Scratch

by Rhonda Helms

  I hadn’t even thought about my scars.

  “I think you’re attractive,” I admitted to him. “And magnetic.” I couldn’t believe I was confessing it, but in the intimacy of the booth, with music throbbing around us, it felt right. This was the place I was most secure. Where my confidence could shine—music was my soul, my voice.

  I spun around and flipped through my selections. Suddenly I wanted to put on just the right song for him. Let the music speak what I didn’t dare say. I found a strange yet addictive little love song written by a no-name band I adored and made it load up next. There was a small tremble in my hands.

  “I wanna pick one,” he said from right behind me. The length of his body pressed against mine; his heat warmed my skin, and I fought the urge to lean back and let my building arousal take over.

  “Um.” I cleared my throat and stepped away, giving him a sheepish grin. He knew he was affecting me. “There’s my book. You can flip through and see if there’s anything you want to hear.”

  The next half hour flew by. Daniel had good taste in music—he picked eclectic songs that were a bit older but got the crowd excited. We had fun. Laughed. I finished the last of my water.

  “I’ll be back,” he said as he scooped up my glass and his empty bottle.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Shush,” he admonished. His eyes were stern. “Let me do this, please.”

  I gave a meek nod.

  Daniel headed out of the booth and toward the bar. Justin darted over, and the two of them began talking.

  I got the next song loaded and blended the songs so they faded seamlessly, the beats lining up. When the crowd got worked up like this, they liked songs to keep going for a while. I looked over and saw two pretty girls talking to Daniel, their faces animated.

  He was talking back with them, his head thrown back as he laughed at something the redhead said, and a stab of jealousy hit me in the gut. Wow, was I for real? Getting jealous because girls were trying to hit on him? This must have been how Daniel felt earlier when the guy had come up to my booth.

  There was some strange, possessive streak in me that wanted to go down there and let them know he was mine. It was ridiculous, caveman-like, but there nonetheless. I’d tasted his body, had given him mine. Felt him inside me, seen the flash in his eyes right before he came. I had him—I didn’t need to prove it to anyone.

  Justin came over to their group and handed Daniel two waters. Daniel said a few parting words to the girls, then came back toward the booth, weaving along the edge of the dance floor. The girls stared at him as he left, whispering to each other, their gazes hot and hard on his ass.

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out.

  That one’s a keeper. Perfect gentleman. Cool your jets, Miss Jealousy. He wants YOU.

  I barked out a laugh, but my cheeks burned. Guess I needed to do a better job hiding my emotions if Justin could see it on my face from his spot behind the bar. I texted back an emoticon of a tongue sticking out and sent it to him, then crammed the phone back in my jeans pocket.

  Daniel handed me my water. He filled our pockets of silence with observations about the crowd, pointing out who was hooking up, making up stories about people. We put on a run of songs that got the crowd writhing and dancing, moving as one to the throbbing bass. Like me, Daniel seemed caught up in the power of controlling the energy in the room.

  “This is so cool,” he said with an excited flush on his cheeks. “I can see why you find this addictive. I’d dig having a job like this.”

  “I help people experience the passion in music that I feel. I love that so much.” I smiled at him, and he took my hand in his. It was even better to share this moment, this emotion with him.

  The rest of the evening flew by far too fast. It was the most fun I’d had at work in a long time.

  Because of him.

  When my shift ended and I shut down and packed away my portion of the equipment, he helped, so the process went much faster. Sometimes those pieces were large and unwieldy, and Justin usually gave me a hand.

  I stood by my loaded-down car and wiped the dripping sweat off my brow. Moving cargo had made my face uncomfortably warm. “Thanks for your help,” I told him.

  He stepped close, and an altogether different kind of flush filled me from the inside out. His eyes were hooded. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “My pleasure.”

  The way he said those words, low and full of promise, made me think about pleasure.

  “I’d better head back to my place,” he continued, regret clear on his face. “I have a huge paper due next week, and I haven’t started it yet.” His hand cupped my face, and he pulled me toward him with a gentle kiss.

  I opened my mouth, drew him deeper in. We kissed for a good minute; my blood surged in my veins. I wanted him again, was filled with a deep longing. But I needed sleep. I was sweaty and sticky.

  When we pulled away, I said, “Have a good evening.” My voice was so throaty, I barely recognized it. I gave an awkward chuckle.

  Daniel brushed his lips against my brow, slid his mouth to my ear and whispered, “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

  He walked away toward his car, leaving me staring after him long after he got in and drove away.

  As one song ended at The Mask the next night, I transitioned into a newer, more popular electronica release. The crowd screamed in pleasure and their dancing kicked up. I smiled. It was addictive, this job. A way for me to make people happy, to share something I loved so much.

  My phone vibrated. I snagged it.

  My roommates are gone all night. My paper is well under way. I miss you and want to see you. Tonight?

  My heart gave a hard, aching thud in response, and I read the text another dozen times. I missed Daniel too. We’d both been busy today finishing up papers for other classes, studying for exams.

  Not done until after 2. Have to drop equip at apt too, I texted back. God, I wanted to see him again. Not even twenty-four hours had passed, and I was already going through withdrawals. I’d seen him every day for the last few days. Funny how I had grown addicted to having him around.

  It thrilled me that he felt the same way.

  My phone buzzed. That’s okay. Can you come?

  Yes. My fingers trembled in anticipation as I sent the text.

  I can’t wait.

  Three words that made my core pulse with need.

  Unlike last night, the rest of tonight crawled. Probably because I kept looking at my clock every five minutes, willing the hours to pass. Even loving my job couldn’t make me want to stay a second longer than I had to.

  I pasted on a polite smile and took recommendations, kept the tunes going. But in my head I was already lying in bed with Daniel, breathing in the scent of his skin, running my fingers along all those spots I wanted to explore. Tasting the hollow of this throat.

  I almost missed switching songs. I chastised myself to pay better attention. Even though work was going well, I didn’t want Sal to have any reason to doubt my competence.

  One of Justin’s bartending partners, William, was also handling the crowd at the bar, so Justin slipped away and brought me a water. Tonight he was wearing all black—skinny jeans, tight T-shirt, hair spiked in front.

  “You looked thirsty,” he declared as he thrust the glass at me. “Here.”

  “God bless you.” I took a long drink.

  “Everything okay? You seem a bit . . . off today.” He raised a knowing eyebrow. “Like you’re preoccupied. Maybe with the delicious body of a certain sexy guy?”

  My cheeks flamed before I could fight the response. “Knock it off,” I said, though my tone wasn’t harsh. I rolled my eyes.

  “You dirty little slut!” Justin laughed. “You know I’m going to make you tell me all the hot details. But I’d better get back to the bar before William throws a dagger in my back.” He narrowed his eyes. “Hot details. I expect thorough text messages
to fill me in.”

  “Use your imagination,” I retorted.

  He blinked, surprised at my sassy reply. Frankly, I was a little surprised too. This wasn’t the normal me—the one who flirted, who joked about sex.

  Being with Daniel was changing me.

  Daniel wrapped a lean, naked leg over mine as he rolled onto his side and draped an arm over the top of my chest. He nuzzled his face against my neck, right under my ear. His breaths were warm and damp, a pleasant contrast to his slightly chilly bedroom.

  “I’m exhausted,” he whispered. Small kisses pressed against my earlobe, and I shivered in delight. “I vote we sleep in tomorrow.”

  “That can so happen,” I agreed. I checked to make sure the sheet was draped across my stomach. My breasts were bared, as were my legs, but all of my scars were covered.

  He sighed; heat radiated from his torso against the side of my body. I rested my hand on his forearm and listened in contented silence as his breathing slowed and evened out.

  I was tired, but I couldn’t quite fall asleep yet. I wanted to live in this moment for a little more before I did. The sex had been amazing—hot, frantic. Filled with needy kisses, grasping fingers, gasps and breathy sighs. He’d thrust in me, made me come. I was still riding high from it all.

  I peered around his dimly lit room. The walls were covered in rock posters, pictures of his family and friends, various ticket stubs and newspaper clippings, and even pages from National Geographic magazine. His bedspread was bright blue with pinstripes of black, his sheets a crisp, soft white. Eclectic, interesting. I wouldn’t have expected anything different, to be honest.

  He mumbled something, his voice thick and slurred with sleep. A smile slipped across my face. I leaned just a little closer and allowed myself to just . . . feel. Let myself love him in the quiet darkness of his room, my heart burst wide open and exploding with those things I didn’t dare whisper. Though I wanted to. God, for some stupid reason I wanted to wake him up and ask him if he loved me too. If he could possibly love me as much as I loved him.

  The intensity of the way I felt scared me. I was overwhelmed. Drowning in it.

  Tears welled into my eyes from a sudden surge of panic that Daniel was pushing right through my walls, breaking them and leaving the crumbled remains of my emotional protective barriers in his wake. My pulse fluttered in response, and that familiar tingle crept to my lips, my fingertips.

  Don’t do this right now, I whispered silently to myself. There was no need to panic. Everything was under control. I could keep my secret a little while longer, at least until I could be certain what was going to happen with us. There was still time. No need to rush. Breathe.

  After a few minutes of deep breathing, my heart started slowing its nervous pace. Sleepiness finally, blessedly began to overtake me, and I let myself relax in his comforting embrace. I focused on the moment, as my therapist had recommended to me all those years ago. The sensation of his fingers resting on my bare skin. The soft tickle of his breath against my ear, fluttering my hair. The scent of our mingled sex.

  Everything about him, about us, was a study in sensation.

  My eyes slipped closed. I turned my face toward him, smelled the light scent of his shampoo. I could smell him on the pillow too. I tugged my sheet up to cover us, since I knew we’d get chilly soon.

  As I drifted off into a state of deep drowsiness, I focused on the quiet, even puffs of Daniel’s breath and let it lull me to sleep.

  Chapter 18

  “Casey,” a soft voice whispered in my ear.

  I groaned and rolled over. Morning light slanted in my eyes. “Too. Early.”

  “It’s almost eleven,” Daniel said with a laugh. I felt the side of the bed dip, and then a warm hand was stroking my hair.

  Not a bad way to wake up. I stretched, then scooted up in bed, giving a sleepy smile as I wrapped the sheet tighter around my torso. “I can’t believe I slept that late.”

  Even more amazing, I’d slept the entire night through. No nightmares. Just sweet, serene deep sleep. Such a rare occurrence. I felt like I’d conked out for a week.

  “I made breakfast. You should eat something.” He stood, then tossed me a clean T-shirt from his drawer. It was dark gray and supersoft.

  I probably could have put my tank top on, but there was something intimate about wearing his clothing. Like a way to announce to the world that we were together. That we shared things with each other, had a real relationship.

  I flushed. “Okay, I’ll be there in a sec. I need to . . .” I glanced down at my topless self, my nipples beading under the thin sheet from awareness of his scrutiny.

  He winked. “Take your time. After breakfast, you can take a shower if you like.”

  Daniel sauntered out the door and closed it behind him. I scrambled to toss on my bra, panties and jeans, then slipped on his shirt. It was a little big on me, but the fabric was soft. And it smelled like him, fresh and clean.

  I padded into the kitchen. The scent of bacon and eggs wafted into the air. I smiled. “You really go all out.” I hadn’t had a real Sunday morning breakfast in ages.

  “What can I say? I’m a great guy. Hopefully it’s edible.” He winked and went back to serving up the food on two large, white plates. He brought them to the table he’d already set with napkins, forks, knives and juice.

  I settled in the chair across from him. We dug into our food with gusto, silent for a few moments. The eggs were cooked perfectly and even had a hint of cheese in them. Delicious.

  I bit into a strip of crispy bacon. “You’re not as bad at cooking as you led me to believe.”

  “It’s only bacon and eggs. Hard to mess up. So, what do you normally do on Sundays?” he asked me.

  I shrugged. “Not much. Homework, that kind of thing.” On the rare occasion, Megan had made breakfast for her hookups and asked me to join them. I usually declined, hiding in my room.

  “My parents make a huge breakfast every Sunday. It’s a ritual for them—pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, the works. I always thought it was too much for us to eat, but somehow we managed to pack it away every time.” He chuckled. “Did you have any kind of rituals with your family?”

  My stomach turned. I put the bacon down.

  Daniel sighed when he saw the expression on my face. “I just want us to know each other better, Casey. But there’s a huge gap that we can’t seem to bridge because you always clam up. Anything to do with your family, with your past, is off-limits.”

  “I’m not ready to talk about things yet,” I said stiffly. My heart began to beat a rapid staccato.

  “But when? When will you be?” I could hear the frustration in his voice. “Next week? A month from now? Five years? We’re nowhere closer to you opening up to me than we were that first night, when you pushed me away without any explanation. I feel like I walk on eggshells all the time around you. Dance around topics that are even mildly personal so I don’t offend you or make you run away.”

  My eyes stung. I swallowed, blinked. “That’s not true. I have opened up to you. I took you to see my grandparents.” The half-eaten breakfast didn’t smell so good anymore, the bacon pungent and eggs unsavory. I nudged the plate away.

  “And I took you to meet my family,” he countered. “It’s not a competition here.”

  My jaw clenched. “I didn’t say it was. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Why can’t you just open up and be honest with me?” He pushed his plate away as well, then raked a hand through his hair. “I’m an open book. Ask me any question, and I’ll answer it.”

  “Well, not all of us are like you.” My words were low but heated. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about this.” I stood to go. I wasn’t going down this road with him today. My good feelings were all gone now, but I could stop the conversation before it damaged things in a very real way between us.

  “Don’t do this to me,” he said, standing as well. He stared me down. “The moment you feel threatened, you a
lways run away. Always. I back off and back off. I let things go. But—”

  “You’re pushing me too hard, Daniel. I don’t want to talk,” I interrupted. My voice was ice-cold, belying the mad flutter in my stomach. My hands started to tremble. I crammed them into my jeans pockets.

  “What are you so afraid of? Why won’t you just tell me what you’re thinking and feeling?” A vein ticked on the side of his forehead. His nostrils flared as he narrowed his eyes, staring me down. I’d never seen Daniel this frustrated before. “I’m good enough to sleep with but not good enough for you to open up to?”

  I reeled back from his raw comment like he’d struck me.

  The room grew quiet, still. The only sound was our ragged, panting breaths.

  “That’s not fair,” I finally whispered. My throat closed up, and I blinked back tears.

  “No, it’s not.” His tone was quiet. His eyes grew anguished. “This is killing me, Casey. Stop shutting me out. I want to be there for you, but you’re so damn stubborn. You throw up a wall every time I try to press you about anything. I’m not the enemy.” He paused, and his tone flattened a touch in disappointment. “I’ve let you into my life. You’ve seen me—all of me. The good and the bad. I only get to see the pieces you want me to see. But that means I never really know you at all. Even after all this time, you still don’t trust me.”

  My heart thundered in my chest. Guilt and anger roiled in my stomach. “You’re making this about you, but it’s not,” I said, voice trembling. I stood in front of him and poked my finger on his chest. “Despite what you may think, this goes back way before you. There’s a reason no one knows a thing about me, Daniel. Except that I’m jacked up, of course.” I gave a bitter laugh. “Because that’s the way I cope with things. That’s how I keep going every day. But you . . . you think you can just swoop in and I’ll drop everything and change who I am on your schedule? That’s not how it works.”