Текст книги "Thick Love"
Автор книги: Eden Butler
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
12
Ransom sent me two text messages the night Ironside visited me at the diner; I didn’t answer either of them. It was all becoming too much—being around his family, practicing with him, not really understanding what that kiss meant or why it happened in the first place. With Ironside’s offer, I got that Ransom was drifting. Either that or he was just really horny. That made little sense to me considering the attention I knew he got. He was first string on the football team at CPU as a freshman. The sports stations that Kona always had playing on the TV as I cleaned the house or made lunch mentioned Kona or Ransom at least once a week. And I’d been with Keira and Kona at the grocery store or the mall shopping—he still got double takes and whistles from strangers. Ransom was a younger, more virile version of his father. There was no way he’d stay lonely for long.
So why did he have to pay to get attention? Why was it a stranger he’d rather be with?
“This,” Koa said, slamming into my lap with another book he’d stolen from Kona’s office.
“I don’t think this one is a story for kids.” I flipped open the book with Koa laying against my chest, realizing that the little man had swiped a photo album from his father’s desk. “See? Pictures of your family. It’s not a storybook.”
“Mama?” he said, pointing to a picture of Keira in a simple, but beautiful white dress, caught in mid-laugh, looking stunning.
“Yep. That’s your mama.” I turned the page, thumbed through the next set and realized it was of Keira and Kona’s Hawaiian wedding. The beach was behind them, the water stretching out for miles and the sandy beach looked like linen it was so white. “Who is that big guy?” I asked Koa, pointing to a picture of Kona, his arm around Keira’s waist.
“Maku,” he said, still not able to pronounce the entire Hawaiian word for Daddy. “Maku,” he said again, when he looked at the next page. “Brah.” Those chubby fingers landed right on a picture of Ransom, arm around his father’s shoulders as they smiled at the camera.
“That’s right. That’s your brother.”
“Br-ah,” he argued, saying the nickname in slow syllables before he landed another thump of his finger at Ransom’s face.
I didn’t correct him. Koa flipped through the pages but I didn’t respond when he called out each name. There were more pictures of Ransom and his parents, a few of their friend Bobby in Nashville who Keira often spoke of, and Mark and Johnny, the two friends who’d lived with Keira and helped raise Ransom.
Koa skipped past the single picture of Kona’s mother, Lalei, taken just weeks before she passed away from cancer. Even I had heard the media coverage about her death; the older woman had been blamed for leaking the video of Ransom as a kid throwing another kid through a window at his school. The unwanted publicity had really messed Ransom up, and there was no love lost between Lalei and the Hale-Riley family. Keira wasn’t in that picture at all, and Ransom was the only one smiling. I didn’t know the story behind the woman or why Kona’s face was expressionless in the picture, and Koa certainly didn’t seem interested. He quickly flipped to another page and stopped, squinting down at the album.
“Maku?” he said, nodding at Kona in his CPU uniform standing next to someone else who was just as sweaty and filthy as he was. There was dirt and grass stains smudging those blue uniforms; obviously it was a post-game shot. The men had their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, and Kona had a brilliant, happy smile. The other guy was shorter, not as bulky as Kona and had a wide nose and round, dark eyes. I found myself looking at those eyes, wondering who he was and why he reminded me so much of Ransom. “Maku?” Koa asked again and I pulled the picture from the clear sleeve and read the inscription on the back.
Kona and Luka, CPU win over Florida State, Sophomore Year, 1997
“It says that’s your daddy and someone called Luka.” The baby held the picture, looking harder for a second before he tossed the picture back in my hand.
“Hello?” I heard and twisted around with Koa still in my lap as Kona walked into the living room.
“Hey,” I said, standing with Koa, that picture still in my free hand. “Keira’s napping and Koa wanted to look at family pictures.”
“He did?” Kona said, voice rising as it did whenever he wanted his son’s attention. “Who you looking at, buddy?” Koa went to his father, giving him a kiss before he pointed to me and the picture in my hand.
“Sorry,” I said, handing it over. “We didn’t know who this was so I took it out to see if there was an inscription.”
I knew the second Kona’s gaze landed on the picture that it brought him pain rather than joy. That happy, warm smile of a moment ago immediately fell when he looked down at the picture in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the surface.
“Maku?” Koa asked again and jerked his attention to his father when he reached for the picture and Kona held it back from him.
“No, pēpē, that’s not makuakāne,” he finally said, sitting with his son on the sofa while I hurried to pick up the photo album from the floor.
I’d never seen Kona Hale be anything but happy. Tired, sure, but not once had I ever seen him upset or angry. It wasn’t exactly an easy thing to watch, him looking down at that picture like he’d lost his best friend and his toddler touching his face as though he wanted to know where that frown had come from.
“Kona, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched the picture. I’ll…I can put it up for you.”
“No, it’s okay.” He shook his head, pulling Koa closer to his chest and held the picture out in front of him. “This is your Uncle Luka, keiki kane.” He glanced at me. “My twin brother.”
“Two of you?” I said, hoping my joke would ease the tension that picture had caused. He did at least grin a bit.
“Yeah, there was.” Kona nodded to his left, offering me a seat and he scooted toward the arm of the sofa to put Koa between us. “He died our second year in college.” Kona let Koa take the picture, but still kept an eye on how he handled it.
“God, Kona, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
A half grin that was sad, and Kona nodded. “Yeah, me too.” To Koa he said, “This was Uncle Luka and makua kāne when we kicked Florida State’s ass…um butts. I met Mama just two weeks later.”
Kona pulled the photo album from my lap and flipped the pages until he reached a blank sleeve and slid the picture back inside. “Luka was more than just a brother, he was the best friend I ever had, until Ransom.” He glanced at me over Koa’s head. “Tore my heart out to lose him to something so stupid.” I thought about asking how Luka died, but didn’t want to upset Kona more than he already was. I’d have no idea how to handle him as anything other than the friendly, sweet man I’d been around for over a month. He kissed the top of his son’s head. “My boys,” he started, grinning over at me, “I see Luka in them every day.”
My chest felt tight as I watched Kona looking down at his son. “Who’s this?” I asked Koa, trying to move the focus away from loss and into something happier. The picture was of Keira and Kona holding Koa in the hospital bed.
“Pēpē?” he said, tilting his head like he didn’t know why his parents would be holding onto some strange baby.
“That’s you.” The boy looked at his father like he didn’t believe him and jumped right to the next page, then two more before he stopped on another picture of Ransom.
The sight of a slightly younger Ransom, smiling so wide with his arms wrapped around the waist of a lovely redhead girl who was perched on his lap, surprised me, had my heart skipping a beat. This was the girl. The one who he couldn’t forget. The one who kept him trapped in the past.
She was beautiful, the kind of girl who had a natural beauty, who didn’t have to work hard to take the breath away. Freckles covered her face, a small smattering on her high cheekbones, less along the bridge of her nose. The picture showed off her brilliant eyes, and the red in her wispy, wavy hair. It was easy to see why Ransom had been drawn to her. She had a genuinely friendly face, and a smile that was warm, as though she’d go out of her way to have you return her smile. I couldn’t hate anyone who looked that friendly. Even if she still had a tight grip on Ransom’s heart.
“That?” Koa asked his father in that odd little way of his that seemed perfectly normal to me now. He wanted to know who the girl in the picture was.
Again Kona glanced at me, and I wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. He had no reason to think that I might be upset by the picture, so I was confused when he glanced from it to me and then looked quickly away.
When he didn’t answer, I did. “That’s Emily. That’s Ransom’s friend.”
“You?”
I ignored Kona’s laugh and brushed back the hair from Koa’s forehead. “No, sweetie, not like me. Emily was his special friend.”
“You?” the baby gave me the strangest look—curious, almost troubled, but I dismissed it, shaking my head when he kept watching me.
“Not…not like that.”
“Not yet,” Kona said, closing the album. When he handed it back to his son, the boy ran into the Kona’s office and I watched him through the door as he stood in front of the bookshelf. “Ransom…he hasn’t gotten over…everything,” Kona said, voice a little defeated.
“I guess not.” A glance at Kona and I wondered again about Luka and the shadow that crossed the man’s eyes when he’d looked at that picture. “That’s not an easy thing to get over.”
“No,” he said, looking through the patio doors and out onto the lake. “It’s really not.” After an exhale, Kona leaned back against the sofa, fingers against his cheek, bringing back that small smile. “Maybe you can help Ransom with that.”
“Me?” That was the worst idea in the history of ideas. Kona should have known that. Ransom and I had been around each other for weeks, around his family as well and it was always fun, laughing with them, watching how they all interacted. But I wasn’t family. Inviting me into their lives was one thing. Expecting me to stay there was another. “Ransom and I, he just helps me with the audition song and he’s giving me a hand with a new dance for the recital. We aren’t…I mean…”
Kona took a breath, avoiding my eyes before he spoke. “Leann told Keira what she saw at the studio the other night.” Before I could start in with a list of made-up excuses, Kona held up his hand, silencing me. “It’s not my business, sweetheart. But I can’t say I wasn’t happy hearing it.”
I turned, sitting on my leg to look Kona square in the face. “You don’t think that it was, I don’t know…inappropriate?”
“Why the hell would I think that?”
“Because I’m…well,” moving my hand around did nothing to help me think of the right word. “Kona, I’m the hired help.”
When his laugh came, it was so loud Koa stepped back into the living room, looking first at me then at his dad. “Oh, Aly Cat, you are a hell of a lot more than just the help.” He brushed my arm when I only stared at him, not joining in his humor. After a pause, the laughter stopped but he still kept that smile firmly in place. “My mom and aunt both cleaned houses and worked as maids in Hawaii before either of them got ahead. We come from a long damn line of people who aren’t ashamed to break a sweat.” He paused to let Koa back on the sofa and sat the boy in his lap with a new book. “And I shouldn’t have to remind you that Keira worked as a waitress at some dumpy diner for ten years before she caught a break. She’s scrubbed toilets, waxed floors, degreased disgusting stovetops and broke up more drunken cowboy fights than you’d ever believe.” He shrugged again. “Every penny we have, we worked our a-s-s-e-s” he spelled the curse word out while Koa flipped through the pages of his monkey book, “off to get where we are. Keira’s family may have been old money, but we aren’t.”
I knew this about the family. Of course I knew about Kona, who didn’t? Keira’s history came to me in the afternoons she and I would sit out on the patio and chat, watching the slow waves brush against the lake shore. Still, that didn’t mean this whole situation with Ransom was ever going to go anywhere. No matter how much his parents liked me.
Kona didn’t relent, though, nodding here and there as Koa pretended to read his book, the whole while watching me, as though he wanted to make sure I understood what he was hoping for. “It’s good Ransom kissed you. I’m glad for it. Maybe that means he’s starting to let go of all of…that. He’s beaten himself up for so long about it.”
I looked out of the window, debating the wisdom of telling Kona anything about what I felt. He was Ransom’s father and they were close. Instead of giving in to how good it would feel to confess my feelings for Ransom, I tried to be logical.
“I’m happy to help him as much as I can, Kona, but please, don’t get your hopes up. It didn’t exactly end with us holding hands and skipping out to the parking lot.”
“Leann mentioned that too.” He didn’t look remotely ashamed that he sounded like a huge gossip.
“Oh,” I said, letting Koa sit in my lap when he crawled onto it. “I guess she did.”
“Look, I’m not expecting anything, but I can’t help hoping that my boy can get past the stuff that’s been weighing him down.” Kona stretched out his arm, brushing my shoulder so I’d look at him. “I know better than anyone about guilt. But if he doesn’t learn his lesson and move forward, I’m afraid he’ll be stuck. I don’t want that for him.”
“I don’t either.”
“Good.” He smiled again, this time longer, seeming satisfied as he watched my expression. “Then maybe you give him some wiggle room? Maybe be patient while he sorts out the stupid sh…stuff in his head. He’s my kid, very stubborn and a little hot-headed.”
“A little?”
“Fair enough.” Kona shook his head, as though it was hard to admit his own flaws, but that smile remained and he continued to watch me. I didn’t know what he wanted from me exactly, but I was certain in the end, one of us would be disappointed.
The smile lowered, as though Kona debated if he should say what came next. “I see the way he looks at you.” My eyebrows came up, curious, a little surprised but Kona didn’t change that expression, as though he knew more about what Ransom was thinking that Ransom did. “He might not know it yet, but he wants to be your friend.”
“Friend?” Koa asked and Kona laughed again, picking up his boy.
“Let’s go see Mama.” And they disappeared out of the room.
The patio door gave easily when I opened it and I stood under the awning, watching the waves on the lake, not really seeing anything but the distant reach of the sun across the water.
Kona was concerned about his son, I knew that. Keira was as well. I’d caught the way her gaze followed Ransom when he’d talk about school or the exhaustive football practices and games. They loved him very much, anyone could see that. And the touch of that ghost, the one that came to him out on this lake had kept Ransom from the promise of the person he could be, and instead had made him the boy who had withdrawn from the world.
Ransom had kissed me, then pulled away. I had a feeling I knew why, but if Kona and Keira’s concern were real and they needed me, I could put aside what I had kept hidden from Ransom, couldn’t I? Isn’t that what you do when you care about someone? You put their needs before your own?
I wasn’t sure what Kona thought about my very thin connection with his son, but if Ransom needed a friend, that’s what I’d be. As much as it may hurt me, as much as I wanted Ransom to kiss me like he had again, to be more to him than simply a friend, I could push aside what I felt and be what he needed—either as myself or as the dancer.
13
Trent wouldn’t shut his damn mouth.
“Anyway, like I was saying, you need to come back with us. There was this one chick I ran into backstage. Fuck, was she hot. I was drunk though, but still. What happened to you again?” He lifted the dumbbell over his head, grunting, breathing through his nose. “You…” he released a long grunt, “disappeared on us last time you were there.”
It wasn’t a question, but the guy still stared at me, watching as I kept the bar even above my head. I knew he expected a response, but I still continued to ignore him as I finished my rep.
“Where’d you go?” Marshall stood next to the bench, wiping his red face with a towel. He stunk something fierce and I hurried through my rep just to get away from the downwind reek of him.
That prick followed.
“One minute I saw you there, the next you disappeared.”
Sweat and general funk isn’t pleasant. It’s especially not pleasant when you’re in a weight room with fifteen other linesmen trying to hurry through their workout before game day.
“I got caught up in something, man.” That wasn’t a lie. I had been caught up by the private dancer but Marshall’s nosy ass didn’t need to know that. He also didn’t know I ran out of there as fast I could afterwards because it looked like I’d pissed myself.
Heading to the showers I relaxed when the guy nodded and I lost him near the lockers. “Jackass,” I muttered under my breath, desperate for a little quiet and a lot of solitude while I washed away the sweat and tiredness of the week.
I had it in spades.
The water was hot, moved over my sore joints and muscles, massaging against my back as I dipped my head under the spray. I had fucked up, yet again and wasn’t sure there were enough showers in the world to take that fuck up away.
Scrubbing my face, I could only see surprise on Aly’s face as I took her mouth over and over. At first, I told myself it had been the Kizomba—the music moving into my body, working some kind of seduction, her fine, fit body brushing against mine—it had all added up to me losing my head, to me wanting to touch, to take and giving into the want without thinking. She had some kind of effect on me that I didn’t understand. When I was near her, close to her, I forgot that she wasn’t my type. I forgot that I didn’t want her. I forgot that I didn’t deserve her.
Never mind that I’d been thinking about her for weeks before that kiss. Never mind that if my dad’s loud orgasmic outburst hadn’t cocked blocked me, I would have definitely kissed her the night of the booster fundraiser at our house. Still, that night at the studio, none of my earlier attempts to convince myself I didn’t want her seemed right to me. Telling myself that she wasn’t my type had seemed like the biggest lie I’ve told myself—and I’ve told many. I’d wanted to take what wasn’t mine.
And I had. Just for a moment.
She’d felt so small under my big hands. She’d smelled too good, that exotic jasmine scent again and I could not help myself. I’d been around her, watched her, saw what had been invisible to me before in our infrequent run-ins at the studio. I’d always been so absorbed in my own head, in my own misery that not much penetrated my attention. But being around her these past few weeks, hearing her sing, being so close to her when we danced—Aly had become so clear and so visible to me.
But just kissing her—the first real kiss I’d had in such a long damn time—had awakened that voice, and it berated me, ripped me in two just for tasting something I had no business touching.
Disgusting, it called me. Pathetic. Weak.
I’d listened to it, agreed with it and pulled away from Aly like a man coming back from a fantasy he had no business enjoying. After that, I could not touch her. Oh, I still wasn’t immune to her body, to that soft, soft skin, but something was happening to me that I couldn’t explain, have never been able to explain. I’d spent years so tied up in guilt that my body had forgotten what it was to want. Now it had reacted to the dancer. It had reacted to Aly and behind all that need and lust and want, came the crushing weight of knowing that I had no right to feel that way around either of them.
I didn’t see a way clear of any of it.
The shower didn’t help. If anything, I felt worse, especially when I spotted Trent heading toward me as I dried off and got dressed. Luckily, Ronnie stopped him and I was able to make an escape before Trent could pester me anymore.
It was cold for October and there were orange and yellow leaves littering the sidewalk and along the entrance to the team parking lot. This time of year reminded me of chilly fall days in Nashville as a kid when Mom and I carved pumpkins that always ended up with haggard smiles and too large, jagged teeth.
It also reminded me of Emily’s red hair and that Halloween we snuck away from the tour group at the pumpkin patch maze and we kissed until the sky was dark and Tristian and Emily’s friend Becca were shouting that the patch was closing.
The memory of that maze and Emily’s flushed, pale skin kept my mind distracted so I didn’t notice Aly sitting on the hood of my Mustang until I was a good ten feet from her.
“Hey…hi…. Ransom…” Aly’s tone was light, but I could hear the tiny tremor in it. She wore a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a burgundy cardigan with a multi-colored scarf around her neck. She was bright and vivid, the colors so warm they reminded me of the leaves I’d just crunched under my foot. But what had me gawking at her like a jackass was all that long, wavy hair that fell way past her shoulders. Her hair was glorious and I damn near couldn’t control myself seeing it falling so freely like that. The effect of it not being tightly combed against her scalp was dramatic.
Once again that weird feeling came back to me that I had experienced this before; I just couldn’t shake the sense that the studio and Sunday lunches at my folk’s place weren’t the only places I’d spent time with her.
“Hey,” I said, starting toward her. I couldn’t keep the goofy grin off my face, and had to shove my hands in the pockets of my hoodie to keep from reaching out to touch her.
“I…um…modi.” She closed her eyes, muttering under her breath as though she needed a second to self-lecture, then she grinned at me. “I wanted to talk to you for a second.”
“Yeah, sure.” I looked toward the car and nodded. “Hop in. It’s getting chilly out here.”
She hesitated for just a moment, then stepped back when I opened the door for her. I could sense how wary she was, not nervous, exactly, but definitely a little put off. Maybe it was because we were seeing each other outside of the lake house or the studio. Maybe it was just that she didn’t know what to think since this was the first time we’d spoken since I’d kissed her. I thought about asking her why she hadn’t returned my brief, apologetic texts, but decided I didn’t want to make her even more skittish. She was already on guard, folding her fingers together with her thumbs tapping.
I got in the driver’s side, then turned to her. “Aly, listen, I’m sorry about the other night.” One hand stayed in my lap, the other on the door as I leaned against it. I shot for cool and relaxed, and Aly, it seemed, tried for distraction. Her thumbs kept tapping. We were like two fourteen-year-olds shoved in the closet for Seven Minutes In Heaven, completely clueless as to what to do. “I didn’t mean…”
“Me zanmi, Ransom, stop.” Aly kept her face forward, gaze staring out past the dashboard. “I didn’t come here to talk about you kissing me.”
Her face was impassive. Though her words came out clipped, I didn’t think she was angry. I had no idea why that bothered me. “Okay. So why did you come here?” Her hair was so long, one wave brushed past her elbow and fell against the empty seatbelt. It took effort not to touch it.
“I love your family.” My gaze slipped up to meet hers, but I didn’t speak, struck silent by her confession. “A month in and I’m completely stupid over your folks and Koa.”
That tightness pulling the muscles around my mouth lessened and I nodded, understanding what she meant. “They’re easy to love.”
She agreed, moving her head once. “And, well… I get that the dance, the music, um, sometimes all that sensation can be overwhelming.”
In the back of my mind, could hear the voice whispering awful things, terrible things, about Aly and her intentions. Things I knew were not true. She wasn’t scheming. She didn’t have agendas and wasn’t a gold-digger. When that voice grew louder, I blocked it out by staring at Aly’s mouth and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.
“I love reading to Koa because he’s so young he doesn’t know doing character voices isn’t cool.” She hadn’t stopped tapping her thumbs together and looked down at them like she needed something other than my stare to focus on. “I like listening to Kona talk about CPU when your parents were kids there and all the stupid shit he pulled his first season in the league.” A small smile then and I leaned back, not thinking about why my gaze wouldn’t move away from all those long waves. “I love hearing Keira play her guitar or talk about the places she’s seen, the people she’s met and how at the end of the day none of that is as fascinating to her as watching Koa sleep or hearing you laugh.”
Aly turned her head to look at me. She wore pale pink lipstick and that bottom lip gleamed against the console light.
“The thing is, I wouldn’t want anything to screw this up.”
“What would?”
She ignored me then, looking out of the window until I reached over with one hand and stopped her thumbs from tapping, forcing her to glance back at me. “I like you.” She moved closer and I didn’t take my hand from her thumbs. “I like that you’re so willing to help me out and how you see that the audition, the dance, are so important to me. But it’s not just me, I know. You help your parents, and Leann and Tristian–hell, I know you’d do anything for him. And I…”
I couldn’t resist any longer. I reached up and threaded a finger through one of the loose waves of her hair. Aly immediately stopped talking.
“And you don’t want anything to screw that up.” Her chin moved down and she settled back into the seat, eyes lowering again as I watched a few strands fall against my palm. “You think me kissing you would be what, exactly?”
“Um…a…a start to all the good getting screwed up.” I barely made out her words and wasn’t conscious of her hesitation. I only knew that those pink lips were wet, that the thick, soft hair between my fingers felt like silk and Aly smelled like something so delicious that my mouth watered.
We both unconsciously leaned in as though some invisible line pulled us closer and closer together. I was almost at her mouth, had my hand on her face, could feel the warmth of her small breaths that smelled like mint. I wanted to nibble on that bottom lip just to see if it tasted as good as it looked.
“We… me zanmi you smell good, but…we have to be friends.”
“Friends?” That yellow caution light went up and I didn’t even tap my breaks. Hell, I’ve always been a “yellow light, go faster” kind of driver. “You want to be my friend, Aly?” She made a noise that could’ve have been a no, probably was a yes. Then her breath got faster and I didn’t take my hand from her face. “Just my friend?”
“Yea…”
Then I kissed my friend Aly right on the mouth, not stopping to think about it, having no control over my body as my teeth smoothed across her bottom lip. And when that small, soft tongue slipped against my lips, I released a sigh, all desperate and hungry, that I hadn’t expected. Right then, I forgot about guilt and shame and the fact that Aly was supposed to be someone I knew, not someone I wanted. I guided her face up, loving how she tasted like peppermint and felt like cotton candy.
“Friends…Ransom,” and she kissed me back like she couldn’t control herself, like someone else was making her lips work against mine. And then, just like that, Aly stopped, pulling away from me, her scarf shaking with the effort of her breathing. “Ah…modi…poupou.”
“Aly…”
She shook her head like she wouldn’t listen, like something else needed to be said and she didn’t want me interrupting. “I’m going to tell you something and don’t you damn well laugh at me.” She moved her eyes, catching my nod of agreement. “This…this whatever it is, I chalk it up to being alone for…well, a while.”
“How long is a while?”
She sliced her gaze back to me and I didn’t press.
“You’ve been without…” she sat back, her breathing slowing. “We’ve both been alone. That’s what I’m saying.” Aly turned her body, taking my hand, though she hesitated, like she wasn’t sure she should touch me at all. “I want to be your friend. I won’t deny that I…well,” one shift of her gaze and she kept her chin down, but I still caught her grin. “Your mouth makes me think the worst…best…filthy things.”
Aly treated me to that elusive smile again when my laugh broke the tension in the car. “Right back at you.”
After a moment, Aly’s face returned to normal—mouth relaxed, but unsmiling. “When I’m around you, things can be…” she shook her head as though she hoped closing her eyes would somehow bring the right word forward.
“Overwhelming?” I asked, realizing I understood where she was coming from.
“Me zanmi, wi. Overwhelming. It’s…it has to be the dance, right? I mean, the Kizomba, the flirting and us being lonely and being around your family, hell, the sexual chemistry coming off your parents alone would make anyone…” She laughed when I wrinkled my nose. “Sorry,” she said, that laughter dimming. “I just mean that this isn’t anything something you or…I…I really want to explore. I know you’re busy and with happened to you before…”
I waited for her to mention Emily. I waited for her to somehow explain what she thought my problem was. Girls did that sometimes when I asked them not to touch me, when I touched them and they couldn’t understand why I didn’t want anything more from them. I waited to see what diagnosis Aly had for me, but she only inhaled, like she needed extra breath to organize her thoughts.
“It’s all chemical. Endorphins and serotonin that our brains produce when the right stimulus is introduced to our environment.” My eyebrows came up and I blinked, astounded by her theory. “What?” she said. “I watch ‘Forensic Files’ and ‘Bones’.”
This time when I laughed, Aly joined in immediately, a little sheepish, but that smile was wide, it was beautiful and my humor faded when that damn strange déjà-vu sensation hit me again. I knew I’d seen that smile before but damn if I could place it.
