Salvage

by Tiffany Aleman

  He looks up at me, his gaze connects with mine, pulling me in to see what he won’t verbalize. Pain radiates through his jade irises. Crow’s feet draw ragged lines away from the corners of his eyes. Though he’s only twenty-seven, the torment behind his eyes makes him seem so much older. For the boy who grew into a man that seemed to have the world at his feet, he looks so lost. His bright smiles and arrogant words mask the self-torture hidden within. Maybe the Brayden everyone knows isn’t really the real Brayden at all.

  He drops his eyes before they flick over to the TV. “Yeah. Now my football games will look amazing,” he jokes.

  A groan escapes me as my head drops back hitting the back of the couch. “I should have seen that coming.”

  “You seem surprised, Karmen. You know, I did play professional ball right?” He laughs, the sound is deep and throaty, and it reverberates throughout my entire body, leaving me to suppress the shiver making its way up my spine. I don’t dare look at him because I know once I do, I’ll start to think things that will only lead to trouble where Brayden Stephens is concerned.

  “Yes, I knew that.”

  “Then why do you sound like I just told you that Lifetime Movie Network is being removed from cable?”

  I shoot him a sharp look that morphs into a Cheshire cat-like grin. “And what do you know about LMN?”

  He looks away from me, a red hue peppers his cheeks. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

  I shake my head laughing. “Oh no. I definitely think I should be privy to how you know about LMN.”

  “Well too bad because I’m not going to tell you.” He chugs the rest of his beer, the slight tremors of his hands don’t go unnoticed. The movement piques my interest, but I shelve it. We’re actually laughing. I don’t want to ruin the moment.

  “Oh come on. If you tell me your little secret, I’ll tell you something about me.”

  This catches his attention. One of his eyebrows lifts as he smirks at me. “Yeah?”

  I nod with a grin of my own. Brayden stares at me for a couple of seconds before he blows out a deep breath. Leaning over, he places his now empty beer bottle on the floor before he scrubs his face with his hands. “Okay.” He takes another deep breath then looks at me. “When Drew and I were twelve he thought it’d be a great idea to watch one of those romance movies on LMN.”

  I lean forward on the couch. My feet bounce on the floor with anticipation to know the rest of the story. “Why?”

  “Because he thought if we did it would teach us how to be men.”

  “What?” I ask through a laugh so deep it comes from my core. Pain seizes my side. I can hardly breathe. It’s a deep bellyaching laugh. A laugh I haven’t laughed in a while. “You know most of those movies are about men and women who cheat on each other, right? And you can’t forget the suspense.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” He gives me a pointed look in hopes that I’ll understand what he means, but I don’t. He rolls his eyes when I say nothing else and sighs. “He thought those movies would teach us how to kiss.” He cringes at the word kiss. “How to use our hands and all that other shit,” he sneers. The tips of his ears turn a slight shade of red from blushing.

  And just like that I burst out into another fit of boisterous laughter all over again. I bend over, my face buried in my hands, and I can’t seem to catch my breath. The idea is preposterous yet so endearing that it makes me laugh harder. I have to give them credit when credit is due. I’m sure the lucky recipient of their first kiss must have been off the charts. “I can’t believe y’all did that,” I say in between breaths. I puff my cheeks out to help soothe the ache. “Did it work at least?” With the tips of my fingers I swipe at the tears that have collected in my eyes.

  “I don’t know.”

  At his words my breaths stop altogether, my head snaps up, our stares fix on each other. The way he said the words, his voice deep and taunting. Goosebumps prick my skin. It’s no longer funny. Within three strides he stands in front of me. I have to lean my head back to look up at him from where I sit. Brayden leans over me, forcing me to recline back. One of his large hands supports his weight on the back of the couch. With his other hand, he sweeps the backs of his fingers against my cheek in a gentle caress.

  I’m paralyzed by his touch.

  Suddenly I’m breathing again. This time my breaths come faster and faster as he glides the tips of his fingers along the side of my neck, into the hair at the nape of my neck. His hand controls me like a puppet as he tips my head further back. Our eyes locked on the others, I watch in fascination and horror as his face comes closer and closer to mine. I’m a trembling mess of need, anticipation, and fear. My body screams for him to come closer, for his lips to seal our fate, but subconsciously my mind howls with protest. This is a bad idea. Just as his lips are a hairsbreadth away from mine, he murmurs, “You tell me.”

  With those three words my body makes the decision for me. I don’t wait for him to bridge the gap. I make the decision for the both of us. My lips crush against his. It’s passion and fire and desire and lust all rolled into one. It’s igniting and combustible at the same time. I fist his shirt in my hands, pulling him closer to me as our tongues rage war against the others. Sliding my hands under his shirt into his hair, I tug at the soft strands as his hands gather in my hair to angle my head in a way that gives him better access.

  And. I. Love. It.

  When he groans from between our fused lips, I begin to pull away. My retreat is futile at best because he doesn’t let me get far. “Don’t,” he growls.

  “Brayden,” I whisper, gently pushing at his chest. His name rolls off my tongue like a plea and a curse. I want more, but I also know he’s broke me once before. He could do it again. My shell already has a few fractures. This man, above me, who just kissed me like he may never get this chance again can obliterate me into a million irreparable pieces.

  He pulls back, his face an inch from mine. “I have waited for this moment for years, Karmen. Years.” With the barest of brushes of his lips against my own he adds, “Please don’t ask me to stop.”

  Years? What the fuck?

  I search his face for what, I don’t know. Deceit, maliciousness—subterfuge. But all I see staring back at me is a man that’s being genuine, sincere—honest. And that scares me even more. I know how to handle hateful, vengeful Brayden, not the one above me. I swallow hard and try to think of something, anything to say.

  “This is wrong.” Tears well up in my eyes, and I have to swallow over the lump in my throat.

  For so many reasons I wish this were right, but it’s not. Because even though I loved Levi, he never kissed me the way Brayden just did. Not once did he elicit a fire under my skin like this gorgeous man above me. Never did he kiss me in a way that made me feel like I was everything he’d ever need.

  “Why is it wrong?” His thumbs swipe away the rogue tears that now escape out of the corners of my eyes.

  “Because it’s you and me.” I ghost my hand in between what little distance there is to separate our bodies.

  He chuckles softly at my response. “You’re right. It is you and me.”

  I shove at his chest, frantically trying to put the distance I now need between us. “No, Brayden,” I answer as I slip off the couch. I point at him. “You don’t understand. You’re the one guy who watched me be tormented. And I know you’ve turned over a new leaf. But that’s not a hurt that just goes away in the blink of an eye. And what will people say?” I point at myself. “People know how I grew up. People will look at me like some charity case because now the Brayden Stephens wants to be with me. Do you know how that will make me feel? I can’t afford to be hurt anymore.” He goes to get off the couch, his mouth opens and closes like he’s going to say something, but I stop him with my hands out in front of me. “Just don’t, okay?”

  I hurry to the door that will lead me into the sanctuary of my bedroom only to later be haunted by his words.

  “I don�
��t give up, Karmen. That’s a fact about me that you will have to accept. When I want something, I get it.”

  My eyes focus on the wooden door in front of me. “I’m not yours to get.”

  “Challenge accepted, baby.”

  As I close the door behind me the smug tone of his voice rings in my ears. Brayden’s parting words hit me like a ton of bricks.

  The tips of my fingers find my tingling lips.

  I am so screwed.

  Spring of Junior Year…

  Tables sit littered with the student body. I flip my chair around backward and straddle my seat. With my arms braced against the back of the chair, I pick at the food in front of me. Brittany sits to my left and Drew to my right. The rest of the football players and cheerleaders take up the remaining seats of our table. Supposedly it’s the ‘it’ table but I could give a damn. The soft cotton fabric of my shirt stretches across my back, and my hands clench into fists to keep from ripping the material off my body. The bite of my father’s belt made sure I’d feel the aftermath for days to come.

  “Who pissed you off?” I look over to Drew, his eyes fixed on my closed fists.

  I shake my head and even that little bit of movement makes me grind my teeth to keep from howling out in pain. “No one.”

  Just as the words escape my mouth the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard breaks through my thoughts, numbing my pain. I don’t dare look around to see where or whom it’s coming from. I already know. But out of the corners of my eyes I find the source that’s making my pain a little more tolerable.

  Brown hair hangs over her shoulder in a side braid. The white shirt she wears is dingy with a couple of holes here and there. Her pants look faded, threadbare and sit at least two inches above her ankles. Her heels hang over the back of her flip-flops. An emotion I’m not accustomed to pierces my heart. Pity. I feel bad for her. And if I could get away with it, I’d take care of her. But I can’t. It’s socially unacceptable to my friends and family. The rich boy isn’t allowed to interact with the poor girl from across the tracks.

  Karmen Butler is a pariah to my social society.

  No one knows this, but if I could give everything I have up to just bask in her light I would. I’d give up the designer clothes, the fancy car I have, my friends, my family… especially my family so that I could have a fraction of her happiness. Her friend Tammy sits across from her, and I watch as they both laugh at something only they know about. I watch as her face lights up when she smiles. I can see her eyes sparkle with joy and it serves as a reminder to me that I’m not allowed to share in any of that with her, with anyone. I have to be this badass, superstar football player that doesn’t have a care in the world. I have to pretend that I’m happy when in all reality, inside, I’m dying a little more each day. Jealousy stirs deep down in my gut because even though she comes from less and doesn’t fit the mold of what high school girls strive to be, she can still find a reason to laugh. And I hate that I sit here and hide my pain. I hate that she’s the one person that I want and can’t have. But more than anything I hate that I have to go home to a father who hates me and a mother who drinks her hurt away. And because there is so much hate in me, it makes me hate her too.

  That wasn’t the first time I realized I wanted Karmen, and it wouldn’t be the last either. Now that I’ve had a sample, I’m hell-bent on devouring the rest of her.

  Here I sit unable to look away from her door. The same door she shut on me and the possibilities of what could be between us. Not once did she look back at me. Never in a million years did I intend on telling her how long I’ve waited to kiss her. That secret was supposed to go to the grave with me. I was caught up in the moment. My hands hadn’t even skimmed along those fucking curves they’ve been itching to learn. No. My mouth was busy worshipping hers. I savored those lips that can bring any man to his knees. But that tongue, damn that tongue makes me want to build a shrine in her honor. The way she took just as much as I gave makes me groan and my eyes roll in the back of my head. Then the spell was broken. I knew as soon as the words passed from my lips she would freak out. Of course, she didn’t disappoint. Now here I am, alone in the living room, staring at her door like it’s my nemesis because it keeps me from having what I really want. I want to storm into her room and finish what we started, God knows I do, but the look of horror on her face is what stops me.

  There will be more kisses, more everything. That I can bet on. And I’m a betting man.

  With deep breaths in and out, I calm myself down. I stand from the couch and walk, uncomfortably, over to my empty beer bottle, retrieve the amber glass and toss it in the trash. This is the hardest my dick has ever been. Although I’ve been with my fair share of top models and actresses, not a single one of them ever got under my skin like Karmen has. They’d run their hands all over my body and touch me in the most erotic ways. The things they could do with their bodies, only contortionists could have taught them how to bend and spread their limbs that way. Their cock sucking skills could rival a porn star’s. But no matter how many times I had a woman like that, Karmen surpasses them by a landslide, just by one. Fucking. Kiss.

  I’m at an impasse because as much as I want to fix whatever this is between Karmen and me, I know there is nothing I can do right now. I scrub my face with my hands out of frustration. The one beer I had Saturday was a tease. It’s been too many hours since I’ve had my last proper drink. My hands shake just thinking about my getting my next fix. As soon as the thought enters my mind nothing else matters. It’s an all-consuming need that I have a drink. My throat craves the burn and my mind lusts after the numbing sensation that soothes the daunting memories that are sure to come in my sleep.

  Before I even realize what I’m doing, my feet have carried me to my jacket. My hand has dug into the pocket, my fingers brush against the cool metal teeth of my car keys. A daze takes over, and I can’t get out of the apartment fast enough. The tremors seizing my hands only increase as I race down the three flights of stairs. My breaths come fast and hard as I rush to my car, put the key in the ignition, and peel out of the complex and head to my favorite bar, Killian’s.

  “Look if you plan to get piss ass drunk tonight you can turn around and leave.” That’s how I’m greeted as soon as I step over the threshold into Killian’s. Rick stands behind the bar, drying glasses with his white towel, barely sparing me a glance. I don’t have time to deal with him. Now more than ever, I need a drink.

  I raise my hands in surrender as I walk towards the old rustic, oak bar. “I’m just here for a couple of drinks.”

  He nods once. I know he has something to say, but he doesn’t voice his opinions very often. Rick sits the shot glass down and immediately begins to pour my poison of choice. Jameson. As I perch on the stool, he puts the bottle back and turns back around to face me. He locks his eyes with mine, still no words are exchanged between us. The rim of the glass hits my lips and my mouth salivates immediately. I can’t swallow the golden liquid fast enough. As it slides down my throat it’s only enough to scratch the surface of the yearning my body calls out for. Before the shot glass is set on the bar top, Rick already has the bottle raised and ready to pour again. It’s a dance that we know well. I take the shot and he’s ready to pour the second before I’ve even set the glass down and it repeats until shot number four. It’s like dancing the two-step, slow, slow, quick, quick, and repeat.

  With the fourth shot down I feel like I can finally breathe again. I stretch my neck from side to side as I enjoy the euphoria of liquor coursing through my veins. Two days without this feeling is two days too long. Just as I begin to feel like I’m getting my equilibrium back, Rick has to go and ruin it all.

  “You’re fucked up you know that.” Straight to the point, it’s the only way he knows how to be.

  “So I’ve heard.” I nod.

  “You made me call that poor woman in here to pick your drunk ass up. You made a fool out of yourself and my establishment. I won’t let it happen again, Brayden. I
don’t give a damn who you are.” He picks up my shot glass and puts it in the gray bus tub underneath the bar.

  “You won’t let it happen again,” I repeat his words on a scoff. “It’s not like you give me my drinks for free. I pay for my shit. And as a paying customer”—reaching into my pocket, I pull out my credit card and place it on the bar. “I want another fucking drink.” The words come out in a growl because not only am I insulted but now I’m pissed the hell off, too. I’m not the kind of drunk who doesn’t think he isn’t an alcoholic. I know I have an issue. I have enough issues to fill the damn Grand Canyon. But right now I don’t care about any of that. All I want is another damn drink and if I don’t get it here I’ll get somewhere else and Rick knows it, too.

  Rick looks at me, disappointment etched in his features. He shakes his head at me as he pours another drink. “You had the world in the palms of your hands. And now look at you.” The empathy in his tone stuns me silent. “You were this hotshot high school quarterback. Then you went on to play college ball. This whole town had your back, man. After you were signed on to play with the 49ers.” A proud grin takes over his face. “All anyone could think was how you came from Podunk Reidsville, Georgia. This town had its own celebrity. You were a damn hero to many of us and idol to the younger kids.”