See Through Me (Lose My Senses)

by Bright, Sera

  He gazed down at me, his eyes shining and intense. “I’ve waited years for this, do you know that?”

  “Then why didn’t you do anything sooner?” I was well aware of my own reasons.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re both getting out of here.” He released a slow breath. “But we probably shouldn’t tell anyone.”

  A chill came over my damp skin. I’d so easily forgotten. He wasn’t clear of his family. But the fact remained, at the end of the summer, we weren’t just going to be farther apart because of geography, but because of the start of our own separate lives. I drew a light finger over one of the scars on his shoulder. He’d be free from them—and me. I resolved what little time we had left wasn’t going to be wasted. Nothing bad should happen if we kept it a secret like he suggested.

  “No, I guess it doesn’t matter now.” I kissed that fluttering pulse at the side of his neck.

  Chapter Nine

  Saturday

  It took a minute to remember where I was this time as my vision adjusted to the darkness. Home. In my own bedroom. Alone. I snuggled deeper into the pillow, hoping to fall back asleep, but it was no use. Another day waking up in a strange bed, even if it was my own.

  I got out of bed and left my room. In the hallway, I ran my fingers along the wall, the ridged lines of the old-fashioned wallpaper soothing me inexplicably. Some things never changed. The light from the kitchen was still on, and I made my way through the living room without tripping over anything.

  Ash was asleep on the couch, his arm flung over his eyes. He hadn’t left in the middle of the night like I thought he would. Crisp white sheets were spread over the worn brown corduroy fabric of the couch, and the quilt loosely covered him. He must have found the bedding from the hall closet and made up the couch out of habit while I slept. His shirt lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. I fought the urge to steal it. It was bad enough that he had stayed overnight. He couldn’t look like he was doing the walk of shame when he left.

  Shadows played across his arm and shoulder, highlighting lines of muscle definition. My previous suspicions were correct—he was definitely more ripped. What the hell did he do out in California?

  His arm moved away from his eyes, and he blinked blearily at me. “Hey, beautiful.”

  Caught again. A steady warmth unfurled low and deep inside me at his words. When he had called me beautiful before, I believed it for the first time. That he truly saw me, and not a carbon copy of another woman, or the girl who worked so hard to be invisible. I glanced over to a clock. It wasn’t quite five in the morning.

  “It’s early,” I whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

  He shifted around on the couch, and the quilt fell away, baring his naked chest. My fingers ached, and the warmth grew into a searing heat. His perceptive gaze didn’t waver as he stretched. The quilt fell all the way down, exposing a washboard stomach. Holy freaking mother of God. I swallowed a gulp of air.

  “Come here, we don’t have to talk,” he coaxed.

  “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea.” My heart sped up faster. It definitely wasn’t a good idea, but it didn’t necessarily make it a bad idea, either. I took a halting step forward.

  Wait, no. Our relationship was too fractured to add sex into it again, no matter what my traitorous body wanted to think. His face collapsed in bitter disappointment at my hesitation.

  “What was it you said earlier?” A nasty smile wreathed his face. “It would be like old times.”

  Outrage replaced desire as I narrowed my eyes at him. “When you’re fully awake, you can let yourself out. And for your sake, it better be soon, asshole.”

  I stalked back to my room, slamming the door behind me. Fuck him. I didn’t care about the noise. He came into my house uninvited. He insisted on this little sleepover. And then expected me to screw him first thing in the morning? Fuck. Him. Or not, which was precisely my point.

  Shame woke up to slap me back down to reality. There was a good reason he thought I only wanted sex from him. It’s what I basically told him last year before I ran. That I used him. The need to escape this situation, this disaster of my own making, pounded in my head. I pulled on a sports bra and a sweatshirt, and found my running shoes while I ran down my choices.

  To leave by the front or back door, I would have to go through the living room again. The last thing I wanted was another awkward confrontation with Ash. And at this point, I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me out the door. So, I would do what any young, independent woman would do in a similar situation. I’d sneak out my bedroom window like a teenager running away with her forbidden boyfriend. Except in my case, I was doing it all backwards. Story of my life.

  I quietly lifted the window open. It squeaked and groaned against the ancient wooden frame. The old trellis had fallen apart years ago, and scraps of it lay rotting in the dew-slicked grass. I straddled the windowsill and listened for any footsteps. When none came, I dropped the six feet to the ground. I landed without injuring myself, despite managing to fall on my ass in the process.

  I got back up and wiped the drops of moisture off my legs. The night sky was turning shallow as the sun prepared to rise. I walked around the house to the sidewalk and began running, pushing myself harder and faster until I lost myself in the rhythm.

  The sun peeked over the horizon as I found myself at the top of the stairs to the beach. I’d seen the oceans, but this beach held part of the magic of home I craved. It was empty—officially it didn’t open for another hour. The laws in this town didn’t matter to most people unless you got caught breaking them, and then, it was only when the powers that be couldn’t find a reason to look the other way. I walked down the steps with shaking legs, and looked to the rock jetty. It was as far away as I could get from the picnic shelter.

  Piles of faded driftwood dotted the sand, the colors muting together in the weak light. I stopped at a sign that read, “No Climbing on Rocks,” and used it as a support while I stripped off my shoes and socks, leaving them in the sand in a pile. The rubber soles of my shoes wouldn’t provide enough traction on the slippery rocks.

  With my arms held out for balance, I carefully walked to the top of the tumble of granite boulders. Waves rolled along with the wind, and as they crashed up the sides, a fine mist sprayed my face. I climbed up onto the last and largest rock at the end.

  Awareness prickled up my spine. I glanced over my shoulder. Ash stood on the beach with his hands in his pockets, his posture clearly rigid from where I sat. Of course, he would know where to find me. I turned back to stare at the water. There was nowhere to go from here, unless I wanted to make a break for it and swim to Canada. I eyed the rough waves. It was an option.

  Several minutes passed, and then the damp bottoms of his jeans and his bare feet appeared in my peripheral vision. He settled down beside me. I attempted to scoot away, but there wasn’t very much room on top of the rock for me to move. There had been a time when just being near him quieted all the noise in my head, making me feel safe. A little bit normal. Now his presence made all the chaos worse.

  He finally spoke after the silence seemed to stretch on forever. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

  I kind of did, though. Reluctant to look at him, I glanced down. His hand was braced on the rock in the space between us. Small stones and pebbles lay scattered around his long fingers. Specks of saffron-yellow paint stained his cuticles, and fine white scars covered his knuckles. The paint was to be expected but those scars were new.

  “You know what the worst part of all of this is?” He flicked one of the pebbles into the water. “I don’t quite know how to act around you…”

  So I wasn’t the only one. I rubbed my tattooed wrist beneath by my sweatshirt sleeve, and met his eyes. They still held the wariness, but there was an element of sadness in them, too. I pulled my legs up and hugged my knees to my chest. I hated all of this. I hated not having my best friend in my life anymor
e. And I knew I would hate myself more if I didn’t try to comfort him when he was hurting, even if I was the cause of it.

  “Couldn’t we just start over?” I asked quietly. “As friends, and forget about what happened last summer?”

  He studied me as if he was calculating my sincerity, and I wondered if he was going to find me wanting after all. The strain on his face dissolved. “Yeah, I think I can do that. Start over?”

  I nodded and rested my chin on my bare knee, stealing another glimpse of him through my lashes. His profile contrasted against the violet horizon. We had to start somewhere, but it was so hard to know where, when everything was a potential minefield.

  “If we’re going to start over as friends, you know what that means, right?” he said, and I turned my head to him. A slight smirk curved his mouth.

  “What?” I didn’t trust that smirk.

  “It means we’re going to have to talk to each other. With words. Sometimes even using complete sentences.” He leaned over and lowered his voice. “I’ve heard it’s called having a conversation.”

  I compressed my lips to hide a smile. Jerk. “You’re making that up.”

  “Maybe.” He knocked his shoulder against mine. “Or maybe I just missed talking to you.”

  I missed talking to him, too.

  In my ear, he whispered, “This is the part where you’re supposed to say something now.”

  I couldn’t hold back a small laugh. “And what am I supposed to say?”

  “I don’t know.” The amusement faded from his face and he regarded me with watchful eyes. “What do friends who haven’t seen each other in almost a year talk about?”

  If we were normal, we would talk about what we did for the last year. I chewed on the inside of my lip. And I badly needed to pretend we were normal again. This whole thing was my idea, after all.

  I hesitated for one last moment, and then said, “What was school like?”

  “It was fine.” He sat up straighter, and picked up a pebble.

  “Just fine?” It was his dream school.

  The pebble flew from his hands. I followed its path with my eyes as it landed, forming rings in the water until a wave wiped them away.

  “It’s one of the best art schools out there. That’s why I chose it. And I did learn a lot.” He shrugged. “But I felt like I could go to any other decent liberal arts college and learn just as much, maybe more practical stuff, too. I set up my own internship this summer, and I’ve learned more about the business side there than I think I will back in L.A.”

  His mouth twisted bitterly, and he added, “It didn’t help that I almost got kicked out for fighting.”

  The scars on his knuckles and broken nose made sense now. “Tall, dark, and brooding isn’t enough for you? You get out of the suburbs and have to go all Fight Club on us, too?”

  “I was a fucking mess,” he said in a voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.

  My heart cracked further apart. This wasn’t going to work. How were we supposed to start over when everything was still raw? I looked helplessly back at him but there was no blame in his expression. He relaxed his mouth, and shook his head slightly.

  “What about you? You just went ahead and took off with no plan like you wanted? Wait—” The dimple appeared on his cheek as he grinned. “I know how your stories go. You can’t tell a straightforward story to save your life.”

  He’s right. I can’t.

  “Tell me about the first place you went.”

  I gazed past him. He had unknowingly picked the hardest part of the story to tell. The skyline was changing before my eyes with the movement of the sun. The outlines of the buildings stood out in stark relief from the growing orange light. He moved his head and blocked my line of sight, a question on his face. He wasn’t just asking for one of my rambling stories, but for me to let him back in. Just a little.

  “I found my mother,” I said. “Or, at least, where she’s buried.”

  “What?” He jerked his head like I’d struck him. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  I tilted my head to the side and frowned at the water. I wouldn’t lie about finding my mother. All I knew about her already was based on lies.

  “As much as I can be after spending a couple weeks talking to relatives I didn’t know existed. She was in West Virginia the whole time before her death.”

  My mother’s family was huge. I couldn’t keep them all straight. Aunts, uncles, cousins. None of them knew I had existed, either, and no one would tell me why the big secrecy. Another big question mark in my life. I tossed a pebble far over the water, and a seagull swooped down with a shriek to go after it. I should’ve been excited to have a whole undiscovered family, but instead, it felt like another exercise in being the outsider looking in.

  “Her sister said she was killed in a fire. When I was five.” I rested my chin on my knees again.

  “I thought no one had ever heard from her after she left, like she completely vanished.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. His eyes went unfocused as he stared down at me, trying to figure it out like it was a complicated problem.

  What was so complicated about it? She left. And then died. It seemed pretty simple to me.

  “Does your dad know?”

  “I don’t know.” But I needed to know. Anything to explain why things were the way they were in our dysfunctional family. It was the real reason I’d agreed to come back and deal with the foreclosure. I had to make one last try to find out where the truth began before I could completely walk away from my father. If he showed up next week.

  Ash put his arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t exactly have a fantasy I would find her and then she would welcome me with open arms or something crazy like that.” I nestled into him, despite my best intentions to keep my distance. I told myself it was because of the cold. What was another lie? The scent of citrus surrounded me. I smiled a little into the fabric of his t-shirt. He still used the same body wash.

  His arm moved behind me, and I almost thought he was going to reach up to play with my hair. Instead he said, “So do you think you’re going to Michigan this fall?”

  “I don’t have a choice.” I pulled away from him. His question came out of nowhere. “I have to, they won’t hold my spot for another year. It’s time to be a real adult, instead of playing pretend.”

  “I think you only pretend when you feel like you have no other choice.”

  “And maybe I still make the wrong choices, and wish I made different ones,” I said softly, surprising myself by letting him know how close he was to the truth.

  Hope flared on his face, his eyes holding me captive. I bit my lip, and my gaze drifted to his mouth. I’d always loved his mouth, lips so full and lush. It would’ve looked ridiculous on anyone else. On him, it was perfect.

  His eyes darkened. Damn it, he’d noticed. I was doing it again, starting another game. Did I have any self-control? No, not when it came to Ash. He leaned his head down. I took a slow, deep breath to calm my rapidly beating heart. What would be the harm in meeting him half way?

  I stilled. That’s what I had thought last summer, too. I hopped to my feet, wobbling off-balance as my foot hit a slippery spot on the granite.

  He shot out a hand to steady me. “What are you doing?”

  I ignored his hand. “You know what? I don’t care how awesome the ocean is, I really missed this beach.”

  He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. I think I had.

  “It’s so comforting to know Canada is just right over there. Watching us. Probably judging us,” I babbled. “I think I’ll go for a swim.”

  “It’s not safe.” He glanced over to the white-capped waves, the wind blowing his hair away from his face. “Katie, no. Stop!”

  I shallowly dove in, and the cold water hit me like a slap, freezing the breath in my lungs. I surfaced with a gasp, treading water, trying to stay upright. My feet brushed against the bottom.

  Ash followed me into
the water with an effortless dive off the rocks, and he surfaced next to me. His face was fierce, his lips already tinged with blue. “What are you doing?”

  My teeth chattered. “Swimming.”

  “You’re running away again,” he said. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to push you, we were just talking!”

  No, he hadn’t pushed—and that was the problem. I was the one who wanted to kiss him. But I was also the one who was going to screw this all up again, and it may as well be sooner rather than later.

  I tried to act relaxed, which was hard to do while neck-deep in sixty-degree water, and splashed him. “You’re such a grouch in the morning. You probably needed to get some more sleep.”

  His scowl told me he could see right through my pathetic little act. The wind picked up and a large wave crashed over us. It dragged me down under the churning surf, leaving me out of control against the force of the water. For a heartbeat, I thought about what it would be like to let go. For once, just let it all go. Ash grabbed my hand and brought me up to the surface.

  I gasped for air and clung to him. He cupped the back of my head and hugged me close to his shoulder. Around us, the gray water swirled. Sanity returned, and I moved to stand on my own. The sopping sleeve of my sweatshirt slipped to my elbow, exposing the dandelion tattoo right in front of his face.

  He took hold of my wrist. “Where did that come from?”

  I yanked my arm away. Hell if I was going to admit I stole one of his sketchbooks last summer, and then had the only sweet little drawing I found in the whole thing inked forever onto my body. Besides, if he looked any closer, he’d see through the ink to the scars.

  “That’s what I thought.” The same determination from last night steeled in Ash’s face.

  He pulled me to him and forced his tongue inside the seam of my lips. This kiss wasn’t like the brief one in the alley. It was harder. Better. And hopefully would last longer. The pressure of his mouth punished me with a desperate, bruising force, tasting like mint and electricity. I didn’t surrender, though. I gave it right back. All the hurt and longing. I nipped his bottom lip with my teeth, and he growled deep in his throat. I remembered how to turn him on, too.