After not seeing the person you love for one and a half years, it kind of takes your breath away. It's kind of hard to make your eyes leave their face. And it's kind of hard not to say yes, even though you really, really want to.

I was shopping, with my mother, at the mall, when it all began.

"Caitlin, sweetie, what about this?" my mother asked. I tore my eyes away from my shoes and looked up at the item of clothing she was holding. It was a white and blue tank top with a neck hole so small I was sure it would choke whoever was foolish enough to try it on.

I raised an eyebrow.

"What? What's wrong with it? It's cute, right?"

I shook my head. "No," I said slowly. "It's not."

"Oh," she sighed, putting it back on the table and moving on to the sale rack, which had relatively the same style as a grandma. My mom kept dragging me into stores for women her age and older. I kept forgetting that this shopping expedition was for me.

When we finally walked out of that store, my mother was carrying a bag containing three shirts, all of which were for her. I didn't mind though; at least she was having a good time.

My mom suddenly squealed, grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards a store. I walked with her at first, but then I realized where we were headed and skidded to a stop.

"No way," I said. "Never in a million years."

"What?" She huffed, eyeing the big, pink sign over the door that said Sugar and Spice. "Isn't this the store teenage girls like?"

"Only if you want to be like every other teenage girl in town, which I don't. And only if you can afford a one hundred and fifty dollar shirt, which we can't.

"But honey! You need some colorful things! There's color in there! We can spend one hundred and fifty dollars on color!" She was talking very loudly. "You clothes are just so… so…"

"Plain?" I finished for her.

"Yes!" She practically yelled. "Plain."

I just looked at her. I knew my clothes were plain, but that was how I liked it. Jeans and a t-shirt and, if it was cold like that day, a sweater or jacket thrown on top. My mother was always saying how the way a person dressed reflected their personality and what they thought of themselves. She thought that I wore plain clothes because I thought I was plain. That was probably true, since I didn't have a great self-image. And I for sure didn't have a good enough self-image to wear the colorful and expensive clothes from Sugar and Spice.

"Fine," she said after I had glared at her long enough. "Let's go to that one. The one called Colors."

I groaned. "Mom, that's for people who can't afford things from Sugar and Spice but still want to look like everyone else."

My mother threw up her arms. "Well then where do you want to go?"

"I'll take option number three," I said, pointing to the exit.

That was when she finally gave in. "Alright! We'll try again another time. You can go start the car," she said, tossing me the keys. "There was a pair of pants that I liked but didn't try on in that one store."

I smiled and hugged her. "Thanks mom."

"Oh, well, you're welcome."

I pulled away and walked towards the exit, fiddling with the keys. My mother was so nice, and this was how I repaid her? By leaving? Why did I have to be such a bitch? She was only trying to help. I suddenly felt incredibly guilty and angry at myself. I mean, really, it wasn't that big of a deal. She'd forgive me; there was barely anything to forgive. So why did I want to burst into tears?

When I stepped through the doors, the first thing I saw was a fluff of thick, brown curls. Then I saw what the curls were sitting on top of. A face, a beautiful face that I knew, with deep green eyes. My feet were moving towards Rogerson before me brain registered that this was Rogerson.

I stopped about two feet away from him. He was smoking a cigarette, something I hadn't done in months, and was staring at me, just like I was staring at him.

"Hi." I didn't realize it was me who had said this until he responded.

"Hey."

And then we were quiet. In a moment like that, there's really nothing to do or say. At least, that's what I thought. Rogerson, though, had other plans.

He took a step forward, throwing his smoke on the ground. He lifted his hand towards my face and I had a sudden flash of him before every punch and slap. I was frozen in place, terrified, as his hand moved towards my face in slow motion.

I didn't feel any pain, though. I just felt a hand on my cheek, a thumb moving softly over my skin.

In that moment, I felt more whole and complete than I ever had in my life.

"I miss you," he said. He sounded so sincere.

Oh my god, I thought. I still love you so much, Rogerson.

He was leaning in, his eyes on my mouth, and I almost let him take me again, steal my heart and become part of my life. But I knew that I couldn't. I couldn't go back to him. Even if the abuse never came back, I would be living my life in constant fear that they would. And that would hardly be a life at all.

I pulled away before his lips could touch mine; fighting back tears I knew would win and spill over.

"I can't do this," I said, my voice breaking. I shook my head. "I can't."

"Caitlin," he said, and I could tell he was scared, scared of losing me because I knew he still loved me, too. "I just got out of jail, you know. I've been trying to find you, to get you alone, to talk to you." He took a big breath while I cried quietly. "Caitlin, everyday, I think about you. I think about the things I did to you and just want to kill myself because they were so stupid and wrong." He stopped then, seeing how upset I was. He reached out to wipe away my tears, but I swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch me." I remembered the night he'd said the same thing to me when his dad had slapped him. After a little protest, he'd let me hold him and make him feel okay. But I wasn't going to give in that easy.

"Caitlin," he said desperately. "I love you."

I shook my head and let out a sob. "You can't just say that and expect everything to be forgiven and forgotten!"

"I'm not expecting anything to be forgotten!" He yelled and I flinched. "Just forgiven. I've changed, Caitlin. I have. And I need you."

I took a step back. "I don't need you, Rogerson. I don't."

And I didn't. Sure, it would be hard to be without him forever, because what I'd had with him was real, true love, and that's not something that goes away very fast. But I had been doing okay without him. And once I get over him, I'd be better than okay.

Rogerson's eyes went from sad, to broken-hearted, to dead. "I'm so sorry, Caitlin," he said. I nodded and he understood that no matter what he said or did, I would never go back to him.

I turned and walked back into the mall. I could see my mother carrying her bags and heading towards the exit. I ran to her and threw my arms around her.

"Oh! Sweetie! I'm sorry I took so long. I couldn't find the right size." She pulled away to smile at me. "I'm getting fat." She must have noticed my tear streaked face because hers was abruptly concerned. "Honey, are you alright?"

I nodded. "I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." And then I grinned. "Now let's go shopping."

R&R!!!!!!!!!! :)