Running in Place (Mending Hearts)

by L. B. Simmons

  “God, you’re beautiful, Tate,” he sighs. “But as much as I would love for this to be about me, it’s not. That’s not the purpose of today’s lesson.” Reaching toward my face, he runs his fingers along my jawline. “Today’s lesson is called Tate’s Realization. I want you to feel as beautiful as you are. Because you are beautiful Tate, on the inside and the out. You need to know that. You need to understand that. You need to accept it.”

  Closing my eyes, flashbacks from my mother’s tirade seep into my mind, oozing with her disgust and revulsion by my very existence. I try to push them away, but they continue branching as they spread their dark roots, clouding my thoughts.

  “Look at me, Tate. Your eyes need to be on mine. Don’t disappear on me.”

  My lids open hesitantly spotting a pair of muddy brown eyes in front of me, so full of compassion, longing, and understanding that the air stalls in my lungs and the memories rescind into my mind. In this moment, there is only him.

  Locking stares with him, he nods his approval before he begins.

  “First, we’ll concentrate on the outside.”

  His knuckle grazing my cheek, he brings his legs over my body, straddling me much the way I do him every morning, brushing all the hair away from my face and fanning it over the pillow underneath my head. As his fingers spread my long hair, he smiles down at me.

  “Very beautiful. The first thing I noticed about you, actually. I thought to myself, that’s probably the prettiest thing about her, until I saw these.”

  Sitting back on my hips, he looks into my eyes. I force myself to maintain eye contact, even though every fiber in my being wants to throw his comforter over my head and hide.

  “Your eyes. A definite forerunner for my favorite thing about you. Not only because their coloring is quite possibly the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, but because there is so much that you divulge with them that you choose to hide from everyone else. Everyone else but me. Through them I see your soul and trust me when I say, it’s absolutely beautiful. There’s no dark, just the shimmering light of a soul ready to be nurtured.”

  Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, but I don’t dare look away.

  He chuckles under his breath as he looks down to my mouth. “Now that is most definitely a close second. Your mouth is perfection. Ever since the day I met you, I’ve been a slave to it.” He chuckles again. “Probably shouldn’t have told you that, but it’s true.”

  Moving his eyes to my breasts, he shakes his head. “Okay, also a forerunner. Absolutely gorgeous.” Leaning down, he closes his mouth around my left nipple, sucking and nipping it with his teeth, before he performs the same act with the other. My hips leave the bed, lifting his body with mine.

  Releasing me from his mouth, he simply shakes his head. “Nope. Not quite yet. First, you need to turn over because there’s more you need to learn.”

  He raises himself just enough for me to roll underneath him and then repositions himself on the backs of my legs. Gathering my hair, he tenderly moves it off of my back, clutching it in his hold and twisting it around his wrist, setting it to the side opposite my face lying on the pillow beneath me.

  I take in a deep breath because I know what’s coming next. Something that I’d been hoping he hadn’t noticed, but as he traces his fingertip along the scars, I know now that he’s aware of them. I feel the warmth of his bare skin just above mine as he leans forward, kissing my cheek before he pulls my arms from underneath me, spreading them flat against the bed.

  Tracing his fingertips along the indentations, on the backs of my arms, along my shoulder blades, and the worst of them, the ones in the middle of my back, he says nothing. I feel his body tighten as he gets to the most defined of the markings, but he remains quiet.

  Leaning forward, he places his lips tenderly on every single inch of my marred skin. “Beautiful. These are your strength, Tate. What you’ve overcome. Never be ashamed of them,” he utters with pride in his voice. A teardrop runs across the bridge of my nose as he rises.

  Sliding himself down my legs, he positions my arms along the side of my body, then places his hands on each side of my ass, cupping a handful with each one. Caressing them, he lets out a groan. “Tate, you will kill me with these damn things because your ass is very, very beautiful.” As he continues massaging, I press off my knees, pushing myself up off the bed.

  “Be patient,” he breathes softly. “Roll back over for me once more, baby. It’s time to learn about the inside.”

  Compliantly, I turn one more time as he sets his legs on either side of my waist, just as he did before, tears streaming down the sides of my cheeks as I turn to face him. Affectionately, he wipes them away before he taps the side of my temple. “First runner up, your mind. Your humor, your intelligence, your wit. You are brilliant, regardless of what you think. And that makes you even more beautiful.”

  Falling forward with his arms fully extended, his weight dips into the mattress by my shoulders as he lifts his right arm, laying his palm flat against my chest, his overpowering eyes staring deeply into mine. “This. The most beautiful thing you have to offer.” With his finger, he traces a heart right where mine is wildly beating. “Your heart. It’s flawless. It’s pure. It’s compassionate. And it is indeed the most beautiful thing about you.” He breaks his eyes away from his hand, peering into my eyes. “This,” he taps his index finger just above my heart. “This is by far the winner for me.”

  I reach up to clear the tears from my face, but his hand stops my arm before I can reach them. His face directly above mine, he leans into me and brushing his lips along my cheeks, redirecting the streams as they flow. Taking his time, he trails downward until his lips finally meet mine. As I cry through our kisses, he mutters softly, “You are beautiful, Tate.”

  Breaking away, I try to cover my face with my arms, but he catches them, forcing them above my head with one hand by holding my wrists.

  “You are beautiful. Say it,” he urges as his eyes peer into mine, his strength giving me the courage to try to believe.

  I try to speak, but my mouth seals shut, refusing to let the words escape. Still holding my wrists, Noah gingerly places his other hand on my chest, extending his fingers onto my neck and begins slowly tracing his way down my body, between my breasts, over my ribcage, onto my stomach, ending right above the area between my legs. He lets his fingers linger, their proximity to the area already throbbing with anticipation throwing me into an uncontrollable shudder. My lips part as the feeling permeates throughout my body. Noah’s redirects his stare to my mouth, the slight lift of the corner of his mouth showing his satisfaction with my response.

  “Let it out, Tate. Say it.” The three words obstruct my throat, blocked by their stubborn resistance. Opening my mouth wider, I try to force them out, but they remain, their claws digging in deeper as I fight to let them out. A frustrated tear rolls out of the side of my eye, catching Noah’s gaze as he follows it until it disappears onto the bed below me. A look of determination sets on his face and he moves his fingers further down, barely brushing them over my core. My hips skyrocket as the jolt shocks my body, pure desire overwhelming me. A muffled groan barrels its way through my throat.

  “That’s it, baby. Let it through.” Slowly, he dips his finger inside of me, the feeling so intense that I strain against his grip on my wrists with the need to grab hold of him. Pressing deeper, his thumb strikes my swollen sex, my back arching completely off the bed as I throw my head back, the words finally dislodging as they’re ripped free.

  “I am beautiful!” I cry out as I feel the hatred and disgust relinquish my soul. No longer tainted by their presence, I feel it as it breathes and begins to grow inside of me, strengthening every second as it absorbs the pure bliss of this moment — the beauty I feel as my body blossoms for him. And with its growth, I’m finally able to accept that there is part of me that is still alive and it is indeed beautiful.

  Glancing down at my mouth, his eyes deepen in color before he raises them
back to mine.

  “You are absolutely exquisite right now. Lips full, cheeks flushed, eyes luminous, and your skin is glowing. Stunning.” He releases my wrists and slides his hand under the back of my neck, holding my stare fixed on him. “Now, this is not part of the lesson, this is purely for me,” he pauses, repositioning his hand with two fingers just barely inside my entrance. “Now that I have you right where I want you,” he leans so that his face hovers just above mine, “I want to watch just how beautiful you can become when you completely unravel. Right in the palm of my hand.”

  Thrusting his fingers deep inside me, he hooks them forward and presses the heel of his hand against the area between my legs that has been aching for his touch since we started my lesson. I draw my breath through my teeth and tilt my hips forward for more, the current of pure ecstasy flowing throughout my entire body. His hooded gaze darkens further as he watches my reaction.

  Slowly, he begins to crook his fingers, moving them back and forth against the top of my walls. My eyes flutter as my climax builds inside my stomach, throbbing as my body tightens around his fingers. “Eyes on me, Tate.”

  I pry my heavy lids open just as he rubs his thumb against my core, hitching his fingers at the same time. His eyes refuse to let go as he continues to work my body with his hand, the familiar ache building with each pass of his fingers until I can’t contain it any longer.

  Tightening his hold on my neck as I reach my climax, his eyes peer into mine. Grabbing hold of his arm, my fingers dig into his skin as I release, the waves practically sending my body into convulsions. I ride each one of them as he continues to coax them with his hand until they finally subside. Easing my grip on him, I exhale a deep breath in an effort to calm my hammering heart. A self-satisfied smile breaks across Noah’s face.

  Withdrawing his hand and releasing his hold on me, he says, “You’re not just beautiful, you’re fucking sexy as hell, Tate.” Running his tongue across his lips, he leans forward and takes my mouth with his. Kissing me with absolute ferocity, he pulls me up and onto his lap, setting me on top of the erection just underneath his boxers. Just as he starts to kiss my neck, the vibration from his phone rattles against the end table nearest us. Grabbing my waist with both hands, he presses me down while he lifts his hips, the feeling of him between my legs completely euphoric. The buzzing finally stops but begins again almost immediately.

  “Shiiiiit…” he growls. Letting go of my waist, he inhales deeply as he leans away from me, reaching for his phone.

  Once he retrieves it, his face hardens into a scowl. “Fuck.”

  Sliding his finger across the screen, he lifts the phone to his ear. “Yes, sir.”

  His posture stiffens as the voice on the other line comes through. The change in his demeanor is so noticeable that I crawl off his lap and cover myself with his sheet as he turns away from me, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. Setting them on the floor, he bows his back, placing his elbows on his knees and his forehead in the palm of his hand as he speaks.

  “Come there tomorrow?” He rubs his head with his hand, obviously frustrated with what he’s being told. The voice booms loudly through the phone, and I watch as he visibly flinches in response.

  After a while, the voice stops speaking and Noah’s only reply is, “Yes, sir,” before he hangs up the phone and throws it on the table. Twisting back to me, he leans forward to stroke my cheek with his thumb, his facial features still hardened and his eyes full of irritation.

  “I need a second, Tate. I’m sorry.”

  Pushing himself off the bed, he grabs his t-shirt off the desk chair as he passes by and throws it over his head, continuing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

  Pressing off my feet, I sit up on my knees and lean to retrieve the phone. As soon as I have it in my hands, Noah roars from inside the bathroom, “GOD DAMN IT!!!!!!!” while I listen to what I assume is everything on the bathroom counter crash to the floor.

  Eyes wide, I slowly move my gaze from the bathroom door down to Noah’s phone. Pressing the home button, I read the last recent call, then look back toward the sounds of the ruckus taking place as I put together the following pieces:

  The contact name displayed as “Sperm Donor” must be his father.

  He has to go see him tomorrow.

  He’s definitely not happy about this visit.

  The shower curtain rustles loudly as he chunks what I presume is the rod at the door, setting me into motion. Jumping off the bed, I grab my clothes off the floor, and slide them onto my body as I draw my final conclusion.

  After everything he’s done for me this summer, there’s no way in hell that I’m letting him make that trip alone.

  It’s my turn to protect him for a change.

  Arms extended on the counter, palms flat, I stare at my reflection breathing heavy breaths. My hair is disheveled, I need to shave, and my face is practically purple from my most recent outburst.

  I knew I shouldn’t have picked up the goddamn phone. As soon as I saw his name, I should have pitched that shit against the fucking wall, but he’s relentless, so it would have most likely ended up with him making a surprise visit, and that would not fly well with me. This belligerent tantrum would have nothing on what would happen if he gets within even the same zip code as Tatum. His evil spreads like a sick virus, and I will not allow her to be polluted by it. She’s experienced enough of that shit for three lifetimes.

  I’m not sure exactly what happened. I just know that the sound of his voice triggered my beast. He was stirring before I even answered the phone, but he began raging inside me the moment my father mentioned coming home. The reminder that my time with Tatum, my stint of happiness, is rapidly dwindling, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The knowledge that the life I want is dangling right in front of me and that with a mere phone call, he jerks it through my fingers just as I get the courage to reach for it.

  And laughs as he fucking does it.

  There’s only so much the beast can take before he makes the decision to override my conscience. And the loss of Tatum — well, it’s too much for either of us to handle.

  Looking around the room, I assess the damage done. Toiletries all over the floor, scattered everywhere, I assume I’ll be making a trip to the store later. I’m pretty sure using a toothbrush that just landed in the toilet is a CDC violation waiting to happen. I should have started keeping it in the cabinet like Tatum.

  Reaching over, I pull it out of the water just as the door cracks open and she pokes her head just barely around the corner, her eyes full of apprehension, which fucking kills me. But once she glances down at the toothbrush in my grasp, dripping as I hold it over the commode, the worry lines disappear as her face softens into a gorgeous smile.

  “Um, I hope that’s yours,” she laughs. Picking the shower curtain and rod combo off the floor, she tosses it out of the way of the door as she opens it wider, finally stepping inside. Setting her hands on her hips, she turns as she surveys the damage done to the room.

  “Nice job. I mean, this is nothing compared to what I can do, but it’s a start.” Looking over at me, her mouth tips down as she begins to clear a path with her foot, making her way to where I’m standing. Once she’s in front of me, she opens her arms and wraps them around my waist, placing her head on my chest.

  “You okay? You look like you need a hug.” Just like that, the anger recedes and I chuckle under my breath. It can’t be helped. I’ve completely demolished this bathroom and her answer to all of my problems is a simple hug. The ironic thing is, it’s not the hug I need.

  It’s her.

  “I am now.” Running my hand down her hair, I place my other arm around her shoulders and press my lips on top of her head, taking in a whiff of her hair in the process. Her grip on me tightens as she exhales.

  “Let’s get out of here for a while,” she says, pulling her head away and setting her head on my chest, she smiles. “I know where we can go. A place where there’
s never a dull moment, complete with constant chaos and laughter. We can clean this up later.”

  Grabbing my hand, she pulls me out of the bathroom and throws me my jeans. “Get dressed.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask as she begins to shimmy into her own jeans. Turning around, she puts on her bra and shirt. This makes me laugh. I’ve just seen her naked, yet she insists on dressing in private. I sigh inwardly. Probably for the best or we might not leave. I’m tempted to pull her on the bed and finish what I started earlier.

  “It’s a surprise. But, I’m driving.” She turns back around, wearing my Ramones t-shirt. Pulling her hair up into a high ponytail, she slides on her Chucks before heading back to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

  As soon as the water stops running, I continue our conversation. “We are not taking P.O.S,” I say, pulling my jeans over my hips as she closes the door behind her. She laughs an evil laugh.

  “No, we’re not. We’re taking Betsy.” Reaching toward the end table, she snatches my keys, throws my bedroom door open and takes off, giggling as she exits my house. I swear I still hear laughing on my front lawn. Not even bothering to lace my boots, I slide them on before grabbing my wallet and phone off the table. After turning off the lights before I leave, I step out onto the porch, closing the door behind me.

  Heading towards the already started Jeep, I open the passenger side door, immediately greeted by Tatum’s illuminating smile as she dons my aviators, bouncing up and down in the driver’s seat, clearly unable to contain her excitement. She looks fucking amazing.