Letting You In

by Nora Flite

  “Yeah, it's not a big deal.” I tried to pry her off, she gave me an inch of room. “Everyone can chill out, it was just a tap to the head.”

  “The medic is coming,” she assured me, pointing to the small vehicle driving up the sand towards us. I felt all the eyes on me, biting my lip in a hot flush of frustration.

  “I don't need a medic, I'm fine.” I didn't want a doctor, I didn't like this kind of stuff, but how could they know that? I was mortified, but I kept my mouth shut as the paramedic arrived to inform them all of what I had already said.

  He was fast, thorough, I hated every second. In the end, after he asked me a few questions, prodded me some, he gave me an ice pack then went on his way.

  The entire group, of which I still only knew Vanessa and Tim, stared at me covertly as I got to my feet. I wanted to say to them all, 'hey, I'm fine, relax guys!' But I didn't. I just turned to Vanessa, frowning.

  “I need another beer.”

  She grabbed me one, doting over me, making me feel smothered. Wordlessly, I tilted back the bottle, draining the entire contents. I knew I shouldn't have, it was stupid, but I just wanted everyone to see I was fine.

  Wiping my mouth dry, I shot a look at the groove in the sand where I had fallen. Vanessa lifted a hand, waving it in front of my dazed eyes. “Leah, are you okay?”

  “Yes, yeah,” I shrugged, holding up the bottle with a weak smile. I gestured with it at the horizon, the smudge of red melting into purple. “I've got a buzz, the sun is setting in California, everything is fine.”

  In the process of trying to assuage my friend's fears, I noticed him again. The guy who had called out to me, he was standing by the roaring bonfire. In the light of the flames, his short hair was redder than the coals. I wanted to talk to him, to thank him better, but Vanessa started hugging me tight, making ridiculous noises.

  “I'm so glad you're fine, how terrible would it have been if you'd gotten badly hurt on your first day here?”

  “Right, but I wasn't.” I disengaged myself, offering her the empty beer bottle. “Where should I put this?”

  My friend hesitated, I wondered if I wasn't reacting how she had expected. Lifting an arm, she motioned at a trash can off to the side. “You can probably throw it out there.”

  “Thanks.” I tried to give her a reassuring grin, but it was shaky. Looking up, I saw the trash can, but I also saw my real target. The guy who had warned me was standing between me and the garbage, hanging out near a few other people, talking casually.

  My steps as I approached were nonchalant, but inside I was panicking. I didn't know what I was thinking, why I wanted to talk to this stranger so badly, but I was going for it. When I was a few feet away, he looked up, over the heads of his companions, fixing the brightest smile on me. His teeth were perfect, a row of porcelain white.

  Dammit, why does he have to look so good. Dammit, dammit.

  “Hey,” he said, the nearby people glancing around to see who he was talking to. “How are you feeling?”

  “Uh, fine,” I shrugged, not wanting to discuss how I 'felt' anymore. I held up the beer bottle, then asked a question I knew the answer to. “Do you know where I can put this?”

  “Oh, perfect,” he lit up, taking it from me, holding it high. “Another piece to add to my very rare used-beer bottle-collection.”

  I wasn't prepared, I laughed hard; a real, vibrant sound that came from my core. I wasn't used to men making me laugh. He seemed pleased by my reaction, dropping the container into the trash. “So, you're Vanessa's friend, right?”

  “Yeah,” I offered my hand, “Leah Rook.”

  His own palm found mine, his grip warm, firm, I felt my blood quicken. “Deacon Day.”

  “Deacon?” I blinked, pulling back my hand, fidgeting with my sweater sleeves. His eyes were so calm when they rested on me, it was throwing me off. “I've never known anyone named that before.” It sounds nice. I didn't think I should tell him that.

  “Oh, really? They're usually leaders of a church.”

  I wrinkled my brow, cocking my head and laughing uneasily. “Wait, what are?” Oh no, what is he talking about?

  “Deacons.” He shrugged, studying my face as he explained. “It's generally the oldest person in a church. In fact, I think my grandfather might be one in his.”

  Squeezing my arms together, a felt an apprehensive flicker twist in my stomach. Who the heck is this guy? Is my attempted hero really some devout religious follower? “Sorry,” I laughed, “I don't know much about religion or churches and things.”

  “'And things?'” He grinned, quoting me. “Where are you from that you don't know much about religion?”

  “No where important,” I mumbled lamely. I didn't want to talk about where I was from, I was supposed to have escaped all of that. “Where are you from, though? My guess would be the deep south with that accent.”

  “Almost,” Deacon laughed, the sound making me swell with a helpless grin. “Kentucky, and my accent isn't even that noticeable, I thought.”

  “Maybe to a deaf person.”

  “Maybe you're just paying too much attention.” His eyes flashed, I wondered if it was just from the fire.

  We stood there for a moment, me rocking on my heels, Deacon seeming relaxed. What am I doing? Am I making friends, or flirting with potentially the least likely person ever? I couldn't have run into anyone more the opposite of myself. I was also curious, but as the seconds went by, becoming more terrified of accidentally offending him than anything else. What if I swear, will that bother him? Why did my parents never take me to church, even once, so I could have a better idea on how to behave right now?

  “Uh, hey, listen,” I started, digging my toe into the sand. “I really just wanted to say thanks.”

  “For what?”

  I stared at him, not positive he wasn't messing with me. “For helping me back there, you tried to warn me about the soccer ball.”

  “Well, tried is sort of the keyword. I didn't stop you from getting beaned.” His mouth made a slight frown, his hand reaching forward to touch softly on the side of my head. It was sudden, and I felt myself holding my own breath.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” I heard myself say, amazed at my own voice. Was he actually worried about me? I remembered the time I had fallen on my apartment's stairs, cutting my knees. Owen had chastised me for being a klutz and complaining about the pain.

  “There will probably be a little bruise,” he said. It made me think about the one on my back, my belly flipping nervously. At least he can't see that one.

  Deacon was still touching me when I heard the sob, the familiar sound of Vanessa's voice. Jerking away, the spell broken, I spotted her where she stood just outside the circle of firelight. She was hunched over, at first I didn't know what was wrong. I caught a glimpse of her hand by her ear, understanding she was on her phone.

  As if she sensed my stare, she turned, catching my eyes with her own wide, wet ones.

  “I'm sorry,” I blurted, already moving as I gave Deacon one last glance. He was nodding, like he understood.

  The sand was cool outside of the fire, my feet sinking in deep. Before I could ask Vanessa what was wrong, she wrapped me in a hug, dropping her phone.

  “It's Greg,” she cried, her tears coming in a rush. “He's going to break up with me!”

  Chapter 5.

  Surprisingly, Vanessa's boyfriend wasn't actually leaving her.

  I held her shoulders, looking her in the eye, listening to her explanation in disbelief. “Wait,” I cut her off. “You think he's breaking up with you because he can't make it out here tonight?”

  “He's avoiding me,” she explained, her eyes pink, wet like watermelon around the edges. “He got off work an hour ago, and now he doesn't want to come. Do you think he's seeing Talia? That has to be the reason!” Her voice was ragged, it was clear she was upset, but I was having a hard time absorbing her logic.

  “Wait, Talia, who—Vanessa,” I said, “th
ere probably is a reason, sure. But isn't it possible he's just... tired, or anything other than planning a break up or cheating on you or something?”

  Her expression shifted, she watched me in a fashion that made the hairs on my neck prickle. I knew that look, I knew the energy of someone directing their anger at me. It's funny, I hadn't expected to feel that particular rush of fear ever again. No, I ran away from this, how can this be happening here. In my core, I shivered, and I hated myself for that.

  “You think I'm overreacting, don't you?” Her voice was so cold.

  “I mean,” oh shit what do I do, “I'm only saying it might not be as bad as you think!”

  “It is as bad as I think, I'm not paranoid!”

  “I didn't say...”

  Vanessa suddenly seemed bigger. Intimidating, hunched, like a tight spring that would explode on me if I moved at all.

  So I didn't.

  I just stood there, waited for what I was sure was going to be some sort of attack. The moment was broken when she bent down in the sand, digging around, looking for her fallen phone.

  “Hey,” I whispered, clearing my throat. “Hey, sorry, I'm just trying to help. You know Greg better than I do. I'm really sorry. Okay?” Apologizing, for something I didn't think I needed to, it was all so familiar. I nearly jumped when she stood, my body pumping with anxious energy, the kind that would let me turn, sprint down the beach never looking back.

  “It's fine,” she said. It was clear she was still angry, but it had shifted from something boiling, to just a brooding heat. “It's not a big deal. Can we go home, though?” Like that, she started to deflate, so I quickly agreed. Anything to make that situation change.

  “Yeah, of course. I haven't even seen where I'm staying yet.” I gave a nervous laugh, she offered a fragile smile. Together, we walked back to the circle of light. I reached out, rubbing her back, trying to keep a calm expression on my face. Inside, though, I was in turmoil.

  How could that have frightened me so much? She just... she only raised her voice, right? My feet slid into my sandals, I gathered up my clothes from the ground. No, it was more than that. It had to be. Mumbling friendly farewells to everyone, my arm made quick goodbye waves. Some people made jokes about the soccer ball, I didn't even know what they said, but I made myself laugh for them.

  What happened back there, it made me relive that feeling. Everything I ran from, it all came back when I saw that anger in her eyes. That was how Owen would look when he...

  Deacon was standing in front of me, I found my insides twisting as I understood, at that moment, just how broken I was. What I had sworn to Vanessa earlier that day, everything about staying away from relationships, I had been more right than I'd known. If I let anyone in, if I even tried, I'd only drag them down with me into my emotional mess, my hang ups, my past. And now, I knew that. If I freaked out when Vanessa raised her voice, that had to mean it'd happen if anyone else did it, right?

  His teeth were so white, his tone melting. “See you soon?” He asked.

  I offered my hand, gave a quick squeeze. I could see it in his eyes, he was watching me in a way that should have filled me with delight and excitement.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling Vanessa tugging my wrist. I let her lead me away. “See you sometime.”

  His green eyes watched me go, but he had no idea how gone I already was.

  ****

  I was exhausted when we finally got back to Vanessa's, caring very little about what her place looked like by that point. It was dark, but I could tell it was a small apartment, the door almost hidden down a long path between another building and a small fence hanging with flowers from the little trees on the other side.

  She hadn't said much to me since the drive, but as we entered, she turned on the light, gesturing. “Welcome to your temporary home.”

  Setting my two bags down on the floor, I walked around the living room, noticing I could see the kitchen and bathroom at the same time. “Where am I sleeping?” I followed her nod, seeing the couch, the blankets. I didn't argue, I had slept on worse things than that. “And where do you sleep?”

  “My room is over there,” she pointed, indicating a door by the bathroom I hadn't noticed yet. I flopped onto the couch, still in my bikini under my sweater. This day felt like it had gone on forever, pretending I was anything but drained was useless.

  “Hey,” I began, pulling the blanket over me, snuggling inside of it. Vanessa seemed hesitant to meet my eyes, but I pressed on. “Listen. Everything is fine, alright?”

  “It doesn't feel like it.”

  I actually agreed, but I knew I couldn't tell her that. “It will in the morning. Get some sleep, I promise, tomorrow will be better.”

  Her expression didn't change, making me think she doubted my words. I wasn't positive I believed myself, really. Walking towards me, she gave me a quick, brisk hug, then vanished into her room without another comment.

  For my own part, I wasn't even ready to turn off the lights. Staring at the ceiling, I rolled deep in my blankets, tried to calm my mind, my heart. When I closed my eyes, I could see her face, the rage hinted beneath the surface. It had been only a glimpse, but that had been enough.

  No matter what I did, in my head, her face would shift, becoming Owen's.

  What do I do, how do I fix this?

  I was terrified that it was something that might, actually, not be fixable. Turning my head into the pillow, I flinched, gingerly touching the side of my face where the soccer ball had hit. It brought up the image of Deacon, the sensation of his fingers, the worried tone in his rolling voice.

  It made me smile, and that scared me, too.

  Stop, it's too soon to even consider thinking about someone like this. Not after everything. I couldn't even tell him where I'm from, I'm not ready to get close to someone. I might not ever be, if I can't heal this stuff twisted up inside of me. And even then...

  Frowning, I pulled the blanket over my head to hide myself from the lights.

  Even then, if I fix it, it doesn't change who I am, or what happened to me. And a guy like that, a guy that sweet and innocent, he deserves better than what I'd offer.

  He deserves better than to be dragged down by my mistakes.

  ****

  Waking with a start, I forgot where I was.

  I need to make breakfast before he wakes up.

  Caught in the blankets, I was struck by two things as I broke free into the air. One, why was I sleeping on a couch? And two, why was I wearing a bikini? Smoothing my fluffed up hair, I remembered everything slowly, including what had happened last night. In the bright light of the living room, the sun insistent as it shone through the sliding doors of the small fenced in patio, I fought down my confusion, slumping back onto my make-shift bed.

  Right, I don't need to worry about making anyone's breakfast. No one is going to yell at me over that anymore. My stomach growled in disagreement. Well, alright, maybe I'll yell at myself.

  I didn't know where Vanessa was, but my guess was she was still sleeping. Stumbling off the couch, I grabbed my backpack from where I had dropped it, carrying it into the bathroom with me. I needed a shower, the lack of cleaning up for almost two days was making me feel less human than preferred.

  The water was scalding, still I wished I could get it hotter. Standing under the stream from the shower, I hung my head, shut my eyes, wet lashes brushing my cheeks. Times like that, they're supposed to be when your thoughts are clearest, easiest to digest and pick apart.

  My mind was filled with images of wide eyes, mouths that made hard lines from clenched teeth. The faces of rage, and now I was lucky enough to have two people who haunted me like that.

  It's okay, I can fix this. She'll feel better after sleeping it off, and maybe it was all a fluke.

  Thinking again of the bite in her voice, when she stated she wasn't paranoid, it sent a shiver up my spine. I turned the shower knob, but it really was as hot as it could get.

  Running my fingers throug
h my hair, I brushed the sore spot on my temple. Instantly, the imagery changed, my head full of someone else entirely. That clever smile, silky words, tender fingers.

  Deacon Day.

  Running soap over my shoulders, I recalled exactly where he had held me as I lay in the sand.

  Stop this. You're only going to torture yourself. I couldn't think about him, it would just leave me pining for something I couldn't have. He had to be as pure as his named implied, a name I hadn't even understood till he explained it. I couldn't chance the burden of being the one to take that away from him.

  A guy like that, he'd probably destroy himself trying to fix me. Or worse... turn his back on me, in the end. If he did, could I even blame him? All I was sure of, was that I couldn't handle that level of rejection.

  Thinking about the impossible wasn't doing me any favors, I turned off the water, inhaled the steam that clouded the room. Wiping down the mirror, I stared at my reflection. Turning, my eyes found the smudge of purple on my back, dots of yellow and green coating the edges now. How funny, I have two injuries, and each brings up the memories of two different people.

  Yes, I needed to focus on my goals, I needed to work on fixing myself, creating the life I had yearned for out in California since I had graduated high school.

  Drying off, I slipped into a pair of jeans and a tank top, my hair wound up tightly in the towel on my head. Strolling from the room, I was startled by the sight of Vanessa sitting on the couch, her face exhausted. Did she sleep at all?

  “Hey,” I said, turning on the cheer, moving to sit beside her. “Do you want to get some breakfast? I'm starving!”

  “Greg is on his way over, actually, I thought we could all go out somewhere together.” The way she spoke, flat, emotionless, it helped sate my hunger.