The Space Between Us

by Megan Hart

  But Vic was ignoring me, saying he had to go, and a tidal wave of embarrassment engulfed me. “Where are you going?”

  His sigh was so loud I heard it clearly, even though he still had his head buried under the hood. Metal clanged. He pulled back and tugged a dirty hanky from the back pocket of his jeans to wipe his hands. He leaned against the car and looked at me, finally.

  “It’s time for me to leave, that’s all.”

  “But the summer’s not over. We have two weeks left!”

  He shook his head and tucked the rag back in his pocket. “Sorry, kid.”

  My chin went up. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Tesla,” he said with a sigh. He pressed the heel of his hand against one eye, then passed his hand over his hair. “Look. I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I was bold enough to push him. I wanted to hear him say it, even though I knew it would hurt.

  Vic’s low laugh surprised me. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I put a hand on my cocked hip.

  “You’re great,” he said.

  Another wave of emotion swirled through me, this time not embarrassment but satisfaction. I moved closer. When I tried to kiss his mouth, Vic turned his head. Our bodies were touching, but he didn’t let me touch his lips with mine. We stayed that way, unmoving, for a second or two—so long I thought the universe had time to grow another planet.

  Then he turned his face to mine.

  His hands settled on my hips. His mouth took mine, and the kiss I thought I’d give him became something else. Something stronger, harder. Something I wasn’t really prepared for.

  I wanted it, though. I wanted his tongue in my mouth, his cock against my belly, his hands on my ass. I wanted Vic so much it made me shameless, and I rubbed myself against him until he stopped, breathing hard, and gripped my upper arms to keep me still.

  “You’re young,” he said.

  “You’re only five years older than me. My dad’s eight years older than my mom. Five years is nothing.” I licked my lips, but didn’t try to kiss him again.

  “I still have to go.” Vic pushed me gently to one side and stalked to his office.

  I followed. If he didn’t want me, he’d have told me to go away, right? I closed the door behind me and studied the way his shoulders slumped. All my big plans vanished with that one small gesture; Vic didn’t want to fuck me. I could throw myself at him all I wanted, but I’d only look stupid.

  The metal doorknob was cool under my palm, and I was already halfway through the door when he moved behind me. Pushed the door shut. Vic murmured my name, and I turned to face him. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face.

  “You’re beautiful. You know that?”

  I shook my head. Nobody had ever told me I was beautiful. I was too short, tits too small, ass too big. Too smart for boys who didn’t know how to talk to girls. Too much of a lot of things, not enough of others.

  “Well,” Vic said, “you are. And never let anyone make you feel like you’re not.”

  I made some sound of disbelief, wordless because I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  His kiss was soft and tender. Romantic. It was very sweet and slightly unsatisfactory, all things considered.

  “Promise me,” Vic said.

  “What?” I pushed up on my toes to get closer to his mouth, so my lips moved against his.

  “Promise me you’ll never let anyone make you feel you’re not beautiful. Or not worth something.”

  I put my arms around his neck. The door was hard against my back, the knob threatening to knuckle into my kidney if I wasn’t careful. But I looked into Vic’s eyes and saw a lot of truth there. He meant what he said. I nodded.

  “Okay. I promise.”

  He smiled and kissed my forehead. That was not what I wanted. I frowned.

  “Vic.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re making me feel not beautiful.”

  He laughed and pulled away from me. Took a step back, then another. He held out his hands. “You want me to get into trouble?”

  “What trouble?” I demanded. “I’m seventeen, and look around you. Who’s going to say anything? They’re all too busy fucking with each other to pay any attention to what we’re doing.”

  I sounded bitter, and maybe I was. This had been, aside from that one time last week on that very couch, the worst summer of my life. I had two weeks left to endure before my parents took us home to face a different sort of torture.

  I was seventeen and horny, and I already knew how good Vic could make me feel. I was greedy for it, and I didn’t really care what anyone else thought. I’d always been good at getting what I wanted. When I saw a flash of desire in Vic’s eyes, I moved a little closer. I didn’t have much in the way of seductive wiles, but I aimed to use whatever I had.

  “Bobby Turner,” I said.

  Vic’s brows lifted. “What about him?”

  Bobby Turner was twenty-one, not quite six feet tall, with the wiry body of a terrier and the tenacity of one, too. He’d been coming to The Compound since he was a kid, but his parents had both died in a car accident a few years back. Since then he lived there full-time. He was supposed to be part of the maintenance crew, but he spent most of his time in the greenhouse and in the gardens.

  “Bobby Turner,” I said, “is trying to get into my pants. Has been since last year.”

  “You don’t let him.” Vic didn’t sound jealous, just certain.

  “He’s been fucking Karen Hoffer.”

  She was a psychologist married to a pharmacist. They had no kids, but they brought their two little yappy dogs with them every year. They didn’t stay in the cabins; they had an RV. She was at least fifteen years older than Bobby Turner and also twice his size.

  “Mrs. Hoffer?” Vic laughed.

  “I saw them together. I saw Bobby Turner on his knees between her legs, eating her pussy.” I’d never said that word aloud, and I stuttered a little, but was proud of how it sounded coming out. Strong. Confident. Also a bit sexy. “She was moaning and writhing around, and he was facefirst in it. She was fucking his face so hard I thought she might break his nose. She probably came at least three times.”

  Vic swallowed, looking awkward. “Wow. Well, good for them, I guess.”

  “He says he’ll eat my pussy until I scream.” Actually, Bobby Turner had offered to tongue my clit and finger-fuck me until I turned inside out. But I had a hard enough time saying “pussy.”

  Vic’s laugh sounded uncertain this time. “Does he?”

  “I’d rather have you do it.” There, I’d said it. It was out there between us, I couldn’t take it back, and the worst he could do was say no. Or laugh. That would’ve been worse.

  Vic didn’t laugh. He didn’t say no. He sighed again and rubbed at his eyes. “Tesla, what we did last week…”

  “Was amazing.” I moved closer.

  He looked at the couch almost as if he couldn’t help it, then at the floor. The door. Anyplace but at me.

  “You know what my mother told me about sex?” I said.

  Vic appeared resigned again. “I can only imagine.”

  “She said that when the time was right, I’d know it. And that I should make sure to be careful—I’m on the pill, by the way. And that I should pick someone who won’t make a mess of it, because there’s only one first time.”

  “Christ. My dad told me to keep it in my pants until I was sure I could do the right thing in case I knocked someone up, and my mother told me she found me under a cabbage leaf.” Vic backed up to sit on the desk.

  I moved to stand in front of him, though I didn’t touch him. “You’re the only person who’s ever told me I was beautiful.”

  “That’s a damned shame.”

  “It’s true.” I shrugged. “I want you, Vic.”

  Some low, gravelly noise slipped out of him. I put my hands on his knees, then a little higher on his thighs. I didn’t push b
etween his legs. I touched him, but didn’t move against him even though I wanted to.

  “It’s you or Bobby Turner.”

  He barked a laugh. “Shit. No. Not that guy.”

  “He’ll do it,” I told him, though I had no intentions of ever fucking Bobby Turner, no matter how talented his tongue. “If you won’t.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can,” I said. “Either you don’t want to or you feel like you shouldn’t.”

  “Both,” Vic answered.

  I didn’t want that to be true. I didn’t move. We stared at each other for another long set of seconds, until at last he put a hand on my hip and inched me closer, to stand between his thighs.

  “You’re a smart girl, Tesla. And you’re beautiful even if nobody’s said so before. And you’ll find someone to do this with, I promise you that. But…it shouldn’t be Bobby Turner. Or me.”

  I was young and horny, but I had my pride. “Fine. I won’t beg.”

  He hesitated. “Good.”

  “So tell me what last week was all about, then.” I squeezed his hard thigh muscles through the denim.

  His look said I asked a stupid question, but he didn’t make me feel dumb. “I’m a guy.”

  “You’re still a guy,” I pointed out, “and you’re saying no now.”

  “I should’ve said no then, too.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking about that. “So…why are you leaving? Really?”

  Something in his face told me the answer without him having to say a word. Stunned, I stepped back. “You’re leaving because of me?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “What’s it like, then? I mean…” I glanced involuntarily toward the couch. “You’re leaving because of what we did? But you’re not… You won’t… You don’t have to…”

  “I have to,” Vic said quietly. “It’s my job.”

  “It’s your job to leave?” I blinked away tears.

  Then I was in his arms, pressed up against his chest. He smelled good, like clothes dried in the sun and a little tang of sweat and motor oil. His arms around me felt good—better, in a different way, than his tongue in my mouth and his fingers in my panties. With Vic’s arms around me I felt as if nothing in the world could hurt me.

  Except maybe him.

  “No. It’s my job… Look. I can’t explain. Fuck, I shouldn’t even have said anything. Just understand that it’s not you.”

  I pressed my tear-wet face to the soft cotton of his shirt. “Oh, really? It’s not me, it’s you? That shitty excuse?”

  “It’s not an excuse.” His hand cupped the back of my head. “It’s the truth. And I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. All I knew was that he was leaving, and I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want him to let me go, either. I clung, pride forgotten, and he let me.

  “You should get out of here, too,” Vic said under his breath. He pushed me back gently and looked into my eyes. “You and Cap. Tell your parents you want to go home. Home’s the better place for you. And them. You should get them to leave early.”

  Suspicion tunneled inside me. “Why?”

  Vic traced my eyebrow with his finger, then used his thumbs to wipe the tears from under my eyes. “Just…trust me.”

  I did trust him, and that’s why my parents, Cap and I weren’t there three weeks later when federal agents working in conjunction with local undercover officers raided The Compound. In addition to a large number of marijuana plants not so cleverly planted in the woods on the property, they found several fields of opium poppies. Though The Compound members tried to claim the flowers were ornamental only, the purifying and processing equipment set up in one of the old barns was enough to convict twelve of the fifty or so members, including Bobby Turner. During the raid, three people died, including two DEA agents when Karen Hoffer pulled out a shotgun—weapons being clearly against The Compound’s philosophy and rules—and shot them before being gunned down herself.

  Because of Vic, none of us was hurt. Because of his testimony, my parents were never even implicated in the case. Vic saved us then, and several months later, when my parents’ marriage spiraled out of control and I showed up on Vic’s doorstep with mascara making raccoon circles of my eyes, Cap at my side, he saved me and my brother in a different way.

  I never did forget what he’d told me. To never let anyone make me feel I wasn’t beautiful.

  * * *

  “Why are you telling me this?” Meredith asked.

  I shrugged. “Because with Charlie I always feel beautiful, Meredith. And with you…I never do.”

  She drew in a hitching, choking breath. She backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. I heard the rise and fall of their voices, not quite shouts, and though I didn’t think I could sleep, at some point exhaustion overtook me and I did.

  When I woke in the morning, they were already gone. There was only one thing for me to do. One place to go.

  I went home.

  Chapter 40

  Vic opened the door, his eyes hard when he saw me. He said nothing. I didn’t, either. Then he put his arms around me, pulled me close and held me tight. The strong hands that had made a habit of locking doors flattened on my back, his fingertips pressing my shoulder blades.

  I cried.

  There on the doorstep, with ice under my boots, heat from inside wafting over us, Vic held me while I shook with sobs I stifled against the front of his shirt. He offered no words of advice, no platitudes. The comfort came from his embrace, not his words, and it was exactly what I needed.

  “Wipe your face,” he said at last, accompanied by a hanky he must’ve pulled from his back pocket.

  “Ew.” I shook my head at the thought of wiping my eyes with his snot rag, but it did force back the tears. “No, thanks.”

  “Come inside.” Vic stepped back to let me in. “Everyone’s downstairs. You should probably wash your face first. And, Tesla…”

  I’d already been heading for the powder room, but paused to look at him. “Yeah?”

  “Merry Christmas. It’s good to have you here.” The sound of excited screams and laughter drifted up from the rec room, and Vic glanced in that direction before looking back at me. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  I nodded. Later would be good enough.

  The kids were happy to see me, too, even Simone, who begrudgingly forgave me when I showed her the bag of presents I’d brought with her name on them. They fell on the gifts and tore into the wrapping the way kids do, but they also threw themselves onto my lap and covered me with hugs and kisses that smelled of chocolate.

  Vic and Elaine were happy with their gifts, too. For Elaine’s mom and sister I’d brought gift cards for the Mocha—sort of lame, but something I knew they’d use, and in case they weren’t there when I got to Vic’s house, something I could just keep for myself. For me there was a wealth of gifts I hadn’t expected, and that made me want to cry again, but I held off long enough to get through them all.

  Then came dinner, and oh, how nice it was to sit at the table with our familiar china and eat Elaine’s traditional Christmas goose with stuffing, mashed potatoes, baked corn, those biscuits from a can that she hated but Vic loved and had taught me to love, too. We laughed and ate, then ate some more. We cleaned up the dishes and then had dessert, then all went back down to the rec room to play with all the new toys.

  I managed to creep away to take a peek into my old bedroom, looking empty without my pictures on the wall and clothes in the closet. The bed seemed way too small after so long in a queen-size, but I sat on it anyway and put my hands flat on the bare mattress to feel the places where the springs wanted to poke through.

  “It’s still yours if you want it,” Vic said from the doorway. He came inside and shut the door behind him, then took a seat in the desk chair. “You know that, right?”

  I drew in a shaky breath. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “
Tesla. You and Cappy…you always have a place here. As long as I have a place, you have one.”

  It was so good to hear that that I almost cried again. Knowing I could come back was more important than actually moving back in here—something I knew I couldn’t do.

  “But you won’t, huh?” Vic’s smile was rueful.

  I shook my head.

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair, rumpling it. Even though I knew he’d probably been woken before dawn, he didn’t look nearly as tired as he used to. He rubbed his palms against the thighs of his jeans. “Where will you go?”

  “I’m sure I can find an apartment. Could I stay here tonight?”

  “Of course. You’ll have to let me kick your ass at the new Resident Evil, though.”

  I had a smile for that. “You can try.”

  Vic grinned, then let it soften. “Tesla…I’m sorry about…whatever happened. I should never have stuck my nose in it.”

  “You were right, weren’t you? Look what happened.” I shrugged. “Better it ends now than later, I guess.”

  “Are you sure it’s over?”

  I looked at him. “I remembered what you told me.”

  He didn’t ask what that had been. Just nodded. “Well. Then, good for you.”

  It wasn’t good for me, it was awful. It was breaking my heart. It was leaving me alone, and I hated it.

  Chapter 41

  I didn’t expect Meredith to call me, but when my phone rang late Christmas night, I hoped it would be Charlie. He sounded tired, his voice a little muffled. He said my name when I answered, and that was it.

  “Is she listening?” I asked.

  “No. She’s in the shower. She doesn’t know I’m calling you.”

  I was in my old, narrow bed in a sleeping bag, because for some stupid reason I’d taken my comforter and sheets to Charlie and Meredith’s house even though I’d known they wouldn’t fit the other bed. My phone was cool on my ear, but quickly warmed. I curled into the warmth my breath made in the cave of my covers.

  “Then you should hang up,” I said.

  A beat of silence. “Tesla, I’m sorry.”