“We’re almost there, babe.”
Brayden’s deep, rich voice washes over me. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, and turn my face to his chest as the blinding lights shine down on us.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Almost home.”
“Why are you carrying me?”
Brayden lifts me higher, and I wrap my free arm around his neck.
“You feel asleep in the cab.”
When we come to a stop he asks, “Do you think I can put you down for a second so that I can get the house key out of my pocket?”
I nod my response. Gingerly, he puts me on my feet and jolts of stabbing pain shoot up from my toes, through my feet and up my calves. He keeps an arm around my waist, holding me up. And I’m grateful for the support as I lean into him.
“I swear I don’t get like this very often.” I giggle.
Brayden looks down at me, a look of content on his face as he smiles. “I know. You’ve told me five times already.” He laughs.
“You don’t do that very often.”
“Do what?” Brayden asks.
“Laugh.”
I don’t look up at him when I say it, but I don’t have to because he squeezes me tighter in response. Goosebumps pepper my skin when he leans down and tells me in my ear, “With you, I laugh a lot more than I have in the past few years.”
He gets the door unlocked and helps me into the apartment. It feels awkward for Brayden to be the one helping my drunk ass. Here lately it’s been the other way around.
I don’t really remember when Tammy or Drew and Chelsea left. One minute I’m on the stage, singing my heart out, and the next Brayden is threatening to tickle me if I didn’t step away from the microphone as he carried me away from the stage.
“I rocked that place tonight, didn’t I?” I ask.
I toss my purse onto the couch and sigh in relief when I try to kick off my wedges. I lean against the arm of the couch for support when one of the ankle straps decides to become a pain in the ass. He must notice my struggle because the next thing I know, Brayden’s in front of me, kneeling, propping my foot on his knee. With deft precision, he works the clasp and it comes loose.
“Uh-huh.” He chuckles. “You brought the house down.”
As he pulls my shoe off the tip of his thumb scrapes along the arch of my foot. I bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud. His strong fingers begin to massage the tight muscles. He rubs slow, calculating circles putting just the right amount of pressure to work the muscle loose but not enough pressure to hurt me.
I nod. “Damn right I did.”
That gets another laugh out of him. I love hearing him laugh. The sound husky and gravelly, a sound so uniquely Brayden. It pours over me, and I have to force myself not to jump him.
I drop my head back on my shoulders and sigh in relief when he switches to the other foot. “You are so good at this,” I moan.
“What? Massaging feet?” He pushes a little harder on one of my pressure points, and I groan from the pleasure.
“Okay, I think it’s time for bed,” Brayden says suddenly, placing my foot on the ground.
I look down and stare at him for a couple of seconds. Still kneeling before me, he stares down at the carpet, and I know what I’m about to ask is going to be a turning point for the both of us.
“Will you sleep with me tonight?” My voice, soft and low, rings loudly in the quiet living room. Brayden’s head snaps up. Eyes wide and mouth agape, he stares at me in shock. He stands to his full height. With one hand on his hip, he rubs the back of his neck with the other, and I can tell he’s torn.
“Look…Karmen, you’re drunk…you don’t really mean…”
I lean forward and grab a hold of the hand on his hip. My gaze finds his, and I hope he can see the sincerity in my eyes. “Just sleep.”
He looks away, his stare fixed on something else.
“Please,” I murmur.
Absentmindedly, I lace our fingers together and his hand almost swallows mine. Slowly, he turns back to me and nods. I lead him to my room, to my bed. The t-shirt I slept in last night lies wrinkled on my pillow. He stands at the foot of my bed, his gaze trained solely on me. My arms cross over my stomach as I grab the hem of my shirt and slowly peel it off my body. I turn my back to him, look back over my shoulder to see his eyes locked on my movements. I pop the button of my shorts and shimmy them over my hips, push them down my thighs and let them pool at my feet before kicking them over to the side. In nothing but my cheeky panties and bra, I reach behind my back and unhook the clasp. The tension on the straps slackens as it slides down my arms before I discard it on the floor. With one arm, I cover my breasts as I maneuver sideways to grab my t-shirt. The soft cotton material slips over my body and comes to rest just below my panties.
The whole time Brayden says nothing but he doesn’t have to. A sliver of moonlight highlights his features as I turn around and face him. I notice the way his throat works as he forcefully swallows. I notice the heat of his gaze as it rakes over my body. I watch as he licks his bottom lip and the rise and fall of his chest as he takes labored breaths. He takes slow, predator like steps towards me. I am the lone gazelle being stalked by a hungry lion. At this moment, I have never felt so wanted. Brayden reaches around me, pulling the covers back. I crawl onto the bed and situate myself on one side.
“I sleep in my briefs. Is that okay with you?” he asks.
I nod my head in nervous excitement, my ability to speak lost.
My eyes travel the movements of his hands as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. As he lifts the cotton material, my eyes take in his sculpted abdominals, his wide, smooth chest, the way his deep V starts at his hips and disappears under his jeans. Out of the corners of my eyes I catch his shirt dropping to the floor. When his fingers undo his jeans, I swear my mouth salivates. The sight of his jeans sliding down his long, thick, powerful legs causes my core to clench. He steps out of his jeans and slides into the bed.
After Levi and I broke up, I bought a new bed. The memories of what we had shared hurt too much. Not to mention I couldn’t see myself sharing that bed with any other man but him. It took some getting used to when Levi and I started sharing a bed. But now, as Brayden lies down beside me a feeling of content settles over me. It feels good—right. I turn on my side, facing away from him. The feel of his hand on my stomach causes me to tense up.
In my ear he whispers, “I just want to hold you. But not this way.”
I nod and roll over onto my other side, my face level with his chest. One of his arms slides beneath my neck as he turns to face me. He pulls me into him. My face finds solace in the crook of his neck. With no other option, one of my arms drapes over his waist, along the elastic band of his briefs, the other cradled between our bodies, our legs entwined.
“I need to feel as much of you pressed up against me as possible.”
“Why?”
“To make sure this is real,” he answers, his voice low and deep.
“It’s real Brayden. I want you here.”
He squeezes me tighter to him, and I realize lying here, like this, I do want him here. More than anything. This moment is a rarity in its own right. The past Brayden and I share speaks for itself. Awful. But right here, we’re in the present entwined in each other. It speaks of something different, something beautiful, something exquisite. As scared as I am of the future, I’m thrilled to be living in the now.
“My dad hates me.”
Brayden’s stomach tenses beneath my hand as he reveals a layer of himself to me. I’m startled by his confession. The sound of his voice is scratchy and tortured. My own father may have never been there for me, but hate would never be a word I’d associate with him.
“Why?”
“The way he is, he’s been like this for a very long time.” He doesn’t answer my question, but he does give me something. I’ll take it.
I skim the tips of my fingers along his chest and side, tracing imaginary patterns.
Beneath my ministrations, slowly his muscles begin to relax. We lay in silence for a while. So many questions are on the tip of my tongue. I want to ask them, but at the same time I’m afraid he’ll shut me out.
“Does your mom ever step in and say anything?” I finally ask.
Brayden scoffs at my question but answers anyway. “No, but that’s a different bedtime story for another night.”
The way his words are so final, I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s closed himself from me. For the time being at least.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
Brayden’s chest expands on a deep inhale. “It’s okay,” he says on a rough exhale. “My family, talking about them is rough for me. I don’t talk about them, ever.”
I nod against his chest because I get it. My mother is a sore subject for me. My father, too. They aren’t topics I breach very often. Only one person knows about them like I do and that’s Tammy.
“We both have skeletons in our closets, don’t we?”
“Yeah, I guess we do,” he sighs.
“So what do we do about them?” I ask.
I can feel the rise and fall of his shoulders as he shrugs beneath me. “I wish I knew because I wouldn’t be so fucked up if I did.”
“I really liked your show the other day.” I snuggle into the warmth of him. I hope my changing the topic will lift the somber mood of our previous conversation. “You seem excited when you’re on air.”
“I really like my job. It’s different from what I’m used to, but it’s really cool.”
“You smile wide when your guests come in…you’re just different and not in a bad way. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I can see it. It’s in your eyes. The way they light up and come to life. I’m happy for you, is all.”
Brayden tilts my head back with his forefinger, his gaze finds mine in the dark. The soft feel of his lips finds my forehead as he murmurs. “Let’s get some sleep.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Even under the cloak of darkness Brayden still hides. For a while now I’ve noticed he won’t let me see all of him. Glimpses of the man he is, the real him, is what I’m allowed to see. Maybe he thinks I won’t like what is bared to me? Maybe he thinks I’ll no longer find him worthy? I don’t know, but in time he’ll have to come to a decision. I can’t be willing to show him the ugliness that paints my canvas called life and receive nothing in return.
Until he’s ready to open up to me, I can wait.
For now…
Beginning of Junior Year…
I stand behind Drew, my hands on my hips, chest puffed out, and a smug grin on my face. It’s a front, an act. I can’t let anyone see Karmen’s tears affect me.
Long hair as dark as chocolate shields her face from others to see. Chipped pink polish paints her toes. Her faded denim shorts hang off her hips, too big for her waist. Her shirt is too small for her already tiny frame. The hem of her shirt meets her bellybutton and the sleeves rest below the joints of her shoulders, the dark green looks worn from too many washes. From my vantage point, I watch her tears gather at the tip of her nose. One by one they fall to the floor. And with each tear that falls, my need to hit something becomes more and more prevalent. But like I’ve done for the past year, I push it all aside and play my part.
The prick.
The associate.
The bully.
No matter how you spin it, I’m guilty because I don’t have the guts to stand up and defend an innocent girl. At the same time, my guilt is overshadowed by the fact that I have my own terrors at home. I’d rather take a little public humiliation over the fists, belts, and words that lacerate my skin and soul.
Her knees are an angry shade of red and chalky white from landing on the concrete. Blood seeps from the cuts on the palms of her hands. Books lie on the ground, sprawled in front of her feet. Sheets of paper float away with the wind.
“Maybe you should watch where you’re walking next time.” Drew stands there indifferent to the entire situation. Against the locker, he reclines back from standing in front of Karmen, his hands tucked in his pockets with one foot kicked back against the red metal of the locker.
With her head down, her attempt at being invisible, Karmen was walking along the pathway with Tammy by her side, a quiet conversation going on between the two. Drew had elbowed me in the side and nodded towards the two girls. Just as they were about to pass us, he stuck his foot out, tripping Karmen. In her flip-flops, she didn’t have much support against the intrusion. She flew forward, books and papers thrown in the air like confetti from the impact. I watched in horror as her mouth dropped open eyes shot open wide in shock, hands flying forward bracing for the inevitable collision just as her knees crashed to the paved sidewalk below. A small cry escaped her as she sat there on her hands and knees. For long seconds she didn’t move. Her shoulders and back rose up and down in labored breaths.
My heart ached for her and I wanted to reach out and catch her in my arms, but I did nothing.
“You pretentious prick,” Tammy seethes.
With narrowed eyes and her lips set in a grim line, she goes to step in his direction when Karmen reaches out and places her hand on Tammy’s lower leg. Tammy’s head whips in her direction astonishment marring her features.
Karmen shakes her head, still not meeting anyone’s stares. “Just help me pick this up. Please?” Her words a throaty plea.
I survey the situation one last time before turning on the balls of my feet and hightailing it out of there as quickly as possible. I don’t bother to see Drew watch me walk away. I don’t bother to stay and hear what Tammy has to say to Drew. I’m on the verge of revealing my true self, the one who gives a shit about what happens to Karmen. And that’s the last thing I need. No, my mask must stay firmly intact. I can’t let anyone, not even Karmen see how much I care, and how much watching her cower like a beaten animal at Drew’s feet bothers me.
I slip into an alcove next to one of the bathrooms. My breaths come fast and hard as I breathe in and out of my nose. I grab at my hair and pull the strands in frustration as I fall back against the cinderblock wall behind me.
“Reel it in Brayden,” I murmur to myself. “Don’t let them see that you care. Don’t let them see that all this bullshit gets to you.”
After a couple of minutes, I catch a flash of brown hair out of the corners of my eyes. My head whips in the direction of the silhouette. Chipped nail polish, flip-flops, and a worn, dark green shirt, fills my vision. Karmen. Just as she starts to pass me by, I reach out and grab a hold of her hand.
She gasps in surprise as I pull her into my hiding spot, her back flush against my chest. I grip her hands and hold them in front of her body.
“You need to stay away from Drew,” I murmur, my words filled with menace, against her ear.
Against my body, I feel her shudder. Her shoulders hunch forward as she tries to shake off my grip. She struggles to break free from my hold.
“I’m serious, Karmen. When you see him, you need to go in the opposite direction.”
“Why do you care?” she asks, her words soft and broken, like her.
“I don’t,” I scoff. But I do care, I really do. Because she’s beautiful and sweet and nice. Never has she looked at me like I was a dollar sign or the football star everyone wants to tame.
Over her shoulder, I flip her hands over, palms up. With a tender touch, my thumbs skim over the split flesh on the heel of her hands. “Does it hurt?” I whisper.
“What do you think?” she scoffs.
“I’m so damn sorry.”
She takes a shuddering breath before she demands I let her go. For a second longer, I hold her in my arms. “Let this be your only warning. He’s not going to stop. If you want any semblance of normalcy in high school steer clear of Drew and me.”
With my warning sent, I release my hold on her. No hesitation on her part, she scurries out of the secluded nook, not once sparing me a glance. Instantly, my bod
y misses her warmth, and my arms miss being wrapped around her waist. Back in the box in the back of my mind, that’s where I have to put all of my emotions. In my world, emotions get you nowhere and nothing. Well, nothing but a cracked rib and a few good jabs from my pops.
It’s not often that I let myself think about the past. There are no warm memories there for me. But as I lay here, Karmen wrapped up in my arms, I can’t seem to find any regret for the things I've done. It’s led to this moment. The good, the bad, the ugly. Everything. It’s brought us together.
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