Call Me Ana: A Novel

by Bonnet,Scarlet

  He was quiet for a second and then his thumb rubbed across my hand. “Me too. Thanks for going with me.” He said it with finality, as if already accepting this was the end.

  Was he going to miss me too? Was I just some random person he’d met while traveling? Would he tell his friends about me when he got home? Tell them he’d kissed some girl in his truck? I tried to picture it, but I couldn’t. He didn’t seem like that.

  I had the urge to twine my fingers into his, the way Sam and I used to when we held hands. That’s when I realized I trusted Grant. And the thought kept going: who else did I trust? Not like… a little bit with certain things, but all the way, implicitly, with any decision? Who did I trust to actually have my back, even if they didn’t always get it right, because they were always looking out for my best interests? That list was short, maybe even one person short. Sam. And I felt like, somehow, Grant had appeared and wrote his name on it. I wasn’t sure how he’d done it. I remembered his subtle words, that he wouldn’t mess with me. Of course it hadn’t come from that one moment. But that one moment described the whole thing. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him.

  The truck slowed, and the library came into view. My heart sank even lower.

  “Where’s your ride?” His voice was soft. “Is that it?” He gestured to the librarian’s car.

  “My bike’s over there,” I said, pointing.

  He rolled close to it and stopped, looking at my bike being pelted by the rain.

  I’d have to oil the chain later. The thought made me sigh in my head.

  “How about I just take you home?”

  The image of my apartment came to mind, and I immediately didn’t like that idea. I’d worked hard on it, but there was only so much I could do. And when you drove up to the place, it looked like a wreck. I lived in the top of an abandoned car garage. The whole thing leaned to the side, and I swear you could tell just by looking at it. You could definitely feel it. I could put a ball on the floor and it’d roll across the living room. I swallowed as I took in my perfectly climate-controlled surroundings. But it’s Grant. I didn’t want him to go.

  Something flipped in my head against that thought, shutting down the last of whatever energy had pushed me to do this in the first place. The day was over. He was just dropping me off. He was leaving anyway. His last memory of today shouldn’t be my falling down place.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said, masking the disappointment in my voice with neutrality. “It’s just water.” I undid my seatbelt, letting it zip up beside me as if that was my confirmation.

  “Rachel,” he said, his voice warm as it wrapped around my name. Or what he thought was my name.

  It made me stop.

  “Let me take you home. Please?” He stared right into me… not my eyes, but me, filling me with warm kindness. The rain picked up, coming down in sheets, filling the whole truck with its roar.

  The sensation that welled up in me was stronger than I expected, and I looked down at my hands. I couldn’t have said no. Not with him looking at me like that. When I got control of myself, I sighed and looked up at him. I nodded because the rain was too loud for me to talk to him.

  He leaned back and his lips turned up. There was some kind of victorious hint that made me narrow my eyes. He tried to control his face, but then gave me a grin with just a shadow of a dimple. In a flash, he opened the car door and ran out into the rain.

  “Grant!” I yelled after him, but the rain swallowed up my voice. He was already to the side of the library anyway, picking up my bike. I laughed as I watched him. He wasn’t even hunched against the rain, he just accepted it as he wheeled my bike back to the truck. He plucked it from the ground like it was nothing and swung it over into the bed of the truck, then dashed around and got back inside.

  “Whew!” he said, giving a little excited yell. “That’s cold!”

  I laughed hard and he looked at me, completely soaked, his eyes all woken up and crazy from being in the rain.

  I fumbled with the dials in front of me, putting the heat on full blast, angling some of the blowers at him. “You didn’t have to do that!” I yelled over the rain. I turned back to him and laughed again when I saw a drip of water fall from his hair onto his face. The smile on his face was infectious. I looked him over again, the warmth of affection for this man welling up in me. Then I noticed the way his shirt plastered against his skin. It was like… it wasn’t even there. Grant noticed my expression. I swallowed as I felt a hint of embarrassment creep in, letting my eyes fall to the seat. Now what do I do? Put my seatbelt on? Try to play it off? I could feel how still Grant was and I knew it was far too late for that.

  His fingers ran up along my face. They were cold, and it made me jump. My eyes flashed up to him and he pulled his hand away, giving me an apologetic smile. The thought of him running out into the rain like that… he was so crazy. Crazy and wonderful. I picked up his hand and pressed it against my face, laying my hand over his to warm it. I shut my eyes as the iciness faded away into my skin. The rain continued to beat down on top of us, drowning anything else out so that his hand on my face was the only thing in my mind. His thumb slid over my cheek and rested right up against the bottom edge of my lip. That made me go still. That thudding started up and my lungs began to work faster. His hand was something else now. I kept my eyes shut and slowly turned my head, letting my lip slide over his thumb until it found his palm. I kissed it. I opened my eyes, wanting to see what Grant was feeling.

  The steady gaze that met mine squeezed something tight in my chest. That gray could change somehow. From calm and kind, to smoldering, burning. And I’d done that. I’d made them that way. In the next instant, Grant’s mouth was on mine. He kissed me, hard. His hand went up into my hair, making me feel out of control. I surprised myself when both my hands went to his face, pressing my mouth against his even more, like somehow we weren’t close enough already.

  The rain poured down over our heads, beating against the roof of the truck, and everything became him as that feeling took over my whole body. I wanted to be around him, with him, I wanted him to be… part of me. An ache throbbed through all the heat, making me understand that’s what I wanted. An ache in a place that made my cheeks burn red. I could feel his breathing inside me, just as I knew I was breathing ragged gasps into him. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck, pulling my body against his as his arms closed around my waist. I didn’t understand where it was coming from, how it existed, this need to push myself against him, the feeling of him doing the same to me making me shake all over. And then I felt his hand slide into my shirt, right along my skin, up over my ribs to my back, in one movement that slammed against my brain, making me push away as hard as I could.

  No one had touched me like that… no one since…

  I was bent over, one arm braced against the dash of the truck, the other hand pushing against the seat, my hair a wild mess around me that hid my face. I fought to get a hold of myself. I was shaking now, not just from Grant, but because… I felt terror at the thought of him pulling my shirt off. Who? Grant? Chad. Was I losing it? I swallowed as I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling totally embarrassed then, wishing I could disappear. That’s when I felt the tears ooze out from my eyes. Goddammit. Was I crying? It was that feeling, that ugly feeling, that made me stiffen against people and pull away, magnified by about a thousand.

  I had to get it together. I had to do something. It didn’t seem like I had enough tears in me to run down my face, so hopefully he wouldn’t see it. I didn’t know if the shock had caused them or kept them from getting worse. I was still shaking and I removed my hands from the sides of the truck as I smoothed my hair back and willed myself to glance at Grant.

  Grant was watching me, the fire gone from his eyes, consumed with worry. That made me even more embarrassed. I looked down at my hands, folding them tightly together because they were still shaking. It was hard to say anything because of the rain. What would I have said anyway? I wondered what to do,
my mouth went dry. I considered bolting from the truck.

  But then Grant’s hand moved cautiously toward mine. I took a deep breath and looked up at him. His eyes were still full of worry, full of shock, but he was looking at me now like he wanted to help. I slowly put my hand in his, hating that I was still shaking. I didn’t want him to feel that. But then his hand enveloped mine, and then his other one came to join the first. My hand was wedged between the two of his, warm and safe.

  Something felt like it was breaking inside me then. Breaking apart. I couldn’t hide it. I couldn’t hide what just happened. It made me want to cry. I hated that feeling. I didn’t want him to see that. But it also made me want to be close to him, even though I worried about being close to him. In a split-second decision that I didn’t even really think about enough to actually make it, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged myself to him. His clothes were cold and wet against me, but I didn’t care. I held on and squeezed my eyes shut. I started to feel self-conscious, like maybe I was just being an idiot, until one of his arms carefully rested against my back. I waited, and then his other one rested higher. The next moment, his fingers eased in under my hair, rubbing slow circles over my scalp. Every muscle in my shoulders and back went lax. Sam would play with my hair sometimes, but this this was so beyond that. It felt so good. So amazingly good.

  The tension in Grant’s body eased away and we stayed like that for a while, long enough for me to turn my head to the side, resting my cheek on his shoulder so I could fully relax. Sometime later, the rain eased up, falling here and there in staccato metal thunks on the roof of the truck.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” Grant whispered, his fingers still in my hair.

  I would have been embarrassed, but the sound of his voice was strong and solid, leaving nothing for me to worry about. “Okay,” I whispered back. I slid from his arms, reluctant to do so.

  His hand found my chin, lifting my face to his. He searched my eyes, his cautious. He looked like he was going to say something, but feeling tired and embarrassed, I hoped he didn’t. I clung to the feeling of him holding onto me. I was feeling better because of it, good enough that I had myself under control.

  Then, as if deciding against whatever he’d been thinking of saying, his hand carefully moved up to my cheek and he slowly smoothed his thumb over it, looking at me like if he could wrap me up and hold me close forever, he’d do just that. I’d been right about me trusting him. I still couldn’t explain it, but I trusted him like I’d known him my whole life. Something changed right there in that truck. My perception of him shifted so that I saw all of him, what kind of a man he was. It scared me.

  I let out a breath and gave his hand a quick kiss before sliding back into my seat. “We should probably get going,” I said, my voice soft.

  He shifted back to his seat and took my hand before putting the truck in gear, and headed out of the parking lot.

  “Turn left here,” I said, feeling much less self-conscious about my apartment now that I was overcome with fear. I was afraid of what would happen when Grant Bailey walked out of my life forever.

  Chapter 9

  We drove to my apartment in silence, Grant holding my hand the whole way. I started to wonder if he was feeling the same way as me. Even if he was, I didn’t know how that would affect things. He lived in Texas. I lived here. It wasn’t like either one of us could change that for someone we’d gone on a couple dates with, right? I couldn’t exactly afford to move there.

  I was an idiot. I’d just met this man and I was thinking about moving to Texas. My problem was, I trusted too easily. Sam always told me that. I knew Grant’s thumb smoothed over my fingers again. I did trust him though. I couldn’t exactly decide not to. I just did.

  We got to my apartment, and when I saw it, that embarrassment came right back, pretty strong. I fought to keep it off my face as Grant took in his surroundings. The front looked worse than I remembered, probably because I was so used to seeing it. The inside of the old garage was littered with crap, from old tires to a broken down car lift, and some other random things the owner of the property had dragged out of his house to leave here. He was a hoarder. Movement caught my eyes and I saw that I’d left the window open. One of the sheer white curtains fluttered happily, but the other one moved in such a gimpy way that I knew it was soaked.

  “Where do you want your bike?” Grant asked, his voice normal and warm.

  “I…” I fumbled for a second as I finally looked over at him. His eyes were soft. “I can get it.”

  He a shadow of his dimple showed. “Not a chance,” he said as he popped open the door and sprang out before I could get an edge on him. I got out of the truck, just as he’d lifted my bike from the bed and placed it on the ground. He stood over the bike, waiting for me to direct him.

  “I just wheel it in there,” I said.

  I wondered if I should invite him up or…

  “I’ll walk you to your door,” Grant said after he turned from putting my bike up. He held out his arm.

  I couldn’t help giving him a smirk, and I tucked my hand in at his elbow. He pulled me close and my heart squeezed in my chest. I didn’t want him to go.

  I went up the staircase in the back that led to my apartment. It definitely leaned to the side, making the world tilt as you went up it. Grant’s footsteps fell in behind mine as we ascended. I made it to the door and opened up my purse to root for my keys. Finally finding them, I stuck one in the keyhole. I had to throw my shoulder into the door to get it to open. Probably because the whole place leaned and the door didn’t. I gave a small smile to Grant that grew when I noticed the amusement in his eyes. I stepped up into my place, the familiar smell of wood and home greeting me along with a hint of flowers and fresh rain. I’d picked flowers the night before on my way home to cheer myself up. They sat in my kitchen in a drinking glass on the table. When I first got that table, three of the legs were white and one was black, the top was wood. I’d sanded it all down and refinished it.

  Grant was waiting at the door and I realized he had said ‘walk me to my door.’ He was hesitant, but looked like he was trying to figure out something to say.

  “Do you want to come in? For a minute? Maybe dry off?” I looked at his still-damp shirt.

  His eyes met mine, something tense fading away. “Sure.”

  I moved out of the way so he could come in. I shut the door behind him, seeing his eyes sweep around the room out of the corner of mine. I wondered what he thought, but before I could focus on that, I went to go get him a towel. I took in my apartment, seeing it through Grant’s eyes. It opened into the sitting room where my old couch sat against one wall, my guitar resting on it. I’d covered the sagging couch with a cheerful spotted fabric. It helped me forget all the nights Chad used to come over and sit there when it was just simply a beige couch. The wooden floor was covered with a sunny yellow rug. Past the sitting room was the kitchen, the biggest room in the house, though there was only a small smattering of awkward cabinets along the wall where the sink was. A tiny window above the sink looked out over a field. My landlord had told me I could only paint things white, but I’d convinced him to let me paint the kitchen lavender. I had promised to paint it back when I moved out. I don’t think he really cared anymore. He probably didn’t think I was ever leaving. A large set of windows sat on top of the garage, looking out over the road. I opened them a lot. I had an AC unit in my bedroom, but it wasn’t always working. It really sucked when it decided to blow out on me in the summer. My bedroom was just off the sitting room, the door long gone, though the hinges remained. I’d made my bed that morning, tugging out all the wrinkles in the quilt Grandma Ro had made for me. A lot of the fabric in it matched my bag. Just inside my bedroom was the small bathroom.

  I snagged a couple towels from under the sink and headed back out to the sitting room, thinking how strange it was to see Grant standing there. His eyes met mine and the twinkle that shone out of them put me right at ease again.
I guess he approved. I handed him a towel and then plopped one down on the floor under the window where a puddle of water had collected. The sheer curtains blew against me as I pushed the towel around with my foot.

  “Here, let me help,” Grant said, instantly stooping to use his towel to mop up the water.

  “That’s okay,” I said quickly. But as usual, it was too late.

  He gathered up the towels in his hands then, and stood, his cheeks faintly flushed from bending over. “Where do you want these?”

  I swallowed as I thought of the hamper in the bathroom. He’d have to walk through my bedroom to get there. I smiled. “I’ll take them.” I took them from him and disappeared to the bathroom again, putting the towels in the hamper. I grabbed another dry towel. I didn’t quite know what to do with Grant. I didn’t want him to leave. There were also some unsaid things between us about what happened in the truck. I hoped he didn’t ask about that. Although, it wasn’t like we could pretend it just didn’t happen. I went back out into the sitting room and caught Grant eyeing my guitar. That was another thing I didn’t feel like talking about.

  He turned and realized I’d seen him, but surprised me by not saying anything. Before I could think of something to say he said, “Can I ask you something?”

  A little ball of anxiety tightened in my chest. “Sure.” I handed him the towel, not meeting his eyes.

  He took the towel, but simply held it. He waited until I finally looked up, then held my eyes with his. They were soft, but intent on my face. “Did Roy ever…”

  I realized what he was asking. “No,” I answered, my voice low and soft as I looked away, feeling like I wanted to shrink from the room.

  He watched me for a second longer, the intensity of his gaze growing. “He doesn’t ever hurt you?” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.

  I looked back up at him and shook my head. There was one time he smacked me good, but that was a long time ago, and I’d smacked back, then disabled him with a kick to the groin before leaving his sorry ass to think about what he’d done. I knew that wasn’t the kind of thing he was asking about. I hoped and prayed he wouldn’t keep probing.