Be Enough
The motel is quiet. A single buzzing streetlamp flickers overhead, casting the parking lot in tired yellow light.
We haven’t spoken at all since we got in the car. My stomach is still twisting with nausea; being read like that will never be easy.
I smile at a woman who is sitting int he lobby with a book in her hands. I just stand by an empty seat, watching as Zaid makes his way to the desk.
My breath turns shallow when his muscles strain against his shirt. I can still feel the weight of his hands on my waist. The press of his mouth against mine. The way he pulled back like it hurt to let go.
From here, I can see his back. The tense line of his shoulders, the way his neck strains as he sighs, jaw clenched tight. His voice is calm when he speaks to the receptionist, but I see the flicker of his hand tightening into a fist at his side.
Something’s off.
He finally turns, walking toward me with a keycard in his hand. He doesn’t look me in the eye, just hands it to me.
“They had a pipe burst,” he says. “Only one room available. One bed.”
I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts in first.
“I’ll sleep in the car.”
“No,” I say. “You’re driving. You need to rest.”
He finally looks at me, just for a second, and it’s like a punch to the ribs. All that restrained heat. All that frustration buried under layers of hurt. It’s nothing but pure agony in those dark eyes of his.
I keep my voice even. “We can share a bed. We’re adults. We can be mature about it.”
He flinches like it stings. He gives me a stiff nod, and he walks ahead of me, our bags still in his hands. I want to reach for him, grab his arm, walk beside him.
1/4
Be Enough
When the door clicks open, my heart drops to my stomach. The room smells like lavender cleaner and dust. The lights are too bright. The bed is painfully, obviously, impossibly small.
Zaid stands in front of it like he wants to tear it apart. Like it is the bane of his existence.
We don’t speak as we brush our teeth. Zaid goes first for the shower, and I hear the water running, imagine the steam on his skin, the way he presses his palms into the tiles when he thinks too hard.
I close my eyes and force myself not to think about it. I go right after him, and we move around in each other in awkward ‘excuse me’s‘.
When I step out of the bathroom, I’m in my sleep shorts and a thin cami, and Zaid is already under the covers, lying on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes.
He groans, voice thick and muffled. “I’m gonna die of blue balls.”
The words seem so playful, so normal, coming from him even in the middle of a fucking storm in my heart. It makes me smile. I stop when the smile hurts, when my muscles feel like I’m making them to something they’re not used to anymore.
I turn off the bathroom light and crawl under the blanket, careful not to touch him, even if I’m facing him. The bed dips between us. Every inch of the silence stretches.
Zaid sighs, reaching over tot he lamp beside him and turns it off. The darkness covers us. Silence, too.
My heart is heavy, my mouth dry. But I need to get the words out. “I do love you, you know.”
Zaid stiffens beside me, and I feel his breath hitch in his chest.
“I love you enough to try. To get better. To stop being afraid all the time.” My voice wavers, but I keep going, because it matters. “I want to be more. For you. For me. I know I haven’t shown it right. I know sometimes I just… I just reach for you like you’re a lifeline, and it’s not fair to make you carry all that.”
Zaid turns his head. I can’t see much in the dark, just the faint curve of his cheek, the soft shine of his eyes. Then, he shifts his entire body, facing me completely.
2/4
Be Enough
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He exhales, almost a sigh, then reaches for me. His hand slides into mine like it belongs there. Like it always has. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “For what?”
“I was harsh,” he says. “I didn’t mean to-”
“I needed it,” I interrupt. “You’re the only one who can get through to me when I’m like this. When I start to spiral.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. He just holds my hand tighter.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper.
“You won’t.”
“I see my future, and it’s you. It’s always been you,” I confess, my heart on my sleeve.
He shifts closer. Our foreheads nearly touch. His breath is warm against my skin. He doesn’t kiss me, but I feel the promise of it in the space between us. For now, he just stay with me.
We fall asleep like that, holding hands like it’s the hop that keeps us going.
I sleep soundly. I don’t stay awake for hours and my dreams don’t wake me up.
There’s a smile on my face when I wake up. Because I can feel the light from the window on my face. I feel rested.
I blink my eyes open and I immediately stiffen.
We’ve somehow ended up wrapped around each other like vines. His arm is draped over my waist. My leg hooked over his waist.
My breath catches, and I look over him. His peaceful expression, his closed eyes, the sharp curve of his jaw.
God, he’s beautiful.
3/4
5:10 pm
Be Enough
Something hot stirs in my belly, something hungry and desperate. A need that pulses just
beneath the surface.
I close my eyes again and press my face into his chest, trying to pretend that this, right now, is all I’ll ever need.
I know it’s not, but for now, it has to be enough.
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