Текст книги "Forgive Us Our Trespasses"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
“I’m sorry about your dad,” she responds, the words so hushed I can barely hear her. I smile lightly and then direct her body down to the bed. Resting our heads on my pillow, I loop my arm around her waist and tenderly tug her body backwards until her back is snugly against my chest. I curl around her tiny frame and nestle my face in her soft auburn hair. I wiggle in closer and kiss her neck. “Please stay here tonight. We don’t have to do anything but lie here. I just want to hold you and wake up with you in my arms in the morning. I’m not ready to let you leave yet.”
Vivian turns in my arms, letting me see her beautifully muddled eyes. “I don’t want to leave either. Your arms around me are the only things that have felt right in a long time.”
I allow my fingers to explore her fiery locks, her exposed cheek, and then her neck, cupping my hand around the base and pulling her lips to mine. I’m never nervous with girls, but I feel Vivian shiver in my arms and it sends chills down my body. My stomach is fluttering with anxiousness, but I know I can’t let this go any further than this for now.
I deepen the kiss, allowing us to briefly lose ourselves in the moment. She tastes like drops of Heaven, and I try to drink in every ounce of her. It feels wrong to slow things down; we should be mangled together, enjoying every inch of each other, but if I want this to be something real, I know I need to back off for tonight. Sensing my hesitation, Vivian moves her head away briefly and returns only to leave a long lingering peck on my lips. I’ve never had sensual. I’ve never had emotional. It’s always been just fucking and getting off with other girls. This is entirely different. I feel more turned on with her one kiss than I ever had fucking some random girl. I could spend a lifetime discovering her mouth.
I kiss her forehead once more, and she snuggles into my chest. I gradually hear her breathing even out, and relish the feeling of her asleep in my arms. I hold on tight, afraid that I’ll wake up and it will all have been a dream. I struggle to stay awake, not wanting our night to really end, but eventually I give in to the pull of exhaustion.
When I wake the next morning, I realize that our bodies have not moved. Vivian is still nestled tight to my body, and I just relax onto my pillow to watch her sleep. I study every feature, committing them all to memory in case last night was all I ever get with her. It isn’t long before she stirs, and her eyes leisurely open. That’s when her most amazing feature is revealed. Staring back at me are the most brilliant green eyes. Her eyes have always been a mixture of colors, never pledging allegiance to any one shade, until now. Now I’m sucked into a field of clovers. If mornings are the only time that they are like this, then I want to make it my mission to wake up next to her for the rest of my life. I want to be stingy and never share my emerald orbs.
“What’s wrong?” she asks when she notices that I’m just staring at her. She tenses in my arms, and I squeeze her tighter, trying to ease that tension.
“Nothing, Viv, everything is perfect. This has been perfect. Please tell me it doesn’t end when you leave this morning.” I rest my head on the top of hers, bracing myself for the possibility of disappointment.
“I don’t want this to end either. Can you handle what that means though?” She’s questioning my fidelity, and I understand. But she needs to know that there is no other girl that would ever compare to her, I don’t need to look any farther than what is in my arms right now.
“I’m not going anywhere, Viv. I promise. It’s just you and me.”
Not caring about our morning breath that could probably choke a donkey, she scoots up and kisses me, and then whispers the only word I needed to hear. “Okay.”
Brooks
November has officially brought the change of seasons. The first snow hasn’t arrived yet, but we have all been anticipating it. While December 21st marks the first real day of winter, in Colorado, winter weather begins when it wants. I’ve barely noticed though; the only thing that has my attention is Vivian. She fills every minute of my day; if I’m not with her, then I’m thinking about her. I have to force myself to pay attention in class, but I don’t mind the distraction; my time with her has been the best month and a half of my life.
With Campbell’s help, the girls have gradually accepted me. Even Jen has called a truce, which is maybe the cause for the change in weather–hell froze over. Will, on the other hand, has been somewhat standoffish about mine and Vivian’s relationship. I think he misses their friendship, and seeing me with her seems to make him uncomfortable. I’ve suggested setting him up on a few dates, but he has refused each time.
Vivian is in class all morning today, and then we are supposed to be meeting everyone for lunch in the dining hall. I’m using the time to try to work on my final English paper. Our reflective essay for Vauldin is due in three weeks, and neither Vivian nor I have written a single word. We both feel stuck.
The letters from my father have continued to arrive, and he keeps asking me to visit him. Vivian has encouraged me to see him; she even offered to go along, but I can’t decide if I’m ready to see him. My mother has refused to ever talk about him, and there are so many unanswered questions. I suppose maybe that’s why Vivian and I relate to each other so well. We fill each other’s voids that our parents left behind. She is taking the first step though. Next week, before our Thanksgiving break, we are driving to Colorado Springs together to read the court documents and investigative reports surrounding her dad’s case. I’m so proud of her for facing her past. I’m not that brave; to be honest, when it comes to my real dad, I’m a coward.
My computer screen is still blank when Will walks through the door, throwing his backpack on the couch and falling into the recliner. He doesn’t turn on the television or pull out his books; he just sits, silently staring at me, fidgeting with his hands. “Dude, what’s going on?” I ask him, turning in my chair to fully face him. “I’m fresh out of Xanax, and you’re way too damn big to have to resuscitate if you keel over from a panic attack.” I thought that was rather funny, but he merely cracks a small smile. The usual Will would have some witty retort that would put me in my place, but he says nothing.
“Okay, let’s hear it. Something has crawled up your ass and I can tell that you’re dying to extract it.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles as he rubs his hands over his face. He finally steadies himself, placing his hands on his knees. “I need you to tell me that you love her. I need you to tell me that you are not going to make her fall for you and then break her heart. You need to promise me that you are not the guy that I first met when we moved in here.”
“What the fuck, man!” I say sternly, squaring off my shoulders. “I haven’t even told her that I love her, and you want me to tell you? I had always questioned whether or not you actually have a vagina, and you’re pretty close to confirming my suspicions of Team Pink. Guys don’t talk about this shit, Will.”
He stands and begins pacing the room. “Dammit, Brooks, you’re my friend, and if the two of you are happy, then I’ll back off. I just want to make sure that you treat her the way she deserves. I know you two are sleeping together, and I don’t want to see her hurt when you get bored and move on.”
“Fuck you, Will,” I growl and stand. “If you were my friend, you would think more of me than that. You know what I think? I think you’re jealous. You want a relationship like she and I have, and it fucking eats you up.”
Will stops, his nostrils flare, and I notice his hands shaking; for a second I’m afraid for my life. “I don’t want just some girl!” he explodes. “I want Vivian!” When he realizes what he’s confessed, he crumbles into his chair again, leaving me shocked and standing alone.
“W-what?” I stutter. “You want to date Vivian?” I don’t know how to comprehend what he’s telling me. I’ve entered a soap opera, and I’m the main character in a love triangle. I’ve seen these stories; men like me always lose to the Wills of the story. He’s the funny guy, the one that would always do the right thing, even at his own expense. I wouldn’t want to compete against someone like him. The difference between the two of us: I may have the appearances that draw the girls in, but he has the personality that keeps them coming back.
“I don’t want to date her, Brooks; I’m in love with her.” Will is hiding his face in his hands, so his words are muffled, but I can still understand every damn word and it makes my stomach hurt to the point of throwing up. I feel the bile rise, and it burns the back of my throat. What the fuck is happening?
“What do you plan to do about it?” I ask him, taking my seat once again. I grip onto the edge of my chair, partly restraining myself, and partly holding myself together. I fully expect him to say that I’m going to have to compete with him for her, and it’s a fight I’m not sure I would win.
“Nothing, Brooks. I may have those feelings for her, and if I had the chance I would worship the ground that she walks on, but she doesn’t want me. She’s in love with you.” I loosen my grip on the chair and feel the indentations on my fingers that it leaves behind. “But I need to know that I’m doing the right thing by bowing out. I want you to say that you’ll treat her right.”
I take in all that he’s expecting of me, to reflect on my feelings for Vivian. “I promise, Will. I’m not perfect, and I know that I’ll have my fuck-ups, but I promise I’ll do my best to protect her. I know it’s hard for you to believe it, but I do love her. Believe me, it surprises the hell out of me because I didn’t even think I was capable of that emotion, but I do.”
Will doesn’t respond at first; it feels like a lifetime before he finally rises and holds out his hand for me. I meet him in the middle of the room and stretch my arm to meet his hand to shake. “That’s what I needed to know,” he says, shaking my hand. Then he drops back and gives some space between the two of us. “But if you hurt her, I swear to everything that is holy, I will crush you; I don’t care who your daddy is. I will end you. Do we have an understanding?”
“Will, if I fuck this up, I would want to beat my own ass.”
Satisfied with my answer, he nods and begins to walk past me to the front door. There is still another half an hour before the dining hall opens for lunch, and I assumed before this conversation that we would have gone together. “Hey, are you still going to meet up with the girls for lunch?” I ask. He stops and stills his hand that was twisting the doorknob. “No, I don’t really feel like it,” he says, refusing to look at me. “I’m going to meet up with Seth and Aaron from the rugby team. Just tell the girls something came up, please.”
Without looking for confirmation, he opens the door, moves through it, and slams it behind him. I don’t know if I lost my friend or not, but either way, I hope I can uphold my promise. I want nothing more than to protect her.
Vivian
All four of us girls have been eating in the cafeteria for at least fifteen minutes before either of the guys shows up. When Brooks walks through the door and I see his scowl and disheveled hair, I know he is stressed or upset about something. Anytime Brooks is over thinking something, his hands automatically find his hair, and he gently tugs on it until he can calm himself. He bypasses the food line and takes a seat at our table next to me. I frown at him as he sits, but he looks at me and shakes his head, waving me off. Whatever it is, it’s not open for discussion right now.
Shifting his emotions, he flings his arm across the back of my chair and kisses the side of my head. “Sorry I’m late, Red,” he whispers.
“No worries,” I tell him, trying to ease his tension. “I thought you and Will were coming together.”
He moves his hand away at the mention of Will’s name, making the buzzers go off in my head. Something happened between the two of them. “He forgot that he was supposed to meet a few of the rugby guys, but he said he’d be around later.” I give him a look that says that I don’t buy that load of shit for one minute, but he quickly changes the subject. “So what did I miss, ladies?” he asks, and the girls jump right into our previous conversation like they never skipped a beat.
“We were just deciding who Campbell is going home with for Thanksgiving,” Jen answers. “I want her to be my buffer from my parents, but Carly thinks that it’s not okay to subject her to that and wants her to come home with her.” Campbell aged out of foster care just after she graduated from high school, and while her last foster home was actually decent to her, she doesn’t feel comfortable going to their house for the holidays. I told her that if she didn’t mind crazy, she could come home with me, but I don’t think anyone should be subjected to the guilt trips and mood swings of my mother. I don’t even want to go home, and if the dorms weren’t closing, I wouldn’t be.
Whenever I feel sorry for myself, I look at Campbell and tell myself to suck it up. How she is even functioning with the life she’s had is beyond me. Her parents died when she was little, and she had no living family members that were able to take her in. Her parents had named guardians for her in their wills, and even set up a multi-million dollar trust to care for her thinking they had all of their bases covered. But when the guardians found out that she would only inherit the money in small increments after milestones in her adult life, like high school and college graduation, with the remainder being paid out when she turns 30 or gets married, whichever comes first, they handed her over to the state. They didn’t want her unless they were going to profit from it. She has since bounced around from foster home to foster home for the last ten years. Campbell is one tough girl; I wish I were half as resilient as she is.
“Why don’t you draw straws or something; winner gets their pick of Christmas or Thanksgiving,” Brooks suggests, stealing a French fry from my plate and swirling it around in the leftover ketchup.
“You guys, seriously, I really appreciate this,” Campbell interrupts. “It feels good that you all would even invite me, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to have me. I have enough money that I could stay in a hotel and do some work with the band. I could probably even stay with them, or go over there on Thanksgiving.”
“Over my fucking dead body,” Brooks snaps. He states it so sternly and sharply that we all immediately direct our attention to him. Carly’s eyes look as though they may pop out of her head. Sometimes I wonder how she even stands being our friend. She never cusses or says anything mean about anyone, and then there is Jen, who can’t complete a sentence without an f-bomb and a crude sexual reference included in it.
“What I mean is, we are your family, and a person spends holidays with family. I don’t care who you choose to go home with–you can even come to my house–but you will NOT spend it alone. That is unacceptable.”
“Okay,” she mutters, stunned by Brooks’ outburst. “I guess I’ll go home with Carly for Thanksgiving, and Jen for Christmas; the break is longer and she might be in more of a need of a safety net.”
Brooks looks around the table for objections and finds none. He then wipes his hands on his napkin and stands to leave. “Sorry I was late, but I need to get going to my next class. I’m supposed to stop by the library first to get a book that we are supposed to have for the final.” He bends down and kisses me on the cheek, then leaves before anyone can try to convince him to stay.
“What in the hell was that?” Jen asks the group as soon as Brooks is out of earshot. “He acted weird the entire time he was here.” She was right, and I couldn’t argue otherwise, but I didn’t want to talk about it. No one has a chance to answer though. Amber fucking Jennings and two of her little friends, more rich sorority sisters no doubt, stroll up to our table.
“Well, Jennifer, I didn’t know you were doing charity work, or are you just taking a break from money to see how the other half lives?” I look to Jen, who is wringing her napkin between her hands. I wasn’t surprised that she would have something rotten and snooty to say to us, but I am most certainly surprised that she and Jen know each other.
“You know I like you about as much as you like me, so what could you possibly want?” She doesn’t even bother to look at Amber. This is a rich girl standoff, and I have no idea how to proceed. Back home, there would have been a brief fight in a pasture, you would shake hands, and it would be done. These girls play a whole different game, and I want no part of it. It’s sneaky and conniving, where everyone pretends to be your friend, but then stabs you in the back just to elevate their social status.
“I just didn’t know you liked the company of white trash, and I thought that you would have informed Brooks that he could do so much better than this.” She points to me like I’m only an object to discuss and not a person with feelings. “We both know our parents have been planning our ending up together since we were little; I would think you would have a little more loyalty to your social ranking.”
I turn to Jen, ready to invite her old best buddy outside to settle our little disagreement country style. But she shakes her head, silencing me. I follow her instructions; she knows more about this girl than I do, and if Jen tells me to shut the fuck up, then I will.
Jen takes a deep breath, pushes back her chair, and stands to meet her nemesis head on. “The thing about trash, Amber, is that it comes in all shapes and sizes. It’s something you are, and money can’t change that. Right now, the only piece of shit I see is packaged in a Sigma shirt and heels. Now, I suggest that you get the fuck out of my face before I take you outside and show you just how loyal I am.”
“Wow, how classy; don’t you think you’ve disgraced your family enough?” Amber’s words are harsh, but they lack confidence as she takes a step back, fearful of what results they may provoke.
Jen falters a bit; whatever issue Amber is referencing, strikes a nerve with Jen. She recovers quickly though. “You want to talk about social ranking, Amber? Well, who do you think controls those city permits and tax credits for your dad’s business?”
Amber’s face loses all color and she stumbles over her words. “You wouldn’t.”
“No matter what I’ve done, it would only take one phone call, and my father could make your family’s empire crumble.”
When she fails to return a response, Jen pushes in her chair and steps around a dumbfounded Amber. “Come on, girls. It’s time for class. Amber here is going to take care of our trays.” We quickly jump out of our chairs and move to catch up to Jen as she exits the dining hall. It feels good to walk away winning the fight, but with girls like Amber, they don’t walk away and let it lie. I know she’s already plotting her revenge; I just hope I’m not part of the collateral damage.
Vivian
Today is the day I’ve been waiting most of my life for. I’m going to find out what happened to my dad. Brooks promised to drive me to the courthouse and go through everything with me, but I’m nervous. I’m worried about what we’ll find out, and that he’ll look at me differently if we find out something really bad. I’ve always worried that I would be judged for what my dad was involved in, and I don’t know if I could handle Brooks pushing me away because of it.
The light is peeking through his old dusty curtains that I’m sure had been hanging in the dorm since the school opened. I put my hand over my eyes to shield the unwanted wake up call, hoping for just a few more minutes of sleep before I have to peel myself from this delicious guy and get ready to go to Colorado Springs. He quickly reaches for my wrist and gently holds it down to the pillow behind me.
“Please don’t cover your eyes; this is my favorite part of the day.” A small smile creeps across his face, and I realize that he has been awake for a while.
Feeling a little embarrassed as to what he might have seen–who knows if I snore, or talk, or oh, God, what if I fart in my sleep? My face begins to heat up, and I try to turn my head away. He places his hand on my cheek and slowly turns me to him. “You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”
I’m no longer slightly embarrassed; I’m totally uncomfortable, shifting to try and scoot away. I have never had a guy really compliment me, and I really don’t take them well. He doesn’t let me go anywhere though, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me so close I could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. He lets out a little sigh and briefly closes his eyes.
“You don’t understand, Viv. What we have, how I feel about you, it’s like nothing I’ve ever had. You are the most beautiful thing in my world. I can tell that you don’t hear things like that often, and you know what? I’m thankful for that.”
I raise my eyebrow in confusion; I’m not quite sure if he was saying that he is glad other guys don’t find me attractive, but it sounds like one heck of a backwards compliment. His lips curl around his teeth like he’s trying his damnedest to hold in his laugh, and then he lets out the loudest chuckle. Shit, this asshole is laughing at me. I panic and try to get off the bed.
As I struggle to untangle from his arms to get away from him, the smile on his face quickly vanishes. He grabs my hands and rolls on top of me, settling his hips against mine. His eyes are searching mine, seriousness oozing from him. “This is coming out wrong. What I mean is that I’m glad that you haven’t heard a lot of those nice things from other guys…not because I don’t think that you are the most gorgeous girl that I have ever met, but because I want it to be me that you hear those things from. I want to be the only one that puts that amazing smile on your face. I want to be the one that holds you every night, to make you feel good,” he leans his head down and kisses my lips before resting his forehead against mine. “You’re my clover, Viv,” he whispers.
I relax in his grip, but the lump in my throat begins to desperately attempt to claw its way out. “Your what?” I squeak out.
“My clover,” he repeats. His eyes are closed, and I can tell he is gathering the strength to tell me whatever is rolling around in his head. He releases my hands and settles himself on his forearms, caging me in and nuzzling into my neck. I bring my arms around him, and lightly stroke his tight back muscles, urging him to talk to me or kiss me…something.
Finally, he slides off me and rolls us both so that we are lying on our sides, face-to-face. He sweeps a piece of my long chestnut hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear, before slowly moving in to kiss me in the same spot. A shiver runs down my body; the action is reminiscent of our first night in his bedroom, when we did nothing but kiss and sleep in each other’s arms. I want to pull him back on top of me and let him devour me, but instead, I let him take this where he needs it to go. He is struggling with the words that I know we both feel. Right now, I’m fine with him showing me his feelings with his body; I don’t need the words. I know that I am his–he doesn’t need to say it; I feel it. In this moment, we belong to each other.
“Do you know why mornings are my favorite time of day?” he asks, rubbing his thumb along my bottom lip. I shake my head and kiss the tip of his thumb, adding a little nibble for good measure. He lets out a deep moan, but continues.
“Your eyes are never the same color; they are usually different variations of brown. I can always tell your mood by the shade. But in the mornings, they are something completely different. When you first wake up, they are green. This vivid emerald green that is so enchanting and so stunning that they just pull me in, and I feel like I can lose myself in them. Your eyes are like four-leaf clovers, Viv, and when I wake up next to you, knowing that I’ll be the only one to get to see them like that...” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Viv, I just feel so damn lucky that it’s just me that gets to see that piece of you.”
His words leave me speechless. What does one say to something so raw? He is showing me emotion that he has never shown anyone before, emotion that I have never even felt before. I have never said ‘I love you’ to anyone before; I know I feel it for Brooks, but God, it’s scary to admit. He has somehow possessed my soul; I have fallen so hard that my heart would shatter if he decided I wasn’t what he wanted anymore. I don’t know if I could survive him, but I want to.
I smile, but the tears that I have been struggling to hold back begin to slide down my face. He wipes them away with his thumbs and rolls on top of me, stretching his body to cover mine. He looks into my eyes and then at my lips, like he’s asking for my permission. When our eyes meet again, he crashes his mouth to mine. Our kiss is deep and urgent, like we might never get this moment back and we want to savor every second.
Brooks slows us down to catch our breath. “God, I love you, Viv,” he says against my lips with a long exhale. “Don’t ever fucking leave me, Clover; I don’t think I could live without my green mornings.”
And just like that, he calms my anxiety. He slowly lifts my shirt and begins kissing down my body, exploring every inch with his delicious lips. All I can think about is how he won’t hurt me; he is as scared as I am, but found the guts to tell me anyways. He laid it all out there for me; can I really let him think I didn’t feel the same? My brain is whispering. Yes, you can. Men leave; protect your heart. But my heart is shouting, tell him, or you will lose him! My heart wins the battle.
Pulling him up to meet my face, I kiss his swollen lips, and then push him over so that I can straddle his strong legs. He grips onto my hips and I can feel his excitement, his need for me. I grind into him, and he hisses between his gritted teeth. I lean down and place feather kisses along his cheekbones and over his eyes. Slightly pulling back, I sigh, “I love you too, Brooks, but please don’t break me.”
Brooks sits up, looking into my eyes, and he cups my face. “I promise, Clover, I’ll worship every part of you that you’re willing to give me. Let me love you.” He kisses my cheek, dusting down my jaw line, and onto my collarbone, his soft hands caressing my back.
I let out a slight whimper at his touch. “Brooks,” is all I manage to get out between my heated breaths. He stops and looks up to me, “Tell me what you need.” I brush the backs of my knuckles along his cheekbone and tell him as confidently as I can, “Show me.”
Grinning ear to ear, he cradles my head in his hands, smoothing my hair. “I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life showing you, Red.” He takes control, gently pushing me back to the bed, sliding my pajama pants down, and pulling my top off. He takes my puckered nipple into his mouth, and I gasp from the overwhelming sensation.
He licks his way from one breast to the other, giving each its fair share of attention before finding my lips again. I weave his hair through my fingers, and when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, I pull his hair and moan from the mixture of pleasure and pain.
He grabs my hands and pins them above my head with one hand, whispering in my ear, “I want us to fall together.” He slowly rocks into me, but I buck my hips, encouraging him to move faster, harder. Meeting my demands, he withdraws almost entirely out of me, only to slam into me once again. I’m panting so hard I can barely catch my breath. “Oh, God, I’m there Brooks. Crash with me,” the words tumble out of my mouth on a ragged exhale. I’ve finally figured out what the fuss is all about.
Brooks picks up the pace and I match him thrust for thrust, creating our own symphonic rhythm until we both plummet over the edge of bliss. His whole body goes rigid, he grumbles through his teeth, and then collapses onto me, burying his face into my neck, both of us struggling to calm our breathing. “Fuck, I love you, Clover,” he sighs into my hair. “This heart is forever yours, Viv.”
“Forever,” I respond before my body relaxes and the exhaustion pulls me under. “You’re my forever, Brooks.”
By the time we finally pull ourselves from his bed and load up in the car for the long drive south, all of the tranquility of the early morning has vanished. Brooks does his best to distract me along the way by turning on an all 80s and 90s radio station and encouraging me to rock out along with him. We play car games like I spy; he even tried out ridiculous knock-knock jokes. For the most part, his efforts were a success. Well that is until he pulled in front of the courthouse.
“You ready?” Brooks asks, putting the car into park. He caresses my knee and smiles, trying to ease my apprehension.
“No, but I’m going in anyways.” I squeeze his hand and open the car door to get out. It’s mid-afternoon, so I know that we have a limited amount of time to go through things. Brooks turns off the car and climbs out as well. Walking around the front of the car, he grabs my hand when he reaches me and leads me into the building. It’s so dreamlike; the courthouse looks like nothing special, just a plain brick building that could be replicated in any city in America, but inside it might hold all of the answers I’ve ever searched for.
Brooks opens the front doors for me and a security officer instructs us to remove our valuables to go through the metal detector. The seriousness of my surroundings punches me in the gut, and I mechanically move through the machine, following all of his directives. Once through security, we find the directory to locate the public records office.
