Let Her Go

by Briana Pacheco

  It gets a little cramped but the air feels stuffier when I feel eyes on me the second the doors close and we descend to the lobby.

  I look up, catching a pudgy guy leaning against the elevator wall leering at my chest. I look away quickly, wanting to cross my arms over my chest but that would just add more attention to my boobs.

  Owen snakes his hand out and grabs onto my hip, pushing me behind him so he blocks me from being ogled.

  I know he wants to say something but he won’t because we’re in such a confined place and I could get hurt if one comment turns badly and all hell breaks loose. We’ve seen too many fights happen on campus over the smallest things. Owen would never willingly put me in harms way.

  We reach the lobby and we wait for the group of guys to leave. When it’s all clear, Owen searches for my hand and we head out. His eyes follow the guy leave the building as we head in the opposite direction toward the courtyard.

  I see the way his jaw clenches and the way his eyes narrow. I don’t want him to go after him. Owen does have a slight temper when it comes to guys looking at or touching me. Over the years I never let anyone touch me besides Owen. He’s caught onto that. At least the guy didn’t make a crude comment toward me. “Hey, after the game do you want to watch a movie with me?” I ask, trying to get him to focus on me. “Your choice.”

  Owen’s eyes shift to me and I feel the anger slowly bubbling in his veins start to simmer when his shoulders become less rigid. “I have to finish an assignment and send it in before eight. After that I’m all yours.”

  I lean forward on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “I can’t wait.”

  Freddie walks in front of us, shoving the courtyard door open. He catches a basketball that appears in the blink of an eye. “Have to be faster than that, Cole!” He shouts, shooting the middle finger at someone. He glances back at us. “Try not to suck today, O. You need to impress the pretty lady.”

  Owen flips him the bird.

  I find a spot in the shade near the side of the building dead center of the basketball court. “I’ll be over there.”

  “You won’t be bored?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun as he starts to walk backward.

  I give him a deadpan expression. “I’m sure the group of good-looking men dribbling a basketball will keep me interested.”

  He stops walking and quirks an eyebrow at me.

  It makes me chuckle.

  “Try not to suck,” I tease.

  I know he’s pretty good at basketball. Freddie likes to screw with him because it gets him to play a little harder.

  I take a seat on the cool ground and watch them get ready to play. Out of the ten guys on the court, seven are shirtless. They all start to blend together when they’re running past each other but Owen stands out. Maybe it’s because my eyes are only focused on him.

  He moves effortlessly, calculating every step. Someone passes him the ball and when he’s running toward the basket, his eyes drift my way. I try not to distract him with a wave or something cheesy so I smile. I catch his eyes light up and it’s something I haven’t seen in awhile because I’m never looking hard enough.

  He has the same look he did when we were five. He’s happy, and I let myself believe it’s because of what we’re doing.

  My eyes follow him as he dunks the ball into the basket. I can’t help but stare at his body, sweat glistening everywhere as time goes by. He shouts a few commands, calling out someone for doing something wrong.

  He wipes sweat off his forehead with his arm and I don’t know what comes over me in this moment but I can’t stop eyeing him.

  Something hot flashes throughout my body, shooting right to my core. I raise my legs and squeeze them together but it doesn’t help the pressure that’s building between them.

  Holy crap.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on by a sport.

  But watching Owen play sure does it right now.

  Maybe it’s because I’m finally letting myself be with him that my body is ready for more of what happened last night and this morning. It’s making up for lost time I guess.

  My cheeks grow hot and I have to fan them every few seconds to try and keep myself in check.

  I stay that way for another twenty-five minutes, the game officially ending with Owen’s team winning by seven.

  Knowing that Owen has homework to do, we head back upstairs where he takes a quick shower while I spread out on his bed with my kindle in my hands. It doesn’t help that I read a couple of hot scenes between the main characters so I click my kindle off and turn onto my stomach, smothering my face in Owen’s pillow.

  I breathe in his scent and groan.

  How am I going to survive waiting while he does homework and we watch a movie?

  Fresh out of the shower, he walks into the room. I sneak a tiny peek by lifting my head up from the pillow. His towel hangs low on his hips. I shouldn’t have looked.

  I hear him fumbling around the room and then he’s on the bed, sitting up against the headboard with his laptop on his legs. “You okay?”

  I nod, turning onto my back, my eyes on his hands as they type something up. The way his fingers move over the keyboard turn me on even more. Jesus, just inhaling his smell is getting to me.

  “Owen?”

  His fingers stop moving.

  I look up at his lips longingly. “Do you think we can…fool around for a bit?”

  His fingers still don’t move. His lips part and I watch his tongue dart out and someone help me I think I’m going to die. “Are you sure?” he asks, his lips curving into beautiful shapes as the words leave his mouth.

  I nod.

  He closes his laptop slowly and moves it onto the small table beside his bed. He doesn’t move, almost like he’s afraid he dreamt the words I spoke.

  I’d be a little stunned if I were him too.

  I prop myself up on my elbow and tilt my head back, grinning at him. His eyes are on my lips, which is a good sign.

  I turn onto my side and stretch out so I can kiss him. The second our lips touch he shifts toward me, pulling me up higher so I fall onto him.

  His hands are on my hips, squeezing with the right amount of pressure to get a small groan to vibrate out of me. His leg nudges its way in-between my legs and I shamelessly press down on it trying to create some friction.

  “You can touch me,” I murmur, kissing his jaw.

  One of his hands is now splayed out on my lower back and the other is still holding my hip. I blindly reach for that hand and drag it up my stomach, flicking my tank top out of the way so he feels how warm my skin is and so he knows I want him to touch me.

  His fingers twitch when I leave them near my boobs. And then he finally moves them, cupping my right breast over my bra. His thumb glides over my nipple back and forth, back and forth.

  My hand moves down between us, stopping over the bulge in his sweatpants. My breathing slows. I’m touching him.

  “Zo,” Owen groans, moving his head down so he gets lost in my neck, sucking on the skin below my earlobe.

  He pushes my bra cup down, palming and kneading my breast. His hips shift forward, pressing his length into my hand a little harder.

  I’m about to pull the waistband of his pants down when he grabs my wrist and stops me. My eyes focus on his chest, confused. “If you touch me it’ll be over within a few seconds.”

  A shy smile meets my lips and I nod, understanding. I flick my hand so he lets go and then I snatch his, guiding his hand onto my stomach. He seems to understand where I want him to go next because his fingers glide down my body slowly.

  Keep going…

  His hand slips under my sweatpants and my underwear.

  My eyes flutter closed and I tilt my head back when his fingers finally touch me.

  Owen uses his chest to gently push me down until I’m lying on my back, my legs falling open wider for him.

  Everything is going perfect until I feel more of his weight on me, and his breath
hits my ear. His fingers slide into me while his lips kiss his way back to my mouth but it doesn’t feel like him anymore.

  I feel like I’m trapped, begging for this to stop because it hurts. I’m not with Owen anymore, I’m transported back to when I was seven and I first felt a man’s hand up my legs.

  “How does this feel, baby girl?”

  “It hurts. I don’t want to do this,” I cry.

  “It’ll feel good, just relax. Be a good girl for me, okay.”

  My eyes snap open and I freeze. Jesus, not right now. Please not right now. It’s just us in this room. Owen is not pinning you down. It’s his hand between your legs. It’s just you and him.

  He’s not doing anything bad to me, he’s not even fully on me. He’s holding himself up on his arm while the other is down my pants but my mind is already twisting things.

  I’m not ready…I thought…why can’t he touch me?!

  “Stop,” I choke out.

  Owen stops touching me. He pulls back to look at me and I wish he hadn’t done that because all I see is his eyes, and I feel his weight on me, and he’s not him anymore.

  No…

  “Zoë?”

  My breaths become ragged and I shove Owen back, sitting up quickly. I cover my face with my hands and I want to scream and cry. Why is this happening? Today was perfect. Why is that monster always ruining every good thing?

  “Zo, did I do something?” When he touches me, I flinch.

  It was too fast. You weren’t ready, Zoë.

  Maybe I have to touch him first?

  Jesus Christ, maybe I have to touch myself first.

  I’ve never gotten off on my own. It felt too dirty to even think about touching myself when Michael invades my thoughts at night so I stayed clear of it. I thought having Owen touch me would be different. I was wrong.

  I’m so fucked.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go.” I adjust my tank top and sweatpants when I jump off of the bed. I’m a walking disaster as I grab my things, never once looking at my best friend as he continues to follow me, wanting to know what happened.

  We’re powerwalking toward the elevator when I finally have to face him because the doors don’t open immediately. “Jesus, Zo, you’re shaking. Talk to me.”

  “I-I thought I was ready,” I stutter, my eyes finding his briefly. “I wasn’t.”

  The elevator doors open and I slip inside, hitting the lobby button repeatedly. Owen stays outside, watching me.

  Before the doors close I mutter a weak, “I’m sorry.”

  I’m sorry I can’t be with you because I see your dead father when you touch me.

  Echo notices something is different with me when I pick her up from the airport Sunday night. She’s turned toward me, her eyes glued to the side of my head so I feel pressured to look at her after I merge onto I-5.

  “You two had sex, didn’t you?” She starts slapping my arm in excitement. “Zoë, tell me everything! He’s huge, right?! I wouldn’t lie about that. By the gleam in your eyes, you enjoyed it.”

  “We didn’t have sex,” I divulge.

  Her slaps stop and she deflates in her seat. “Why not?” she asks, heartbroken. “When you said…I thought…who spends the entire weekend with that sexy man and doesn’t fuck him?”

  “Clearly me.”

  Her mouth opens and closes twice before she shakes her head. “Sweets, I have to ask you something, and I’m not judging you at all.” Echo bites her lip and leans forward so she can look at me without me having to take my eyes off the road. “Are you a lesbian?”

  “What? No. You know how I feel about Owen. We didn’t have sex, but we did make out Friday night. And yesterday.” Her eyes get wide so I try to talk before she explodes with feels. “We didn’t do anything else. I thought we could. I literally begged him to touch me but when he did…” I shake my head. “I freaked out and went home. I’ve been avoiding him all day.”

  “Why did you freak out? You’re not a virgin, right?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut briefly and then shake my head. I’m not. I lost the last bit of my innocence when I was fourteen.

  “He was so gentle with me, Coco. He kept asking if I was sure that I wanted to do whatever we were doing.” I swing my gaze her way, fighting back tears. “I’ve never been with someone who cared so much about what I was feeling. Looking into his eyes while he…” I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, “I know he would never hurt me but for a split second, my mind tricked me into thinking he would.”

  Echo blinks a few times. “I don’t understand. Why?”

  “Coco, I…” What are you doing, Zoë? “I never told anyone except my therapist this but I…” A lump forms in my throat, trying to prevent me from saying the next few words. “I…”

  I’ve kept it a secret for so long I don’t think the words will ever escape my lips.

  Why would you dim her light by telling her this sickening story?

  It’s the same reason why you were hesitant to tell your therapist. It’s too vile. You can’t tell this secret. You can’t.

  She reaches out and pulls my hand off of the steering wheel, lacing her fingers through mine. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” She squeezes my hand once and I try to tell her but the words still won’t come out. “Something bad happened to you?” she asks softly.

  I nod, not looking at her.

  We’re quiet for a few seconds when she says, “I’m here for you, Zoë. Whenever you want to talk.”

  When I look at her, her eyes are on her lap. She looks so sad, so heartbroken. I can’t imagine how she’d look if I said the truth.

  I powerwalk down one of the brick pathways leading toward Smith Hall because I know Owen is on the other side of the quad, heading toward Savery Hall with Echo. If I stand still and turn to my left, I’ll spot him within seconds. Distance means nothing to us.

  The gothic architecture surrounding the quad, the groups of people spread out on the green lawns, and the fact that it might start pouring any second because of the dark clouds in the sky makes becoming invisible easy.

  It does nothing to my aching heart. I’m avoiding my best friend over something that he has no fault in. He didn’t ask for the same colored eyes as his father. But why couldn’t he get his mother’s blue ones? His younger brother, Beckett, and sister, Ari, have blue.

  Why does he have to remind me of the devil when our eyes lock?

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, jerking me back so I don’t walk into someone.

  Owen: Zo, I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I’m so fucking sorry if I did something.

  After avoiding him all day yesterday, I knew he was looking for me. I turn my head to the left and squint my eyes. I see him standing by the row of cherry blossom trees near his building. They’re bare but I visualize them fully bloomed because watching Owen standing by my favorite trees brings life to them. He brings life to everything around him. Including me, even on my darkest days.

  Do you know what it feels like to look at yourself in the mirror and want to claw away at your skin until there’s nothing left? Because I do. And knowing that it won’t help this vacant feeling that I have inside of me makes me want to dig deeper. It’s because of Michael Stevenson.

  When Owen slipped his fingers inside me I freaked out and wanted to scratch my skin until I bled.

  Looking at my skin, or having Owen look at me, makes me think of unwanted hands touching me; a calloused hand running up my bare leg, across my stomach, over my breasts, and into my hair. Unwanted lips touching mine. Forbidden words being spoken.

  It disgusts me.

  It ruined me; left me shattered. Fractured. Destroyed.

  Thinking of my childhood brings me to a dark place. There is no escaping. Michael sneaks into my mind all the time, burning me from the inside out. I suffocate with the mere thought of him.

  And that’s why I had to leave Owen. Because when he touched me, I felt his father. And I was brought back to when I was a child.
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  But I couldn’t stop thinking about Owen and I kissing. I want to feel his lips against mine. I want to see him, only him, when we do it again.

  I. Want. Him.

  So damn much.

  Will I ever be ready for that?

  I look down at my phone and type out a response to him.

  Me: You didn’t do anything. I swear, Wen.

  I watch him look down at his phone, look up at me and then look back down.

  Owen: But I still made you uncomfortable.

  Me: A little. But it wasn’t you. It’s me. We’ll see each other later, okay?

  I pocket my phone and head inside the building. I don’t look at the text he sends next. I know it’ll be along the lines of “I’ll be outside when you’re done” because that’s who Owen is. His class gets out an hour before mine and yet, when I’m walking out of Smith, he’s there, leaning against a tree, waiting for me like always.

  He doesn’t deserve this, Zoë. Either tell him the truth or let him go.

  That’s my biggest fear though. What if I tell him everything and he lets me go. Owen is the only one holding onto the girl I used to be. To him, I’m still the girl he grew up with, the girl he shared secret kisses with by Cedar Mill creek, and the girl he fell in love with when he was fourteen.

  The Zoë he loves and the Zoë I am are not the same.

  She died when she was fourteen.

  I was left to deal with the aftermath.

  When the time hits four-twenty I’m the last one out the door. My love for Virginia Woolf is to blame. I want to relearn everything I can about her before we switch to topics regarding Katherine Mansfield in two weeks.

  My nose is stuck in Woolf’s first book when I bump into someone.

  “It’s just me, keep reading,” Owen says when I look up, startled. “Oh, and I bought you some candy.” He opens the bag of Swedish Fish and holds it out so I can take a few pieces while we walk, just like we always do.

  I throw two fishes into my mouth after saying thank you. I finish the chapter when we pass Red Square so I tuck the book into my bag and take the candy from Owen, finally giving him my full attention.