Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You)

by Jackson, A. L.

  How messed up was it that I really wanted to burrow into her comfort, too?

  I shook my head and forced myself to look back at the TV.

  About half an hour later, the door opened behind us, and I could hear mumbled voices right outside the door. It was easy to make out Christopher when he whispered, “It’s fine. You can come in.”

  Christopher slipped in the door, leading this dark brunette toward the hall by the hand. Her eyes widened as she stole a glance in our direction; then she ducked her head and studied the floor. Christopher didn’t even bother with introductions.

  In the last week, the guy’d had more girls in this apartment than I could count, and he kicked them out just as fast as he dragged them in. I mean, I had a pretty bad record, or a pretty good one, depending on how you looked at it. But there was something about this that was different. Something that made me feel sympathy for the girls. For him, it seemed a game, kind of like the poker he’d slung last night. Deceitful.

  When Christopher’s door snapped closed, Aly lifted her head to look at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  I lifted an eyebrow her direction. “Dude is kind of a slut, isn’t he?”

  She quieted a dubious laugh. “Tell me about it. I had no idea I was going to have to deal with this every night when I first moved in here.”

  I had the urge to ask her about it, to find out if she was worried and if Christopher was happy or what the fuck his problem was. Instead I kept my mouth shut, figured I was hardly in a position to judge Christopher’s behavior.

  The movie played on, but it did nothing to drown out the giggles emanating from Christopher’s room. I turned up the volume, but still they were distinct, probably because as much as we didn’t want to, Aly and I couldn’t stop straining to listen.

  Finally Aly blew a frustrated breath toward the ceiling. “Do you want to watch the rest of this in my room? It’s always quieter in there.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Aly clicked off the TV, hugged her pillow against her chest, and headed into her room. She left the door open behind her, a clear invitation.

  I stepped inside. As curious as I’d been, I’d never been in here before. It was dark, though moonlight bled in from her opened blinds. A fairly large bed was pushed into the corner of one wall below the window, and directly across the room, a smaller TV sat on top of a horizontal six-drawer dresser. A large mirror and dressing table with a regular kitchen chair were set up to the right of it. Filling the space between her bed and closet was a tall bookcase. Spines and spines of books were lined up. A row of large, unmarked books filled up the bottom shelf, reminding me a lot of the journal I had tucked in my bag back out in the other room.

  I resisted a smile. These had to be Aly’s sketch pads.

  The bed was framed in mahogany wood, the base and carved headboard one large piece. It was unmade, the maroon comforter bunched and twisted with black sheets. Nothing really seemed to match all that well, but it all flowed, this eclectic feel of peacefulness coming over me the moment my feet sank into the soft cushion of her carpet.

  Aly gestured toward her bed. “Feel free.”

  I eyed it. I knew a trap when I saw one. Not one Aly had set, but one that my fingers would fall into. Lying next to her would be a very bad idea.

  I dropped to the comfort of the carpeted floor. “I’m good on the floor. I need to stretch out a bit.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  She hopped onto her bed and turned the movie back on, the flick popping back to life in the same place we’d abandoned it. Luckily the shit going down in the next room was completely drowned out, and it was just me and Aly and this dumb comedy that really had nothing to offer other than a distraction from the racing that normally happened in my mind.

  That and the annoying chime that kept going off on Aly’s cell phone every ten seconds.

  The screen would light up, she’d tap out a message, tuck it back at her side, and then the whole thing would repeat again.

  “You know that’s really fucking annoying, right?”

  She sat up on her elbow, looking down at me in confusion. “What?”

  “You having a conversation with someone when you’re supposed to be watching a movie with me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I am watching a movie with you.” Her phone chimed again. Those green eyes widened, and she laughed.

  “And who is so important that you’d rather be talking to them than giving your full attention to me?” I didn’t really understand why I was feeling petulant and moody and a little bit pissed off, but shit… she was the one who’d suggested we watch a movie, saying she just wanted to relax and unwind. She was supposed to be mine for the night.

  “Giving you my full attention, huh? I thought we were watching a movie.”

  I didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t answer my question. It was a guy. Motherfucker. I couldn’t tell if I was feeling protective or possessive, because I was seeing flashes of both the innocent little girl I’d always taken care of and a gorgeous one lying on her bed. And I had no fucking idea if the one on the bed was innocent or not.

  God. I couldn’t even stomach the thought.

  But shit, she was twenty years old, and I wasn’t delusional.

  It chimed again, and before I realized what I was doing, I flipped over onto my hands and knees. Crawling the few feet across the floor to her bed, I climbed up onto it. I grabbed the stupid white thing she had buried in the covers. The red light flashed its annoyance.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She was caught off guard and her voice was shocked and raspy. I’d somehow managed to end up caging her, my legs on both sides of hers, one hand planted on the bed above her shoulder and the other gripping her phone. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide with surprise. I was so close to her I could feel her heart pounding, the beat steady and hard. Something inside me screamed to back away because I knew without a doubt I shouldn’t be near her this way, that I shouldn’t allow my blood to burn, race, thrum as I listened to her heart rate escalate. I shouldn’t like her reaction to me.

  But I did.

  “Who is it?” I demanded.

  “It’s just Gabe.”

  “And who the fuck is Gabe?”

  She seemed to shake herself out of whatever stupor she’d been in, and she emitted a disbelieving snort. “What are you, twelve, Jared? Come on. And who the fuck are you to ask?” she challenged as she plucked her phone from my hand.

  I wanted to tell her to watch her mouth and kiss it all at the same time. “Your friend, remember? And friends don’t let friends text dickheads.” Or date them.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  Her breasts jostled as she laughed, and I was sure she meant the sweet little sound to be intimidating and defiant. She pushed up to sitting, squaring her shoulders.

  God, I really did want to kiss her.

  “And just what makes you think Gabe is a dick? You don’t know anything about him.”

  I inclined my head toward the clock beside her bed that indicated the time was way past appropriate. “Then what does he want?”

  “He asked me to come over and hang out with him.”

  “At one in the morning? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. What does Christopher think about this guy?”

  “Oh, please. Christopher? Really? And if you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  Yeah, I fucking noticed.

  “Well, I don’t like it.” Obviously her brother wasn’t watching out for her. He never had. That was always my job.

  “You don’t like it, huh?”

  “Nope.” My eyes flitted over her face, searching for something. What, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t own her. I didn’t really even know her. But I wanted to.

  She blinked a few times, shaking her head as she tilted a small smile up at me. “You’re kind of ridiculous, Jared. And I wasn’t planning on going. I was telling him I was busy.”

&n
bsp; Relief tugged at my chest while I reached out and again tugged at a strand of her hair, like it was a little connection between us, something tethering us together. This time I wound it through my fingers, watching her face as I did.

  Suddenly everything felt thick and slow, like honey – my mouth, her eyes, the tension that suddenly filled the air. For a minute, I wanted to pretend that nothing had ever happened, that the years had passed and I was still good and that maybe Aly would see me that way. Pretend that maybe I’d be worth taking a chance on. Right then, pretending seemed like a pretty good place to be.

  I watched the lump in her throat as she swallowed. “Why don’t we finish the movie?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

  Against my better judgment, which apparently was lacking in every capacity tonight, I settled down beside her on the bed.

  She rolled to her side, tucked her pillow under her head, and angled herself so she could see the TV. I lay behind her, my head propped in my hand. I did my best at trying to pay attention to what was happening on the television. Instead all my focus was directed at her.

  “So I guess I probably need to know who this Gabe is?” I finally asked because somehow I knew not knowing would eat me alive.

  I sensed her shrug, and heard a soft breath of air pass through her mouth on a sigh. “I don’t know, Jared. We’ve kind of been seeing each other for the last couple months. I like him okay, I guess.”

  My jaw clenched. This time there was no doubt it was jealousy.

  I said nothing, turned my attention back to the TV. For the first time since I’d returned, I truly regretted the decision to come. It was easier not knowing what I’d been missing.

  Something inside me twisted. The soft spot I’d always held for her now felt raw. I hated her I guess, hated she would even for a second settle for less than what would truly give her joy. I hadn’t been back all that long, but I already knew she deserved joy. And here I was, the sick fuck who wished I was good enough to give it to her.

  Internally I scoffed.

  I could wish all I wanted, but it’d never change who I was.

  It only took about fifteen minutes for Aly to fall asleep. Her soft breaths evened out. She stirred and rolled to her back. One arm found its way up to drape over her head, her body bowed as she stretched her long legs out, one tweaked to the side.

  I knew I should go and find my spot on the couch where I belonged.

  But for a moment, I took. Took in her peace. Took in her beauty.

  When I couldn’t stand lying beside her any longer, I climbed to the end of her bed, flipped off her TV, and slipped out her door.

  Tonight, I refused to sleep. I couldn’t go there. Just for one fucking night, I didn’t want to see. I dug through my bag and pulled out my journal, sat on the couch in the dead silence. I wrote about things I didn’t know but wished I could have.

  TEN

  Aleena

  The next night, moonlight soaked into my otherwise darkened room. Tonight the moon was high, bright, full. I’d gotten home from work to an empty apartment. There was something about a quiet night like this that fueled my imagination and gave me inspiration, even though the product on my page reflected nothing that shone in the sky. My hand swished in quick strokes. The paper felt thick under my skin. I wet my bottom lip, chewed at it a little, then lifted my face to look out my bedroom window again. I didn’t have the best view in the world, just a portion of the parking lot below that was lit by streetlamps, although at least they were dim enough that I could still see a whisper of clouds stretched thin across the sky. I contemplated the sight for a bit, before I turned my consideration back to the sketch pad I had balanced on my lap.

  I still didn’t know what to make of it, what to make of him. The last week had left my head swimming. It was like Jared and I were in this constant tug-of-war that neither of us knew how to play, pushing and pulling, attracting and repelling.

  Reading him seemed impossible. Sometimes I thought I saw it – him looking at me the way I looked at him – like maybe he wanted to touch me, to experience what I’d feel like under his skin. Because God, there was no way to describe how much I wanted to feel him under mine.

  But every time I thought we were making progress, he’d grow cold.

  I frowned as I tilted the pad. Realization set in as I shaded in the lines that constantly tugged at the edge of his perfect mouth.

  No. It wasn’t coldness in his expression.

  It was fear.

  At the faint tapping at my door, my head snapped up. The shift in my heart rate was immediate. Blood pumped hard, forcing the acceleration of my pulse.

  Steadying my voice, I called softly, “Come in.”

  Slowly, the doorknob turned, and the door cracked open a fraction. The face I couldn’t get off my mind peeked through, a halo of light from the hall silhouetting him. The apprehension that had pounded my pulse two seconds before was set at ease with just the hint of his presence.

  “Hey,” Jared murmured, blinking as he seemed to adjust to the dim light.

  “Hi. What are you up to?” I shifted so I could see him better.

  His eyes narrowed as if trying to make out the scene playing out in my room, his attention zeroing in on me sitting cross-legged on my bed with the large sketch pad in my lap.

  He dropped his head to the side, and I could see the flicker of a smile twisting at one corner of his lips, this hint of uncertainty holding him back. “I couldn’t sleep… and… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were still awake.”

  Flipping my sketch pad closed, I set it aside, cocking my head at him. “And what if I wasn’t? You were just going to wake me up? It is after midnight, you know.”

  It was all tease. As if his interruption could ever be one I didn’t welcome. By now that had to be obvious.

  I wanted him here.

  A self-conscious chuckle rumbled in his throat, and he covered his mouth with his palm, dragging it over the length of his jaw and down his chin. When he dropped his hand, a less than remorseful grin had emerged on his face, and even in the muted light, I could see the mischief in his eyes. “So maybe I was passing down the hall and just happened to hear a little rustling in your room when I put my ear to your door.”

  “Really?” I said with all the offended disbelief I could project into my voice. “You were listening at my door?”

  He slipped inside and silently shut the door behind him. “What? I’m fucking bored,” he said just over his breath, completely shameless. “Sue me.”

  I shook my head. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Jared Holt,” I whispered so he could barely hear. My brow lifted as I sucked in my bottom lip, raking my teeth on it before I set it free, feigned disappointment in the tsk of my tongue. “In some circles, that admission might earn you a reputation.”

  He laughed as he started across my room. I didn’t miss the hardness in the sound. “I already have a reputation, Aly.”

  My gaze locked on him as he moved toward me. I didn’t even attempt to force myself to look away as he crossed the room.

  Any attempt would be in vain.

  He’d showered, and his blond hair had darkened to a near brown and was pushed back from his face. Sleep pants sat low on his waist, the strength of his chest covered by a tight black V-neck tee. His story peeked above its neckline, the vestige of a distorted rose rising up at the center of his chest. Under his shirt I knew that rose was in full bloom, the red petals beginning to fall like wilted teardrops. Green and blue tendrils of smoke and vines stretched out in a twisted bough around it, crawling along the exposed portion of his collarbones. My gaze traced the ink down his arms to hands that were fisted as he advanced toward me.

  My stomach tightened.

  God, part of me wished he weren’t so beautiful. Maybe then I’d have a chance to look away, to guard my heart, to save myself from the need he had built up in me. But with every step he took, it only increased.

  I still couldn�
��t make sense of what had happened last night while I was texting Gabe. Jared’s reaction had come at me so quickly it’d left me blindsided and in a bumbling stupor that had taken a few seconds to pass. I couldn’t tell if he was playing the asshole overprotective brother or the asshole possessive boyfriend.

  Either way, it’d been an asshole move.

  But just as quickly as his outburst had come, he’d softened, and I had felt a sadness saturate him, so strong it was tangible. It had wrapped us tight, thickening the air. Nothing had ever been harder than that moment when I’d forced myself to lie still and pretend I was interested in the movie when all I wanted to do was roll over so I could see his face, to find something written there that might help me understand what he was feeling. My palms had burned with the need to be pressed to his chest or maybe to his face, and my body had itched to see if maybe he’d hold me the way I longed for him to.