voices washing over one another.  I feel the gentle touches and fevered kisses and the belief that outside of that cabin, that boat, beyond even the water that carried us - was a world that didn’t matter as long as we were in it together.  We truly thought there was nothing that could ever interfere with what we built in those three months as we escaped the confines of the town and people who had always defined us.

But I don’t tell you all that as you nervously offer me a seat and something to drink, your body language betraying the warring instincts to touch me or to keep a healthy distance.  You never realize how beautiful you are - that is something that always amazes me.  You are truly breathtaking - dark and soft and exuding a sensuality you’re not even aware of.  There were so many times I couldn’t believe you were actually mine.  We’d be somewhere together and heads would turn to look and I always imagined their eyes said she can do better.  In reality they probably never wavered long enough from you to even take me into account.

And why would they - your body curves and travels and always dares me to look away - to try and stop thinking of what your skin feels like against mine, what it does to me to have your silky hair threaded through my fingers, your arms wrapped around me urging me closer to you.  You know I think you’re beautiful, but you can’t know how the thoughts of that used to drive me on through the day for just a glimpse of you.  Or that the memories of it taunt me every long lonely night since I left you.

You are exquisite at this very moment.  Your hair pulled back into a ponytail - a faded college t-shirt and comfortable jeans covering your gorgeously long legs.  I have only one instinct when it comes to you and I act on it.  I knew no matter what else happened between us on this night - I would have this - I would walk to you and take hold of your face in my hands.  You’re as soft as I remember and your breath catches just like it did the first time I ever touched you.

I let my thumbs slide along your cheekbones and trace over your eyes.  My fingers dance along your hairline and tenderly grasp at the sensitive flesh of your earlobes.  You watch me silently and you can’t understand how much I needed to have this.  Or maybe you do because you part your lips and whisper my name.  I can’t even calculate how many times I’ve wanted to hear that - your voice calling me, reaching for me in the stillness.  You say it again and close your eyes as I bend down for a kiss.

There is no way I could ever explain how it feels to kiss you.  How it thrills me and comforts me, turns me on and drives me to a point where I can’t believe there was ever a time when I didn’t want to kiss you endlessly.  Your mouth opens to mine and invites me in again.  There’s layers of sensation to this kiss - familiarity over hunger, inevitability tripping on surprise, apprehension sliding beneath increasing desire.

Your hands move to travel along my arms.  As they reach my hands resting against your face, your fingers intertwine with mine.  I can’t stop kissing you - tasting what I have missed for so long.  What I don’t deserve to even have again since it was me that walked away from it the first time.

You break away and startled I open my eyes.  What I see is you - your graceful fingers bringing my rough hand up to your lips.  You kiss my palm softly, then repeat that kiss on the tip of each finger.  Your eyes are closed as you brush your face against my hand and I feel the words rising out into the air, “I’m sorry.”  And although I know it can’t possibly be enough - it is all I have to offer.  It is the one truth I can give you.

A sad smile comes over you as you open your eyes to look at me.  You tell me that you know and that you’ve missed me.  I pull you close and as we hold each other I try to lose myself in the warmth of us but my guilt at abandoning you keeps me grounded.  You know that I’m here now and that I still love you.  Hopefully you won’t ever have to know that deep inside - there’s a hollow fear that I may not be able to stop myself from doing this to you all over again.