She Dims the Stars

by Amber L. Johnson

  I mull it over in the shower, whether or not I should mention it to her. If that’s an invasion of privacy or not. I have a legitimate excuse for seeing it, but she could read too much into things, as she is known to do, and what’s ending up to be a good day, could instantly turn into a bad one. It’s still in the back of my mind as I finish getting dressed for the night and crack the bedroom door open. As soon as I see her sitting on the bed in a pair of underwear and a tank top, I almost forget my own name.

  She smiles, and I can see that she’s nervous through her bravado as she turns and crawls up to the top of the bed to pull the covers down. Her butt is high in the air, and the tank rides up her sides, staying there when she straightens up and looks at me over her shoulder. “Are you ready for bed?”

  My mouth has gone dry, and I’m bracing myself for this to be another night of just cuddling even though she’s throwing crazy signals at me right now. It’s better not to assume. “Yup,” is all I can manage to say. I turn off the light and crawl under the covers next to her, lying on my back, my body on high alert due to her closeness.

  Neither of us move for a few minutes, and then she turns into my side and lays an arm over my stomach. Her fingers inch down until they’re under my shirt and she’s tickling my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind with each pass. The simple touch is already having an effect on me, one she notices when her elbow grazes a little too low. Her breathing changes just the slightest bit, shallow and heavy by my ear. It only takes a turn of my head to find her right there, our lips touching in a light kiss.

  Her tongue trails along my lower lip and slides inside my mouth, and I turn on my side, rolling her onto her back to kiss her deeper. There are a lot of things that I like to do, favorite pastimes I’ve grown fond of over the years, and kissing Audrey is quickly becoming top of the list. She grips the back of my head, fingers sliding through my still-damp hair while she bites gently on my tongue. I pull back to move lower, my mouth on her neck and tongue on her collar bone, hands gripping handfuls of her breasts through her tank top while she arches into me from below.

  The bed doesn’t make a sound when I kick the blanket off and trail even lower, pulling her shirt up and running my nose over her stomach and across her hip to leave a kiss above the elastic of her underwear. I’m just about to ask if I can take them off when her thumbs slide into the sides and she raises up and rolls them down for me. They’re discarded across the room and I’m staring up at her from between her legs as she maintains eye contact from above, holding herself up on her elbows for support.

  The first kiss makes her exhale, and I close my eyes, concentrating on her taste and her sounds, the way her body is reacting to what I’m doing. Her legs tense up and shake while her hands tug on my hair to push me away for a second before her hips rise to my mouth again. She’s sensitive and so responsive to the things I’m doing to her that at some point, her sounds become muffled, and I look up to see that she has a pillow over her face to try and quiet herself from being heard.

  I reach up and pull the pillow away, my face inches from her while I replace my mouth with my fingers and she clings to me just like she did in the tent the first time. Her moans are short and high pitched, and she’s biting her lower lip to stop, but it’s useless, because her hips are meeting each pump of my fingers, and her leg is beginning to shake.

  “Elliot,” she gasps, pushing down onto me and rolling her pelvis against my stomach. She kisses me, her lips dry and breath stilted before she speaks again. “I really like you.”

  “Oh, good. I like you, too,” I whisper and slide my thumb upwards.

  “Oh! Oh, God. Oh … Ummm. I …” Her eyes are squeezed shut and her body begins to rock a little again.

  I try to keep my tone conversational. “Yes? Was there something you wanted?”

  “Jesus, Elliot. Please tell me you have something, or else—“

  “Or else I’ll have to keep doing this?” I ask and circle my thumb quickly before sliding two fingers upward. “That would be a shame.”

  Her eyes are on mine and she’s trembling as she grips my side. “You’re going to make me say it.”

  “I told you you’d have to ask me for it.”

  “You said a kiss. Not this.”

  I lean in and kiss her quickly. “You got the kiss. Now what?”

  “Fuck.” Her whole body is tense, and she presses her lips together in protest, but I’m still two digits deep. She snakes her hand between us and wraps her fingers around my shaft. “I want you,” she whispers.

  Her face is buried in the pillow when she says it, so I turn her so that we’re facing one another when I respond. “I want you, too.” I’m off the bed and have my wallet in hand less than thirty seconds later. Another thirty seconds after that and I’m covered, crawling back into bed with her, completely naked while she still has that tank top on. Lifting her arms, she allows me to take it off, and then she’s as naked as I am, there in the darkness of September’s guest bedroom.

  She’s beautiful, no matter what her brain may tell her. No matter what fault she may find in herself when she looks in the mirror. All I can see are curves and breasts and a beautiful face anxiously waiting for me. Sliding between her legs, I position myself and lean forward to kiss her once more. Her eyes are closed tightly, and I brace myself above her on my elbow, using my other hand to help guide my way inside her.

  Audrey tenses for the smallest moment, and then her eyes open and she’s staring at me while I sink into her slowly. She’s holding her breath, and the second I stop, she exhales and leans up to wrap her arms around my shoulders and kiss me once more. I try to make it last, try to keep a steady pace, but the way she’s so wholly wrapped around my body and the sounds she’s making with each of my thrusts is driving me to the edge much faster than I am prepared for.

  With a maneuver I’ve only seen in movies, I try to flip us over so that she’s on top, but it doesn’t work, and there’s a second of confusion where we’re a tangled mass of limbs and “sorry’s” before we get situated again and I have her hovering above me. With her hands on my chest, she sinks down until I’m fully seated inside, and my fingers are gripping her thighs when she raises up for the first time. I don’t notice it at first, but her own hands have gone to cover her stomach, and she has her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  That will not do.

  I call to her, and when she looks down at me, I pull her close, bending her forward so that her breasts are brushing against my chest with each of her movements. Her hands cup my cheeks and here, with no view outside of her face, her soft moans become louder and her once timid movements become a frenzy, as if someone somewhere told her this is how it’s supposed to be. If I could think of anything other than how good she feels right now, I would try to stop her, but my brain is focused on one thing. Within minutes, I’m gripping her hair and telling her that she’s going to make me finish, and then I do, my entire body tensing up and toes curling in the process. She goes limp in my arms and rests her face in the crook of my neck, still straddling me, breathing hard like we’ve run a half marathon.

  Finally, she lifts herself off of me and turns so that her hair is a curtain across my stomach. I can feel her hands around my now softening dick as she rolls the condom off and then scoots off the bed. “I’ll take care of this,” she says and then disappears into the bathroom. There’s the sound of water running and then I hear a trash bag being crinkled. She opens the door again and walks over with a washcloth. It’s warm and she kisses me while she cleans me up.

  It’s one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever experienced.

  “I have to pee,” I say and roll off the bed to go into the bathroom. The harsh light hurts my eyes and my reflection looks crazy. There are red marks all over my neck and chest, my hair is sticking straight up, and when I look down, I notice that the trash bag has been tied off on a knot. I finish up and walk back into the room to see that the bed has been stripped and Audrey is nowhere in sight. Qui
ckly dressing, I open the bedroom door and peer down the hallway to see her talking to September in front of the washing machine. They’re far enough away and so absorbed in their conversation that I’m sure they won’t hear me coming, so I walk as quietly as I can toward the laundry room.

  “What happened again?” September asks, pulling the laundry soap from the top shelf.

  Audrey blushes and looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry. It’s really embarrassing. I can get you a new set.”

  “We have plenty of sets.” September adds the soap and turns to look Audrey over as she leans against the washer, one leg crossed in front of the other, arms folded over her chest. “I don’t care that you guys had sex. It was inevitable. Just … were you a virgin?” September presses her lips together and her eyebrows raise. “Did you just lose your virginity?”

  “What? No. I must have started my period early or something. All the stress from the past couple weeks …” She points to the washing machine.

  I turn immediately and go back to the bedroom, into the bathroom, and sit on the toilet waiting for her come back into the room. She does, and I can hear her moving around, putting new sheets on the mattress. Once the lights go back out, I turn the ones in the bathroom off and slip back into the bed like nothing happened.

  Like I didn’t hear anything.

  Like after only a couple of weeks, I don’t know when Audrey is lying.

  She is up before I am, and by the time I make it downstairs, everyone is around the table eating breakfast. She has that smile on her face that I now know isn’t real and hides all the bullshit she keeps inside, and I hate the fact that she’s using it on me right now. Especially after last night.

  “We were just talking about how you should stay another day. You don’t have any plans, right? Nothing pressing. You can work on your game here.” September motions toward an empty seat by Cline, and I take the invitation, sitting down and reaching for some orange juice.

  “I’m fine with it if everyone else is,” I say without looking up. It’s apparent that the decision has already been made without my opinion.

  There’s conversation about what we could do for the rest of the day that goes back and forth between Cline and his girl, but Audrey and I are quiet. She’s distant, barely touching her food, and I’m pretending not to watch her even though I am. I have no preference what we do. As far as I’m concerned, the point of our trip is over. We’re just on summer break now.

  Audrey pushes her plate away and crinkles her forehead. “You know what? I have a really bad headache and I’m feeling tired. I think I’m going to go lay down for a while if that’s okay.”

  “Did you not sleep well?” Our hostess is leaning on the table, very concerned.

  “Your bed is the most comfortable one I’ve slept on in a very long time. I’ve just had a pretty exhausting couple of weeks, and I think it’s all catching up with me, that’s all.” That smile is in place again, but her fingers are tapping, and I want to reach over and yank on them to make it stop.

  She excuses herself, and I’m left at the table with the others, wondering if I should go after her or not.

  In the quiet of the guest room, I realize that it’s the first time I’ve been alone in almost two weeks. Besides using the bathroom or some minuscule moment here or there, sitting on this bed, I am finally alone with my thoughts and the ramifications of everything that has transpired since we left Brixton.

  I can hardly wrap my mind around how far we’ve gone and circled back in that small of a time frame. Dr. Stark would be proud … will be proud … once I report to her what I’ve accomplished. Except for the part where I committed breaking and entering on my maternal grandmother’s property, but maybe she’ll let that slide since it opened so many doors.

  I’m exhausted, my body fully spent after doing so much in such little time. I’ve been chasing happiness for so long, and now that I’ve experienced it, the reality of it feels like a burst beneath my skin. A flicker that ignites and burns out so quickly. I feel so much but nothing at all, or maybe the nothing isn’t really nothing, it’s just a diluted version of what other people must experience. An echo of an experience.

  Anxiety rushes through my veins as memories from last night surface and I curl into a ball on the bed, closing my eyes as the images come. I fucked Elliot. Not in the Hollywood movie kind of way. It was more of an aggressive—I need to feel this—why can’t I feel this—kind of way. It made me a liar, because I didn’t tell him beforehand that he was my first. It made me a liar because I didn’t tell September the truth. The entire thing is soaked in deceit, and for God’s sake, I don’t even know if he thinks it was any good anyway.

  Rolling on my back, I grit my teeth and inhale, stretching out so that the knot in my stomach can get some room. What if I’m the worst ever? What if all he thought about the entire time was how Chelsea’s body looked instead of mine? Or the weird sounds I made? Or how awkward it was that I took the condom off and cleaned up and stripped the bed?

  My hands are sweating now, and I can sense the wave of panic rushing toward me like a tsunami. Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough.

  This trip is over. I’ve done what I came to do. Elliot doesn’t need me for his game. I found out nothing about my mom’s mental history. I’ve said my peace with Cline. Now what? Do I even have anything I’m supposed to be doing now? The sinking realization that the answer is no hits me harder than I expect and I roll over, pressing my face to the pillow and pull my knees to my chest again.

  I am so tired.

  It’s raining, a torrential downpour outside of the school, but Elliot is pulling me outside anyway.

  “I don’t have a coat,” I call to him, but he doesn’t care. He’s always a step ahead, his hand yanking me forward, and I follow because it’s Elliot. Why wouldn’t I?

  He’s not wearing a coat, either, just a blue flannel, and he’s taking us directly into the storm. All I can see are raindrops dropping from the sky, buckets of water falling just beyond the awning. I brace myself for the onslaught of wetness and ice cold spray, but nothing comes.

  We’re standing perfectly still on the grass of the quad, staring at one another, holding hands in the middle of the rain, but the drops are not descending. They’re paused in mid-air, frozen in time, glistening like diamonds suspended from invisible ropes all around us.

  Elliot smiles at me from behind a couple of the raindrops, and I reach up to move them, sending them floating off into the distance with the smallest touch of my fingers. His face is fully visible again as he reaches up and brushes a few more drops aside so that he can see me clearly as well.

  “What the hell, Elliot?” Nothing is moving. There is no noise, no wind, nothing is making a sound except the two of us. The entire world around us is frozen.

  “It’s a glitch,” he explains like it’s the most obvious answer in the entire world. “A gorgeous, wonderful glitch in an otherwise perfect system. Everything is paused except for us. We can go anywhere. Do anything. Where should we start?” He’s full of curiosity as his fingers reach out to touch another glistening drop.

  Where should we start? My mind reels with the possibilities. “Can we go back in time, or just stay here?”

  “Anything you want.”

  There are so many options. The day my dad met Miranda. Just one different choice and she wouldn’t have been in our lives at all. Or the day I ran home. Maybe throwing a drink at Cline would have changed everything and none of this would have ever transpired.

  My heartbeat quickens. Take me back to the day my mother became pregnant with me. I’ll stop it from ever happening.

  But looking into his eyes, I know my real answer. I know where I would go if I had the choice.

  “Take me back to the day I first met you,” I whisper. “Let’s run away.” His hand extends and I take it, watching as he turns his back and begins to lead. My head and my heart are at war as the words form and present themselves in my subconscious.
/>   I could love him. This could be what love is.

  But this love could be my undoing.

  I awake with a start, covered in sweat, Elliot’s arms wrapped around my middle. It’s night and the house is quiet. Somehow, I have slept the entire day away, and my mouth is sticky, while my head is throbbing uncontrollably. Bleary eyed, I untangle myself from his grasp and fumble my way into the bathroom. The light is so bright it causes my head to pound even harder, and I groan in protest. I feel terrible, like I have the flu. My head is spinning and my thoughts are scattered, but I try to focus on one simple thing: a shower.

  As quietly as I can, I creep back into the room and grab some things to change into so that I can clean up, and then maybe I can get something to eat or drink. I’ve missed an entire day’s worth of medication, but the timing is off, so if I take anything now I’ll be up forever, and I don’t even know what kind of effect that will have because I’ve never missed a dose. Not even once.

  I decide maybe Cara or Dr. Stark will have an answer, so I grab my phone to take with me in hopes that they’ll answer a late night call. As I shut the bathroom door, I check the home screen of my phone and notice all of the missed phone calls and texts I’ve been avoiding since leaving school.

  Miranda’s texts stand out the most, so I begin to read.

  There is a noise that pulls me from my sleep. It’s faint but out of place, so it brings me out of my dream gently and then with a jolt. The room is pitch black save for light filtering out from beneath the bathroom door. I reach over to check the time on my phone and it’s just after 2 a.m. Audrey must have gotten up after sleeping all day and gone to take a bath. Maybe that’s the noise I heard.

  I get up and go to stand in front of the door to listen for the sound of her in the tub, but there’s nothing. No slosh of water, no drips, no movement of any kind. Tentatively, I knock and wait for an answer, but all I get in return is more silence. Thinking maybe I’m wrong and she’s not in there, I try the door only to find that it’s been locked.