Piece by Piece

by Tucker, RH

  In the past, when I’d have a dream about everything, they’d come and go. The last time I thought I’d try to get serious with a girl, the night terrors came on strong. However, once I ended that relationship, the nightmares stopped. This time they’re sticking around. I’m barely getting any sleep, and I don’t know what to do about it.

  Hoping to distract myself, I get home and start working on an English paper that I have due in a couple of days.

  “Hey, Veronica’s coming over, and we’re going to the movies. Want to join?” Micah says, throwing a hoodie on as he comes out of his room.

  “Naw, I’m good.” I flip a page of my book. He’s standing in front of the kitchen door, but instead of moving, he waits there. I glance over and see him giving me an unsure stare. “What?”

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

  “Micah, I know, all right?” I stop him, knowing how his talks usually start. When he sees me stressing out, he’s always been the first to offer a hearing ear. “Dude, I’m working my way through it, but I’ll be okay. I always am.”

  “No, I know.” He folds his arm. “Look, I do think you need to talk about it more, maybe go back to your therapist you used to see. But that’s not what this is about.”

  “Then what?”

  There’s a knock at the door, and he stops. I walk over to open it, hoping whoever this is can end our little discussion before it even begins.

  “Taylor.”

  Looking back at the open doorway, I discover Sasha standing there. “Sasha. What are you doing here?”

  “I … that last morning … I just thought we should talk.”

  The instant my eyes land on her, I want to kiss her. I want to pull her close and hold her. All of the feelings I’ve been fighting with myself over because I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t want her, because then where does that leave me?

  So I double down on my resolve, letting out a deep breath, and shake my head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “I think there is,” she replies, pushing the hair off of her face. “Can I come in?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The words are a struggle to get out, but I tighten my grip on the door handle, forcing them out. The sun bouncing off of her blonde hair makes me want to run my fingers through it.

  But you can’t, my thoughts scold me.

  “Taylor, please? Look, Micah told me what happened, and I just think—”

  “Wait, what?” I feel like I’ve just been hit in the face with frigid water. My head snaps to the side, staring Micah down. He quickly averts his eyes. “Micah told you what?”

  Turning my attention back to her, I watch as she leans forward a little and looks over at him. “No, I don’t know everything, but … I mean, he said that you’ve been through some things and thinks maybe—”

  “Oh, he thinks?” I take a step back, glaring at Micah. “You think, Micah? Really? And just what the hell is it that you’re thinking?”

  “Taylor, dude, I just …” He lets out a long breath.

  I narrow my eyes. “I’m waiting. You just what?”

  “Taylor, it’s not his fault.”

  I throw my finger in her face, clenching my teeth. “You don’t have any clue what’s going on here.”

  “Hey! I’m just trying to help you,” she shouts back.

  “Yeah, because I have a damn sign hanging from my forehead that reads ‘help me’.”

  “Taylor, come on, man. It’s not her fault.”

  “You’re goddamn right it’s not her fault. It’s yours, you jackass.”

  “Screw this, I’m out of here.” Sasha grabs the door, slamming it shut.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Micah?”

  “I just want to help you.”

  “You had no right. No right! I don’t need my business blasted all over the city.”

  “The city? What are you talking about? I told one person, and she deserves to know.”

  “Micah, I trusted you. How could you do that?”

  “Taylor, she’s good for you. I know you see that and you’re just fighting it.”

  “Go to hell!”

  “Uh …” My head swivels back to the doorway to find Veronica there. “Is this a bad time?”

  “No, it’s not,” I snap at her. “Get the hell out of here and take this ass with you.”

  “Hey!” Micah walks over to the door, getting in front of me. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “Screw you, you backstabbing prick.”

  “Taylor, I wanted to help you, and you’re biting my head off. You need to chill.”

  “Don’t tell me to chill, you asshole. How could you tell her? I told you that in confidence. What, did you tell Vero, too?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Nothing,” Micah responds but stares at me. “Of course I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell Sasha everything. I don’t even know everything, you idiot. Just what you let slip out that night you were drunk.”

  “Oh, I’m the idiot.” I take a step to him, pushing his chest.

  “Taylor, calm down.”

  “Calm down? You stabbed me in the back.”

  “Taylor—” Veronica starts, but I cut her off, putting a finger in her face.

  “I told you, stay the hell out of this.”

  “And I told you,” Micah gets in front of me, “don’t talk to her like that. I’m just trying to help, man.”

  “And I don’t need your shitty help, you dick. Get the hell out of here, you’ve already done enough.”

  I turn to head back to my bedroom when I feel a tug on my arm. “Taylor, would you just listen—”

  I spin around and slam my fist into his mouth, sending him down to a knee.

  “Taylor!” Veronica screams.

  “Screw you, Micah,” I spit out, walking into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

  Chapter 17

  Sasha

  “Just delete them already.” Tara taps her fingers across my phone.

  We’re sitting at a small table in Teddy’s Grill, a little place where we like to come and order hamburgers and chocolate milkshakes, both of which we think are the best in the city. It’s kind of like our comfort food when either of us is upset over something. It’s been three days since I popped up at Taylor’s and he exploded on me. Again. I still haven’t gotten over it.

  Tara’s been telling me to not only delete our text messages but his entire phone number from my cell. I want to do it, but at the same time, I’m in the loop. Not totally, probably not even a quarter of the loop, but now I have some context. Now I know there is something going on with him. So even though he was a major douchebag, both to me and from what I saw toward Micah, I still feel like I want to know what’s going on. I want him to open up to me.

  “Sasha, I swear, I’m gonna steal your phone and do it for you.”

  “You don’t get it, Tara,” I reply, pausing to take a drink of my chocolate shake. “He’s going through something.”

  “So you keep saying, but you haven’t told me what. I don’t care if he had a bad break up—”

  “It’s not that.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She slaps her hands on the wood table. “He’s being a gigantic a-hole, and you don’t deserve that. If you’re not going to tell me—”

  “I told you, I don’t feel comfortable telling you. You know I love you, but he was distraught that Micah even told me. I don’t think he wants anyone to know.”

  She stares off into the distance, and I take the last bite of my burger while waiting for her rebuttal. When it doesn’t come, and she continues to stare, I finally turn around to see what’s going on.

  “What are you—” My words halt as I see Taylor across the restaurant, sitting next to a tall blonde.

  Of course. Of course he’d just go out with someone else already.

  “What an ass,” I hiss.

  “See, I told you. You should go over there an
d slap him across the face.”

  From where we’re sitting, there’s a bar and a row of glasses and bottles lined up, so he can’t directly see me. The thought crosses my mind, but I shake my head.

  “No, let’s just forget it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I’m gonna use the bathroom and then let’s just get out of here.” Reaching into my purse, I pull out a twenty. “Here, go pay, so we don’t have to wait around. Meet me out by the car.”

  “Okay.” She takes the money, and I get up and cautiously walk along the back wall, toward the restroom. Before entering, I take a quick glance back and see Taylor. His eyes meet mine, but I turn away before I know if he registers that it’s me, and head into the bathroom.

  I stare at myself in the mirror, washing my hands as I finish. Taking a deep breath, I build up enough determination to walk out and not even glance in his direction, hoping to head directly to my car. My hopes are dashed as I open the restroom door and almost crash into him.

  He’s not walking across the way to the men’s room. Instead, he’s leaning against the wall, as if he was waiting for me to exit.

  “Hey,” he says.

  Seriously? That’s how he starts? His first words should be an apology, and since they’re not, the annoyance and frustration return from the last time I saw him.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” I snap, trying to walk past him.

  He grabs my wrist, stopping me. “I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Okay? Seriously, if that’s your idea of an apology, then you need to—”

  “Sasha, I mean it. I’m really sorry. But you had no right to come to my place like that. I felt like I was being ambushed or something.”

  “Taylor, I wasn’t trying to ambush you. Micah told me who Reese is and—”

  “Micah doesn’t know shit,” he growls out. Shaking his head, he seems more frustrated at Micah than me, but it’s still annoying. “He should’ve never told you anything.”

  “Don’t be mad at him, he just wants to help. I want to help.”

  He takes a step closer to me, and we sink deeper into the dark corner. “I don’t need help. You don’t know what I’ve been through and I don’t need to explain it to you.”

  Finally yanking my wrist away, I press my finger into his chest. “Taylor, you just apologized, and now you’re going on the offense again.” I let out a sigh, rubbing my forehead. “You’re right, though. You don’t owe me an explanation. You’re being a dick, but you’re right.” He chuckles, easing the tension I’m feeling. “I know we’re …” I shake my head, unable to find the right word. “Whatever we are, but when I went to your place, I just wanted to be there for you.”

  “I know that. I shouldn’t have acted like that, but again, I don’t need help.”

  I press my palms into his chest, gripping his dark blue shirt, more frustration setting in. “Listen to yourself. You’re not an island, you jerk. I like you. Let’s take all of your issues off the table, okay?” He narrows his eyes but cracks a grin, easing more of my tension and increasing my confidence. “Am I more than a booty call to you? And before you answer that, my rule still stands, and that’s the only time I’ll ever refer to myself like that.”

  He finally smiles, leaning closer to me. His lips graze mine, and I run my hands behind him, locking them behind his neck. His breath mixes with mine, and I lean closer, knowing this is probably a bad idea. The thought fades away instantly when he gravitates closer, and our lips connect. There’s a new heat felt from connecting with him than from the times before. When we met up before, it was under an agreement. I may have already liked him, but I wasn’t sure where he stands.

  “That wasn’t an answer,” I whisper as his lips float against mine.

  He grins. “Truth?”

  “I only want the truth from you, Taylor. Anything less than the truth isn’t worth anything.”

  “I want you to be.” For the first time, his eyes break away from mine. “But I’m not sure I can have you.”

  “Taylor, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  He lets out an incredulous self-chuckle, shaking his head. “I know. I’m pretty messed up, Sash.”

  You can say that again. But his words are like a magnet. This back and forth, the push and pull we’ve had for weeks. Now I’m feeling pulled again, instead of pushed. And maybe I shouldn’t want it, but I do.

  Even though I can’t see where he was sitting, my eyes flick past him. “You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve doing this while you’re here on a date.”

  Letting out an honest laugh, he leans his forehead against mine. “Her name is Monica. She’s not a date, she’s Ethan’s sister. Ethan and I were getting lunch, and he still had Ashley in the car.”

  “Ashley?”

  “His daughter. She wanted to see her aunt.” He laughs again, leaning a little closer. “So, is this a jealous Sasha I’m dealing with? It’s kind of a turn on.”

  Cocking my head to the side, I arch a brow. “Still a cocky bastard I see.”

  “Some things never change.” He smiles. “Can I come over tonight?”

  “Wow,” I scoff. “Just like that, huh? You think it’s that easy?”

  Flashing that confident grin, he runs his fingers through my hair. “Please,” he whispers closer, his breath floating across my ear.

  “That’s not fair,” I whisper back.

  “Playing fair’s overrated.”

  * * *

  He wakes me up by sitting up quickly, shaking the bed. Looking up at him, breathing hurried, he scans my room like he’s done in the past, and then lays back down. I have no idea what to say. If I ask him about it will he get defensive again? This entire week we’ve crossed boundaries and lines, but I’m still not sure how to deal with whatever he’s got going on. Erring on the side of caution, I don’t say anything. Instead, I only reach over, wrapping my arm around him.

  Surprisingly, he holds me a little tighter.

  “I was in a car crash,” he says, catching me off guard. His words force my eyes along his arm and shoulder, investigating his scars. “Reese … she was my girlfriend in high school. She … died.”

  “I’m so sorry, Taylor.” My gaze lands on him, and he gives me a smile, but it’s not one of delight. It’s almost a derailed smile. His hand floats over my arm, then travels up and moves a piece of hair from my face. “How long were you two together?”

  Staring past me, his face turns somber as he remembers. “We … It was a long time.”

  I don’t want to push him, but I don’t want to end this channel he’s opened to me. He doesn’t give me the opportunity though, unleashing a new smile that tells me he’s done talking about it.

  “Do you work today?” he asks.

  “Nope.” I return his grin, deciding to go with it. “I’m hungry. Want something to eat?”

  Leaning closer, he places light kisses along my jaw. “Is that a trick question?”

  I sit up, pushing his chest. “I meant breakfast. I could whip something up really quick.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “It’s what I do.” I smile.

  He follows me into the kitchen, but I don’t pay attention to him. Finding my rhythm around the room, I feel at ease, and like everything is right in the world. It’s how I always feel when I’m cooking. In the kitchen, I’m free.

  “You look like you’re dancing,” he says with a light chuckle. “You really love cooking, huh?”

  “It’s my passion. You’re not passionate about training?”

  “Passionate? No. I mean, I like it, but it just helps to take my mind off of stuff.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see he sits on the counter in his jeans, no shirt, his palms pressed into the counter, emphasizing his already broad shoulders and chest. Giving me a crooked smile, his eyes float past mine and down at the pan I’m cooking in.

  “You’re making me a pancake?”

  “No, it’s a crepe.”

  “H
m.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’ve never had a crepe.”

  “I don’t even know what that is. What happened to the classic bacon and eggs?”

  “Eggs are disgusting.”

  He laughs. “All right then.”

  I finish whisking the mixture and grab some blueberries out of the fridge. The crepe cooks fast, and I slide it out of the pan, grabbing the blueberries and some cinnamon and powdered sugar, finishing the plate off. Taking a fork, I walk over to him, standing between his legs.

  “I thought you were making breakfast. That looks like dessert.”

  “You know what?” I point the fork at him. “I’m the one cooking for you, so you shouldn’t be complaining as much as you are.”

  “I just know what I like. I’m a creature of habit.”

  I cut the crepe with the fork, lifting it slowly to his mouth. He smiles, his eyes never breaking away from mine. His tongue runs across his bottom lip before opening up to the fork.

  It’s always a nervous feeling that runs through me when someone I want to impress tastes something I’ve cooked. Give me a dining room full of customers, no problem. I know I cook well, and couldn’t care less because I know my food is spot on. When I cook something new for my sister, I feel the pins and needles prickling my skin, waiting to see what she says. I feel the same with Taylor. He takes the bite, chewing while his eyes stay on mine.

  “What do you think?” I ask, unable to hide the shy tone.

  He nods. “Tastes like you.” I pause, lifting an eyebrow. Taking the fork from me, he cuts another piece, taking a bite before licking it. “Delicious.” I feel my face heat up as he cuts into the crepe again, this time offering me the bite. “And I don’t know that anything’s ever been as big of a turn on as this.”

  “Is that right?” a voice sounds behind me.

  My eyes roll at the voice of Felicia. “I thought you left for work already.”