Mark My Words by Amber Garza Page A

Besides, I had no reason to think she would push me away. She came here. Clearly she wanted to be with me.
    “I’m scared,” she whispered into my chest, tears soaking the front of my shirt.
    I held her tighter, stroked her hair. It was slightly damp, so it stuck to my fingers, melded into my palm. But I didn’t wipe it off. It didn’t bother me. Sobs racked her body, and my heart pinched. A part of me wanted to know what was going on, while another part of me hoped she never told me. Clearly it wasn’t good.
    I could only think of one thing that would make her cry like this, and the mere thought of it killed me.
    After several more minutes of crying, she drew back and peered up at me. A few strands of hair adhered to her lashes, like spiderwebs weaving over her face. She blinked rapidly. Reaching down, I gently tugged them free. Then I slowly rubbed my fingertips over her tears, wiping away the traces of them. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and my heart fluttered in my chest like a caged bird. Its wings rippled along my insides. I brought my hands up, tunneling them through her hair as I titled my head downward. She lifted herself up on her tip-toes, clutching me tightly around my waist. Our lips brushed lightly. Once. Twice. Like the whisper of pages in a book as they’re turned. Her lips were moist and tasted like salty tears. I licked along them, savoring the silkiness. Then I pulled my tongue back and pressed my lips delicately to hers. I didn’t want the kiss to be intense. Not like our last one. No, this one needed to be soft, slow. I wanted to feel every caress, every touch. I wanted to memorize it; tuck it away for later.
    But mostly, I wanted to erase her pain. Take away her sadness. Breathe it in. Inhale it. Bury it deep.
    After a few more tender kisses, I exerted slightly more pressure to her top lip. Strands of her hair wove around my fingers as I massaged my hands into her scalp. When my bottom lip pressed down firmly, a low moan sounded at the back of her throat. This spurred me on. I kissed with more fervor, my tongue escaping my mouth and tangling with hers. She tasted like something sweet - strawberries, sugar, candy. I couldn’t place it, but it made me dizzy. Or maybe it was the kiss that was making me dizzy.
    Her hands were moving from around my waist, her fingers teasing the bottom of my shirt. When they slipped beneath it, I inhaled sharply. Not just because they were ice cold either. Mostly because I loved the feeling of her hands on my bare flesh. I wasn’t fit, or even in shape. My chest was not rippled with muscles the way her ex-fiancé’s was in their pictures. In fact, it’s safe to say mine may have even been concave. But the way her palms and fingers explored every inch of it made me feel like it was something special. Something to be treasured. She skimmed my flesh until goosebumps rose on my skin. Until I felt as if I would burn up from the inside out.
    Our kiss became more manic, her breathing erratic. I untangled my fingers from her hair and trailed them down her neck and arms. When I got down by her waist, I imagined sliding my fingers under her shirt, the way she had done to me. My fingertips buzzed with anticipation. In my mind, I envisioned what the skin on her stomach would look like. What kind of bra she’d be wearing. My heart pounded in my chest so loudly it was hard to focus. Gathering courage, I touched the edge of her top. Then I froze.
    I couldn’t do it.
    Not tonight.
    Not when she was so sad.
    I yanked my hand back as if her shirt was on fire. As if sensing the shift in my mood, Lennie’s lips tore from mine. She dropped her hands and stared up at me wide-eyed. Her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling violently.
    Lifting my hand, I cupped her face. “Tell me what happened tonight? Why are you so sad?”
    She bit her lip, and it took all my willpower not to kiss her again. “Tomorrow morning I have to go in for an MRI.”
    That was it?
    The