by Beck, J. L.
“Tell me the real reason you didn’t like her kissing me.” She wants me and that confession, that admission though not complete outright, makes it feel like a firework is going off in my chest.
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I want, because it can never happen, not now, not tomorrow, not ever. A dream is all it will ever be.”
“Why? Why do you think that?”
“I’m broken, Clark,” she whispers softly. She lifts her hand, placing it against my chest, right over my thundering heartbeat. “You can’t fix me, there is no cure. I’ll be like this forever.”
Anger whips through me, she thinks so down about herself, that no one will want her because of her past, but she’s wrong, so very wrong, because I want her… I want her bad.
“You’re not broken, Em, you might be hurt, torn, bleeding, shattered into a million pieces but you’re not broken, because you can heal… you will heal and then you will be whole again. They might have plucked your petals, but you’ll bloom again, and when you do, you’ll be the biggest, brightest, most pretty flower ever.”
“I don’t know how to be whole again.” I’ll be forever rotten.
“We’ll figure it out, together. Always together Em, you and me.” My hand trembles and I want to touch her, to trace the lines of her face, to feel her soft skin beneath my fingertips.
“Why, why…didn’t you want to kiss her?” Emerson asks shyly.
“Because there is someone better, prettier, that I want to kiss.” Only then as I’m speaking does she look up at me. Her gaze locks on mine and this weird feeling washes over me. Like I can see right into her soul and she can see right back into mine. I’ve never felt this way before, not with anyone. “I wanted to kiss you… I want to kiss you now, if you’ll let me?”
It takes her about two seconds to answer, but it feels like we’re suspended for a lifetime in waiting. Her pink lips part and her mouth opens, the long awaited answer is music to my ears.
“Okay.” The word passes her lips with a breathlessness that I can feel in my own chest.
Every fiber of my being tells me to grab her and crush my lips to hers, pulling her body against mine and never let her go, but I know I can’t. I have to be gentle with her. Go at her pace, as slow as I can, even if it’s going to kill me. She’s fragile like glass and I won’t break her any more. No, I’ll be the one that finds all her broken pieces and pieces her back together again.
Ever so slowly, I close the distance between us, tilting my head and slanting my lips against hers. At first touch, she gasps, my lips barely grazing hers, the kiss as soft as a feather. The air around us becomes heated, sizzling, and zinging, and when I feel her hands on my chest, her tiny nails digging into the fabric of my shirt, I can’t deny myself.
Cupping her cheek with one hand, I deepen the kiss, and this is the kiss we should’ve had, not the one that we had this morning, but this one, where it feels like thunder and lightning are colliding. She consumes me, and I breathe her, inhaling her essence, needing more of her. I can feel my restraint wearing, my need for her amplifying by ten with every press of my lips against hers. Forcing myself to pull away before I do something I shouldn’t, I rest my forehead against her’s. We’re both panting, our breaths mingling between us.
“I… I think we should go to bed. I don’t want to scare you, but I’m no saint, Em, and I want you right now.”
“Okay,” she pants, her cheeks red, her pink lips swollen. I don’t want to let her go, but I have to. I fucking have to.
“Thank you, for the kiss though. It’s the best one I’ve ever gotten.”
I give her a head nod, words refusing to pass my lips. She slips out from underneath my braced arm and walks away slowly. When I hear the sound of her door clicking open and then closed, I press my clammy forehead to the wall.
Fuck. I think I’m in love.
58
Emerson
It’s been almost a week since that kiss, the most epic of all kisses, and sometimes I can still feel his lips on mine. I wanted him to keep kissing me that night, but part of me knew that it wouldn’t end at just a kiss if we didn’t stop. Hell, Clark even admitted that he wouldn’t be able to stop. And that’s the reason why it can’t happen again, no matter how good and how right it felt.
I can’t do this to Clark. I can’t bind him to me, never being able to give him what he wants and needs. He’s a man, and eventually, he’ll want the one thing that I can’t give him, and that’ll be our demise. I’d much rather have him as a friend than have him as nothing at all. Now that I have him, I can’t lose him, no matter what.
I’m curled up in bed with a book when a knocking against the wooden door drags me from the pages. “Come in,” I call out a moment before the door opens and Clark appears in the doorway. I don’t know why I was expecting it to be someone else. We’re the only two that live here.
“Hey you, Ava and Vance want us to go to a party with them over at one of the frat houses. Ava said she told you about it earlier in the week?”
A boulder of anxiety fills my chest. Great.
“I don’t know… I really don’t want to go,” I mumble, closing the book.
Clark steps into the room, and the air heats. He crosses the space separating us, coming to sit on the edge of the mattress. My heart rate increases at his nearness, and my stomach erupts with butterflies. Placing his hand near my thigh but not on it, he asks with a tone as soft as cashmere, “What are you scared of, Em?”
After our kiss things changed, I changed. I don’t understand how or why but I feel closer to Clark, like I can tell him anything and he’ll still be here. Like nothing I say will change his thinking of me. I’ve never experienced that before, and least of all with the opposite sex.
“I’m scared of people looking at me, talking to me or about me. I’m scared of people touching or just getting too close to me. I’m scared of getting hurt or having a panic attack. All the eyes that will be on me. Do you want me to keep listing things off or is that enough?”
“No, I want you to tell me how you’re going to live your life and be happy if you don’t face your fears, if you don’t shatter the glass ceiling holding you back?” I drop my gaze to my lap. I know he is right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Emerson, I know you are scared, and you have every right to be, but one day you will have to overcome your fears. I won’t let anyone hurt you, not ever, but I also won’t let you hide inside this house for the rest of your life.”
He’s right, he’s so right, and I have to at least try. The entire reason I decided to go to college was to let go of my past, to experience something new. I also wanted to escape my father, but that’s only half of it.
He’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore.
I let the words resonate through me, fill me, until they’re all I feel inside me, lifting me up, giving me the courage that I’ll need to go through with this.
Lifting my head, I look up, staring into a pair of eyes that are the color of honey, and ask, “Will you come with me?”
A boyish grin with two dimples magically appears on his face. “You must be insane if you think I’m letting a girl as pretty as you go to a party all alone.”
Somehow he always finds a way to make me feel like I’m more than what I am. He makes me feel special even though I’m nothing compared to other girls, like Holly or Claudia.
Reluctantly I say, “Then I’ll go.” Adding, “Not all night though, and I’m only drinking one drink, and you have to promise me you’ll stay with me all night.”
It’s probably selfish of me to ask such a thing from him, but I’ll only go if he promises to stay alongside me all night. It definitely has nothing to do with all the girls I know will be tossing themselves at him, fighting for his attention.
“You know you don’t have to ask. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
My heart clenches. “I know, and I feel bad. I don’t want to cramp your style or ruin your night.” Doubt starts to
cloud my thoughts. “Maybe I should just stay home, it would probably be best for all…”
With the softest of kisses, Clark shuts me up, my eyes widening at the slight pressure of his mouth against mine, but the biggest shock isn’t the kiss, no, it’s the absence of fear, the crippling fear of being touched that never comes.
A second passes and Clark pulls away, regret filtering into his eyes when he sees the shocked look on my face.
“Fuck, I screwed up again, didn’t I?” That angular jaw of his clenches, tension overtaking his features. He really does look like a Greek god, a beautiful, tense, god.
Shaking my head, I say, “No. It’s not you. It wasn’t the kiss. It was…” Pausing, I stare into Clark’s gaze which softens as I say the next words. “I usually get scared when someone touches me, especially when I don’t see it coming. I thought I was going to freak out, but the fear never came.”
Of course Clark grins. “It’s my charm, it scares your fear away.”
I roll my eyes and bite into my lower lip to stop the smile I know is longing to appear. I cannot allow this guy’s ego to get any bigger than it already is.
“What does it mean? I’m still afraid of touch. I know I am, but I’m not… I’m not afraid of you.” The words roll off my tongue with ease.
“It means you trust me, that you know I will never do anything to hurt you. It means you should be mine.”
I blink, unsure if I just heard him correctly. “Be mine? Like, your girlfriend?”
“Yup, the first, the one, the only,” he answers flirtatiously, though it doesn’t match the heat flickering in his eyes, a heat that tells me he wants to devour me from the inside out. Part of me wants to test Clark’s theory, to see if I can let go of the fear, but another part of me is too consumed with fear, worry that we’ll discover I’m nothing but broken, and I can’t do that to Clark. I can’t vow to be with him, but not be with him. Clark deserves better, more and even if a sliver of me does want him I’m not selfish enough to give in to that want.
“We can’t,” I say, feeling my chest fall into my stomach the moment I speak.
Clark tries to hide his disapproval by getting up and shoving his hands into his pockets, giving me a grin that I’m sure has set many panties before ablaze.
“Your loss, sweetheart.” He wiggles his eyebrows before heading toward the door. “You know where I am if you change your mind,” are his parting words as he walks out of the bedroom, leaving me alone with my bleeding heart.
Whatever this is that I’m feeling, it equates to wanting Clark and if there was ever any one I was going to try something with, it would be him.
The only man’s touch I can withstand...Clark Jefferson’s.
* * *
Later that night after a shower and lots of talking myself off the edge of a mental cliff, Ava and Vance show up. For the first time in a very long time, I force myself into a pair of jeans and a blouse that doesn’t look three times too big. My straight hair falls in soft strands down my back.
Clark’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees me, and I won’t lie, I have to wipe at the side of my mouth a little to make sure I’m not drooling. Goodness gracious, why does he have to look so good? He’s not wearing anything special, a North Woods University Baseball t-shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans that hug his tone legs and butt perfectly. But he’s Clark, and he could wear a trash bag and make it look good.
He offers me his hand, which I take, appreciating his need to make sure I’m okay above anything else. At least I know when everyone else fails to get me, there is one person I can count on. That is if I don’t make a mess of things by letting my feelings get involved.
“You look beautiful.” He leans down and whispers into my ear, his hot breath fanning against my skin, causing shivers to cascade down my spine. I don’t know how he can think of such a thing. I’m not wearing a speck of makeup, my hair isn’t done, and I’m not wearing anything that will show off my body. In fact, I’m dressed to conceal it, only stepping a little out of my comfort zone with jeans and blouse.
“You look beautiful too, but more like a GQ magazine model,” I say back, peeking up at him through my lashes.
“Don’t inflate his ego any more than it already is, Emerson. The fucker might float away if his head gets any bigger,” Vance says boldly. Ava nudges him in the side to get him to shut up, but there’s no point anymore. I’ve come to realize in the short amount of time of knowing him, that Vance doesn’t mince words.
He says how he feels and puts his middle finger up to the rest of the world if they don’t agree, which makes me wonder how he got someone as sweet as Ava.
Ava’s eyes move to me. “Ready to head out?”
I nod my head even though everything inside of me screams no. I would be perfectly fine staying home preferably with Clark, but I don’t say that. Instead, we all walk out together and get into Vance’s car, Clark and I slid into the back seat. Our hands remain joined the entire time which stops me from going into a full-blown panic attack.
As always, he must see my thoughts written all over my face, because he leans in and whispers in my ear, “It’s going to be okay, Em. I’ll be with you all night, right beside you, so far up your ass, you’ll be annoyed with me by the end of the night.”
“You better be,” I whisper back, averting my gaze to anywhere but his face. Every time he acts like this, so sweet, so perfect it hurts, I want to kiss him.
The ride to the party isn’t long and before I even realize it, we are parked in front of some frat house at the edge of campus. A group of people are outside in the front yard smoking cigarettes, laughing, and drinking from red Solo cups.
Don’t think, I tell myself, because the moment I start thinking the moment I’ll try and talk myself out of going inside, and I didn’t come all this way for nothing.
Reluctantly, I force myself from the car, clutching onto Clark’s hand like I’m walking on a tightrope across shark-infested waters. We walk into the house with Vance and Ava leading the way. As soon as we step foot over the threshold, I feel all eyes on me. People are everywhere, looking me up and down, their gaze lingering on my hand in Clark’s. This is bad. Coming here with him was a bad idea. Driven by panic alone, I move even closer to him until my body is pushed up against his side. He doesn’t seem to care though, because he doesn’t pull away, or make an effort to put even an ounce of space between us.
My eyes flicker over the empty liquor bottles and beer cans that seem to litter every surface of the place. I’m sure the house is gorgeous when it’s clean, if it’s ever clean. Doing my best to ignore everyone’s stares, I focus on my steps.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
That’s how many steps it takes for us to enter the kitchen.
Vance grabs four cups off the marble island and starts to fill them with liquid. Clark lets go of my hand but only long enough to wrap his arms around me, pulling me deeper into his side. Snug against him, I feel safe, secure, like no one in this room can touch me.
“I’ve got you. Ignore the lingering looks. People aren’t used to seeing me with someone, but I don’t care what they think. All I care about is you.”
The stupid organ inside my chest starts to beat excessively and I wish he didn’t say things like that. Things that give me hope, that leave me longing for something more.
A moment later, Ava is handing me a cup, a soft smile on her lips, and a twinkle in her eyes. Peering down into the cup, I take note of the contents… it’s a bubbly, cherry-looking drink, and when I sniff it my nose wrinkles, the smell of vodka is pungent. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vance handing Clark a cup, but he shakes his head, his hold on me tightening.
“Don’t be a pussy, Clark, its one drink. It’ll help you mellow out a little.”
“Did I just hear Clark is a pussy?” Some guy walks up to us snickering. There is a beautiful blonde girl on his arm, smiling at me warmly. I don’t think I ever instantly liked someone before, but for some r
eason I do her.
“Rem, what up? Come join me for a drink.” Vance waves him close. “And yes, you heard right… Clark is being a pussy. Won’t even have one drink with us.”
Guilt gnaws at my insides. I don’t want him not to have fun or not drink because of me. I don’t want him to have to change because of me. The reasons why he and I being together will never work keep stacking up, and no longer am I able to ignore them.
“It’s fine, take the drink, Clark,” I urge him, and he stares down at me with indecision in his eyes, a battle taking place in his mind, seconds tick by before he makes a choice and takes the cup from Vance.
“One drink, that’s it.” He directs his words to Vance though his eyes are still on me. “This is Rem and his girl, Jules,” Clark introduces them. “Guys, this is Emerson, my girlfriend.”
“No shit, huh?” Rem sounds surprised, his eyebrows raised.
“Remmy.” Jules nudges Rem in his ribs playfully. “Quit being rude. What he meant was… hi, nice to meet you.” Jules holds out her hand to me and I take it without thought.
“Nice to meet you too.”
My first impression of her is confirmed during the next twenty minutes. Apparently she and Ava are friends and they are nice enough to include me in all their conversations. Clark holds my hand the entire time, making certain everyone sees that we’re together. I’m thankful for the touch, even though I feel comfortable talking with just the girls which is a pretty big step for me.
“You don’t like your drink?” Ava asks. “I can get you something else.”
At her offer, I look down at the plastic cup that I’ve been holding onto since we got here, but have yet to take a sip of. “No, it’s fine. Thank you though.”
Forcing myself out of my comfort zone yet again, I bring the drink to my lips. The cherry colored liquid slushes against them and I flick my tongue out against the rim, gathering a small taste.
Fruity. Bubbly. Surprisingly less vodka tasting than expected. Tipping the cup back I take a bigger drink, my eyes watering from the fizz as the liquid coats my throat and lands in my belly, filling it with warmth.
