Scratch

by Rhonda Helms

  He stood, and I could see Daniel’s eyes, the curve of his lips on this man. Had to be his dad. “Glad to meet you,” he said as he stepped toward me, hand extended. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Frankenstein planted himself right beside the man and stared at us all.

  I shook Daniel’s dad’s hand and tried to not panic that Daniel had obviously been talking about me with his family. What had he said? I forced a smile to my face. “He’s talked about you guys too.”

  “Please, come in and have a seat.” His dad led me to the living room, and I settled back on a plush seat. Daniel took the one beside me.

  A thunder of feet clamored above me, then down the staircase, through the hallway, into the family room. Three tall girls, ranging from young teen to just freshly adult, stared at me with open curiosity. And they all looked exactly the same—dark mop of hair, bright green eyes. Just like Daniel, but their features were softer, feminine to his strong masculine lines.

  “So, you’re Casey,” the youngest one declared. She thrust her hand on her jean-clad hip and eyed me, lips pursed just a touch.

  “Miranda,” Daniel warned.

  She held up her hands in a universal gesture of innocence. “Just stating the facts, bro.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, which helped ease some of my awkwardness. “It’s true. I’m Casey.” I looked at the other two.

  The middle one, who couldn’t be more than sixteen, gave me a shy smile. Her fingers twiddled in front of her stomach. She had on a simple blue dress and flats. “I’m Francine.”

  “And I’m Parker,” the oldest girl said with a wide grin. Her dark brown hair was tossed up in a haphazard bun, and her golden skin glowed in her sleeveless glittery tank top and short shorts. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Um. Water or a soft drink? Anything is fine.”

  She scrambled off to the kitchen. A short, redheaded woman with curvy hips dusted off her hands and extended one to me. Her gray eyes were wide, friendly. She wasn’t pretty in the traditional sense, but so much warmth poured from her that I couldn’t help but stare at her. “Hi. I’m Daniel’s mom. We’re so glad to have you here.”

  I glanced from her to Daniel. They looked nothing alike.

  She laughed. “Yeah. Every single one of these kids got their looks from their dad.” Striking a pose, she fluffed her mop of red hair. “Too bad for them.”

  I couldn’t help but like her. I smiled in response.

  Parker brought me a Dr Pepper, which I sipped. We all made our way to the large dining room, the dog trailing a few feet behind. On the sideboard there was an assortment of lunch meat, bread, cheese, and every topping you could ever want on a sandwich.

  “We eat buffet style for lunch,” Daniel whispered, pressing his strong hand to my lower back. “Help yourself, please.”

  I made my sandwich as quickly as possible so everyone didn’t have to wait a long time for me. Dr Pepper in one hand, plate in the other, I watched Daniel with his family. He laughed and nudged his sisters, tugging on Miranda’s braid, elbowing Francine in the side to get her to smile bigger.

  It was clear his sisters adored him.

  We all settled in at the table. Daniel sat on my left, Parker on my right. The noise increased as the girls happily chattered. They talked about nothing in particular, the dreariness of early morning classes, how bad school food tasted, Parker’s first year of college—she was attending Marshall College, another local school with a stellar reputation.

  It was a lot of stimulation. I was used to quiet days in my room or with my grandparents.

  Daniel seemed to sense my growing tension. He squeezed my knee under the table, then stroked his thumb along the outer flesh of my kneecap. A ripple of delight spread from the warm contact. I shot him a surprised glance.

  “How are classes going, honey?” Daniel’s mom asked him. “Are your professors nice? Any funny stories about your first weeks of school?”

  He chuckled. “Well, our philosophy prof—Casey’s in the class with me—is a bit of a relic. She actually wants us to handwrite our next homework assignment instead of typing it.” He described Wilkins, from her quirky mannerisms to her hard stares in class as she talked.

  Miranda snorted. “My handwriting is terrible. I’d hate that.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “I seem to remember you barely passed handwriting in elementary school.”

  I studied the dimples in the corners of Daniel’s mouth as he grinned. I couldn’t stop staring at him, despite my efforts to keep my attention on my delicious sandwich. I was sure my emotions about Daniel were written all over my face.

  I was content to sit quietly and observe them all. His family was engaged, asking a few more questions about his teachers, the coursework. Just like my grandparents.

  Every few minutes, one of them would ask me a question about school, my grandparents, what I was going to do after graduation. Safe topics. It made me wonder if Daniel had schooled them to not push me on anything else. The thought both bothered me and relieved me.

  His youngest sister, from her seat across the table, blurted out, “Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  My face burned. I cleared my throat. “Um.”

  Francine shot Miranda a disapproving look; she didn’t say much, but her face was very expressive. “We just met her. We shouldn’t ask personal questions like that,” she said in a low whisper. “It’s not polite.”

  “Sorry,” Miranda mumbled. She stared sullenly at her plate.

  “It’s okay,” I said, not wanting her to be down. “We’re really good friends.” Okay, more than friends, but I didn’t want to be put on the spot to label it. He and I hadn’t even discussed it yet.

  Daniel’s hand squeezed my knee once more, and I shot him a grateful look then dropped my own hand to cover his own.

  It felt right resting there.

  Crazy—the more time I spent with Daniel, the more I saw these different sides to him. The impassioned artist, photographing the world through his unique point of view. The scholarly student, intent on learning for the sake of learning.

  The subtle but sexy seducer, who made everything in my body flutter. Who set my skin on fire with the lightest touch. His kiss spun my senses, turned everything upside down. Made me ache and crave.

  With a hot flush, I turned my attention to my almost empty plate. I knew what was happening to me. I was falling for Daniel, despite my efforts to keep cool and not get in over my head. Something about him made me want to drop my walls a little at a time. To invite him in and share more of myself, learn everything about him. To explore this chemistry between us.

  But only where it was safe. Because I wasn’t ready to feel the pain I worked so hard to bury. And I didn’t think that would be enough for Daniel. I suspected that with his gentle yet persistent ways, he’d eventually push me to open up until I laid myself bare before him, no guard, no hope of saving myself from the risk.

  When lunch was over—I had to admit, while I was looking forward to the quiet, I also couldn’t help but want to spend more time with his family—we cleared our plates. Everyone gave me a hug good-bye. That part made me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t be rude, so I tried to keep my body as relaxed as possible.

  They followed us to the door.

  “Come back soon,” his mom said. “Our door is always open.”

  I believed it. I shoved aside my awkwardness and squeezed her hand. “Thanks.”

  When we got back into Daniel’s car, I buckled up and settled into the seat, ready for the rest of our date. And in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think that my mom would have loved his family.

  Chapter 13

  I pressed my back against the outside of my door, staring into Daniel’s shaded eyes. The light in our hallway wasn’t very bright, so the angles of his face stood out in strong relief. My heart thudded almost painfully in anticipation of . . . something.

  “I had a lot of fun,” I said. And it was
true. We’d spent the afternoon in the bright sunshine at a local park. Daniel had brought snacks, drinks and a Frisbee. We’d spent hours just laughing, talking and running across the bright summer grass.

  I was pretty sure my face was burnt to a pink crisp, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much. Daniel had told me about all of the shenanigans he and his sisters had gotten into when they were younger.

  “I had fun too,” he said, stepping closer. His soft breath huffed against my cheeks, my mouth. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine—just a light touch, but enough to make my stomach flutter.

  “Come in,” I said in a rush. I didn’t want him to go. I wanted to stretch this moment on and live in this space, like sustaining a single perfect note in a violin solo. “I’ll make pizza.”

  “You had me at ‘make,’ ” he said with a chuckle. “I can’t cook most meals worth a damn.”

  The apartment was dark; Megan was probably out with her friends already, getting her Saturday night partying on. I flicked on the light switch. “You’re giving me a lot of credit. I’m just going to pop in a frozen pizza.”

  He followed me inside and closed the door behind him. The lamps on the end tables cast a warm, honeyed glow on his skin. Suddenly I was nervous. We were here by ourselves. In my apartment. Where anything could happen.

  I cleared my throat. “Um. Can I get you something to drink?” I made my way into the kitchen and flung the door open.

  “Coke, if you have one,” he said from the living room.

  “Megan can’t live without caffeine,” I said drolly. “We’re always stocked.” I grabbed two and headed to the couch. He was already sitting down, so I took a spot beside him, hoping he couldn’t see the tremble in my hands as I gave him a can.

  Our silence was easy, peaceful. Our knees touched, since we were angled toward each other. As we drank, I marveled at the changes in me even in such a short time. Instead of freaking out and hiding in my room, I was sitting on my couch with a guy I was wildly attracted to. Had kissed him, touched him—let myself get absorbed in the moment.

  A strange sensation filled my chest. Pride. In myself. Baby steps, I told myself, peeking at him from beneath my eyelashes. My cheeks flushed, and a wave of shyness hit me. Daniel was so striking, the way his dark hair flopped over his brow. The intensity that practically poured off him. I couldn’t resist him, and I didn’t want to.

  I’d never felt this way about a man before. Somehow I’d gone through my life not realizing what I’d been missing. Existing but not really . . . living. But Daniel made me feel things that scared me. Exhilarated me.

  “Where are you right now?” he asked me with a smile. He put his drink down and leaned back on the couch. “Your face looks like you’re deep in thought.”

  My throat tightened. Busted. “Oh, just . . . flitting all over the place.”

  His mouth slid into a knowing grin. “Uh-huh.”

  I licked my lips. “It’s quiet in here. We need some music.” With fumbling fingers I found the TV remote and turned it to a music station.

  “So, let’s pick our game back up,” he said, mercifully letting it go. Daniel had started a game back at the park while we’d been throwing the Frisbee. We’d toss goofy questions back and forth and answer them as fast as we could. It was surprisingly hard to throw straight while scrabbling in your brain for the response.

  “Favorite movie,” I said quickly, tucking a pillow over my lap and folding my legs underneath me.

  “Like I can name just one.” He furrowed his brow. “I guess . . . Rear Window. Favorite—”

  “What’s that one?” I interrupted.

  His eyes widened. “A brilliant movie by Alfred Hitchcock. It’s a classic in the American film canon. You’ve never seen it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Never even heard of it? Oh, that’s it—I’m going to make you watch it.”

  “Is it black and white?” I groaned.

  Daniel’s eyes slit. “There’s a rule in our house about movies. You’re not allowed to judge them until you’ve seen them. I’m enforcing that ground rule here.”

  “It’s my apartment.” I jutted my chin and stared at him in mock defiance.

  He inched closer. “I bet I can make you.”

  My pulse thrummed on the side of my throat. With those eyes and that delicious mouth, he probably could make me do almost anything he asked. “What . . . were you going to ask me?”

  His brow arched. He didn’t move back from me. “Favorite crayon color.”

  “Burnt sienna.”

  He barked out a laugh. “You answered that surprisingly fast.”

  I shrugged. “Favorite brand of underwear.” Oh my God, where had that question come from? “Oh, wait, I didn’t mean—”

  “Hanes. Boxer briefs, in case you’re curious.” He winked. “You’re a saucy minx, Casey. Never would have guessed.”

  I took a swig of my drink, letting the bubbles burn my throat. That was flat-out flirting, plain and simple. I was awkward and uncomfortable, but Daniel still rolled with the punches and didn’t make me feel bad.

  “Favorite childhood memory,” he asked.

  I froze. My heart gave a painful, irregular thud. With robotic movements I put my can down on a coaster.

  “I don’t understand why you never talk about your past,” he said in a soft tone. Like he was trying to soothe a wild animal or something. “You have to know I’m curious about you—about everything. I’ve opened up and shared with you. I just want a little of the same in return. I feel like something bad must have happened—you’ve never mentioned your parents.”

  I knew this was coming. I hugged the pillow to my stomach. A weak shield, but it made me feel protected. “It’s not something I like to talk about,” I finally managed to say. “I prefer to live in the now. Live for the future.”

  “I keep trying to not pressure you. But it’s like there’s this huge chunk of your life that’s off-limits for discussion. How can we move forward—live for the future—if you hide yourself and your past?”

  I could feel his hot gaze on the top of my head, but my eyes were fixed on my thumbnails. On the ridges and plains of my knuckles. There was a quiet roar echoing in my ears, the edge of panic starting to creep in my senses.

  My stomach churned. Some strangely self-destructive part of me just wanted to blurt out the whole truth. Throw it in his face and watch him look horrified, then pitied, then walk out the door, leaving me and my drama behind. Too much mess to put back together the way I used to be.

  I felt like I deserved that pain. Because I was alive to actually experience it—a fluke, a miracle, a shock. I was alive, and my dad and my mom and my sister were rotting in graves, and I had to deal with that knowledge every day of my life.

  And besides my grandparents and a handful of relatives in my extended family, no one else was inside my world.

  “It’s not hiding.” My voice sounded far too scratchy, a patch painfully dry in the back of my throat. I swallowed and tried again. “Not hiding. Just trying to keep going.” I paused, stayed quiet for a really long time. The music filled our silence, but it didn’t put me at ease. “My parents . . . they died. Along with my younger sister. It was really horrific, and I don’t like to talk about it.” I didn’t even like to think about it.

  I finally dared to glance up at Daniel. His eyes were steady and fixed on me—not pitying, not horrified. Just . . . open. Tinged with a hint of sadness for my pain, but more empathetic than anything. It was like I could see right into his soul, feel the way he wanted to wrap his arms around me and ease my ache.

  “I’m very sorry,” he finally said. His voice was hushed. “I’ve never had anything like that happen to me. I can’t imagine how it feels.”

  The words were simple but sincere. A small piece chipped away at the protective coating around my heart. I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

  He looked to the left, at the open door of my
bedroom, and his face softened. “Hey, is that where you make the magic happen ?”

  My jaw dropped, and I blinked, startled out of the somber moment. “Um, excuse me?”

  He gasped when he realized what he’d said and how it had sounded. “Oh. Shit. That came out all wrong.” A streak of red crawled up his throat and covered his cheeks. “I saw your computer set up on your desk with some equipment there. I meant deejaying. Not . . . that. Shit.” He smacked his forehead.

  I laughed so hard my throat hurt. Oh God, that did me good. It helped me shake off the lingering sadness from our conversation. “Do you want to see it?”

  “Can I?” Suddenly he looked shy, and another piece of my heart’s armor chipped off and fell away.

  I nodded and stood, holding out my hand to him. “Come on. I’ll show you how the stuff works.”

  It was so strange, leading him into my room. My private zone. Granted, I didn’t have much personal stuff up, but it was intimate. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room up to my desk, and I sat down in front of the computer and fired up the program. It took everything I had to not focus on how he filled the empty space in my room with his larger-than-life presence. “Sometimes I use this program to help me make special mixes of songs that are out there. Like a special DJ remix.”

  “Do you ever make your own?”

  His rich, warm scent rolled off his skin, and I bit back a groan. Oh God, I wanted to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in. Having him this close to me, the intensity of the chemistry crackling between us, watching how he moved, how he looked at me . . . it was too much.

  I forced my mind back to his question. “Um, yes. I have made some songs in the past.”

  “Can I hear one? If you’re working on any right now?”

  I thought about the haunted song I’d finished composing. It just needed an hour or two of work to be completely done, but for some reason I wasn’t quite ready to share it yet. Maybe because it was so personal and heavy. “It’s . . . not ready,” I hedged. I scrolled through and got a blank template loaded up. “But tell you what. Let’s make one together.”