In two long strides, he’s sitting beside me, pulling me into a tight embrace. I don’t know why, but I fall into it. I know I don’t deserve this, this comfort, but my body is shaking so badly that I’ll rationalize this as him keeping me steady.
I don’t cry. It’s not easy, far from it, in fact, but that’s something I know I don’t deserve. I have to hold on to this pain, bury it with all the pain so comfortably settled inside my mind.
Damn everything! Damn everyone! Damn the Cosmos for all the breaths I’ve had to breathe and am still forced to breathe even now!
I feel his hand making soft circles on my back and up and down my arm. I exhale deeply, but inhale slightly; I’ve learned to do that when necessary. I haven’t taken a deep breath since that day, the day my new life began, and for the most part, it isn’t that difficult. I breathe enough to stay alive, a task I would be more than willing to stop if I was convinced my body wouldn’t betray me by taking a deep breath.
There are things about this moment that seem to be temporarily softening the edges of the shards of pain lodged deep inside, like the feel of being in his arms, the smell of his cologne, the hushed words of reassurances, and the vibrations I feel in his chest from those spoken words. I miss this feeling. I miss this connection with someone.
The room is silent now. I know I should move, but I seem to be frozen in place, frozen to his chest, conforming to his body. This is wrong. This feeling beginning to burn in my belly is especially wrong. I can’t do this. I can’t do this to him; bring him into my world, a world I would give anything to claw my way out of, and what about Rachel? Oh my God, Rachel, but the burning; I can’t stop the burning, not that I want to exactly.
The burning in my belly is starting to catch up with the rest of my body. I feel it tingling inside, heating my veins, pushing up on my now sensitive skin from the inside. I feel clammy, my lips inexplicably part, gasping a defiant breath, my knees begin mimicking my heart, trembling down to my toes. Beginning to shake terribly all over from the sensory overload, I bring my hand flat to his chest, leaving it there unmoving, feeling his racing heart as much as I’m feeling mine.
I test the waters and slide my hand up his body, caressing as I go, curving my hand around his arm and over his shoulder before moving back down. I place my hand, fully open, over his taught stomach and let his warmth add to the burn already searing my skin. I close my eyes and resume my exploration, moving my fingertips over the waistband of his jeans, motivated to move on after hearing a breath hiss through his teeth.
I slide lower over one leg, then another, skating over an increasingly prominent appendage. If I had any doubts before, I don’t anymore; he wants me, and that knowledge elicits sensations I thought were long gone.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to take control, as if he knows I’m like a baby deer right now that he might frighten away, and I can’t deny there’s probably truth to that fear.
I feel his arm tighten around me when I slide my hand back over his leg, crawling up and over his arousal, finding his free hand curled into a fist resting on his stomach. I pry it open, flattening his hand with mine, strumming my fingers over his palm, each of his fingertips, and down across his wrist, moving up his forearm and back down the same path.
My head rises with his fervent breaths, and the feeling is calling my body into an erotic desire I’ve never felt. I should feel guilty, but I don’t. I feel ravenous and sinful. This is so wrong, and therein lays the excitement. I’ve never lived so dangerously, walking the line of right and wrong, the line of friendship and duty to past loves, but my body is telling my mind it doesn’t give a damn, and who am I to argue with that?
I grab his free hand and use it to pull me on top of him. His hands hold my hips firmly in place. I stroke my hand up his stomach, his chest, and to his lips, my eyes following the same trail, resting on eyes as dark as night with arousal. Still he doesn’t move, but the growing against my lower regions is confirming, yet again, that I’m not doing anything he doesn’t want as much as I do.
I stroke my thumb across his soft lower lip, staring into his eyes all the while, inching closer until our lips are centimeters apart. Still he does nothing. His eyes are glazed over with the same yearning I can feel seeping through my pores. If I don’t kiss him soon we may both pass out from the torture. I close the gap between us, and breathe in his scent, the scent of his kiss. It isn’t familiar, but it’s also not as terrifying as I had feared kissing someone new would feel.
I deepen the kiss, holding both sides of his face between my hands, sucking his bottom lip into a soft but firm bite, causing his self-control to evaporate. Desperate hands move north and into a tight grip around my ribs, moving me away enough to be turned and laid on my back, Kyle nestled comfortably between my open legs. Instinctively I wrap them around his body, arching my back, thrusting my hips up to meet his. I’m pulling him down with one hand on the back of his neck and one on the waist of his jeans. I can’t get close enough. I need more.
A moan of epic proportion echoes through the air when his hand begins exploring my body, first through my hair, across my cheek, down my throat, over the top of my chest, softly passing over my breast and down, grabbing firmly onto my hip, filling the gap between us with a push from me and a thrust from him. I feel feverish from the intensity, but as if I have no control over my body, I can’t stop. I feel his body grinding into mine and soon my body is mirroring his actions.
Oh. My. God! Too many clothes! I need to feel his skin, feel him pressed to me completely. I pull at the hem of his shirt, letting him finish the job, soon feeling the heat of bare skin underneath my fingertips. He pulls my shirt over my head and throws it across the room. I think it might have knocked over a lamp, but I can’t be sure, not that I care what that crash was.
His lips are roaming down my chest, sliding one bra strap off my shoulder, kissing and biting the sensitive flesh. With only his mouth, he pushes the fabric down, exposing supple flesh and a taught nipple up for the taking, and he does take, suckling deeply, alternating between soft and hard bites and sucking and kissing between both. I’m fisting his hair and crying out in blissful agony, until . . .
“Seems I’m interrupting. I just wanted to check on Jess, but obviously she’s fine.”
My thoughts catch up just as the front door slams shut. Holy shit! That did not just happen!
Oh! My! God! I’m so screwed. I finally let myself feel, and it has to be with Kyle? Damn it all! And damn you, Cosmos; way to play a fun trick on me. Haven’t you done enough already?
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I throw Kyle off me, righting my bra in the process, and stumble to find my shirt. I’m near tears, but I won’t cry. I don’t know how I’m going to fix this, but I will; I have to. I’ll do what I was trying to do and stay away from Kyle. Hopefully between that and major groveling, Rachel will forgive me.
I don’t know when he started talking, but Kyle is mumbling something about being sorry and that he’ll help me fix this. Yeah, okay! How exactly does he plan on doing that, tell her he was checking if I had a fever? Maybe we can use the classic “It just happened” excuse. I’m sure she would believe that! Why do I ruin everything?
I snap. “Look, Kyle, this should never have happened; in fact, this is exactly what I was trying to keep from happening. So just don’t, okay? Just don’t! I’ll figure a way out of this or maybe I can just fuck it all, go back to how my life was, and stop trying. This was bound to happen; I was just stupid enough to hope it wouldn’t!”
“Wait, Jess, what are you talking about? Go back to what? What was going to happen? I’m sorry, but please don’t run from me. Talk to me, please! I don’t want you to go, and I don’t want to stay away from you—I can’t. I haven’t been able to stay away since I first saw you in class.
“I admit I knew that was your favorite bookstore, and I was in the café when I overheard you and Rachel talking. I ran to the bookstore hoping you’d come in and was ecstatic when
you did, but you’ve been running away from me since. Why? Why won’t you talk to me?”
I halt my frantic movements, my body paralyzed and frigid. He’s been following me? Learning what I like . . . stalking me? No, it can’t be! I won’t believe it! Not him, not the first guy I’ve liked in so long.
No! No! No! Damn it . . . no!
As hot as my body was only minutes ago is as cold as it is now. My eyes feel like daggers, my heart pounding for entirely new reasons, anger completely engulfing the desire I had been feeling.
I stomp my feet as I stalk, no pun intended, toward him, shoving him in the chest, unleashing everything on him. “Listen, asshole, I don’t know what you think you can do to me, but I won’t let you anymore. You were supposed to be out of my life. I haven’t heard from you in over two years and now here you are? And what kind of fool shows himself like you have, confessing everything to me like a total idiot?
“I know who you are now, and you won’t get away from me this time. I won’t let you do this to me, and don’t even think of going after Cass again!”
I spin around but keep on spinning, ending up right back where I started, with Kyle’s hand holding firmly to my elbow. Instinct takes over and I kick him in the knee, distracting him but unfortunately not enough to let me go. Instead, his grip gets tighter. I’m ready for option B, which is to scream like a Banshee, but am thwarted when his hand clasps down over my mouth, officially silencing me.
I stop everything. I can get out of this if I have to with some moves Bruce taught me, but I wait, seemingly patient, before attempting anything more. He hasn’t tried to hurt me . . . yet. I’ll save up my strength for when I really need it.
He doesn’t move his hand from over my mouth—smart move because I would have no problem screaming—before starting to speak. “Listen, I have no idea what you’re talking about and, honestly, it’s kinda freaking me out, but obviously you think I’m someone I’m not. I never knew you before we started school. I never did anything to you but try to talk to you, and I don’t know Cass, let alone ever tried to hurt her. Please don’t be afraid of me. Please.”
His eyes look sincere enough, but can I rely on that as my judgment anymore? I don’t know if I know how to tell if someone is good or bad, or telling me the truth or lying, anymore. Maybe I never knew how. Someone managed to slip by my radar at some point in my life and maybe that someone is standing right in front of me.
I try to think back to my “old life” to see if he looks familiar. Do I recognize him from somewhere, anywhere? I don’t. Of course, people change, and I don’t know how far back in my memory I have to go. Was I sixteen? Ten? Just born? Although that’s a bit absurd considering he’s my age, but then again maybe it’s not just him involved. We never did officially rule out that there weren’t others involved, but who the hell knows. The only thing I know is I need to get out of here.
I push his hand away from my face, giving him no choice but to believe I won’t scream, and with as much resolve as I have, stare into the eyes that very well may be those that have been secretly watching me all these years and I coolly confront him. “I have to go, Kyle, so I suggest you take your hand off me.” His hand immediately drops to his side and he takes a step back. I do the same, walking backwards away from him until I reach the doorknob. Even then I don’t turn from him. I swing the door in with my back to the threshold and in one swift motion step out and close the door with me.
It isn’t until now that I realize I have no idea where I am. This is an apartment complex with all the doors opening to the outside so at least I’m not stuck in a closed in hallway. I start to walk toward a flight of stairs in a hurried pace, but not in a run, partly because I’m trying to stay calm, but also because I don’t want anyone to see me running like a criminal fleeing a crime scene; a funny statement considering the situation. I might be running away from a criminal who has made my entire life a crime scene with his years of torment. Too bad I’m not laughing.
At the bottom of the landing is the tenants’ parking lot, and beyond that is a main road, near an intersection, to my great relief. I know where I am. This is only a few blocks from campus, a few blocks till I can get to my car, then be on my way h— Damn it, my bag is still in Kyle’s apartment, which means I don’t have my car keys, my house keys, or my driver’s license. Oh, my God, he’ll know where to find me! He already knows where you live, you fool, my inner bitch reminds me. I tell her to shut up, I need to think, and her pestering isn’t helping.
I could call someone, but I don’t have a phone. Where is my phone anyway? Maybe I left it at the coffee shop? The sky is pitch black except for the few stars poking through the clouds. Obviously, it’s pretty late. Beyond that observation, I notice the few restaurants and shops nearby are already closed; I’m thinking the café will be, too, then. Great.
The best thing I can do right now is to start walking and, if I’m lucky, the café will be open. They’ll have my phone, and I can call home. If I’m not so lucky, someone should be in the campus security office who will let me use the phone to call home so mom can come get me. Maybe I should just go there anyway so I can report Kyle as the man who has been stalking me for three years. Bruce’s voice chimes into my brain, reminding me never to get others involved before I talk to him directly. If I tell campus security and they get the police involved, scaring Kyle off before Bruce can get to him, we may never find him again. I’ll wait, but I think it would still be safer to go to the school than to walk around by myself without any protection or a phone to call for help.
I snap out of my inner dilemma and start paying more attention to my surroundings. I’ve walked farther than I thought, which should seem like a good thing, but I haven’t been paying attention at all to those around me. Bruce would kill me if he could see me now, walking by myself at night, my head in the clouds, or the sand, or whatever idiom you want to pin me with. I still have to live as if I don’t know who’s been watching me all these years, just in case Kyle is telling the truth. It’s too soon to celebrate anything yet; way too soon.
A small part of me is questioning whether this will be something worth celebrating. I mean, it would be great to put the bastard away who’s ruined everything for so many years now, but will it be good if it turns out to be Kyle? I like him. There, I said it. I like him. I don’t want to lose him before I had him; but if it is him, then obviously I don’t want him. I would want to be right by Bruce as he arrests him, but could it really be Kyle? I mean, Kyle? My mind doesn’t want to accept that. My heart isn’t helping any. It doesn’t want to believe it either.
This is all too much for one night, and I can’t forget that Rachel saw it all. I had one friend and I screwed that relationship up beyond repair, I’m sure. I have no one to talk to about any of this. I’m alone once more. How many times am I going to have to be reminded of my retched existence? I accepted a long time ago that I deserved misery, but I’m so tired I just don’t know how much longer I can take it. I would beg for help, but who to? The Cosmos? They’ve done plenty enough already.
I need my phone.
I’m not going to let myself hope it’s by any divine intervention that the café isn’t closed when I decide last minute to go there first instead of the college, but I admit I do say a small prayer of gratitude in case it is. To be clear, the café is actually closed, but the guy who usually makes my drink is still in there cleaning up for the night. When I start banging on the door like a lunatic, he seems a little too unfazed, making me feel bad for him for being so used to coffee addicts and their horrid behavior. He probably thinks I’m going to rob him for some coffee beans because no self-respecting coffee lover would rob a coffee shop for anything other than coffee, not that I’ve thought about this.
Before he has a chance to tell me they’re closed, a fact I can clearly tell, I blurt out that I lost my phone and ask if anyone found it. Opening the door wide for me to come in, he closes the door behind me so no one tries to sneak in after hours, smiling
at me as he heads behind the counter, retrieving the holy grail, or my phone if you want to get technical. A huge smile spreads across my face and I lunge at him, grabbing my phone from his hands and pulling him to me in a tight hug at the same time.
“Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy I am that you found it!” I’m ready to cry, but that seems a bit ridiculous, so I rein it in, reminding myself it’s just a phone and also that I have this poor boy in a death grip over it.
I jump back, letting my hands fall to my side, and smile at him impishly, hoping beyond hope that he doesn’t press assault charges on me, or worse, never serve me coffee again. Somehow, he always knows what I want and gets it perfect every time. That would be a fate worse than death. I may be slightly dramatic right now, but hey, I’m allowed to be after the night I’ve had.
“Ya know, I can honestly say no one has ever been so happy to get back something they lost as you are. I kinda wish they were, though; it would make my day a lot more interesting,” he says with a smile and a wink.
Did he really just wink at me? That’s too adorable, but why today of all days? I can’t think about anything else right now but getting home, calling Bruce, and forgetting all about Kyle and men entirely. I’m going to join a convent, I think. Well, maybe. Maybe not, I don’t know; that does seem a bit excessive. I’ll decide tomorrow on that one. It’s not as if I need to join a convent just to remain celibate. I’m managing that just fine on my own, and it looks like I will be for some time to come.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at him, but if it’s made him uncomfortable, he doesn’t say anything. I know I should leave. He has work to do, I have to get home, I have to call Bruce and tell him about having possibly found the person who has been stalking me, and most important I need to keep myself from becoming the trollop I’m afraid I’m on my way toward becoming. This guy is kinda sexy, with dark hair cut short, a weird gray/blue shade of eyes, a body tall enough to look down into my eyes, or for me to look up into his while I am on my knees in front of him . . .
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