Jovie & Bash

Eighteen || Love

|CHAPTER EIGHTEEN|

Bash was too intuitive not to notice the hesitancy that was reintroduced to our relationship upon the mending of my relationship with Meredith. And, well, it would be silly to say I wasn't equally disappointed with myself. With my mother it was like standing on a newly restored rope bridge, even though I knew the foundation was sturdy, I still trapezed across it warily, clutching the railing as though any second it would snap. Bash stood on the other side nodding his reassurances while the voices in my head warned that if I rushed toward his embrace, I would fall.

I was infuriated with myself.

And, Bash...he was far too understanding-which only made me angrier.

"I don't get how you can be so content with all of this," I seethed as I paced back and forth across the snow laden bridge that connected the park grounds to the library.

Beneath us, the lazy, slow-moving creek had frozen, and if I searched hard enough, I could make out the Christmas decorations lining the lampposts out on the street.

I turned on my heel, nearly slipping on ice, and gripped the railing tightly with icy, mitten-clad hands. "I'm the worst girlfriend imaginable and you act as though I've been nothing but good times and smooth sailing. It's been nearly six months and you haven't changed."

He stood behind me leaning on the opposite rail with his arms crossed and his aviator sunglasses gleaming in the white light. He breathed evenly, clouds of breath getting lost in the frigid winter air, and he held himself in the same fashion he did when we met: relaxed and unoffended.

"You haven't changed either," he replied in his slow-melting chocolate voice that I loved so much but hated in this moment.

I turned to face him, brows furrowing. "That's bullshit."

"It's the truth," he said matter-of-factly. "You're still scared, you're still guarded, you still refuse to sink into what I have to offer." He shrugged and turned his face away. "You're still one-hundred-percent the Jovie I met and fell in love with."

"How can that not bother you?" I wondered a bit too loudly, feeling a frustrated burst of energy surge through my arms as they flailed about. "That I'm guarded, and scared, or whatever. You work at a library in Ashwood Creek and you stay with me even though I don't deserve you, at all. Don't you think there's something greater for you out there? Don't you want to write a book, or see the world, or find a girl who gives you everything?"

His fists clenched under his folded arms, and his brows lowered under the frames of his glasses. And, for some reason, it was a relief.

"Are you attempting to break up with me, again?" His voice turned rigid.

"No," I told him. "I don't want that. I just don't want to hold you back."

"Jovie..." His shoulders slumped, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I chose all of this for myself." He glanced up. "I love it all. I love weaving around aisles of books all day, and I love Ashwood Creek and its quiet, small town appeal, and I love you and all your eccentricities. I love Greg and his Cigarette Graveyard. I love Henry's charm and Meredith's distaste for me. I love that Quinn is your best friend. I love how much more I appreciate my family when I go home. I love that we're all still figuring ourselves out, and that nothing is certain." He paused and took a step forward, gathering my hands in his. "I love my life, Jovie. I love every part of it. Stop letting your mother's expectations cloud the truth about life: that it's different from person to person."

Just touching his hands thawed my frozen ones, and I glanced up at his wind burnt cheeks, wondering how he was always able to do the impossible. "I guess I just expect that you'll tire of me-that none of this is exciting enough for you. That I've got too many issues-"