by J , Louise
I don’t feel too confident in that answer.
How the hell do I get her back?
Thirty Three: Brooklyn
When the main door to the studio swung closed behind Dane this afternoon, I felt like absolute fucking shit. Shit because of my reaction to his answer to a question I never should’ve asked. Shit because I knew he felt like shit, too. I don’t want to make him feel bad, and I don’t want to feel bad myself. I want to be with him, more than any man I’ve ever wanted before, but I know he can cause me a deeper hurt than anyone else has.
I know he will at some point.
Being aware of that fact doesn’t seem to be enough to make me stay away from him, it isn’t an option. Instead, it just raises my defenses. This is a total head-fuck and, in this case, it’s self inflicted.
Now I’m standing at Dane’s front door, ready to use the key he gave me. I’m hoping that using it symbolizes that I really want to be with him. I know I left him doubtful of that earlier – I was doubtful myself then. I’m also hoping that by using it, he’ll accept it as an apology for the way I questioned him last night and my reaction to it.
I know we’re not heading for life-long true love, but there’s no denying he feels something for me and, at this point in time, he wants me – at least I know where I stand. That knowledge, and the fact that he doesn’t know the depth of my feelings, gives me power, and that pleases me greatly. I fully intend to hold on to it.
I enter Dane’s dark, quiet apartment. After taking off my shoes and jacket, I go through to the bedroom and find that the place is empty. It’s only now I remember his request that I call him when I was done at the studio. I completely forgot, thanks to being so immersed in thought and indecision.
I sit at the foot of the bed and search my handbag for my phone. I call Dane, but it rings out to voicemail. I leave a brief message and ponder what to do. It’s nine p.m., and given that I don’t know where he is, I don’t know how long he’ll be. I can go home or wait here. We had plans tonight, and I’ve fucked everything up. Well done me.
With the heels of my hands, I rub my heavy eyes. I’m so tired after last night’s shitty sleep, maybe I should just go to bed. I’ll be here when Dane gets back, at least, even if I’m not awake.
After taking off my jeans and jumper, I bury my naked body under the duvet, Dane’s scent surrounding me, calming me. Yawning, I reach over and turn off the side light and close my eyes. It isn’t long before I feel myself drifting.
Thirty Four: Dane
I stand leaning back against the closed bedroom door. With the blinds partially open, the way they always are, Brooklyn’s form under the comforter is visible. Even without being able to see her properly, just being in this room with her is making me realize what I intend to do is going to be a lot harder than I expected.
The relief I’m feeling just because she’s even here is making shit more challenging.
All I want to do is climb in beside Brooklyn, wake her with my lips, and then bury myself deep inside her and make it so that she feels only me, and thinks of nothing but me; not the past, not the future, just us in the moment.
That goes against the decision I’ve made.
I leave the room to go shower in the main bathroom, so I don’t wake her. When I return, I sit naked at the edge of the bed, contemplating my intentions.
A subdued moan sounds from behind me. I look over my shoulder at Brooklyn as she curls tightly into the fetal position. After watching her do nothing more for a short time, I turn away from her and get back to my thoughts.
Another moan plays out, this one longer and more distressed. Another soon after and Brooklyn flips over onto her back, the comforter and sheet becoming tangled with one of her legs.
Fucking hell.
Thirty Five: Brooklyn
“You. Are. Mine,” he says directly into my ear through teeth so tightly clenched I can hear the creaking of his jaw.
His fierce breaths blow harshly against the side of my neck and the rapid rise and fall of his chest crushes mine, restricting my breathing.
His lips lock with mine so firmly it hurts.
My mouth fills with the metallic taste of blood.
I push against his solid abdomen, but I can’t–
“Brooklyn,” a familiar, tender voice whispers into the dark hallway.
The scent of safety suddenly encapsulates me, taking me to another place.
Warm breath caresses my ear as that caring whisper carries my name again. I smile as soft-firm lips kiss across my cheek to my mouth. Mmm … warm, silky skin … strong, demanding arms.
I really like this dream.
Our kiss deepens, and he moves over me, settling between my thighs, his hard cock pressing against me.
I open my eyes to darkness and wonderful recognition.
This is better than a dream. This is real.
“You’re back,” I say, pleased, but not completely alert.
“You’re back.” He kisses me once on my lips.
“Where’ve you been? I called you.”
“The shop. I had music playing and didn’t hear my cell. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight. When I noticed your message I left.”
“The shop? Why so late and on a Saturday?” His forefinger rests on my lips to silence me.
The tips of his fingers journey over my face – forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, chin. It’s as though he’s seeing me through his touch. Cupping his cheeks, I bring his mouth back to mine. He kisses me once and then moves off of me. The bedding is tangled around my legs. Dane rearranges it all and then turns me onto my side and puts us into the spooning position, our naked hold semi-snug.
“What did you do after you left the studio?” he asks.
I wanted to kiss him breathless.
He wants to have a conversation.
I push back tighter into the frame of his body. He feels so good. “Just went to my place with Leona. Kayla was out with Chase, so it was just Lee and me until she went to meet Xavier. What were you up to at the shop?”
With his arm remaining around my waist, Dane shifts onto his back. Turning to face him, I drape my leg over his midsection and snuggle closely in at his side.
“Paperwork and stuff. Are you hungry?”
“Not for food,” I answer, reaching down to his–
“I am,” he says, sliding out of the bed.
I listen to him pulling on his tracksuit bottoms and watch his movement in the dark. He leaves the bedroom door open, so when the kitchen light comes on the glow spills dimly into this room. Getting up, I go to the wardrobe to grab one of Dane’s T-shirts and then decide not to bother.
When I walk into the kitchen, pulling my hair up into a bun and securing it with a clip, Dane is standing looking in the fridge. He glances over his shoulder at me and does a double-take when he notices my lack of clothing. “Sure you don’t want anything to eat?” he asks, returning his attention to the fridge.
“Nah, I’m fine. I had Chinese with Leona. We stuffed our faces.”
“Drink?”
“Nope. Thanks.” I sit on a stool at the breakfast bar and cross one leg over the other. “I just came in here to keep you company.”
“Baby, aren’t you cold?” Dane asks, still gazing into the fridge.
“Not really.”
He closes the door and rubs his face with both hands, sighing.
“You okay?” I get off the stool to go to him.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m hungry after all.”
Good. I want to be fucking, not eating, or waiting for him to eat. Coming up behind Dane, I snake my arms around his waist, pressing my body against his. This time when I reach down, I make it to my intended destination. It seems I’m not the only one who wants to fuck.
His hand over mine, he halts my movement. “Baby, aren’t you tired?”
“No.”
“You were sleeping when I got here. I woke you up?”
“True, but I feel fine. Are you tired?” He
didn’t get much more sleep than me last night.
“Yeah, I am.”
I stop myself from sighing. I wanted intimacy with him; kissing, hugging and sex. I wanted to completely draw a line under last night and today and, to me, being intimate is the best way to do it. I suppose I’ll have to wait until the morning.
Almost one hour after returning to bed with Dane, I still can’t get back to sleep. He’s asleep, and we’re spooning in a loose fit. Laying here in the dark has given me thinking time, and I’ve noted a few things about tonight.
Gently, and holding my breath, I slip out from under his arm and the duvet. After waiting a few moments to make sure I haven’t unsettled him, I carefully pick up my phone from the bedside table and walk around to Dane’s side to switch our phones. I make my way over to the bathroom, lock myself in and turn on the light.
Standing leaning back against the counter, I unlock the mobile and tap on call history. The last two incoming calls were mine, the ones he missed. I search down the list, looking for female names I don’t recognize and notable ones such as Mia. She is in town, after all, and I don’t see why Dane would go to the shop after hours on a Saturday.
It never would’ve crossed my mind that they might intentionally see each other if he didn’t come back acting so weird and distant. Now I wonder if I’ve put too much trust in him.
It’s not until I get to the dates that indicate the week we met, five weeks ago, that I see female names Dane hasn’t mentioned to me; his sister and Jen from the shop, for example. It’s irrational of me, because he was single then, but seeing that there was a call between Dane and Mia the day before he came to see Release makes my stomach drop. They probably fucked that night.
Aside from the fact that she looks like some kind of goddess who’s no doubt mind blowing in bed, there was enough of a connection between them for it to be ongoing. I don’t understand what makes me so different that I’ve earned ‘girlfriend’ status. I’d feel honored, even without knowing the reasons, if we weren’t only three weeks into this relationship. Clarissa made it to three and a half months, and that was after months of ‘fuck buddy’ status. Dane said it himself; he cared about her, he didn’t love her.
I know from the way he is with me that he cares about me, so at this point I’m no different to her. But he said what we have isn’t the same. What the heck does that even mean?
Exiting the call log, I tap on messages. Most people text more than they speak, this location will be more informative.
A knock on the bathroom door makes me jump. I almost drop the phone, but catch it by clutching it to my stomach before it makes its descent to the ground.
“Brooklyn?” Dane says.
I hold my breath as my heart races at a billion beats per second – my body could fail to function at this level of shock and fear.
“Are you okay?”
“Mmm hmm,” is the most I can get out.
“You’ve been in there a while, what’s up?”
How long has he been awake? How long have I been in here?
“I was a bit too hot … I felt sick,” I say, doing my best to sound calm. My heart’s still racing and now my palms are sweaty. “It’s cooler in here.” I look down at myself. I’m bloody naked; I have nowhere to stash his phone. I can’t go out there holding it.
“Can I come in?” No!
I exit his messages, rush to the door and turn off the light. When I open up, as I’d hoped, the bedroom light is still off, so Dane can’t see that I have his mobile. Ours are the same, so in the protection of the darkness and without him looking at the actual screen, he’ll assume it’s mine if he notices it in my hand.
He reaches out and strokes my cheek. “Do you want me to open the window?”
“Please,” I agree.
Whilst he’s distracted with that, I place his phone on the bedside table, next to mine, and quickly slip under the duvet. Dane gets in beside me, and I finally start to calm down. Propped up on his elbow and leaning in close, he threads his fingers through my hair and massages my scalp. “Better?”
He’s so lovely. I feel sooo guilty – I didn’t even find anything to justify my snooping. But he’s been weird since he woke me, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right. First things first, though. “Much better. Thank you. I think I should close the window, we’ll get cold. I cooled down quite a bit in the bathroom.”
“What were you doing in there?”
“Just playing on my phone.” I go to move. “I’ll close the–”
“I’ll do it.”
I feel like I’ve betrayed him.
I flipping well have.
I will never snoop on him again.
Even if I didn’t get to read his text messages.
After the window is closed, we settle close, side-by-side, but I’m aware Dane’s being mindful of our degree of closeness, possibly so I don’t get ‘hot’ again.
Possibly for reasons relating to his strange behavior.
Keeping my tone non-confrontational, I ask, “Why have you avoided getting intimate with me tonight, Dane? And why did you frown when I walked into the kitchen naked?” It sounds stupid, but I played back everything for that one hour before I went to the bathroom, and I realized details which may seem small, but they hold significance.
“I didn’t frown.”
“Yes, you did. You see me naked all the time and you always, always look at me with adoration. We sleep nude every night and we’ve even eaten together like that. Tonight you did a double take and then frowned before looking back in the fridge. All the other times I’ve been unclothed you’ve never asked me if I’m cold, in fact, there’s rarely enough space between us for me to get cold. And that brings me to my next point. You haven’t touched me or held me properly, and you’ve evaded me touching you. You even rejected my kiss. What’s that all about?”
I get that he was tired. I was and still am. But we’ve both been absolutely knackered before, and it didn’t take more than a simple touch to make us forget about how tired we were.
He doesn’t respond immediately, which only adds to my resolve that something isn’t right.
“Dane?” I whisper, desperate for his reassurance.
“You’re looking way too deeply into this, Brooklyn?”
“Please don’t treat me like an idiot. If you’re pissed off with me or if you’ve tired of me already then just tell me.”
“Tired of you!” He turns onto his side and looks at my face, but he won’t be able to see me clearly. I’m happy about that. “With the exception of not fucking you, everything else has been the same. That doesn’t represent tiring of someone. Or even being pissed at them.”
I’d like to know why he seems so annoyed with me now – I’m the one who’s feeling the sting of rejection. “With the exception of those three nights in the first week, I’ve been with you every night and every free moment we’ve had. Don’t you think I’d notice a difference in your behavior?”
This afternoon it sounded like he didn’t want to lose me. Tonight it’s been as though he wouldn’t be bothered either way.
“I think I should go home.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Neither of us moves nor speaks for a long moment.
“This is where you’re supposed to convince me you actually want me to stay, Dane. Message received loud and clear.” I yank the cover off of me and leave the bed. I grab my clothes from the wardrobe and get dressed in the dark. Dane doesn’t move or say anything.
I leave the room, without speaking a single word, and head for the front door. Jacket and shoes on, I release the lock and pull. It’s barely open when Dane comes up behind me and pushes it closed with one hand. He stands with his palm against the door, the front of his body pressed to the back of mine. “Stay,” he says, softly.
“Tell me why.”
A frustrated sigh sounds, the harsh breath brushing against my hair. “Don’t push me.”
“Are you threat
ening me?” This is getting ridiculous now, I know he’s not.
Just like I know I wasn’t really going to leave.
I just wanted him to come after me. How fucking pathetic?
“What’s this all about, Dane?”
Thirty Six: Dane
Avoiding Brooklyn’s advances was close to impossible. It was harder than resisting my own desire to take her. The only reason I kissed her in the first place was to wake her nicely from her disturbed sleep. I didn’t plan on getting that close tonight, and I wouldn’t have woken her at all otherwise. Not only have I given mixed messages, but I’ve made her feel rejected – that was never my intention.
Now I don’t even know why the fuck I thought what I’d planned would work in the first place.
“I’m not tired of you. I just wasn’t sure enough about how you feel after last night. I saw the look on your face. Not only when I told you, but today also. I thought it would be better if we didn’t go there until you had time to really know how you feel about it, and if you still want this.”
“But I was here when you got back tonight. You told me the truth, and I’m still here. What was there to be unsure about on your side? You avoided being with me. I still wanted you, didn’t that tell you enough?”
Damn it. Leave it to Brooklyn Scott to keep pushing. “I didn’t want to touch you in that way for you to then realize you couldn’t take it. I wanted us to be together in the other ways we’re good at – ways I haven’t been with anybody else. I wanted to make you feel different. That was the plan. You haven’t exactly given me the chance.”
“You weren’t going to have sex with me to show me we’re different?”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“No, I … I know it’s not the same between us to how you were with all the others. I know there’s more to us than sex.”
“You don’t act like it, Brooklyn. You doubt me so easily. You decided I was tired of you after one night – not even a whole night – of keeping a little distance between us. I didn’t hold you or kiss you the way I usually would because I was finding it hard enough already. I don’t expect you to have known that, but you still concluded the worst.”