Текст книги "Come to Me Quietly"
Автор книги: A. L. Jackson
Соавторы: A. L. Jackson
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
I stood and drained my beer. “I’m going to grab a smoke.”
I was hit by a wall of stifling night air when I escaped outside through the sliding glass door. I closed my eyes and sank to the balcony floor, resting my back against the wall. The concrete floor was still hot as I pulled my bare feet up and bent my knees. I dipped my head to the side to light a cigarette. I drew it in, felt it expand in my lungs, welcomed the mild calm it pulsed through my agitated veins. I rushed my free hand through my hair.
Careless.
Coming back here. Staying here. All of it.
Taking another drag, I looked up as the sliding glass door slowly opened. Aly’s silhouette emerged in the darkness, her movements somehow softer than they’d been inside.
Just to the side and across from me, she slid down onto the floor. Slowly her face came into focus. She drew one leg to her chest, exposing the skin on the underside of her thigh. She tilted her head to the side, and the length of her black hair fell down around one shoulder, all soft and innocent and a little bit infuriating. This girl was either the biggest tease I’d ever met or was completely oblivious of how perfect she was.
For a while we said nothing, just listened to the sounds of the night, and allowed a distinct pressure to build up around us. I rested my forearms on my knees and let my hands dangle down between them. I wasn’t looking at her, but I could feel her looking at me. With the intensity of it, I thought she might as well go ahead and climb inside my head, because she was definitely getting under my skin.
My nerves flared in a way I didn’t quite understand. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so comfortably uncomfortable, like I wanted to bolt and sink into it all at once. Maybe I was finally slipping over the edge of sanity. God knew I’d been heading there for a long time.
I rocked my head back and lifted my face to the starry night sky as I brought the cigarette to my mouth again. I held it in for a long moment and then slowly blew it into the air. Smoke curled over my head, these wisps of nothingness that I studied as they slowly evaporated.
Finally she spoke. “Are you okay?”
Confusion rumbled through me and I let out a slow sound of exasperation. “I don’t know what I am, Aly. Being here is just… I don’t know… It’s hard.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Studying me, she frowned. “I mean, why did you come back?”
I shrugged as if it made no difference in the world. “I don’t really know.” And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to talk to her about it, even if I did.
Her voice came low, earnest and sincere. “I know you probably think of me as the little girl you used to know, but you can talk to me, Jared.”
My attention dropped to her thigh, rested there for a beat too long. She believed I still thought of her as that little girl, huh? Incredulous laughter slipped out. I took another drag as I shook my head. I chewed at my lip as my eyes found her face. “That’s not how I think of you, Aly.” Not even close.
In the dimness I watched as her green eyes softened, filled with something that appeared too much like affection.
I looked down, away, stubbed out the cigarette.
“You can trust me,” she whispered.
I let my eyes fall closed as I loosely wove my fingers together. I said nothing because I was pretty sure I could trust her. It was me who couldn’t be trusted.
We settled back into the silence, and again I took comfort in the distinct discomfort. I thought maybe she took some, too.
There was something about the summer air in Phoenix. Even though it was hot at night, it was almost refreshing. How many times had we been out in it, playing hide-and-seek in the dark? How much had we laughed?
I’d been comfortable then.
In the far distance, at the lowest point on the horizon, a flicker of lightning edged the sky, this faint warning that the monsoon approached. The storms always seemed to loom in the distance before they engulfed the city, teasing us with the promise of a reprieve. On the few days it did actually rain, it was like a torrent of relief pounding heavily into the ground. The thick scent of rain would rise as it met the dry dirt and hot pavement as the heavens opened up and washed the world anew.
I hadn’t allowed myself to miss many things while I was away, but this… this was one of them.
I had to admit now that I’d missed Christopher, too.
And I’d missed her.
I stood and dusted off my pants, reaching a hand down to her. “Come on, Aly.”
She didn’t hesitate to accept my hand. Her shy smile told me everything. She liked touching me every bit as much as I liked touching her.
Fuck.
This was so very bad.
My muscles flexed along my arm as I pulled her to standing, and her feet came to hold her weight, although for a few seconds I didn’t let go. Finally I forced a casual smile and dropped her hand. Pretending to be the gentleman my mom had always hoped I would be, I slid the door open for her. “After you, Aly Cat.” Of course, I couldn’t keep out a little tease.
She slugged me on the arm as she passed. “See? You are a jerk.”
The next night I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Aly, who was curled up on her side. Those long legs were bent, her knees tucked up close to her chest with her head propped on a pillow that she’d taken three minutes to situate on the armrest. The lights were off, and the television flickered in front of us.
Aly’d gotten off work about an hour before. She’d walked through the door looking exhausted, which she’d confirmed when she dropped the huge-ass bag she always carried on the floor with an exaggerated sigh and followed it up with “I’m exhausted.”
Apparently I was perceptive.
Probably too perceptive because I couldn’t help watching her now. My side was pressed up against the opposite armrest, as far as it would go, while my eyes were constantly drawn toward her. She was relaxed, and looked engrossed in the TV show, although she was probably close to slipping into sleep. She kept shifting her legs, burrowing deeper into the couch, sinking farther into comfort.
How messed up was it that I really wanted to burrow into her comfort, too?
I shook my head and forced myself to look back at the TV.
About half an hour later, the door opened behind us, and I could hear mumbled voices right outside the door. It was easy to make out Christopher when he whispered, “It’s fine. You can come in.”
Christopher slipped in the door, leading this dark brunette toward the hall by the hand. Her eyes widened as she stole a glance in our direction; then she ducked her head and studied the floor. Christopher didn’t even bother with introductions.
In the last week, the guy’d had more girls in this apartment than I could count, and he kicked them out just as fast as he dragged them in. I mean, I had a pretty bad record, or a pretty good one, depending on how you looked at it. But there was something about this that was different. Something that made me feel sympathy for the girls. For him, it seemed a game, kind of like the poker he’d slung last night. Deceitful.
When Christopher’s door snapped closed, Aly lifted her head to look at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I lifted an eyebrow her direction. “Dude is kind of a slut, isn’t he?”
She quieted a dubious laugh. “Tell me about it. I had no idea I was going to have to deal with this every night when I first moved in here.”
I had the urge to ask her about it, to find out if she was worried and if Christopher was happy or what the fuck his problem was. Instead I kept my mouth shut, figured I was hardly in a position to judge Christopher’s behavior.
The movie played on, but it did nothing to drown out the giggles emanating from Christopher’s room. I turned up the volume, but still they were distinct, probably because as much as we didn’t want to, Aly and I couldn’t stop straining to listen.
Finally Aly blew a frustrated breath toward the ceiling. “Do you want to watch the rest of this in my room? It’s always quieter in there.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Aly clicked off the TV, hugged her pillow against her chest, and headed into her room. She left the door open behind her, a clear invitation.
I stepped inside. As curious as I’d been, I’d never been in here before. It was dark, though moonlight bled in from her opened blinds. A fairly large bed was pushed into the corner of one wall below the window, and directly across the room, a smaller TV sat on top of a horizontal six-drawer dresser. A large mirror and dressing table with a regular kitchen chair were set up to the right of it. Filling the space between her bed and closet was a tall bookcase. Spines and spines of books were lined up. A row of large, unmarked books filled up the bottom shelf, reminding me a lot of the journal I had tucked in my bag back out in the other room.
I resisted a smile. These had to be Aly’s sketch pads.
The bed was framed in mahogany wood, the base and carved headboard one large piece. It was unmade, the maroon comforter bunched and twisted with black sheets. Nothing really seemed to match all that well, but it all flowed, this eclectic feel of peacefulness coming over me the moment my feet sank into the soft cushion of her carpet.
Aly gestured toward her bed. “Feel free.”
I eyed it. I knew a trap when I saw one. Not one Aly had set, but one that my fingers would fall into. Lying next to her would be a very bad idea.
I dropped to the comfort of the carpeted floor. “I’m good on the floor. I need to stretch out a bit.”
“Suit yourself.”
She hopped onto her bed and turned the movie back on, the flick popping back to life in the same place we’d abandoned it. Luckily the shit going down in the next room was completely drowned out, and it was just me and Aly and this dumb comedy that really had nothing to offer other than a distraction from the racing that normally happened in my mind.
That and the annoying chime that kept going off on Aly’s cell phone every ten seconds.
The screen would light up, she’d tap out a message, tuck it back at her side, and then the whole thing would repeat again.
“You know that’s really fucking annoying, right?”
She sat up on her elbow, looking down at me in confusion. “What?”
“You having a conversation with someone when you’re supposed to be watching a movie with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am watching a movie with you.” Her phone chimed again. Those green eyes widened, and she laughed.
“And who is so important that you’d rather be talking to them than giving your full attention to me?” I didn’t really understand why I was feeling petulant and moody and a little bit pissed off, but shit… she was the one who’d suggested we watch a movie, saying she just wanted to relax and unwind. She was supposed to be mine for the night.
“Giving you my full attention, huh? I thought we were watching a movie.”
I didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t answer my question. It was a guy. Motherfucker. I couldn’t tell if I was feeling protective or possessive, because I was seeing flashes of both the innocent little girl I’d always taken care of and a gorgeous one lying on her bed. And I had no fucking idea if the one on the bed was innocent or not.
God. I couldn’t even stomach the thought.
But shit, she was twenty years old, and I wasn’t delusional.
It chimed again, and before I realized what I was doing, I flipped over onto my hands and knees. Crawling the few feet across the floor to her bed, I climbed up onto it. I grabbed the stupid white thing she had buried in the covers. The red light flashed its annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing?” She was caught off guard and her voice was shocked and raspy. I’d somehow managed to end up caging her, my legs on both sides of hers, one hand planted on the bed above her shoulder and the other gripping her phone. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide with surprise. I was so close to her I could feel her heart pounding, the beat steady and hard. Something inside me screamed to back away because I knew without a doubt I shouldn’t be near her this way, that I shouldn’t allow my blood to burn, race, thrum as I listened to her heart rate escalate. I shouldn’t like her reaction to me.
But I did.
“Who is it?” I demanded.
“It’s just Gabe.”
“And who the fuck is Gabe?”
She seemed to shake herself out of whatever stupor she’d been in, and she emitted a disbelieving snort. “What are you, twelve, Jared? Come on. And who the fuck are you to ask?” she challenged as she plucked her phone from my hand.
I wanted to tell her to watch her mouth and kiss it all at the same time. “Your friend, remember? And friends don’t let friends text dickheads.” Or date them.
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
Her breasts jostled as she laughed, and I was sure she meant the sweet little sound to be intimidating and defiant. She pushed up to sitting, squaring her shoulders.
God, I really did want to kiss her.
“And just what makes you think Gabe is a dick? You don’t know anything about him.”
I inclined my head toward the clock beside her bed that indicated the time was way past appropriate. “Then what does he want?”
“He asked me to come over and hang out with him.”
“At one in the morning? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. What does Christopher think about this guy?”
“Oh, please. Christopher? Really? And if you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a little girl anymore.”
Yeah, I fucking noticed.
“Well, I don’t like it.” Obviously her brother wasn’t watching out for her. He never had. That was always my job.
“You don’t like it, huh?”
“Nope.” My eyes flitted over her face, searching for something. What, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t own her. I didn’t really even know her. But I wanted to.
She blinked a few times, shaking her head as she tilted a small smile up at me. “You’re kind of ridiculous, Jared. And I wasn’t planning on going. I was telling him I was busy.”
Relief tugged at my chest while I reached out and again tugged at a strand of her hair, like it was a little connection between us, something tethering us together. This time I wound it through my fingers, watching her face as I did.
Suddenly everything felt thick and slow, like honey – my mouth, her eyes, the tension that suddenly filled the air. For a minute, I wanted to pretend that nothing had ever happened, that the years had passed and I was still good and that maybe Aly would see me that way. Pretend that maybe I’d be worth taking a chance on. Right then, pretending seemed like a pretty good place to be.
I watched the lump in her throat as she swallowed. “Why don’t we finish the movie?” she whispered.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
Against my better judgment, which apparently was lacking in every capacity tonight, I settled down beside her on the bed.
She rolled to her side, tucked her pillow under her head, and angled herself so she could see the TV. I lay behind her, my head propped in my hand. I did my best at trying to pay attention to what was happening on the television. Instead all my focus was directed at her.
“So I guess I probably need to know who this Gabe is?” I finally asked because somehow I knew not knowing would eat me alive.
I sensed her shrug, and heard a soft breath of air pass through her mouth on a sigh. “I don’t know, Jared. We’ve kind of been seeing each other for the last couple months. I like him okay, I guess.”
My jaw clenched. This time there was no doubt it was jealousy.
I said nothing, turned my attention back to the TV. For the first time since I’d returned, I truly regretted the decision to come. It was easier not knowing what I’d been missing.
Something inside me twisted. The soft spot I’d always held for her now felt raw. I hated her I guess, hated she would even for a second settle for less than what would truly give her joy. I hadn’t been back all that long, but I already knew she deserved joy. And here I was, the sick fuck who wished I was good enough to give it to her.
Internally I scoffed.
I could wish all I wanted, but it’d never change who I was.
It only took about fifteen minutes for Aly to fall asleep. Her soft breaths evened out. She stirred and rolled to her back. One arm found its way up to drape over her head, her body bowed as she stretched her long legs out, one tweaked to the side.
I knew I should go and find my spot on the couch where I belonged.
But for a moment, I took. Took in her peace. Took in her beauty.
When I couldn’t stand lying beside her any longer, I climbed to the end of her bed, flipped off her TV, and slipped out her door.
Tonight, I refused to sleep. I couldn’t go there. Just for one fucking night, I didn’t want to see. I dug through my bag and pulled out my journal, sat on the couch in the dead silence. I wrote about things I didn’t know but wished I could have.
TEN
Aleena
The next night, moonlight soaked into my otherwise darkened room. Tonight the moon was high, bright, full. I’d gotten home from work to an empty apartment. There was something about a quiet night like this that fueled my imagination and gave me inspiration, even though the product on my page reflected nothing that shone in the sky. My hand swished in quick strokes. The paper felt thick under my skin. I wet my bottom lip, chewed at it a little, then lifted my face to look out my bedroom window again. I didn’t have the best view in the world, just a portion of the parking lot below that was lit by streetlamps, although at least they were dim enough that I could still see a whisper of clouds stretched thin across the sky. I contemplated the sight for a bit, before I turned my consideration back to the sketch pad I had balanced on my lap.
I still didn’t know what to make of it, what to make of him. The last week had left my head swimming. It was like Jared and I were in this constant tug-of-war that neither of us knew how to play, pushing and pulling, attracting and repelling.
Reading him seemed impossible. Sometimes I thought I saw it – him looking at me the way I looked at him – like maybe he wanted to touch me, to experience what I’d feel like under his skin. Because God, there was no way to describe how much I wanted to feel him under mine.
But every time I thought we were making progress, he’d grow cold.
I frowned as I tilted the pad. Realization set in as I shaded in the lines that constantly tugged at the edge of his perfect mouth.
No. It wasn’t coldness in his expression.
It was fear.
At the faint tapping at my door, my head snapped up. The shift in my heart rate was immediate. Blood pumped hard, forcing the acceleration of my pulse.
Steadying my voice, I called softly, “Come in.”
Slowly, the doorknob turned, and the door cracked open a fraction. The face I couldn’t get off my mind peeked through, a halo of light from the hall silhouetting him. The apprehension that had pounded my pulse two seconds before was set at ease with just the hint of his presence.
“Hey,” Jared murmured, blinking as he seemed to adjust to the dim light.
“Hi. What are you up to?” I shifted so I could see him better.
His eyes narrowed as if trying to make out the scene playing out in my room, his attention zeroing in on me sitting cross-legged on my bed with the large sketch pad in my lap.
He dropped his head to the side, and I could see the flicker of a smile twisting at one corner of his lips, this hint of uncertainty holding him back. “I couldn’t sleep… and… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were still awake.”
Flipping my sketch pad closed, I set it aside, cocking my head at him. “And what if I wasn’t? You were just going to wake me up? It is after midnight, you know.”
It was all tease. As if his interruption could ever be one I didn’t welcome. By now that had to be obvious.
I wanted him here.
A self-conscious chuckle rumbled in his throat, and he covered his mouth with his palm, dragging it over the length of his jaw and down his chin. When he dropped his hand, a less than remorseful grin had emerged on his face, and even in the muted light, I could see the mischief in his eyes. “So maybe I was passing down the hall and just happened to hear a little rustling in your room when I put my ear to your door.”
“Really?” I said with all the offended disbelief I could project into my voice. “You were listening at my door?”
He slipped inside and silently shut the door behind him. “What? I’m fucking bored,” he said just over his breath, completely shameless. “Sue me.”
I shook my head. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Jared Holt,” I whispered so he could barely hear. My brow lifted as I sucked in my bottom lip, raking my teeth on it before I set it free, feigned disappointment in the tsk of my tongue. “In some circles, that admission might earn you a reputation.”
He laughed as he started across my room. I didn’t miss the hardness in the sound. “I already have a reputation, Aly.”
My gaze locked on him as he moved toward me. I didn’t even attempt to force myself to look away as he crossed the room.
Any attempt would be in vain.
He’d showered, and his blond hair had darkened to a near brown and was pushed back from his face. Sleep pants sat low on his waist, the strength of his chest covered by a tight black V-neck tee. His story peeked above its neckline, the vestige of a distorted rose rising up at the center of his chest. Under his shirt I knew that rose was in full bloom, the red petals beginning to fall like wilted teardrops. Green and blue tendrils of smoke and vines stretched out in a twisted bough around it, crawling along the exposed portion of his collarbones. My gaze traced the ink down his arms to hands that were fisted as he advanced toward me.
My stomach tightened.
God, part of me wished he weren’t so beautiful. Maybe then I’d have a chance to look away, to guard my heart, to save myself from the need he had built up in me. But with every step he took, it only increased.
I still couldn’t make sense of what had happened last night while I was texting Gabe. Jared’s reaction had come at me so quickly it’d left me blindsided and in a bumbling stupor that had taken a few seconds to pass. I couldn’t tell if he was playing the asshole overprotective brother or the asshole possessive boyfriend.
Either way, it’d been an asshole move.
But just as quickly as his outburst had come, he’d softened, and I had felt a sadness saturate him, so strong it was tangible. It had wrapped us tight, thickening the air. Nothing had ever been harder than that moment when I’d forced myself to lie still and pretend I was interested in the movie when all I wanted to do was roll over so I could see his face, to find something written there that might help me understand what he was feeling. My palms had burned with the need to be pressed to his chest or maybe to his face, and my body had itched to see if maybe he’d hold me the way I longed for him to.
Most of all, I had wanted to tell him. So bad it hurt.
But instead I’d forced myself to pretend to be asleep.
Now I scooted farther back against the headboard to make room for him.
He sat down on the edge of my bed.
“So you couldn’t sleep?” I asked.
Those bare feet were flat on my carpet, his forearms resting on his knees. He cocked his head up, this pensive twist to his full lips as he drew his eyes into tight slits, studying me. I got the distinct feeling a decision was being made. Finally he spoke, honesty laced in his words. “No, I can sleep, Aly. I’d just rather not.”
As simple as it was, somehow I knew he was sharing a sliver of the secrets he kept. This was Jared’s way of opening up to me.
I brought my sketch pad back to my lap as some sort of security blanket, and tucked my knees up higher to my chest so I could open it to my last drawing and still keep it hidden. Keeping my eyes on the page, I took a chance. “Why?”
My attention flicked to his face, shot back to the pad just as fast. Instinctively my hands went to work, and the sound of my soft strokes covered the mild discomfort between us.
Jared sighed, shifted, threaded his fingers together between his knees. He stared at the floor. “Because when I close my eyes, I see things I don’t want to see.” Low, humorless laughter escaped his mouth. “They are always there, Aly, but when I close my eyes” – he released a ragged breath – “the images I see are, like… vivid.” He frowned deeply, as if shielding himself from them now. “Real. So fucking real… like it’s happening right then and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
My spirit thrashed as if I was somehow sharing in his pain. I swallowed, refusing to allow myself to speak because I knew right then what Jared really needed was someone to listen.
Lifting his chin in my direction, Jared seemed to contemplate my pencil, his head gently bobbing as if absorbing the movement of the strokes of my hand. I licked my lips and carried on as if I weren’t nailed to the bed by his penetrating gaze.
“I bet what I see is just as real to me as whatever the pictures you keep hidden in the pages of those books are to you.”
Shock stilled my hand, and my eyes snapped up to him.
Pain wrapped around his features and deepened the lines that seemed to be permanently etched between his eyebrows. I was caught in it, and couldn’t look away.
My voice was soft. “I draw and you wish you could erase.”
His lids dropped closed, stayed that way for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching, before he opened them to me. “You create and I destroy.”
I slowly shook my head, my words hoarse. “That’s not what I meant.”
Sighing, he turned his attention back to his feet. “It doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.”
Silence settled over us for a few minutes, and I could feel the shift, the way he’d tucked our words somewhere inside himself, as if maybe I’d earned a token of his trust.
Then he looked at me with an amused smile, gesturing to my sketch pad with his chin. “Can I see?”
Shaking my head, I buried a smile by biting my lip. “You should know better than that, Jared.”
A throaty chuckle filled my room, and he lay back on my bed. My toes were pressed into the covers just at his side. And I loved it, loved that he wanted to be here with me, loved that what I saw in him was kind.
Even if he couldn’t see it himself.
He wove his fingers together and rested them on his chest, the incongruous numbers tattooed across his knuckles meshed. He sat very still, and seemed to drift away in his thoughts.
I kept my attention on my page, until I felt the gravity of his stare burning into my forehead, like I could sense a pull. Drawn to him. I always had been.
When I turned to him, the grin on his face was something I almost didn’t recognize because it’d been so long since I’d seen it. But I had, so many times before. I’d witnessed it in the carefree boy who had meant everything to me.
His blue eyes danced as they flitted from my sketch pad to my face. “It used to drive me fucking crazy that you wouldn’t let me see what you kept hidden inside those books.”
I gasped when he suddenly moved. He twisted onto his knees in almost a crouch, his chin tucked and his gaze peeking at me from just above the top margin of my book. Predatory. As if at any second he was going to pounce and wrestle it from me. My breath caught. Tingles sped under the surface of my skin, and he hadn’t even touched me.
My hands tightened around the edges of my sketch pad like a vise.
“And you know what, Aly?” His eyes darted everywhere, absorbing, taking in the lines of my face, my mouth, my hands, the pad I clutched to my chest, before they fixed firmly on my own. “It still drives me fucking crazy.”
Strength bunched in the muscles rippling along his shoulders, but in his movements there was this playfulness, so much like I remembered. An echo of our childhood sounded in my ear, the way he’d pestered and begged me to let him see, but never forced me into anything I didn’t want to do.
At that time it was because I was embarrassed and afraid he might make fun of me. I didn’t want him to see the inexperience in my drawings. Now it was because it’d be like slicing my heart open and exposing everything I wasn’t ready for him to see.
It’d scare him as much as it scared me.
Shock stunned me when he abruptly grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me down, forcing me flat on the bed. The sketch pad slid off my lap, facedown on the sheets.
Suddenly I was staring up at Jared’s gorgeous face as he hovered over me. He straddled my waist, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel the blood coursing through my veins and pounding in my ears.
His nose was an inch from mine, his hands resting on both sides of my head, but he was everywhere – everywhere – sinking into my consciousness and my spirit.
Then he smirked, all cute and smug, and my eyes went wide when the realization hit me. “Oh my God, Jared Holt, don’t you even think about it. Don’t you dare,” I begged in a whisper, my voice strained with need and a little bit of old childhood fear.
He knew exactly how to get me.
“What?” he asked with feigned innocence, before his fingers began to tap at the center of my chest on my breastbone with his index fingers. His legs cinched around my sides to keep my arms pinned to the bed. This had been Christopher and Jared’s favorite form of torture.
I bucked up, trying to throw him from my body, or maybe I was trying to bring him closer; I couldn’t tell. “Jared… stop… Oh my God, you’re such an ass.”
I made an attempt at flailing my arms. His thighs held them down. Held me down.
Oh my God.
He laughed, quiet and low. “You’ve tortured me for years. Don’t you think it’s only fair I pay you back a little?”
The taps came harder, faster, his touch no longer that of a boy’s fingers, but now heavy and strong. But somehow it felt the same.
How intensely had I missed this?
The push and pull. The tease and the taunt.
I’d missed my friend.
Furiously, I squirmed. Tears gathered, streaking down the sides of my face, and dripping into my hair before I knew it. A low whine rose from deep within my throat and mixed with the quiet laughter I couldn’t hold back.
A hushed chuckle tumbled from Jared’s mouth, so thick it was almost a pant, his expression so soft, like just maybe he was seeing the exact same thing as I was.
And I could feel this change in the air. As if every cell in his body shifted, Jared slowed, then stilled. Mesmerized, I watched as his tongue flicked out to wet his full lips. I was hyperaware of every inch of his body that touched mine, the fire that lit under my skin, how our chests rose and fell in sync. He raised a cautious hand, his attention pitching between my eyes and his intent. A dense hesitation weighted his movements before he seemed to give in and gently ran the back of his fingers along the trail of tears that had slipped down my temple.
