Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

the first time I saw you at the stable, I knew something about you was different. But it wasn’t until you dropped your guard that day you first brought me here that I saw what it was.”
    My jaw hangs open. Chest heaving. Heart pounding. Hands shaking. He’s watching me, and his distant neutral icy stare is gone, leaving pools of ocean blue that I want to dive into head first. No safety, no depth check. Nothing. Just jump.
    I want to know what he means, what he saw. I want to ask how he could possibly know that after seeing me once, but like every other time I try to say or do something tonight, the opposite happens. I start to cry.
    Ben pulls me into him again and hugs me tight to his chest, which only makes me cry harder. Happy and sad mix so perfectly inside me I can’t distinguish them. I don’t know which I feel. I don’t know which I want to feel.
    “ When happy is sad…” I whisper into his chest, and he pulls back.
    “ What?”
    I can’t look up at him. “And fear swallows joy...When the imperfect glares...it’s all around, all around. It never leaves, it’s always there.”
    “ Gracie, what are you talking about?” Ben has his hands on my face again, but I won’t look at him. Suddenly, I feel like I’m suffocating. The air is too thick. The heat is too much.
    I step back out of his grip.
    “ I can’t.” Another role reversal. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
    I turn to leave, forcing myself not to run. Not to start running and never look back. To push out this feeling. The Ben Feeling. This was a bad idea. The whole thing is a bad idea. I don't know why I ever thought this would turn out okay.
    Not halfway to the broken board, Ben grabs my hand and swings me around. Pulling me straight into his chest, he grips the back of my neck with one hand and presses my body into his with the other hand on my lower back.
    I’m unaware that his lips are on mine while my brain catches up to what’s happening, but my body doesn’t need my brain to know what to do with him. My fingers are in his hair, my mouth moving in time with his.
    It’s amazing. More than amazing. The feel of his lips, his touch and how he slides his hand from my neck and puts it around my waist. He doesn’t grab at me. He doesn’t reach for my straps or my thighs. He runs his hands up and down my back, slowly. Like he cares. Like he’s taking his time. Not trying to get to a destination, but savoring. Exploring. It’s more than I’ve ever felt.
    And it's crushing me.
    I put my hands on his chest and push. He stumbles back, shock rippling across his face.
    “ I, uh—“ I say again. “I have to go.”
    This time, I do run.
    ***
    But I don’t go to my room. I reach in through the screen door and grab the keys to the quad, not caring if I’m quiet. As soon as I start it, the whole house is going to wake up. I don’t care. I can’t breathe, and I need to get out. To get away.
    I turn the key and flip the little knob to turn on the one headlight. Dad will kill me when I get home, but it’s my birthday so I hope he only kills me a little. I back out slowly, and Rasp comes bounding from around the house, dopey looking, like he’s partly asleep but mostly excited for a midnight adventure.
    A light flashes brightly through a second story window. Asher’s room. Dammit.
    I take off through the dark, and Rasp keeps up easily, his tongue, like my hair, flapping in the wind. It would be so much easier to be a dog. Eat and sleep and chase things.
    Not feel and hurt and be consumed by confusion. It never used to be this way. I’ve always known exactly what I want. I’ve always gotten what I want. It’s always been perfect.
    Tonight should have been perfect. Ben surprised me. He found out my favorite music. He knows I love to dance. He got me a gift he knew I'd love. It should have been perfect.
    Tears escape my eyes, and the wind blows them back into my hairline. I slow the quad and pull into the drive that leads to the stables. I pull up next to my car and jump off. Running my hand along the black paint of the hood as I walk by makes my stomach tighten again. He fixed it for me. I feel heavy, tired. Like I want to sit down right here and never get back up again.
    All I can see is whatever’s reflected in the moonlight. The silver haze glints off the hood of my car, lights up the old rusted partial tractor that leans against the stable, and the shine in the black eye of my horse, Belle. She looks at me over the thick metal fence