Presently Perfect (Perfect #3)

by Alison G. Bailey

  “Thank you for being in my life.”

  “There’s no other life I’d rather be in.” She threw me a wink before heading down the hallway.

  Ditto.

  The funeral was surreal. Judging by what everyone kept saying, it was a beautiful service. I tried to pay attention, but my focus was singular. I comprehended what was happening, I just couldn’t get my head around the fact that my dad was inside that box, and I’d never see him again. Walking behind the coffin as the pallbearers carried it out of the church, my heart sank deeper and deeper. I wanted to scream and demand God to rewind the past few days. Instead, I held my tongue, linked arms with Mom, and tried to make Dad proud.

  Our house overflowed with family and friends stopping by after the burial. There was a ton of food, people chatting, family members who hadn’t seen one another in years hugging. It was like a party except that the guest of honor was a no-show. Mom and I were stationed in the family room greeting people as they arrived. I had mastered the post-funeral posture—a small smile, no teeth showing, slight head tilt to the side, firm handshake for the men, and a hug for the females accompanied by two soft pats on the back between the shoulder blades.

  Brooke stayed glued to my side most of the day, being very touchy-feely even for her. I wondered if somehow she could see the guilt I felt over what I had done last night. In a moment of weakness, pain, and too many beers I had crawled through Tweet’s window into her room for comfort.

  Tweet followed behind as I stumbled my way over to her bed, plopped down, and immediately grabbed her hips, pulling her into a hug. Her bed sat high up, bringing her chest to my eye level as she stood in front of me, my cheek resting against her warm chest.

  Wrapping her arms around my neck she pulled me close, and gently combed her fingers through my hair.

  “I wish I could take your pain away,” she whispered, giving me a light kiss on the top of my head, causing my arms to tighten around her waist.

  We stayed like this for a long while, then my fingers slowly moved underneath the skimpy T-shirt she wore. Since leaving the hospital, my concept of time was nonexistent. All I knew was it was late. Tweet was dressed for bed, wearing long pajama pants and a T-shirt. I turned my face toward her. I could feel the hardness of her nipples as I nuzzled deeper into her chest.

  She tried to take a step back, which caused me to tighten my hold. I looked up into beautiful teal eyes and saw everything I would ever need in my life.

  Our breathing became heavier. I never broke eye contact as I placed open-mouth kisses over her tits. The flimsy material became wet and transparent the longer I worked the area with my mouth. It felt incredible to run my tongue along Tweet’s body even on top of the shirt. My skin was on fire while waves of vibrations ran through me. Tweet’s fingers gripped my hair, one second trying to tug my head away and the next pushing me harder against her chest. She wanted this to happen as much as I did.

  My lips moved down until I found the small spot of exposed skin right above her hip bone. A slight gasp escaped her when my tongue circled her navel and then dipped deep into it. My hands slid down her back, landing on her adorable round ass that I had dreamed about. My lips traveled slowly up her torso, inching her shirt up as I gently sucked and licked her blazing skin. My dick was about to burst through the front of my pants.

  “Noah…,” she said, breathlessly.

  “Your skin is so soft and sweet,” I mumbled against her stomach.

  “We can’t do this.”

  In one fluid movement, Tweet’s fingers disentangled from my hair and her hands slid down my arms, landing on top of my hands that were glued to her ass. She pulled, trying to remove them, but I couldn’t let go. I needed to get lost in her. I brushed my lips along her collarbone, nibbling my way to the spot right beneath her ear.

  I inhaled a deep breath of her and whispered, “I need you. You’re the only one I want. Every time I’m with her, I think of you. I need to be inside of you so bad. Please don’t make me leave.”

  “Noah, you’re drunk and hurting. You’re not able to think straight. You have a girlfriend. You’re not that guy. You don’t cheat.”

  Like a bucket full of ice, reality came crashing down around me. I was being selfish. No matter where my heart belonged, I had a girlfriend. Brooke deserved more respect than this and Tweet didn’t deserve to be used.

  Loosening my grip, I curled my arms around Tweet’s waist as hers slid behind my neck. We hugged each other so tight it was hard to catch a deep breath. My body trembled slightly as my tears dripped down her neck.

  “Please don’t leave me,” I begged against her skin.

  I couldn’t remember much after that. I woke up this morning alone in Tweet’s bed wearing my boxers and T-shirt. This was the second time in two days that things got intense between the two of us.

  I managed to shove the guilt aside until I saw Brooke. Each time I looked in her direction, the question she asked me on the phone yesterday played in my head.

  “Are you cheating on me with her?”

  Even though Tweet stopped things both times before they got to the point of no return, Brooke seemed to sense something had happened. She was being a caring girlfriend while staking her claim in front of Tweet. At first, it was subtle touches of my arm or holding my hand. Then she got bolder, reaching up to brush the hair off of my forehead, then letting her hand slowly slide down the side of my face.

  I tried to find comfort in Brooke’s efforts but it was no use. My gaze always ended up scanning the room for Tweet when I needed strength. At one point, Tweet caught my attention, tilting her chin toward the back door, letting me know she was stepping outside. I wanted to follow her. We’d been separated most of the day and I needed to be near her for at least a few minutes.

  I was listening to another one of my long-lost relatives go on and on when I noticed Brooke had left my side, was walking through the kitchen, heading out the back door.

  I turned to Mom and said, “Will you be okay if I take a little break?”

  Cupping the side of my face, she looked at me with hazy eyes. “Yeah, I think so.” I bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Noah, your father and I are so proud of the man you’ve become. We love you so much,” she whispered in my ear.

  She was talking as if Dad were still alive. It was going to take a lot of time for her to go from an us to an I. My parents had been together for twenty-six years. They met at a freshmen dance when they were fourteen years old. The way Dad always told the story, mom fell for him the second she laid eyes on his impressive teenage physique. The way Mom always told the story, Dad’s scrawny self stepped on the hem of her dress, ripping it and causing her to fall flat on her face.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  I motioned to my Aunt Marie, who was across the room, and she hurried over to take my place.

  I moved through the crowd as quickly as possible, but kept getting stopped by the sorry’s and if there’s anything we can do’s. I’d made it halfway to the kitchen when an older man, who worked with Mom, blocked me. He began with the prerequisite sorry for your loss before launching into some story that started with in my day.

  Concentrating on the back door, I willed it to open and for one of the girls to walk through. It didn’t matter at this point which one appeared first.

  “…and I don’t understand the internet stuff. My grandson was telling me about the Twitler. How you twitle and retwitle people. Then there’s the other one… oh, what’s it called? My Face! It all seems like a big waste of time to me. When I was young… bah, blah, blah,” the old man rambled.

  I smiled and nodded, while my gaze bounced from the old man to the doorknob. I knew realistically only minutes had passed since the girls had gone outside, but it felt like hours.

  Finally, the doorknob twisted. My breath hitched. The door opened and in walked Travis.

  Inching away from my mom’s co-worker, I said, “Thank you for coming, sir. We really appreciate it.”

 
I was able to reach Travis without any more interruptions.

  “Did you see the girls?” I moved to the window over the sink and craned my neck, trying to spot Tweet or Brooke.

  Travis followed behind me. “What girls?”

  “Tweet and Brooke are in the backyard… together… alone.”

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly,” I said, looking back at him.

  Just then the door opened and Tweet walked in. We locked eyes. She was more upset than before she went outside. She headed toward the family room, but I made it to her before she got there. My hand immediately landed on her arm. It felt incredible touching her.

  “Are you okay, Tweet?”

  “I’m fine. Just tired. I’m going to see if my boss-mom has any orders for me.” She gave me a weak smile and pulled away.

  The door clicked shut behind me. I spun around and saw Brooke. I couldn’t read her expression, but she didn’t seem upset. I walked over to her, grabbed her upper arm, guiding her over to an empty corner of the room.

  “What did you say to her?” I tried not to, but even to my ears the words sounded accusatory.

  “To who?”

  “Tweet.”

  “I followed her outside because she looked upset and I thought she needed a friend. It was a good thing I did too. She’s taking your father’s passing pretty hard.”

  “And that’s all y’all talked about?”

  Clearing her throat, Brooke continued, “That, and she wanted to let me know how happy she is that I’m in your life, especially during this horrible time. Since she’ll be busy this summer getting ready for college and then moving there, it gives her peace of mind that you can turn to me. Amanda thinks we are an awesome couple.”

  I should’ve been happy that my best friend and girlfriend were seemingly trying to get along. Not that they didn’t get along. You have to associate with each other to either get along or not, and neither of them had ever made much of an effort in that direction. The fact was, I didn’t want them to be friends and I sure as hell didn’t want Tweet to think Brooke and I were an awesome couple.

  The week following Dad’s death passed in one continuous blur. Two days after the funeral Mom insisted on going back to work. My aunts, Mrs. Kelly, and even her co-workers tried to talk her out of it. Arguing that it was too soon, she needed time for herself, to mourn the loss until she got over the heartache. My mom was a strong woman. Each time I looked at her, I knew she’d get past my dad’s death, but she’d never get over his loss. Mom was going to mourn no matter where she was, work or home. You can’t hide from the constant sorrow that embeds itself deep inside your heart from the abruptness of death. She needed to keep moving or she’d suffocate from the pain. I understood that because I was in the same boat.

  Our surroundings looked familiar—the house, the yard, the cars, the neighborhood, the grocery store, etc. But the world felt disjointed now. In my warped thinking, trying to grab on to anything that would lessen the pain, I had convinced myself that I’d miss Dad only during the hours he was normally around, like at night, on the weekends, or at one of my games. But I missed him everywhere and all the time.

  I went back to work at the hospital on the same day Mom returned to her job. Stepping through the doors for the first time since that day my body went into sensory flashbacks. I spent the first half of the day trying to breathe and make my arms and legs work. I talked to or texted Tweet when I got overwhelmed with the memories. Just the sound of her voice calmed me enough so that I could hold my emotions in check and not break-down at every turn.

  Other than when I was at work, the majority of my hours were spent with Tweet. It was ironic how the worst week of my life ran alongside the best week of my life. Brooke had backed off somewhat, giving me what I needed, space and time. I asked Tweet again about the chat she and Brooke had after the funeral. She didn’t offer up a lot of information, saying only that they had a better understanding of each other. I didn’t push further. As long as I got to spend time with Tweet without it causing an argument with Brooke, I was fine with not knowing all the details.

  Tweet and I were headed to our spot. It had become a nightly ritual this past week that I hoped would continue the entire summer. I hated that our time together felt as if it were zooming by and then she’d be leaving for college. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it through a day without her. I knew we’d call and text, but I wouldn’t be able to see the reassuring look in her eyes or feel the warmth of her hug over the phone.

  Once at our spot, I lifted our joined hands in the air, stiffening my arm to help her up onto the table to sit. Tweet shook her head, unlacing her fingers from mine and dropping her hand in the process. She hadn’t said very much this week. Most of her time had been spent listening to me, but tonight something felt different. On our walk over here it was as if she had something she needed to say, but purposely kept silent.

  Leaning back against the end of the table, I looked at Tweet standing directly in front of me. Tears had already formed in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

  Confusion and concern took over my mindset. “What’s going on? You’ve been so quiet this past week.”

  Tweet stood like a statue. The only movement was from her eyes as they attempted to blink away the tears. She’d been strong for me this week and it was obvious that all the emotions she held on to were now rising to the surface. She loved my dad like a second father.

  Reaching out, I grabbed her wrist and scooped her into a hug. The second our bodies connected, I felt the sobs rumble in Tweet’s chest before they broke free. Her arms latched around my neck, tightening with each second that ticked by. My right arm snaked around her waist, while my left angled across her back, pressing her hard against my chest. I buried my face in the crook of her neck. The scent of raspberry and vanilla consumed me. It was my turn to be strong for her.

  I don’t know how long we stayed holding each other before I felt her shift in my arms. She lifted her head away from my shoulder while my arms remained around her. I moved to rest our foreheads together, but she avoided the contact.

  “Noah, I need to say something.” Her voice was unsteady and weak.

  “Okay.”

  She hesitated for several seconds before stepping back. I always hated how it felt when we broke from a hug. It not only left my arms feeling empty, but my heart as well.

  Tweet wouldn’t make eye contact with me at first. Instead, her gaze focused down on her fingers twisted together, attempting to stop the tremble in her hands.

  “Promise me you’ll listen before you say anything.”

  “What’s going on Tweet?”

  “Promise me,” she said, finally looking up.

  “Okay, I promise.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip, raking her teeth across it slowly, as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You are the most important person in my life. Your happiness is my number one priority. Don’t ever doubt that because it will never change.”

  “You’re scaring me.” My voice cracked with emotion.

  I had no idea what she was going tell me, but I had this sinking feeling that my life was about to be irrevocably changed for the second time within a week.

  Squaring her shoulders, she looked directly into my eyes and tried to sound confident. “I need to step away from us for a while. Seeing you with Brooke is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “I’ll break up with her.” The words quickly flew out of my mouth with such conviction, the force knocked Tweet off balance.

  “Brooke is who you should turn to now, not me. She’s your girlfriend.” A loud gasp escaped her as she tried to keep her emotions under control. “She’s good for you, Noah.”

  “You’re a liar. You can’t stand her.”

  “You need to stop being so attached to me.”

  “Stop being so attached to you?” I shoved off from the table and took a step toward her.

  “We’re not kids anymore. I’m getting ready to go off t
o school…”

  “Don’t do this. I won’t touch you again. I swear, not even a hug. You can’t do this. I can’t lose you too,” I pleaded, moving in closer to her.

  The inside of my mouth turned into a desert. Swallowing several times, I tried to get an ounce of moisture to appear. My tongue kept sticking to the roof of my mouth and my throat began closed. With each pump of my chest my lungs felt like they were filling with cement. I was on the verge of hyperventilating. A prickling pain covered my skin, like a thousand pins jabbing me all at once. I was familiar with the sensation. Its level-one devastation, a pure physiological reaction, before your mind has had a chance to process what’s about to happen. I felt it a week ago when I thought Tweet was in the ER and again when I saw my dad on the stretcher. A sob pushed against my chest, the pressure intensifying the longer I stared at the determination in her eyes.

  “I love you,” I finally blurted out.

  I was a walking contradiction, touching her whenever possible, then telling her I wouldn’t, before blurting out my feelings. I grasped at anything that had a chance at stopping her from what she was about to do.

  “Well, you shouldn’t. I’ve told you over and over that I can’t be with you, but you keep pushing. The truth is, I don’t want to be with you, Noah.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed as I glared at her. “So this is my fault? You always said the reason we couldn’t be a couple was because you’d do something to mess it up and we’d lose our friendship. Now you’re blaming me for being too attached, too clingy?”

  “No one is to blame,” she squeaked out.

  “Oh yeah? I blame you,” I snapped.

  Heat shot through my body as memories bounced from one corner of my mind to the other. All the times I showed her how I felt, told her how I felt, was patient with her, and tried to understand her screwed-up way of thinking. None of that ever sunk into her thick bullheaded skull.

  “You don’t give a shit about me or my happiness. All you care about is you. You want to dictate and control us in order to protect yourself.”