Expressionate

by Lucy Smoke

  “Oh?” I sip my green tea slowly. The flier in my pocket is heavy. My thoughts on Tax are heavier.

  Trish catches my eye. “Something is up with her. I’ve decided not to answer her calls for the time being. If she calls you, I’d suggest you don’t answer either.”

  “You know she’s going to call me if she can’t get ahold of you,” I remind her.

  She groans, closing her eyes. “Well, I have to do something. It can’t keep going on like this.” I open my mouth, but she shakes her head. “No, never mind. I shouldn’t have brought her up. I know you guys have your issues. I don’t want to talk about her anymore. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Oh, well…” I glance to the side, my eyes catching on the window, watching the people outside walking by. “I’m…um…dating someone.”

  Trish leans forward propping her elbows on the small café table between us. “Who – oh my God! Is it the neighbor? The blond?” She scrunches her nose. “He’s a player, Love, he was with your roommate!”

  “What?” I jerk my gaze back to her, confused.

  “The guy?” She takes the stopper out of her travel cup and points at me with it. “The blond one with the tattoos. The one talking up and down your roommate? He was there the first time I visited.”

  “No,” I shake my head. “Definitely not.” I’m not even sure if Cross likes me. “But I am kind of seeing his roommate.”

  “Roommate?”

  Seriously? Was she not paying attention that night? “The dark haired one? He has a sister living with them. His name is Tax.”

  “Oh?” She lowers the coffee stopper and lifts a brow at me. “And?”

  “And what?” I bite my lip and look away.

  She huffs. “Come on, give me details!”

  I shrug. “We’re dating.”

  “And what else? Do you like him? Is he nice?”

  “I wouldn’t be dating him if I didn’t like him,” I say, looking back at her.

  She shoots me a glare as she lifts her cup to her lips.

  I blow out a breath. “Okay, yeah, I like him,” I pause before adding, “a lot.”

  Trish’s eyes widen, and she leans forward. “Wow, that’s high praise coming from you.” My phone buzzes in my pocket.

  “He makes me feel…” I lower my gaze to my lap, a flush rushing up over my cheeks. Is this what I wanted? It feels good to talk about him, but embarrassment is quickly surfacing.

  “He makes you feel?” Trish prompts, sounding excited.

  “Good,” I say finally, “protected…happy.”

  She smiles. A real smile. One I haven’t seen in a long time from her. Sitting back, Trish taps her nails against the table. “He must,” she says, “if he makes you grin like that.”

  It’s then that I realize she’s not the only one smiling like an idiot. I try to wipe it from my face and find that I can’t. The thought of Tax makes me blush and smile and it’s so strange and yet, also alluring. My phone buzzes, but this time it’s not alone. Trish pulls out her phone and groans. I pull out mine as well. One of the notifications is a spam email and the other is a text from Tax. I click on Tax’s first.

  Tax: I’m coming over to see you later.

  I smile and send a quick reply, telling him what time I’ll be home.

  “I have to go,” Trish says. I look up from my phone as she downs the rest of her latte.

  “So soon?” I tuck my phone away and stand as she does.

  “Yeah, Lawrence wants to have some office friends over for dinner. I’ve gotta run to the grocery store and pick up some stuff.” I remember the flier in my pocket and pick up my own cup, sucking back the rest of my green tea, wincing when my stomach churns as I fill it.

  “Will you throw my cup away when you take yours?” I ask quickly, before she can step away.

  “Uh, sure.” She takes my cup and as she moves towards the trash cans, I realize she has her bag slung over her shoulder. I panic, looking around. But there, in her chair is her sweater. I rip the flier from my pocket and tuck it into the pocket of the sweater.

  “Okay, thanks for meeting me,” she says as she strides back up. “I’m sorry I have to rush away.”

  “It’s no problem,” I assure her, taking her sweater and handing it to her. She sighs and slides into it.

  “I’ll see you later,” she calls back to me as she hurries out the door with me close on her heels. She turns one way, and I stand on the sidewalk, watching her go.

  Huffing out a breath that blows several strands of my hair out of my face, I start toward the parking lot. I know the moment he steps in the doorway, the thought of anything else will fly right out the window.

  My fingers hover over the keyboard, my chest aching. The page remains blank. I shut the laptop with a sigh and twist away from the desk. I can’t focus enough to write anything. Outside, a golden-hued sunset sinks over the horizon, bleeding out pinks and oranges across the sky. Above the lowering sun, the darkness rises, a vast blanket of midnight and stars that are barely visible – just out of reach. I rub my temples and stand up, padding toward the bedroom door, into the hall, and down to the kitchen.

  My cell phone pings from my pocket and I pull it out, opening it to the latest text, wondering if Tax is going to be any later.

  Unknown: A little birdy told me where you are.

  I frown, not recognizing the number. I type a reply back.

  Love: Who is this?

  Unknown: You don't remember me?

  Unknown: I remember you

  I sigh.

  Love: I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong number.

  Unknown: No, Love. I don't have the wrong number.

  I frown at the screen as the same person sends an incoming image. I wait for it to load as I put water into a tea kettle and place it on the stove, cranking the heat up. My phone pings again. As I turn back, my eyes widen in shock. Ice crawls across my skin, buzzing at the threat. Horror freezes my heart in my chest.

  Grainy and pixelated though the picture is, I recognize the contents. I don't remember it being taken, perhaps I hadn't even known that it had been. But I know my own body anywhere. Half naked, eyes hollowed out, dead. My skin is clammy as I stare at my own face reflected back. In the image, my breasts are barely covered by a deep plunging bra. My skin looks pale and icy, like all of the life – all of the color – had been leeched away. I recognize the hand on my shoulder, the one around my middle, as Danny’s. I swallow around a hard knot in my throat.

  There is a deep bruise along one shoulder, an oval shape broken in two places. It was the bruise from a rough bite. Another text comes through.

  Unknown: Don’t you miss where you belong?

  A cold numbness steals into my veins, sucking the emotions and feelings right out of me. I know exactly who this is. I'm not surprised that my hands don't even bother to shake when I place my phone, face down, on the counter and quietly turn off the stove and remove the tea kettle. I pick the phone back up just as someone knocks on the door. I pause.

  Beverly comes out of her room down the hall and looks at me, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with my phone clutched in my hand. She scowls at me. "No, you stay right there," she sneers. "I'll get the door. I'm on my way out, anyway."

  I stare at her as she passes, numbness encroaching. The door opens, and Tax is there, one hand leaning on the door frame. He has a ready smile in place and when he sees I'm not the one who answered, it drops away.

  "She's right behind me," I hear Beverly say as she strides out of the apartment with her clutch in one hand and a faux fur coat in the other. It doesn't matter that it's not even cold out and it won't be for several more weeks.

  "Love?" Tax's voice breaks a spell inside of me and my phone slips out of my hand, crashing to the floor. Good, I think. I hope the damn thing breaks and shatters into a million pieces. I don't want any reminders of my past, of my not-so-distant past. "Hey, what's wrong?"

  Tax comes into the apartment and closes the door be
hind him. He glances once from my face to the phone on the floor. I don't have a moment to stop him before he's bending down to pick it up. He flips it over so that the screen is facing up and the damn thing isn't shattered. In fact, it isn't cracked in the slightest. The picture is still there. He stills, his eyes catching on it. Shame washes over me.

  There are several moments of silence where my hand is half raised to stop him, frozen midair, and his eyes are locked on the screen. I drop my arm and a deep rumble slides up from his throat. Dark eyes, the same color of the darkest sky, meet mine. He steps forward and, instinctively, I take a step back. No. He shouldn’t touch me. I’m damaged. I’m broken. I’m dirty.

  We repeat the motion a few more times until my back comes to rest against the far counter and he's not just hovering over me, he's straining over me. He drops the phone on the counter and then his fists grab the edge, digging in on either side of my body. I suck in a breath and then another and another. No matter how many times I try to inhale, nothing comes. I can’t breathe.

  "Who. Fucking. Texted. You." Though it's a question, it doesn't come out as one. Each word is enunciated to its fullest potential, the rage and danger in his low tone is obvious and enthralling. I stare up at him. The spell is broken, but I still feel the numbness creeping back into my limbs. I just can't deal with it. I can't bring myself to even wonder why Danny is texting me again all of a sudden. Or where he got my number. It's not listed, I know that. Tax's eyes drill into me as he waits for an answer. I shrink away from him, but I can't tear my gaze away.

  "Love," he growls. He's so close that when he speaks, his breath brushes against my lips. "Who was that?"

  "It's nothing," I say. "Just an old..." What? I ask myself. What was Danny? How did I explain? Nothing, to worry about, Tax. It's just an old boyfriend who used me for sex and had me sleep with his friends because he knew I didn't have anywhere else to go. I thought I had cut all ties, but it looks like he's back and wanting to start something again.

  My heart thumps against my ribcage. No, he can’t know where I am. When I left, I didn’t take anything with me. There shouldn’t be anything leading here. My chest hurts – my heart pounds around my ribcage, like a deranged mental patient banging helplessly against the bars of its cell. I swallow reflexively. The closer Tax is, the more the numbness starts to wear away. I’m half torn by the feeling – whether or not I should want the numbness gone, or if I want it to stay. Because when the numbness wears away, all that will be left is pain and shame. I push against Tax's chest and for a moment, I think he might ignore my feeble attempts to move him, but then he pulls away.

  "It's nothing." My voice is smooth, calm as I pull away and pick up my phone again. It reveals nothing about the dark turmoil beneath my surface. At least, I hope it doesn’t.

  "Love," Tax catches my wrist in his grip just as I turn toward the hallway. I glance back at him. "If someone fucks with you, I want you to tell me."

  "Why?" The question shoots across my lips before I can stop for a moment and think.

  "Because you’re mine," he says, “you and me, we’re together. That means you come to me with shit like this. You don’t fucking bottle it up.” He tugs me closer and I go – a planet gravitating into the orbit of her fiery sun. But I’m not a planet. I’m an icy moon with no one and nothing. I twist my arm and he releases his grip on my wrist easily. Though his eyes let me know we are nowhere near done talking about this.

  "Why are you here?" I ask, deflecting. "Did you need me for something?"

  He shakes his head, face serious. My eyes steal over him, drinking him in from the scruff on his jaw to the whitened markings stretched across his knuckles from where recent scabs have been. My head feels disconnected from my body, floating and yet...heavy at the same time. Like the limb, itself, is filled with helium, but the thoughts are anchors that tie me down in chains to the real world. A world I want to escape.

  Tax moves forward, his giant body moving with a shocking, but deadly grace until he fills my entire vision. I back up, my spine hitting the counter once more. My hands go back and the phone clatters back to the floor. I gasp for breath, shoving my palms against my eyes. Why now? I ask myself. Why would Danny come back now? When Tax scoops me up, my legs wrap around his hips of their own accord, and my eyes close without my permission, my head lowering to his shoulder. Something about him grounds me, dragging me back from the brink. I give up any semblance of fighting him as my hands creep up his arms to wrap around his neck. I tuck my face into his neck, pressing my lips to his scorching hot skin. Fire and Ice. That’s what we are. I freeze over and he melts me back to normal.

  "You're okay, Love," he whispers – almost as if he realizes that I need to hear the words. "You're okay." Even I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear them until they’re tumbling out of his mouth. The thing is, I don't know if he's trying to convince me or himself.

  His arms squeeze me tighter, crushing me to his chest as he stomps through my empty apartment, heading for my bedroom. He kicks at the door and it swings inward, crashing against the wall as he stalks in, depositing me gently on the bed before he whips my shirt over my head. My arms fall, lifeless to my sides. My skin feels electrified and yet, I feel numb everywhere except where he touches. When his fingers brush over my shoulders, sliding a lock of hair away, I shudder. His eyes narrow, but he doesn't comment as he lowers himself to the floor and undoes the button of my jeans, sliding those down my legs along with my underwear. I shouldn’t let him touch me, but I just can’t help it. Even my shame won’t let me keep him away. If he ever fucking leaves me, I hope he makes it hurt enough for me to stay normal – to stay just like this. Then he's unclipping my bra and I'm sitting naked in front of a man – not for the first time – that controls so much of me.

  Tax backs away and reaches back, tearing his own shirt over his body.

  "Are we going to have sex?" I ask.

  He pauses with his hands over the button of his jeans. His arms slowly lower to his sides and he shakes his head, bending down to pick me up again. "Not tonight, Lovely," he says. "Not tonight." I don't know if he realizes he has repeated himself for the second time now.

  Tax carries me out into the hall with my head resting on his shoulder. A small part inside of me – the woman that craves acceptance and protection and want and need and everything that Tax offers – wants to crawl as deep as she can into Tax, let him consume her and take her and hold her and cherish her. I'm scared to realize that it wouldn't take much of a push to let that small part of myself take over.

  We enter the bathroom and Tax kicks the door closed behind us, setting me on the counter next to the sink. I recline back and let my naked back press against the cold mirror. Tax flicks on the light and then bends down to remove his boots and undo his jeans completely. He steps towards the shower, reaching behind the curtain to twist the knobs until the water begins steaming up over the curtain rod. Finally, Tax shucks off his jeans and boxers and holds out his hand to me.

  "Do you trust me?"

  I stare at his hand, wanting to take it, but so afraid of what it means. His dark eyes assess me, waiting, oh so patient with me. Shivers dance down my spine. I force one arm up and let my hand fall into his. His warm fingers curl over my own and he helps me down off the counter, leading me to the shower. We step inside and the water cuts across my face and hair, slicking the strands to my neck and cheek. Tax lets go of my hand and then both of his palms are on my cheeks, sliding up into my hair, pushing the strands back over my ears out of my face.

  Steam rises around us, heating the confined space. His chest is so close, covered in a stretch of golden tan flesh with etchings of woven black tattoos that decorate the space across to his sides and arms. One of my hands, I realize, is touching his stomach. I curl my fingers into a fist, feeling my knuckles drag through the water sluicing over his torso.

  "Lovely..." Tax's head bends until he presses his forehead to my shoulder, his eyes facing down over my breasts to our feet in
the tub. I inhale sharply as his wide palms move to my hips and he grips me and pulls me into his body. I can feel all of him over all of me. His chest muscles, his rigged abdomen, his cock brushing against my stomach.

  He grips me hard, holds me, breathes me in, and keeps me from shattering further. I find myself doing the same to him. My arms circle his neck and I plaster myself up against him. I’m not with Danny. Danny doesn’t matter. Who I am is not who I was. What I did is not who I am. I repeat it over and over in my head as I feel Tax’s skin on mine.

  We’ve both got these dark devious demons inside of us. One violent and bloody and dangerously encased in a raging inferno. The other a cold, barren, wasteland of ice and snow. How we ever came to be in this world at the same time, much less standing in the same bathroom together is a mystery only the universe can answer.

  We stand under the shower spray, letting the water run in rivulets over our skin, washing away the taint of our darkness. The past we both hold in tight little cages in our hearts rises to the surface of our skin and is wiped away by the water raining down. We’ll never be perfect. We may never even be whole on our own. That’s just not who we were meant to be, I suppose. I close my eyes and press my lips to his skin. It's healing – the shower with Tax – but not completely. I start to wonder if anything ever will be.

  Once all of the darkness is washed away, our pain still remains. When I open my eyes and I meet his heartbreakingly beautiful ones – where the midnight irises meet with flecks of stardust and shatter the illusion of a perfect night sky in those deep eyes – I see that we're not done and nothing is over. He picks me up again and I'm wrapping my legs around his waist, feeling him hot and heavy between my thighs. I want it. I want it more than I have ever wanted anything before. But he told me we weren't having sex. Tonight isn't about sex.

  Tax slaps the knobs and the water cuts off. He steps out of the shower with me anchored to his front and sets me down on the counter again. This time, I don't let go. I keep him close to me, I hold him against my breasts until his eyes heat and his mouth lowers, his lips meeting mine in a tangle of wet skin and broken thoughts. He steals away my memories and shatters the residual darkness lingering within me. My pain is still deep within, but he scorches me from the inside out. His pain is there, too and it greets mine like an old friend, like lost lovers, like two halves of one soul that have been separated for years.