by E. M. Abel
I looked up at him, and he smiled, so I did, too.
“You really think so?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
I led him to my apartment, and Brandon released me as I unlocked my front door. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so ashamed. I had a purpose again.
Swinging it open, I held out my arm. “My humble abode.”
Brandon stepped in, his hands in his pants pockets, and he assessed the room. I put the mail down on my dining room table.
“Do you want something to drink? I think I have some juice.”
“No, I’m good,” he said, walking over to the picture of Liz and me.
“That’s my older sister, Liz. She still lives in California.”
Brandon didn’t say anything. He nodded and kept looking around the room.
“I just have to get my clothes. I’ll be right back.”
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “I’ll be here.”
I couldn’t shake the feeling that Brandon was more upset than he was letting on. I just couldn’t figure out why. Sure, we’d miss each other while I was gone, but he was the one who’d encouraged me to apply for the nursing program. It wasn’t like it would be a permanent move. I’d be gone for a few months, and then I’d come back.
Will he want me back?
I was busy stuffing my dirty clothes into an old laundry bag when that question swam through my mind and began to sink my excitement.
Is this going to be the end of us? We made no promises.
My hands kept moving as I tried to shove that thought into the back of my mind.
No, it’s just a few months. This thing between us is real. It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.
I stood up, my hands tightly gripping my dirty laundry bag, as I dragged it behind me. When I walked back into my living room, Brandon was sitting at my dining room table, using his phone.
He always spent at least an hour a day on his social media, updating his statuses and posting pictures. He felt he owed it to his followers since they’d played such a large role in his success, but he’d admitted to me that the attention never sat well with him. I could understand why. Brandon was a private person. I’d spent almost every day with him in the past few weeks, and he still felt like a stranger to me sometimes.
“Posting more selfies?” I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes and pulled the bag through the room.
Brandon smirked and stood up. He took the bag and lifted it onto his shoulder like it weighed two pounds. Holding his phone out, he smiled and surprised me by taking a picture of us. He was standing tall with my laundry bag on his shoulder, and I had just glanced up, my hair in a messy bun with strands falling around my face. The sun was shining on our faces, both of our eyes looking bright.
“What the hell, dude? I look awful!”
Brandon quickly started pushing buttons. “No, you don’t.”
I tried to snatch his phone from him, but he was too damn tall.
“Hey! What are you doing? You’d better not post that!”
“Too late.”
My jaw dropped. I usually wouldn’t care, but Brandon had over four hundred thousand followers from all over the world, and they were all about to see my non-makeup–wearing messy-haired head on their feed.
“That is so wrong.”
Brandon walked out of the apartment with my clothes, ignoring my annoyance. I grabbed my bottle of detergent and followed him. He easily found the laundry room and started tossing all my whites into the washer.
“You just wait, buddy,” I said as I helped him.
“Wait for what?” he asked, straightening his back to give me a challenging look.
“For me to get you back.”
He scoffed, “You can’t embarrass me. I’ve taken naked pictures before. There’s nothing left for me to hide.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but I had nothing to say in response. It was true. He probably wouldn’t even care if I took a picture of him on the toilet. Sometimes, his confidence was infuriating.
“This wouldn’t even be an issue if you just took a second to realize how beautiful you are,” he said, dropping more clothes into the washer.
I paused mid toss, and he kept working, like he hadn’t just given me the sweetest compliment. I bit my bottom lip, trying to hide my shit-eating grin, as I got back to the task at hand.
He must have noticed my silence because he stopped to look at me. “What are you grinning about?” he asked suspiciously.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
Brandon raised an eyebrow as he watched me pour some soap into the machine, and then I pulled quarters out of my pocket. He’d just made my day, and he had no idea.
After loading all my other clothes into the second washer, Brandon and I made our way back toward my apartment. I was laughing at something he’d said when I noticed someone in the hallway. We both stopped as Derek turned to face us, his eyes darting between Brandon and me.
“Derek, what are you doing here?”
Brandon’s back straightened, and his demeanor instantly hardened. Derek noticed it, too.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, his eyes studying Brandon.
I stood a little taller, proud to be next to him.
“About what? I’m busy,” I said, glancing up at Brandon before meeting Derek’s familiar eyes.
“Can I talk to you alone?”
I shook my head as I walked past him and opened my apartment door. “No. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Brandon.”
I put my hand on my hip and held the door open, giving Derek a pointed look. I knew he wouldn’t beg me to take him back with Brandon there. Derek might be pathetic, but his pride always took precedence. Derek looked over his shoulder at Brandon, who was staring back. Derek sighed and came inside, Brandon followed, and I shut the door behind him.
Turning around, I crossed my arms over my chest as Brandon sauntered over to my table and sat down before lighting a cigarette. Derek watched him, jealousy filling his eyes, like the tears that had once filled mine. I loved it.
“What do you want, Derek?”
He turned to face me, looking perplexed. “Uh, I…I need to talk to you about Tiffany.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, sucked in a breath and sighed.
“She’s not pregnant. I don’t think she ever was.”
“What?” I said.
Brandon chuckled and shook his head as he blew out smoke.
Derek turned to look at him again. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
The smile instantly fell from Brandon’s face, and his eyes went dark as he met Derek’s glare. I’d never seen Brandon pissed off before, and I was glad I hadn’t. He looked fucking scary. He didn’t look angry. His expression was calm and composed, but his eyes looked menacing, and I had no doubt that he would hurt Derek if he thought it was necessary.
I ignored Derek’s question, hoping to avoid the tension between them.
“What do you mean, she’s not pregnant? No. You know what? I don’t care. Why are you here, and why are you telling me this, Derek?”
After having a staring contest with Brandon, Derek finally faced me again. “I just wanted to warn you. She’s gone off the deep end. I stopped seeing her after I found out you guys were friends, and she’s been calling nonstop. She showed up at my house with a knife, threatening to kill herself. She told me she lost the baby, but I don’t believe her. I’ve been asking around, and she’s been going out and drinking in Wilmington for weeks now. She’s convinced that you and I are getting back together. I told her we aren’t, but there’s no getting through to her.”
I glanced at Brandon just as he looked at me.
“Great,” I muttered, covering my eyes with my hand before rubbing my forehead.
“Looks like you’ll have to stay with me for a while,” Brandon said. He took another drag from his cigarette and turned his gaze back to Derek.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to hide my amusement, as Der
ek scowled.
Derek looked at me and caught me grinning.
“Interesting choice in a rebound,” he muttered as he walked toward the door.
Brandon stood up, the legs of the chair skidding across the floor.
I instantly went to him with my hands out. “He’s not worth it. Just let him go.”
I stared at Brandon until Derek was gone, and the door slammed behind him.
I could almost feel Brandon’s anger shifting from Derek to me. His heated eyes looked down at me like I was beneath him.
“Does he come here a lot?” he asked, a hint of accusation in his tone.
I took a step back as anger twisted my face. “What?”
He lifted his chin toward my front door. “You said you never invited me here because you were embarrassed. I trusted you. I told you things about my past that I don’t tell anyone.”
“Are you fucking serious right now? What? You think I’m fucking both of you?”
Brandon stared at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Both times I’ve been here, he has, too. Either that’s a big coincidence, or he’s here more than I am.”
I stood there in shock, his words ripping through me.
I chuckled sarcastically and shook my head, trying to hide the pain clawing at my throat. “You’re an asshole. Get out.”
When I lifted my eyes back to his, I saw a sliver of uncertainty, but it was too late.
“Get out!” I shouted.
Staring at my dining room table, I fought my tears as Brandon walked past me and out the same door.
Brandon had a way of making me feel like the most important person in his world one second and completely insignificant in the next. It was maddening and heartbreaking, yet I still wanted to be near him. I wanted us to be close.
I couldn’t help but watch him behind the bar at Induce that night, looking for any signs that he still cared—a glance, a smile, an apology. But I got nothing. What I did see was the rapt attention he was giving his female customers and the way he let them touch him more than he used to. He was trying to hurt me, trying to push me away, and it was working.
Nicole caught me staring at him as I came to collect some drinks from her.
“You okay?” she asked, snapping me out of my daze.
I sucked in a breath and turned to look at her. “What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
I wished I’d heeded her warning. I’d known better than to follow my heart.
She glanced across the room to Brandon before giving me a sympathetic grin. “He can be a real asshole sometimes.”
I nodded as I lifted my tray off the bar. “Yeah.”
But as much as I tried to hate him, I couldn’t. All I thought of when I looked at Brandon was his face in the woods when he’d first woken up. I remembered the fear and the helplessness he had been fighting so hard to hide.
Brandon’s shift ended two hours before mine. I had watched as he’d walked outside with a group of friends I’d never met before. He had talked and laughed with them, like the past few weeks had never happened, and I had begun to see a side of him I didn’t like. His apathy and indifference were worse than hate.
By the end of the night, I was exhausted. After cashing out my tips, I collected my things and walked outside with the other closing staff. They all talked about their night, sharing jokes and making plans, while I wondered how I was going to fall asleep. As they walked toward the parking lot, I stopped on the sidewalk, searching my purse for my keys. Just as I found them, I sensed someone behind me, and I quickly turned to look.
Derek’s earlier warning had me on edge. Tiffany had already hurt me once. I knew she was ruthless and obviously emotionally unstable.
But it wasn’t her. It was Brandon. He was leaning against the large window in front of the building, the awning above him hiding his intentions in its shadow. I didn’t say anything as he took one last drag from his cigarette and dropped it on the ground. His boot stomped it out, and then he took a step toward me, into the light.
“You forgive me?” he asked, his blue eyes already killing my resolve.
He came closer. Now, I could smell him, feel his heat, remember his taste.
I turned to face him. “I didn’t hear you say you were sorry.”
LOVE and FEAR slipped into my hair and held on tight as his lips found mine. I was so surprised that I opened my mouth on a gasp and gave him the opportunity to slip back in. His tongue caressed mine as my hands clung on to his shirt.
Pulling back, Brandon searched my face for his answer. He looked like he cared again. “Do you forgive me?”
I nodded my head because I still hadn’t caught my breath.
When we got back to his apartment, Brandon bent me over the back of his couch. We fucked each other hard and fast, both of us showing the other what we’d almost lost. It was exactly what we needed. Things between us were getting too soft, too serious.
Afterward, we sat down, and Brandon rolled a fat joint. This time, when he offered it to me, I accepted. It had been a rough day. I hadn’t been high in months, and his hydro was strong.
Within minutes, I was leaning back into the cushions and laughing at nothing. It felt great.
“Do you think love is like a flame? Just burning through everything until it finally dies out?” I asked, watching the smoke billowing from my mouth.
“Wow. Are you getting all philosophical on me now?” Brandon teased as he took the joint from my fingers.
“No, I’m serious. Think about it. It consumes everything. It’s cozy and warm and hot and painful. It takes no prisoners, and if you neglect it, it just goes away. Like, poof,” I said, fanning my fingers out like I’d just thrown something into the air. “And you’re left with nothing but ash.”
“No. Love isn’t like that. Life is like that. Time is like that. Love is liquid. It never dies. It never goes away. Sometimes, it just changes direction. And, sometimes, if it’s strong enough…” He paused to lean forward and take a sip from a glass of water. “It can make time stand still.”
I grinned at his optimism. But you’ve never been in love. I kept that thought to myself.
I woke up the next morning on Brandon’s couch. He hadn’t carried me to his bed like he used to. I sat up and rubbed my eyes as Brandon walked toward me with a mug of hot coffee.
“Good morning,” he said, leaning down and kissing my hair.
He didn’t look at me like he used to.
“Good morning. Thanks.”
I looked at the clouds outside his window as I took a slow sip.
No promises. No pretending.
We’re so full of shit.
“I’m gonna go home,” I said, putting the mug down on his coffee table.
He glanced at me from across his kitchen counter where he was buttering a piece of toast. “You aren’t hungry? This one’s for you.”
“No, I’m good. I have to get some work done, enroll in that nursing program. Today is the fifteenth.” That was what I said, but what I meant was, You can stop pushing me away. I’m going, and I’ll be fine without you.
I listened to his knife scrape against the hard bread as I stood up and searched for my things.
“Okay, I’ll see you later then,” he told me.
I got my shoes on my feet and pulled my purse strap over my head. “Bye.”
He’d pushed, so I left.
When I walked out of his door, I found Madison sitting on the hallway floor with a book in her hand. She wasn’t reading, but she opened it when she saw me.
“Hey, Madison. Is everything okay?” I asked, glancing at the apartment door across the hall.
She nodded. “Yeah, my mom is just fighting with her boyfriend, and I didn’t want to be in there.”
“Are you hungry?” I lifted my chin toward Brandon’s door. “He’s making toast.”
She shook her head.
I didn’t feel right, leaving her there, but I knew she was shy and would probably refuse my help. Her hair looked greasy, and her j
eans had holes in them. I wanted to take her home and tell her it would all be okay. I wanted to spoil her and tell her it wasn’t her fault, show her that it was all right to be confident—all the things my mother had tried to teach me.
“Do you mind if I sit?” I asked, pointing to the empty spot next to her.
She shrugged, staring at the cartoon girl on the cover of her book.
I sat down beside her. “I saw that tiger painting you made. It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“Do you like art? I always wished I could be an artist, but I’m horrible at it. I can hardly draw a stick person.”
“I guess.” She sniffed and quickly wiped something away from her eye.
I was afraid to say something wrong, but I knew she needed someone to be there for her. I knew she felt alone, and I wanted her to know she wasn’t.
Reaching out, I covered her hand with mine, and she let me.
“Can I give you a hug?” I asked her.
It took a few seconds, but she eventually nodded her head. I wrapped my arms around her, and she cried against my shoulder.
I held on tight, whispering, “It’ll be okay. Shh. It’s okay.”
Brandon’s door opened, and our eyes met.
“You’re not alone. It’s okay,” I whispered again.
Madison slowly pulled herself away and wiped her tears.
“You okay, Maddy?” Brandon asked, coming to squat in front of her. He was dressed and had his boots on.
She nodded.
“Come on, let’s go get some ice cream,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out to her.
She slipped her small hand into his palm, and he gave me a reassuring grin as she stood up. I was almost surprised when he held his other hand out for me. I took it.
He pulled, and I came.
“I think we could all use some ice cream,” he said. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he kissed the side of my head.
I’d promised myself I would never let a man dictate my life again, but there I was, following Brandon’s lead, allowing him to play games with my heart. I still had so much to learn.
A few hours later, I sat at my dining room table, staring at my completed enrollment form. All I had left to do was hit Send. Then, in thirty days, I’d be on a plane to Ghana, my new life could begin, and I’d finally be back on track to reaching my goals.
