Revive (A Redemption Novel)

by Marley Valentine

  My dick perks up at the memory of Taylah pressed up against my car, and I take advantage of my first night in a silent and empty house. Freeing my hands, I raise my shirt, unbutton my jeans, and drag the zipper down. Pulling my cock out of my briefs, I arch my neck back, and I close my eyes; letting the last twenty-four hours spin like a carousel wheel in my mind. I make a fist around my shaft and drag my hand up and down, working myself up, as I think of all the ways I would’ve had Taylah if I accepted her advances.

  My release builds from my head to my toes, and I stroke myself faster, chasing the rush. My balls tighten, and quick, and fast ropes of come spurt on to my stomach. My body shudders, as I sag into the couch sticky, and sated.

  It’s not a solution to my problems, but it sure as fuck is a really good band-aid.

  My phone rings as I step out of my bedroom, fresh out of the shower. Sasha’s name flashes across my screen. Even though Jagger is around now to call me if Dakota needs something, old habits die hard, and I find myself answering the call. Pacing the length of my house, the uneasy feeling from earlier returns, my gut telling me I’m not ready for whatever bomb she’s about to drop.

  Milliseconds of silence pass before I decide to rip off the band-aid. “Sasha, what is it?

  “I told you at Jagger’s I’d call.”

  “And I told you not to bother.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I feel the frustration within me switch from simmer to boil. “You asked me if Taylah and I were together, which I found out you’d already asked her, and we both gave you the same answer. So, what’s left to discuss.”

  “You’ve been begging me for years to talk and now you’re going to turn me away.”

  “Turn you—” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, knowing if I don’t shut this conversation down one of us will say something we will regret. Without an audience, the claws always come out. “That’s right, Sasha. Years. Years, I’ve been trying and now you’re ready, I’m supposed to just jump for you?” The air suffocates me, everything feeling too tight. My clothes. My skin. Every emotion adding an extra layer, determined to bury me alive. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Years I’ve put up with your indecisiveness and now you see a little competition and you want to stake your claim?”

  “So, she is competition?” Fixated and stubborn she refuses to accept there’s nothing going on between Taylah and me.

  “I don’t know what she is, but I didn’t know you were in this race.”

  “I’ve always been in the race, Drix.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  “Why are you so surprised?”

  “Why?” I cut myself off for the second time. Deep breaths. “You’ve spent years avoiding me, telling me it’s too complicated, or how Dakota finding out about our past is just too much for you to handle, and now Taylah shows up, and you’re what? Ready to make this work?”

  “No, it’s not exactly like that.” Her cryptic rejection still hurts, and I hate that my mind is telling me to argue with her, not wanting to be at her mercy, but my heart still waits for the day where she’ll agree, unconditionally to be mine.

  “Enlighten me. Please.”

  “Before you left...” The sentence doesn’t even need to be complete to conjure up the images, the feelings. Every touch. Every taste. “Since then I can’t handle the thought of you with anyone else.”

  I find myself in my bedroom, my aimless pacing leading me to the place where it all happened. Weak knees, sagging shoulders, the strength to fight with Sasha has been decimated with a few words and an avalanche of memories.

  “So explain this to me, you can’t handle the thought of me with anybody else, but you’re still not sure we should be together.”

  “I just saw you two together, and I know I’m losing you.”

  Along with my body, my voice loses all its fight. “You can’t lose something you never had, Sash.”

  “Let me come over,” she interrupts.

  “No,” I say with forced conviction. “You might not be able to watch me with someone else, but I can’t let my hands touch you, my mouth taste you, and my heart fall deeper in love with you, just to watch you walk away from me one more time.”

  “I need you.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re just jealous,” I say, trying to simplify our circumstances. “And jealousy makes you say and do crazy things. It always has. I’m not going to be another addition to your list of regrets. Not this time.”

  “I regret a lot of things in my life, Hendrix Michaels, but you are not one of them.”

  “After all this time, Sasha.” I shake my head to an empty room. “I find it really hard to believe you.” I let out a long, low sigh, defeated, again. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Dr—”

  I end the call. I just can’t go around in circles anymore. I’m dizzy. All we do is dig up old dirt, shifting it around, never leaving the secrets, lies, and betrayals alone long enough to settle.

  I know it wasn’t all bad, but as the years pass the good has become harder to remember.

  Leaning against the brick fence, I wait for Sasha. Anxiety floods my insides, my palms sweaty in anticipation. Tonight is the night we stop dancing around our feelings and I tell her I want her to be my girlfriend. She’s been my best-kept secret. Even from Jagger.

  But over the last month, I’ve been a bit more forward. Her shy smiles and flushed cheeks spurring me on, proving I didn’t imagine the attraction between us. Tonight, we’re going to go to the party, together, and after so much worry and uncertainty, she’s finally going to be mine.

  I hear her voice before I see her. “Mum, I’m going out with Drix. I’ll be back later.”

  “Okay, don’t forget to check in.”

  “I’ll send you a text.”

  “Can you just call, you know I can’t work out how to write back.”

  I turn as the screen door flies open and she bounces her way outside, effectively ending the conversation between her and her mum. Time stands still as I watch her, remembering the little girl she was, running with the boys, to the young woman she is today. The one all the boys want.

  I’ve stood in this same spot every day of my life, my brother and my best friend by my side. The three of us living in the moment. Too young to live for more than today. But as I stare, mesmerised by Sasha, I realise this is the first time I’ve ever thought past right now. I see a world of endless possibilities, a world that’s brighter, and full of opportunity. A world I want with her as my girl.

  I could bet a million dollars that you won’t find many boys my age declaring forever. Like Jagger, they’re all too busy fumbling around their virginity, desperate to feel more than their own hands. Jagger is the impulsive one out of the two of us. The confident guy with the ladies; the Michaels brother that could flirt before he could talk. I’ve always been content not being the centre of attention. And when it comes to girls and sex, I didn’t have a reputation to live up to, or a desire to start one.

  I’m not rushing. I’m not there yet, and Sasha and I, together, definitely haven’t reached that stage. She won’t be my first kiss, but there’s no way anybody but me will take her virginity.

  If she’d had sex with anyone else, I would’ve been gutted, and have to get over it. However, knowing she hasn’t, makes me want to stake my claim like a ridiculous caveman, so all she’ll ever know is me.

  Hunched over, I lean on my forearms and watch her jump off the last step, and head my way. She tilts her head, her eyes focused on me and the space between her eyes creasing with curiosity. “Whatever’s got you thinking so hard, is going to make us late.”

  Chuckling, I place the tip of my index finger between her brows and pretend to rub away her worry. “We’re going to be late anyway. I have something planned.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, looking around like she’ll find a clue. “Where’s Jagger? Isn’t he coming?”

  “I told him to meet us
there.”

  Her frown returns. “So, it’s just going to be me and you?”

  I clear my throat, nervousness getting the best of me. “Is that a problem?”

  “No,” she gestures with her hands. “Of course not. Just a surprise that’s all.”

  Refusing to feel discouraged, I wipe my clammy hands on my jeans, slide them into my pockets and lead the way.

  The walk is silent, our bodies close, but our minds definitely running on different wavelengths.

  “Drix, you’re being weird. What’s up?”

  “We’re almost there, and then I promise, I’ll explain everything.”

  We settle into a more comfortable silence as the walk progresses. As we come up to our local park, I find my balls and slide my hand into hers. “This okay?”

  Her breath hitches at the contact, and a bashful smile builds as surprise sinks in. “Definitely.” I stop us directly in front of the wooden tree house, positioned next to a huge, and very out of place blue-gum tree. It was solid, stable, and older than the two of us. “Why are we here? You know how much I hate this place.”

  “I do, but, I have my reasons.” Squeezing our hands together, I raise my fingers to the top of her forehead and trace the scar I know sits just behind her hairline. “Remember when this happened?”

  “Ughh, how could I forget. I was so sure I was going to die. There was so much…”

  “Blood,” we say in unison.

  “You know, when they kept you in the hospital overnight, Jagger threatened to knock me out cold if I didn’t calm the fuck down and stop worrying about you.”

  “You were worried?”

  “Fuck, yeah. I was torn between wanting to sleep at the hospital or tear limbs off all the kids that forced you to swing off that rope.”

  The summer between our thirteenth and fourteenth birthday, we spent every afternoon here, watching the sunsets, and running amok with all the neighbourhood kids. Besides the treehouse, the park was littered with childlike play equipment. It was beaten down, more of a symbol of our neighbourhood, than having any actual functioning use. The only thing we all obsessed about was the swinging rope. We never knew how it got there, or why it never frayed, or why the thick branch it was wrapped around never bent or broke under our weight. It was our constant. The simple thing that made moments in our childhood seem like that they could, and would last forever.

  “It was dumb, and I should’ve known someone as uncoordinated as me was going to chicken out, lose my balance and fall.”

  “You want to try it with me now?” I ask.

  “What?” Her eyes widen in fear. “Hell no.”

  “Come on. It’s just you and me.”

  “What if the same thing happens?”

  Softly my thumb and forefinger take hold of her chin, tilting her head up to face me. With as much truth and sincerity as I can muster, my words simultaneously ask and tell her, “You think I’m going to let anything happen to you?”

  A wooden box on stilts, the treehouse is as rickety as ever. I’m not always the best with words, and maybe the idea is better in theory than it will be in practice. But I want Sasha to know how serious I am about this. I can't take one more day of us sidestepping around our feelings. I need Sasha Allman to be my girlfriend, and I'm not taking no for an answer.

  “Climb up,” I order. One foot at a time, she trudges her way up the ladder. Looking up, my intention is to make sure she doesn't trip or stumble, but my concentration falters as I stare at her tight, denim covered arse.

  It's bittersweet when she makes it to the top, and the view disappears, but I follow, eager to get to the end part of my plan.

  The rope hangs from the branch, but rests inside the treehouse, on a rusted metal coat hook. Reaching for it, I explain to a stiff and scared Sasha that we’re going to swing off the ledge, and land in the sandpit together.

  She glances between me and the thick strands of twisted synthetic cord. “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Here,” I say, ignoring her and grabbing both her hands. I line them up, one on top of the other, and meticulously close each finger until her skin is blotches of white and red, and she’s holding on for dear life.

  I fit my own hands in between hers, now a pattern of knuckles lining the length of the rope. “I’m going to pull us back, and swing us out, all you have to do is let go when I tell you.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re making me do this.” Her voice trembles and a sliver of guilt settles in my chest.

  I don’t waste any more time trying to convince her it will be okay. The quicker I get this over with, the quicker it will all start to make sense. Pulling against the rope, I get us in position. “I got you, Sash. Just let go when I tell you.”

  Without any further warning, my legs run us off the edge. We cut through the wind, my eyes focused on her while her eyes are squeezed shut. The sandpit is directly underneath us, ready to catch our fall. “Now.”

  I wait for her to let go, wanting to take the full brunt of our swing backward if she decides she can’t go through with it. But she does.

  A shrill laugh fills the air, and together our arms flail, as our feet search for landing. A loud thud signifies our safety back on solid ground. “You did it,” I state through ragged breaths. “I told you, you could.”

  She launches straight into my arms, a show of affection I didn’t anticipate. I drink in the scent of her, in no rush to let her go.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.” With her head nestled in my neck, her words a mixture of murmurs and heavy breathing. “Now. You have some explaining to do.” She unlatches herself from me, and I miss her instantly. “What’s all this about?”

  I shake out my limbs as if I’m preparing for kick-off in a big game and psych myself to plunge into a speech I’ve recited to myself more than a million times. But the long-winded speech I’d planned seems unnecessary and too time-consuming. Instead, I shocked us both blurting out the life-altering truth. “I’m in love with you.”

  “Whhhaat,” she stammers.

  “I brought you here, to tell you this was the place I realised my feelings were changing. And the last few months have been torture keeping secrets from you.” My anxiety fades as the words leave my mouth, the cliché of the truth setting you free, becoming more relevant than ever. “I’ve dropped hints, but it just feels like wasting time.”

  “Wasting time?”

  “I want you to be my girlfriend, Sash. There are no two ways about it.” I step to her, clutching her face in my hands. “I won’t do another day where everyone doesn’t know we’re together.”

  “Do I get a say in this?”

  “No, you’ll try to tell me why it’s a bad idea, even though I’ve seen how you look at me.”

  “You’re so sure.”

  “Nobody knows you better than I do, Sasha. Together we can overcome our fears. I just showed you that,” I say, glancing at the treehouse. “Say yes.”

  “How can I say no?”

  “I want to hear the word.” I move closer, my lips a breath away from hers. “Say it,” I whisper.

  “Ye—”

  My mouth devours her answer. I swallow the one word I’ve wanted to hear from her for so long, The kiss gets deeper, and I let her reservations spill into my mouth, gladly, taking them, showing her they have no place between us. Our tongues tentatively seek one another out, finding comfort, and warmth. While our hands awkwardly roam, feeding into the inevitable rush of pleasure swimming through us.

  Finally, she surrenders, her body melting into me. Like two pieces of a puzzle, we fit. Like we were supposed to, just like I always knew.

  7

  Sasha

  I toss the phone on the passenger seat and pound on the steering wheel three times. I can’t believe I’m parked outside his house, and he just hung up on me.

  Sitting here is irrational and so out of character, but after today, I couldn't let the last thing I see be him driving away from me, to b
e alone, with her.

  The one and only other time I'd met Taylah we were watching Drix and Jagger play football for a Youth off the Streets fundraiser, and she didn’t hide how attractive she found him. She’s Emerson’s friend, Dakota was there, and he isn’t my man, so I seethed internally and let the day pass. It’s not like I can’t see how gorgeous he is, he’s perfect, grown up to be everything a woman wants her man to be.

  But the bottom line is he isn’t mine, and for the first time in a long time, the reality of that is sitting heavy on my heart. I feel insane, conflicted, hurt, and defeated. I know I’m the reason we’re here. Every fight, every rejection, almost every reason we’re not together can be traced back to me. And for some unknown reason, I’m still here acting like I have a right to dictate how the rest of his life goes.

  I step out of the car, slamming the door like it’s my own personal enemy, and head straight for his house. My knuckles rap at the door loudly. Only seconds have passed and I’m hammering at it again, even harder.

  “Who is it?” he asks, his voice close, and the consequence of my decision on the cusp of evolving.

  “Drix. It’s me.” The door swings open with more force than necessary, and the sight of him in front of me has every single one of my senses on full alert. Even with his frustration and anger on full display, he’s still so impressively beautiful. His hair points every which way, like he’s been running his fingers through the top for the last five hours. His eyes are tired. Dull and deflated, and I can’t help but feel responsible.

  “Sasha?” He looks back at his bedroom then back at me. “We just got off the phone.”

  “I was already outside,” I try to explain. “I told you, I wanted to see you.”

  Closing his eyes, he looks down, his chin to his chest and shakes his head excessively. “This is not a good idea.”