by Jolene Perry
“A walk maybe? There’s a really bizarre guy who a friend of mine is dating just up the street who owns a music shop? Or—”
“Could we just go to your place? So we could talk?” I blink a few times and have to wipe a tear away. In front of Dean. Guys hate girls who cry. This sucks. The emptied, hollow feeling just continues to grow. The picture of Chase and Caitlyn flashes through my head over and over.
He brings a hand to his mouth and rubs his chin a few times, obviously uncomfortable with bringing me there.
“Please? I mean, I could always make you.” I touch his arm. Offer to take me to your house.
He looks at me in mock irritation. “You know I can feel you doing that, right?”
I shrug.
“Alright. But be aware right now, that the whole apartment we live in, is probably the size of your closet, and there’s four of us.” He raises a brow and looks so uncertain.
I stand up. Feeling heavy, but a little lighter. I’m about to see a piece of Dean he’s unsure about showing me. It’s vain and silly, but there’s an amount of satisfaction in that. I really can be incurably selfish and horrible. It would almost seem okay if I did it on purpose, but I don’t do it on purpose. What does that say about me? That probably goes on the growing list of things I don’t want to think about.
We walk out of the coffee shop together. Dean puts his arm around me, and I don’t even think about it until I’m resting against him. He’s not holding me like a girlfriend, more like supporting me as a friend. Right?
Then I can feel his thoughts creeping in. I’m curious. I forget we have this connection of this thing that we can do, but I relax into it and listen. What am I doing? She’s going to hate my place. Why do I feel this way about her?
What? “What way about me?” I stop.
“What?” He slants to face me.
Right. He didn’t say anything. Not out loud. “Never mind.”
“Oh, nice. So you can hear what I’m thinking?” His hand slides off me.
“I guess, but you seem to be able to stop me from making you do things. I don’t seem to possess that. I send you an action and you can ignore it.” Which is really, really annoying. And. And, makes me completely and totally vulnerable. Not on my list of favorite feelings. We’re standing on the sidewalk, just staring at one another.
“Well I can’t sneak in and hear your thoughts, so I think we’re even.” His mouth pulls into a crooked frown as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and we walk in silence for a few moments.
“Do you think we could talk? I mean, without saying anything?” He stops, holding his hand out for me to take.
“Not today.” I shake my head. Way too vulnerable. The day when the guy you gave your virginity to, the guy you’ve lived your life for, for the past… Ugh. I can feel the tears trying to break free again. Leave it alone. I do not need to cry in front of Dean. Again.
“Wanna go somewhere else? Change your mind yet?” He looks hopeful as we start walking again.
“Nope.” I need a really good distraction.
“Alright then.” He opens a door to our left.
Already? He’s practically on top of the Starbucks. Almost. I look up the brick wall. I would not have guessed this building was apartments. I don’t know what I would have guessed it was.
“We’re here?”
“We’re here. And,” he looks at my feet, “you wore appropriate footwear.”
I smile. “Adidas. The noise, right?”
“It’s kinda awesome you even noticed that.” He looks down. “Oh. The elevator here is not to be trusted, but we’re only on the third floor.”
“Okay.” I’m standing in a hallway of graying, white walls. I follow Dean not wanting to let on that I’m actually nervous here. I mean, the place isn’t a dive or anything—I don’t think—but I know I’ve never visited anyone in a building that looked so old? Is that the right word? Worn? Used?
I follow him up three flights of stairs and into a narrow hallway making me wonder how people get furniture through here.
“This is me.” He uses his key on two locks and opens the door, gesturing with his hand for me to go inside.
I step in and nearly run into a wall that’s a huge black guy. And my heart stops. I step back and bump into Dean.
“I’m Ben.” He reaches his hand out for me to shake. His smile is wide. At least I didn’t offend him. We shake hands, but I’m still sort of in shock.
“Sorry, this is Ben, my roommate,” Dean explains.
“I thought you had foster parents?” I ask.
“We do. And Ben and I share a room.”
“Oh.” He has a roommate? In an apartment that might fit into my room?
“Could you tell Bill and Jeannette my homework’s done, and I’ll be back before nine?” Ben waves as he steps out.
“Sure.” Dean nods.
I’m standing in something that looks like both a tiny hallway and a kitchen. There are three huge chairs in the space beyond and plants everywhere. There’s more clutter in this one room than in our whole house, but it doesn’t feel messy. It feels warm, lived in. I breathe in. The smell is… Well, it smells like dinner but no one’s cooking. Our house only smells like food for the few minutes we’re eating it.
“See? I knew this was a bad idea. You’re freaking out a little right now, aren’t you?” Dean’s standing in what I’d guess is the living room, and I’m still by the door.
“Sorry, no. But it’s a good distraction.” I smile and he smiles back, maybe starting to relax a bit.
I step inside. “Should I take off my shoes?”
“Uh…” His smile gets wider. “No. You’re fine.”
“So, now what?”
“You’re the one who wanted to come here,” he reminds me.
“Oh, right. Then I guess you should show me your room.” I love the look on his face—part hope, part uncertainty.
“O-kay.” He adds a bit of dramatic reluctance to his voice. “Come on then.” He reaches out and takes my hand.
This is something I’d look forward to with anyone else who made me feel like Dean does, but with him there’s a whole different edge to it. I’m no longer the one with an advantage.
Come with me. His thought is easy. But is he making me do it as well? I’m not sure. We’re two steps into the hallway, and I pull my hand away.
He stops. “What? I’m sorry. I mean, I didn’t…”
“Don’t manipulate me like that, okay?” I fold my arms, tucking my hands close to my sides.
“Like what?” He sounds honestly baffled.
It only appeases me a little. “Like that. Like telling me to follow you.”
We’re in his tight hallway. Too close. So close I can almost feel his breath on my face. And it’s nice, lifting the weight from me, and making me want to be closer. Also sending a fresh wave of nerves through me.
“You asked me first, and I didn’t mean to. Maybe you just picked up on my thoughts.” He leans against the wall, but still looks too tense.
“I don’t know.” But it comes out all weird because I’m kind of breathless in this small space with him. It’s too much. Too intense. “Your room?” Anything would be better than the stuffiness of the hall.
He reaches behind him, opens a door and steps backward inside.
“Wow.” It’s so small. I mean, his room is bigger than my closet, but it’s so small. A tired blue dresser sits on one side. A wooden bunkbed is on the other side. And the far wall is plastered with the most amazing drawings I’ve ever seen. I don’t see Dean, just pictures, filled with a crazy amount of depth and emotion.
They cover the whole wall around a small window. I start at the top, not wanting to miss anything. There are a lot with a spiky haired girl—a heroine of some sort done in anime style, and then drawings of people that look real. Something a lot of people would pay good money for. “Who did these?” I turn to face him.
“They’re mine.”
My mouth drops o
pen. Drops. “How has this never come up?”
He shrugs.
“You cannot shrug this off, Dean. This is amazing.” I know no one who’s into graphic novels, but I sneak one sometimes. He has such a unique edge.
“I’m home!” A man’s voice calls.
“That would be Bill,” Dean starts to explain. “He’s like my dad. Only he doesn’t feel like my dad.”
“Okay.” I don’t understand at all, but only because I have no experience. “Like my Uncle Mac.” I do have experience.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I guess he feels more like an uncle.”
“Dean, are you in here?” A round face with a smooth, shiny head peers into the open door. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you have company. I’m Bill.”
“This is Addison.” Dean gives me a smile.
“Now I see why you had to do the eyes blue.” Bill’s staring at me.
“What?” I glance at Dean. “Eyes blue for what?” What is he talking about? I hate feeling left out of something.
“Sorry.” Bill steps back. “I’m going to start dinner. You’re welcome to stay, Addison, if you like.”
“Um, thanks.” I look between he and Dean a few times. Bill disappears. “What’s he talking about?”
Dean’s using a hand to rub his eyes. “This is absolutely going to scare you away from me forever.”
“Did you sleep with me for two years, promising me something more and get engaged before trying to have sex with me again?” I swallow, a little in disbelief that it all came out.
“Oh shit, Addie.” He steps toward me. “I can’t imagine anyone doing that to you. I—”
I put my hand up between us when I realize he’s stepping in to give me a hug. “As much as a hug sounds really nice right now, you’re too intense, Dean.” There’s too much emotion in everything we do. “And anyway, you were going to tell me about blue eyes?”
TWELVE
Dean
“I will tell you about blue eyes if you’ll try an experiment with me.” She’s standing here, in my room, and doesn’t seem to mind. I’m going a little insane with the need to touch her. She has this straight, thin body that I’m starting to really want to feel against mine, and every time we’re together something unexpected happens.
I’m usually good at reading people—can handle myself in new situations—but with her…everything’s new.
“An experiment?” She folds her arms like she knows what’s coming.
“Come sit on my bed with me…”
“No, no no.” She shakes her head and something almost like a laugh escapes her lips. “I’m not falling for that.”
I knew she’d think I was coming on to her. And although it might be nice to feel myself wrapped up in her arms and legs, things with her are different. I’m in completely new territory. New Territory requires caution.
“Come on.” I climb up the ladder to my bunk. “Experiment first, and then I’ll show you what Bill was talking about.”
“I have a ladder up to my bed, too.” She climbs up.
“Is your bed higher?”
She nods.
“And probably the ceiling too?”
She nods again, holding in a smile. I can see her dimples though. She’s not good at hiding emotion. This is good for me. I’m terrible at reading girls.
“And there’s probably more room on your bed.” I nod for her this time, trying not to feel completely inadequate at how unbalanced we are.
“Yes, but mine isn’t as cozy.” She sits on the opposite side of my bed, facing me, with her legs crossed.
“I want to hold hands and try to talk, without speaking.” I stretch my hand toward her and set it on the bed. “If it’s not too crazy for you to try.”
“Promise me you won’t make me to anything and that you won’t try to… I don’t know, read my mind or anything.”
This whole connection thing really bothers her. “Promise. Just talk.”
“I’ll try.” Her small hand reaches out, and I slide my fingers through hers.
I watch our hands come together and for a moment I just enjoy the feeling of her small, cool hands in mine. The skin is so smooth, and I’m wondering if it’s that disinfectant crap she’s always putting on or something else. “Okay, no more talking.”
Out loud. I’m sure it’s her. I hear her in my head only I can’t really distinguish it from my own voice.
Thank you for trying this with me. I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no idea if any of that got through but I could sit here and hold her hand and look in her eyes all afternoon.
“You’re welcome.” She speaks.
“Quiet.” I smile. She heard me. Amazing.
Thank you for bringing me to your house. I like it here.
I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe we’re doing this! Aren’t you freaking out? I ask.
Her eyes stay on mine and her face doesn’t change.
Tell me about the blue eyes.
“Oh come on! You have to be freaking out that we can do this?” I’m high right now. This is awesome! But then, what can we really do with it? Addie and I can talk to one another without speaking out loud. What on earth will that do for us? It’s really bizarre to have the ability to do something we both know is unique, but it feels so limiting.
“I’m freaking out a little.” Her chuckle comes out tense and tight.
Kiss me. I sent it to her as clearly as I can, but keep a teasing smile on my face.
She starts to lean forward and then freezes. “Don’t.” Her hand jerks away and her smile disappears. “Guess I can stop you.”
“I was teasing, Addie.” I rest my hands in my lap. “Mostly.” I’d barely registered the thought, not concentrated like I normally do. I wonder if she would have done it if I had?
I see her dimples as she looks down into her lap. “Okay. Blue eyes. What’s that about?” Her voice is back to normal. She’s ignoring my kiss comment.
“Promise me you won’t walk out?” I reach next to me.
“No.” Her smile is back.
“Well, where’s my motivation then?” I tease. But my heart’s hammering because part of me thinks she’ll be flattered, and the other part of me thinks she’ll run and not look back. I know our connection already feels too deep for her.
She rests a hand on my knee. Please.
I pause, just to make her think that I might not do it, and it’s interesting that I can feel her thought creeping in and still stop it.
“After the day we got wet together, I came home to work on another drawing project, but I ended up with this instead.” I reach through the small stack of books next to my pillow and pull out my sketchbook. I open it up to the page of Addie and her blue eyes and hand it to her.
She looks down at the picture and then up at me. My drawing doesn’t do her justice, there’s so much more depth to her than what I got on a stupid piece of paper.
“Dean…” Her voice is soft and she glances up at me and back down at the drawing. “You made me beautiful.” I watch her eyes brim with tears and then watch as she uses the back of her hand to blot them away.
My chest aches for her and anger settles in at the jerk who made her feel like something less than the amazing girl she is, and then helplessness because she’s weird about us touching and having her in my arms right now sounds pretty nice.
“Addie, I wasn’t able to capture a tenth of what I wanted to.” Does she understand me? Do I understand me?
Silence fills the room for a few moments.
“It sort of feels like we’ve known each other longer than we have, huh?” she asks.
Wow. That’s it. Right there. She’s just like that to me. Like we’ve known each other longer than we think we have, and I feel protective of her like I don’t to many people. “Yeah. Just like that.”
“So.” Her smile looks a bit mischievous. “Does that mean I can flip through here?”
“Go, ahead.” It doesn’t much matter now. I le
an back against the wall trying to pretend to be relaxed when I’m anything but. I start to get embarrassed when she keeps turning the page and it’s still her. Bill’s in there. Katy’s in there. I sketched out my brother. I’ve done that a few times.
“Is this you? Younger?” She’s stopped at Jeremy’s picture.
“My brother.”
“The one you don’t see.” Her mouth pulls into a frown as she studies his face.
I nod. “The only one I have.”
“I’m so sorry.” She stares at his picture and traces the edges of his face like she’s really thinking—absorbing my situation.
“You shouldn’t apologize.” I shake my head. “Especially considering what you’ve been through today.”
“Well, I did that to myself.” She shakes her head.
“How much older is he?”
“That was why it was secret.” Her shoulders slump and the sketchpad rests on her lap. “He’s twenty-two now. Twenty when it started.”
“And you were sixteen?” What an asshole.
“Yep. Quite a conquest for a sixteen-year-old, huh?” There’s too much hurt in her voice for me to buy the relaxed attitude she’s trying to put off.
“That’s one way of looking at it.” Only what an asshole! “If we ever run into him, do I have your permission to break his nose?”
“And what good would that do?” she asks. But all I can notice is she’s holding in a smile. I’m going to take that as a sign of how happy she is that I’m protective.
“Well, I’d feel a whole lot better, and I bet you would too, once you saw some blood.” I smile widely.
“Boys.” She shakes her head but she’s smiling, too.
“Dinner!” Bill calls.
“Oh.” Crap. “I really should have warned you. The food here is inedible most of the time.”
“Okay.” Her face reads something like disbelief.
“You should just say you’re not hungry. I’ve gotten really good at that.” I chuckle.
“So, what do you eat?” Her head tilts to the side and her smile doesn’t look forced. It looks real.