North Woods University

by Beck, J. L.

  “Maybe we should head out,” Vance says after a while, the tension in his voice has dialed down tremendously.

  “It was so nice to meet you,” Ava tells me, her parting smile, warm and infectious.

  “It was nice to meet you too,” I reply, peeking over at Vance for half a second. His lips are pressed into a hard line. Obviously, he isn’t going to say goodbye.

  I guess we aren’t friends yet?

  “I’ll talk to you guys later,” Clark sends them off, showing them to the door. A few seconds later he returns to sit next to me on the couch and I can’t help but notice how tense he is. I want to ask him what he and Vance talked about, but I don’t want to seem nosy or intrude. Still, I feel the need to be a friend to him, especially after all he’s done for me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” He sighs, leaning back against the cushions, an arm draped over his face. “I just wish Vance wouldn’t have been such an asshole.”

  I pull my legs up underneath me, and sink deeper into the plush fabric. “Well, you did warn me. Ava is nice though, you think she really wants to get some coffee with me?” I’ve been on the receiving end of hate for so long that I can’t tell if people are being genuine or not anymore. Maybe she just said it to be nice? Or because she’s friends with Clark? I really hope not because I would love to have her as a friend.

  “Yes, she really does, or she wouldn’t have asked. Ava isn’t fake like a lot of other people around here, neither is Vance for that matter, and that’s why they’re my best friends. Both of them are the, what you see is what you get kind of people. Vance might be a dickhead sometimes, well I mean all the time, but he is a brutally honest and loyal to a T dickhead.”

  “That’s good, those are the best kind of friends to have…” I trail off.

  I don’t know Vance’s story, and I won’t judge him, but I do hope he warms up to me. His standoffish behavior makes me nervous. When I look up from my lap, I find Clark staring at me, an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint flickers in his warm gaze.

  Nibbling on my bottom lip nervously I opened my mouth to ask the question that’s been nagging at me since the words left his mouth earlier.

  “Why did you tell them that I was your girlfriend?”

  “Honestly… I don’t really know why I said it… but it didn’t feel like a lie. I mean, I know you’re not my girlfriend, not in the traditional sense of the word, but you are something to me. I guess I didn’t know what else to call you and friend seemed not enough.”

  I’m speechless, literally speechless. What am I going to say to that? Are we more than friends? And if so, what does that mean?

  When I don’t say anything, Clark continues, “I guess after what happened in the grocery store, I didn’t want anyone to come at you like that again. Maybe it would be better if everybody thinks you are my girlfriend.”

  I let the thought sink in. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve only ever been on the outside, looking in, watching other couples kissing, holding hands… being happy.

  I can’t lie and say I’ve never wished for that kinda thing for myself, of course I never thought I could have it. No one wants someone like me, someone broken, afraid of touch, startled by the tiniest of things. I bite the inside of my cheek, an anxious knot forming in my chest. I still don’t understand why Clark wants me the way he does, why he's being so nice, so caring.

  Could I pretend to be his girlfriend? I’m already holding his hand most of the day, just for other reasons than the average couple, I guess. I feel safe and happy when I’m with him, so I could spend all my time with him.

  But what if he wants to kiss me? Would he? Would I let him? I don’t know. There are so many unknowns surrounding us.

  Then I remember what his friends said about Clark, what Sarah said… Clark is going to want more than a kiss and I don’t think I could manage that. I could never give that part of myself to him no matter how much I want to, no matter who he is. Something tells me this is a bad idea, heartbreak waiting to happen, but curiosity wins out, because deep down I want to explore something even if it’s fake.

  “If you tell everybody I’m your girlfriend, then how are you going to be able to date other girls?” I don’t mean to offend him with my question, but apparently I do because a deep scowl appears on his face, his eyebrows pulling down together. The gentle light in his eyes darkens, and I shiver at the coldness that bristles through me.

  His mood is souring and I’m not sure why.

  “Forget it. Let’s just go to bed, we have early classes in the morning.” He gets up in a flurry, grabbing the empty beer bottles from the end table, bringing them into the kitchen, depositing them on the counter with a loud clunk. I jump at the sound, wondering what exactly I said wrong. I don't want to lose him, but I don't know how to make this right. He leans against the island his head hung low…

  Say something, Emerson… before I can get a word out, he huffs out a loud sigh and heads for the hallway. My heart thuds loudly in my ears, and I swallow around the concrete lump in my throat.

  “Goodnight,” he murmurs and pulls his bedroom door shut, the sound though quiet roars through me. He’s shutting me out, shutting down. Getting up, I move away from the couch and toward my own room to get ready for bed, my mind lingering with so many questions. Did I remind him that he wants to date other girls and then he won’t be able to have sex because of me? Or was it something else? Maybe I should have just agreed without questioning him.

  Curling into bed with my thoughts mingled into a mess and my heart heavy in my chest, I close my eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep. But when sleep finds me, it’s anything but dreamless.

  55

  Clark

  For a second time this week I’m woken up by Emerson’s piercing scream. This time there is no confusion. I know right away that it’s her and what I need to do.

  She needs me.

  I’m out of the bed and at her door in a second flat. Grabbing the knob, I twist it, relieved to find that she didn’t lock herself in like last time. Opening the door, I find her room is dark, but not immersed in darkness, the curtains open enough to let the soft moonlight filter in through the window.

  My eyes move to the bed, finding her thrashing against the sheets. I don’t try to wake her, instead, I crawl into bed next to her and circle her waist with my arms pulling her into my chest. She feels like she belongs there, inside me, like she’s an extension of me.

  “It’s okay, Em. I’m here,” I said softly. It only takes a few seconds for her screams to turn into low whimpers. Her nightmare fading away with every soothing word I whisper into her hair.

  She turns her face into my chest, her hot breath fanning out over my bare skin and only then do I realize that I’m shirtless. Shit.

  I really hope that’s not going to freak her out when she wakes up. Fuck. I contemplate on getting up and putting some more clothes on since I’m wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, but when I try to peel myself away, she protests.

  A displeased sound elicits from her and her small hands grab for me in her sleep. It’s almost like she doesn’t just need me but wants me. Her nails dig into my flesh and a mixture of pain and arousal zings through me.

  Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. It’s getting impossible to ignore the way my body reacts to hers. My mind and my body aren’t even in the same universe right now.

  There’s this intense push and pull going on between us. I know I can’t have her like this, sexually. I would never push her like that, and I don’t expect anything from her. But fuck, I can’t deny that I want her. Not having had sex in over a week doesn’t help at all. Which makes me think about what she said earlier.

  I don’t know why her comment made me so mad. I guess I didn’t want her to think I was going to pick some chick like Sarah over her for sex. I don’t ever want her to feel less or broken because obviously she doesn’t want to get physical.

  I mean, I like sex, more than like, but I l
ike Emerson more. I never thought I would say this, but I’m willing to sacrifice my sex life for her.

  I don’t go back to sleep, too many thoughts swirling around in my mind. Can I really do this, can I force my body to stop wanting her physically so I can have her in my life? Or am I in over my head?

  By the time she starts to stir, the sun is already peeking up over the horizon, filling the room with rays of red sunlight. Emerson is sprawled out on my chest, her cheek pressed against my skin, as I absentmindedly rub my hand over her lower back.

  Without looking at her face, I know the exact moment she’s fully awake. Her body going stiff before she slowly starts to lift her head. I look down at her face, expecting her to have a small panic attack, preparing for it but instead I find her looking more embarrassed than anything else. Her cheeks tinted pink, her lashes fluttering against them innocently. She looks like a goddamn angel.

  “You had a nightmare,” I tell her even though I’m sure she already knows.

  “Thank you… for staying with me,” she whispers. I’m about to tell her that she doesn’t need to thank me for anything when she suddenly pushes up and presses her lips to mine. I freeze, partly because I’m shocked and partly because I’m scared to move.

  It feels like we are suspended in time, her warm lips against mine, her intoxicating scent assaulting my senses. Like two pieces of ice floating across frigid waters, we clash together. For a moment we are both completely still, only my heart is beating furiously in my chest as if I’m running a marathon. Then Emerson moves her lips slightly against mine, igniting something deep inside of me.

  My brain shuts down and my primal instincts take over. Take. Kiss. Fuck. I pull her body close to mine, loving how she melts into my embrace, so warm and so fucking soft. Her sweet floral scent, the way she feels, the cherry taste of her lips on mine. It consumes me… everything about her consumes me.

  For a few fleeting moments, it feels like I’m in heaven, ascended to some higher form of being. Nothing else besides her matters anymore. Right now, the world could stop spinning and I wouldn’t notice.

  My arms tighten around her. I’m crazed...I can’t get her close enough. I want more… need more. She’s already half lying on top of me, but it’s not enough. With my arms wrapped tightly around her and my lips pressed against hers, I roll us, slanting my hardness against all her softness.

  As soon as we are in this position, I realize that I’ve made a horrible mistake and then she realizes it too.

  She pulls away, her whole body recoiling from me. She turns her head, breaking the kiss with a whimper and places her hands on my chest, pushing me away with all her strength.

  “Shit, I’m sorry.” I get off of her in one swift move stumbling over my feet. I feel sick to my stomach watching her helplessly as she curls in on herself, drawing her knees to her chest.

  Seeing her like this breaks my fucking heart, shatters it into a million pieces. All I want is to help her, not to make her feel worse. I’ve ruined everything… thinking with my cock.

  “Em, I’m sorry… I…”

  “No, it’s my fault, I-I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her voice is weak, and there’s a vacant look in her eyes.

  “I don’t think either one of us was thinking,” I whisper. God knows I wasn’t thinking. Not like I should’ve been.

  We were only acting on impulse, turning everything off with some imaginary switch. When Emerson doesn’t react to my words, her body starting to tremble, I take a step toward her.

  “Tell me how to make it better. Do you want me to hold your hand? Or leave?” I grip at my hair in frustration, how could I have been so dumb, so careless.

  She’s terrified of me now...and I wouldn’t be surprised if she told me to leave.

  “I don’t know.” Her reply is a kick in the nuts and I’m not sure what the right thing to do is here. What I do know is that I can’t bear to just leave her like this. Kneeling down next to the bed I reach for her hand, interlacing hers in mine, cocooning them gently, wishing I could do the same with my arms.

  Vile anger churns in my stomach, whoever did this to her… My jaw tightens, and I have to force myself to let the thought go.

  “I’m sorry, Em. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m stupid, so damn stupid.” I press a fist to the side of my head, willing my brain to override my physical need for her. It shouldn’t be hard, but it is, it’s so hard. Her big blue eyes peer into mine, and shame coats my insides. I’ll do better, try harder, for her, all for her.

  Then she starts to pull away from me, the loss of her touch is immediate.

  “I’m going to get ready for class,” she says as she gets up from the bed. Helplessly, I watch her walk into her bathroom, finally noticing the oversized flannel PJs she’s wearing.

  The door closes, and the lock clicks into place, ending the conversation. Fuck. I want to punch something, mainly myself for being so selfish, for acting without thought. With no idea on how to make this right, I retreat into my bedroom. I’ve failed her, just like I failed my mom. Sagging down onto the bed, I tell myself this can never happen again.

  If I’m going to protect Emerson, care for her, and make sure she’s safe then I’ll have to protect her from everyone, including myself.

  * * *

  Breakfast is painfully quiet, and I keep my face all but buried in a bowl of cereal I made. Neither of us looks at each other on the ten-minute drive to campus and I can feel the tension in every muscle of my body.

  As I’m parking, I can feel Emerson’s eyes on me. Do I look at her? Ask her if she’s okay? I fucked up so bad this morning, and all I want to do is find a solution to fix it.

  “You don’t have to walk me to class.” Emerson’s soft voice wraps around me. I try to hide the fact that I’m a little sad that she doesn’t want me to walk her to class but swallow it down. What she wants, and what she’s going to get are two very different things. I don’t care what happened this morning I’m going to make sure she gets to where she’s going in one piece.

  “I do, and I will. I fucked up this morning, and I’m going to find a way to make it better starting now.” I exit the car, slinging my backpack over my shoulder before helping her out of the passenger seat. Peering down at her, I stare at the dusting of freckles along her nose. I want to kiss each one, to make a promise to her with each one.

  She looks nervous, her perfectly straight teeth nibbling on her bottom lip, a lip I tasted this morning. Cherries. Sweet. Tart. Cherries. That’s what she tastes like. Licking my lips, I force the thought away, refusing to think about the moment that forced me to have to start all over again. I need to be stronger.

  “Don’t be nervous,” I tell her with a smile as we walk in the direction of the biology building.

  “That’s easier said than done,” she mumbles, her eyes trained on the sidewalk. When we reach the building, I grab onto the strap of my backpack in an effort to stop myself from reaching out for her, from hugging her, from touching her.

  “I’ll see you after class, okay?” I say, gathering a few lingering glances.

  “Yeah,” Emerson says, walking away from me, her head still hanging low. I feel like a parent sending their kid off to school for the first time, my stomach filled with bricks of anxiety. Once I see her enter the double doors, I make my way to my own classroom that happens to be in the building next to hers.

  Thank fuck. I’m glad my class isn’t across campus from hers.

  Walking into the classroom and up the steps, I take my usual spot in the back of the room. Unzipping my bag, I pull out my book, a notebook, and a pen. Not even two minutes later, Vance walks in, slamming down into the seat next to me.

  “You gonna explain the rest to me now?” is the first thing out of his mouth.

  “Good morning to you too,” I snap back.

  “Yeah, yeah… morning, sunshine. Now tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  My molars clash together. “It’s complicated.”

  “You alrea
dy said that. Now tell me why you’re pretending to be her boyfriend? Is your dad forcing you to do this? Is she paying you? You aren’t in love, are you?”

  Fuck, he’s not going to let this go. I should have known Vance wouldn’t. I could have saved myself the little runaround speech I was going to give him at my house.

  Feeling Vance’s eyes on me, impatience bleeding out of them I sigh, slouching down in my chair.

  “The only thing my dad has to do with this is that he scared Emerson and that’s why I got the condo for us. It’s not that big of a deal, really. I planned on moving out anyway. She was uncomfortable living with my dad, hell she is uncomfortable around everybody if you haven’t noticed. So that just pushed me to make the move sooner.”

  Vance’s green eyes narrow. “She looked really nervous when we were there, like she has something to hide.”

  I almost laugh, if only he knew. Vance is a good judge of character usually, but after the incident with Ava and him losing his damn mind over their brutal past, he seems to think everyone is lying in some way, shape, or form.

  “She’s always nervous, and she does have things she is hiding, everyone does, but it’s not what you think.” I’m hovering between wanting to tell him what’s wrong with her without telling him anything private. I don’t want her to think I’m some asshole that goes around telling people about her personal life.

  Vance stares at me, his gaze boring into mine as he waits for me to finish.

  “She had a rough start to life, okay? It left her with panic attacks and some other crap to deal with. She doesn’t do well around people, social anxiety or some shit like that, but for some fucking reason, she does well around me… most of the time, anyway. When I’m not fucking it up. I don’t know what happened to her, and I’m sure she’s not going to tell me but either way, it fucked her up. I’m just trying to be a decent friend, trying to protect her however I can.”