Burdened (A Burdened Novel) by Peiri Ann Page A

slides it closed behind him.
    I look back up towards the stars, aware of him walking over to me. He sits right in front of me, on the barstool Andrew got off of. “I know Scott told you not to talk to me.”
    “Okay.”
    “I didn’t tell him to do that.”
    “Okay.”
    “But I wasn’t upset with him for doing it.”
    “O-Kay…” I look at him. He caught me off-guard with that one.
    “He’s right about what he said. But I’m not saying that you should listen to him. Or me.”
    I only stare at him, not knowing how to respond.
    “I can’t tell you all the details right now. But I can tell you that you could be risking your life by being with me. But you being willing to risk yours, I am willing to risk mine.”
    “I don’t understand,” I say, looking back at the sky.
    He touches my hand and my breathing stops as the burning courses through me, making its way to my chest. I wince from the effects of the pain, but oddly, I welcome it.
    His other hand cuffs my chin between his thumb and index finger and turns my head to look at him. “I know you feel that when I touch you. I know you can feel the pain in your chest when I leave you. I also know you want me just as bad as I want you. But what you don’t know is that a life with me is not the happiness every female dreams of.”
    “I can’t be sure that I want you. And I need more than that.” My words are breathless as the burning works its way through my stomach. He removes his hand and it stops. I mindlessly wrap my arms around myself, feeling the sudden cold taking over me.
    “I couldn’t do that to you, Tracey.” No, do it to me.
    He looks at me with a weird expression. “What? You and Scott are killing me with all the secrets.”
    I look away from him back to the stars. They are the only things making sense to me right now. “And you are killing me with your being there one moment and gone the next. It’s like you’re teasing me. I feel like I’m going window shopping, trying on an outfit knowing I can’t buy it. Is it not a waste of time—me trying on the outfit knowing I cannot have it?”
    “No, maybe you just wanted to see how you looked in it. So when you came back you knew just what to buy.”
    “What?” I look at him.
    He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be bothered with me, but I’m not saying I don’t want you to be.” He stands.
    “I do not understand. But you don’t want me,” I say low, “so why entertain the idea?”
    “For the pain of letting go of that one touch, I’ll risk that one touch just to feel you, or relieve you—temporarily—from whatever pain you feel. If I had to choose between one kiss, and not kissing you—out of fear I would want more and because of the pain that would follow when it was over—I’ll take that one kiss.” He looks me over. “For one look, I will look for as long as I am allowed, rather than avoid that look to not feel the hurt when you’re not around. If I had the choice, I would have you once, then suffer from not having you again.” He stands up, lifts me from the stool, and sits me on the bar so that we are eye to eye. “Each time, I’ll choose that once, rather than not at all. All the pain you feel, I feel. All the thoughts you think, I think. You stalk my mind and my dreams, just as I haunt yours. So I would prefer to risk the pain of touching you once, than to risk never touching you at all. I would prefer to crave you, want you, and get enraptured in the desire to have you, than to have no feelings towards you at all.” He removes his hands, but I grab his arms, forcing him to leave them on me. They are so comfortable, and they make me feel less confused.
    “So you want me to get myself into something that I don’t know what I’m getting myself into?” I ask, following his arms up to his face with my eyes.
    “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He grasps at the belt loops of my high-waist jeans.
    “Well, I’m not interested in