The Ties That Bind Us: (The Ties Duet Part One)

by Danda K.

  I’m distracted by a loud voice coming from my right. “Hey, Tony! I told ya...you leave this door open long enough anyone can walk in!” Mario appears behind the counter, barking to the back of the pizzeria. Keeping an eye on me, he cackles—his round Italian belly bouncing the entire time.

  I flip him the bird. “Shut up, old man. You still holdin’ a grudge against me for wiping the table with you in Hold ’em last month?”

  He waves me off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s because my brother’s the kiss of death. He takes one look at my hand, and that’s it. Instant malocchio.” He throws a rag over his shoulder. “And who do we have here?” he gestures to Cameron.

  “Mario, this is Nyx.” I gesture between them. “Nyx, Mario. He’s the worst poker player in the borough, but he makes the best fucking pizza.”

  “Cameron,” she corrects my name for her from behind me and waves at him. I don’t give up that easily, though.

  Mario looks at me and raises an eyebrow, smirking. Silently telling me I’m in big trouble.

  Ain’t that the truth.

  Clapping my hands together, I instruct, “Enough with the introductions. Get us the usual, per favore.”

  Turning to Cam, I give her a look, begging her to trust me. Then it hits me. “You don’t have any food allergies, do you?” Because the last thing I wanna do is kill her.

  She shakes her head no, so I nod to Mario, and he gets to work.

  I walk Cameron over to a small table far away from the guys because I know they’re making her uncomfortable. Pulling out her chair, she just stares blankly at me.

  “This is when you sit down.” I point to the seat I’m holding for her because at this point, I’m honestly not sure she knows what this gesture means.

  “Uh, yeah, thanks.” She tucks her hair away and gives me an obligatory smile.

  Cam sits down. I push her chair in from behind her, and as she stiffens, a painful thought surfaces. I become all too aware that someone must have really hurt her, broke her down so much she can’t even accept an act of kindness without being skeptical.

  Suddenly, I have the urge to find whoever it is and send them off to meet their maker.

  I sit across from her, hoping this meal goes smoothly. I feel like those walls she’s built up so high can go back up at any second.

  The walls I’m so desperate to weaken, and eventually, send crashing to the ground.

  Ten

  Cameron

  Okay, Jaxon was right. This pizza is amazing. After receiving our pie, we spent the first five minutes mostly silent, with the occasional satisfied groan. The cheesy slice had the perfect amount of tomato sauce and melted mozzarella goodness. I hadn’t thought combining meatballs and sausage would work, but both flavors brought a heartiness and feeling of comfort to it I never expected to enjoy. After we ate enough to feel the hunger subside, we began to talk.

  Jaxon explained how he moved to Coney Island two years ago and his boss took him under his wing and gave him a place to stay. I felt terrible when he told me this man lost his wife when she gave birth to their son.

  We kept the conversation pretty casual after that. I talked mostly about my favorite musicians and explained how I always wanted to open up a music store. Surprisingly, the conversation flowed very naturally between us. I even laughed when he told me how Magnet would always try to steal his peanut butter sandwiches. Which happens to be Jaxon’s favorite.

  When he poked or prodded about my life, I kept most of my answers short. I didn’t lie, I told him I was estranged from my mother and recently severed ties with my dad. I kept the details to a bare minimum.

  Never diving below the surface of what keeps me grounded and securely hidden.

  He never pushed, which I’m grateful for. I can’t believe I’m actually enjoying myself. When Jaxon leaned over to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear...flutters erupted inside me, and my heart skipped a beat. I didn’t cower away. Instead, I found myself leaning into his touch when his fingers lingered by the side of my face longer than they should have.

  Although it makes me a bit uneasy to feel this way, I realize there are things Jaxon does to me that nobody else would ever get close enough to attempt.

  Even though my body still protests his advances, my insides are reaching out and holding tight to whatever part of him they can. It’s like the first breath of air after being underwater for too long. My soul was desperate to take him in.

  I steal a glance his way now as he throws a piece of meatball up and catches it in his mouth. He seems so carefree that a part of me envies him. Taking another bite of his slice, I hear, “So tell me something I don’t know about you.” I stop myself from taking my own bite and look at him. With a mouth full of sausage and pizza, he awaits my answer.

  He doesn’t really know anything about me, so I find it refreshing that he understands my reluctance to share. He allows me to decide what I’m comfortable with divulging. Jaxon doesn’t ask anything too particular but still shows he’s interested in who I am.

  The words fly out of my mouth before I even realize I’m saying them.

  “I like to sing.”

  My mouth falls open in shock. I can almost see the words floating above us like they’re showing off because they know there is no taking them back now. Not even Camilla knows I can sing. I’ve never told a soul, and here I am, blurting it out over pizza with someone I’ve barely known for a week.

  His eyes widen, and he leans forward in his chair, placing an elbow on the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. He gives me that same shit-eating grin I’ve become very accustomed to.

  “What do I have to do to get you to sing for me?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

  I don’t answer him right away because I know there’s nothing he can do. I give him the most honest answer I can. “Disappear?” I respond as if I’m both answering his question and asking if he’d be willing to.

  I don’t want to tell him I’d never trust him enough to sing in front of him because I don’t want to offend him, but, in typical Jaxon fashion, my stubbornness just rolls off him.

  Giving me an insouciant nod, he continues with his questions. I find myself a bit taken back by his lack of interest in the bomb he doesn’t know I just dropped.

  “So, tell me about this list.” He grabs another slice of pizza. After taking a huge bite, he places the slice back on the plate and wipes the corners of his mouth. I’m still silent from my previous disappointment. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I care if he doesn’t push to hear me sing? He circles his hand to gesture for me to spit it out, so I do.

  “It’s just a list of places I’ve promised myself I would go.” I lean back and look around. Grabbing a napkin from the table, I begin to shred it to distract myself from the sudden turn of events. Jaxon continues to watch me.

  “That sounds pretty straight forward, but why a list? Why waste time waiting? If there’s somewhere you wanna be, why not just go?”

  I feel the sweat building on my neck from my nerves.

  How do I explain that I’m a twenty-one year old who was abused most of my life? Whose spirit was so broken down that I couldn’t or wouldn’t leave my tormentor? How do I explain I spent most of my teenage years locked in my room, both by force and by choice?

  And how do I tell him the marks my father left on my body have also marred my soul?

  That there were so many nights I contemplated just ending it all because I was already dead to the world anyway.

  The days I should have cried, but I was stone cold. Numb. The nights my father’s alcoholic friends would cop feels of his thirteen-year-old daughter? Some even ballsy enough to try and pry open my locked door in the middle of the night while I slept.

  But I never cried. I never felt anything emotionally from my home life except numbness.

  How can I look at this man who looks at the world through such a painted lens and explain to him I’ve spent my life fearing the world more than I feared the man who brut
alized me?

  It’s easy, I can’t. So I sum it up as simply as possible and hope to God he doesn’t pry.

  “I told you, I wasn’t much of a traveler until now.” I crack my knuckles and my neck to try and ease the tension inside me. “I spent most of my time at home. Sometimes with my best friend, Milla. But I recently decided that I was gonna make good on my promise to experience all the places on my list.” I stop, hoping he won’t dig further.

  He seems like he’s contemplating something. “I see...well, I, for one, think it’s great that you’re finally taking the leap.”

  More like a plunge.

  He sticks his hand out, palm up as if he wants me to give him something. “Can I see it?”

  I raise an eyebrow in response. “See what?”

  He gives me a knowing look. I wiggle in my chair, feeling like my insides are going to implode from the pressure I’m feeling. “The list. I’m curious to see what’s on it.”

  I consider it. I’ve been giving him a much harder time than he probably deserves. For the most part, he’s been patient with my frosty exterior. Yes, he gets under my skin with his sarcastic comments, but mostly I’m projecting my frustration onto him.

  These conflicting feelings towards Jaxon are ones I’ve never experienced before. One moment I need to be far away from him, and the next, I crave his scent. He smells like musk and cinnamon, mixed with masculinity and sweat. I don’t know what to do with these emotions he ignites inside me.

  I feel him in my darkest places, like the electric current coursing through a wire when you plug it into an outlet. He has illuminated things inside me I never knew existed. The way my body can feel him all around me, even from a distance.

  I reach into my pocket and freeze, undecided.

  A small part of me wants to show him my scars. I want him to see me for all that I am. I want all my broken pieces to be laid out for Jaxon to judge.

  If someone with such a positive outlook on life, despite the odds, can look at what little I have to offer and still value me as a person...maybe my father was wrong. But the larger and very cynical part of me is afraid all he’ll see is a fearful and bitter shell of a woman.

  One who carries so much baggage that the weight from it would likely hold him back from his own form of freedom.

  I throw caution to the wind and decide to hand him the paper.

  His eyes flick through the list silently, and I sit there in anticipation of his response. There seems to be no judgment on his face, just a bit of confusion.

  “You’ve never been to the movies before?” he asks, almost at a loss for words. “Haven’t you ever gone with your friends?”

  “Friend, singular, and trust me, it wasn’t from her lack of trying,” I say, fiddling with my fingers. “I just couldn’t.” I look now to the side, suddenly unable to face him. I hear Jaxon chuckle and look back to see what he finds funny.

  Smiling, he looks up at me. “Eating at a pizzeria, huh?” He leans back and places his hands behind his head, obviously proud of himself. “I guess you can cross that one off your list now.” He leans forward and takes something out of his back pocket. A pen. He offers it to me, and I shake my head and chuckle. Humoring him, I cross it off. If only he knew how many firsts he’s already given me.

  “Yeah, I would’ve mentioned it, but I didn’t want to gas your head up too much and have it block the exit.” I shrug, “I want to be able to return to my humble abode tonight.”

  He lifts his chin. “And where exactly is that?”

  More questions.

  He leans even closer, his eyes boring into me. Jaxon doesn’t wait for my answer before he asks another one, in a much more somber tone than before, “Why’d you leave?”

  I’m confused because the last two encounters ended with him being the first to walk away, probably because I gave him no other choice.

  “Why did I leave where?” I look at him, trying to read the expression on his face.

  He looks as though he’s trying his hardest to remain collected.

  “Home.”

  Eleven

  Jaxon

  Just when I think I may have struck oil, it seems I struck a nerve instead.

  C’mon Nyx, give me something.

  “It’s actually getting late.” Cameron looks at her phone. “I should be heading back.” Damn it. It’s only seven-thirty, but I’m not gonna argue with her. No amount of time would be enough for me anyway, and I made more progress than I thought I would.

  When she first laughed for my sake, I almost saw the real her. The smile she tries so hard to hide captivates me. I’m happy that it’s getting easier for her to let her guard down around me, but my inner caveman doesn’t want anyone else to see her this way, to see her this raw.

  I stand with Cameron and try to think of the best and fastest way to see her again because, like a twinkling star in the night, she’s gone as fast as she comes.

  I walk over to Mario and pay the tab, bidding him farewell. Walking outside into the much cooler night, I watch as she shifts on her feet. She’s unsure of what to do next. Always the over-achiever, I test the waters.

  “Whaddya say we run into each other on purpose next time?” I take out my iPhone and punch in the passcode. I hand it to her, hoping she’ll add her number.

  Smiling sheepishly at me, she takes hers out of the pocket and does the same. “As long as you leave the raccoon at home.”

  I save my number and hand back her phone. “I can’t make any promises.” Looking up to see her grinning, I take my phone back from her, our fingers barely brushing at the exchange. There it is, that feeling in my gut again, like I’ve just been shocked.

  “I’m this way,” she points behind her. The question of where she’s going is bubbling on my tongue, but I stay quiet. Cameron steps back. “Thanks for the garden today and the pizza.”

  “You brought yourself to the garden,” I tell her, so as not to take away from her accomplishment, but then I turn on the charm and shrug. “I was just a bonus.”

  There’s her smile again. A smile that, if somebody told me I might wake up tomorrow to nothing but darkness, I would spend the entire night memorizing every detail so the curve of her lips would be the only remaining memory embedded in my mind.

  I decide not to ask her where she’s staying. I want to leave her on a high note, and the last time I questioned her residence of choice, it ended with me returning home with my tail between my legs and my hand around my cock in the bathroom.

  Instead, I try to seal the deal for the near future.

  “Meet me by the beach on Sunday.” I pause to think of the best time to take her to the one place I couldn’t believe wasn’t on her list. “Meet me there at seven, after I’m done with my shift for the night.” I’m not too proud to beg at this point.

  She thinks about it for a second. “Yeah, sure. I can do that.”

  I don’t know a fraction of what this girl has been through yet, but I can already tell she’s the bravest person I’ve ever met. That’s why I didn’t pry when she refused to let me hear her voice. I want to earn her trust, not take it. So if I have to bide my time, that’s fine.

  “Get home safe, Nyx.” I squeeze her hand gently as a farewell and turn to head back home. I know better than to try and give her a hug or kiss on the cheek. With a girl like Cameron, you never assume anything is on the table.

  The first time my lips touch her body, I want to wholeheartedly know that she wants it. Because once she gives me free rein, God himself wouldn’t be able to keep me from exploring every inch of her.

  Around thirty minutes later, I’m walking back through the parking lot of the Garden to my bike, thankfully exactly where I left it. It still surprises me that the risk of someone stealing your property is much lower when you’re no longer living on the street.

  I bought my Harley a year ago. It’s not the fanciest or newest model, but I’m still proud of myself. I saved up a year’s worth of paychecks from the station to pay for it in
cash. It’s used but still in excellent condition. There’s a few scuffs on the back, but besides that, the red trim on the wheels stand out against the black matte finish around the body--add the shiny red addition to the exhaust and subframe--and that equals one pretty badass bike if ya ask me.

  I throw on my red helmet and head home. Racing down the Belt Parkway feeling the strong wind against my chest, I can’t help but think about what it would feel like to have Cam on the back of my bike right now. With her arms wrapped around me tightly and her petite body pressed into my back. The thought makes my dick immediately harden, and I’m glad I’m only five minutes from home.

  I step inside, finding Magnet asleep on the couch. I drop my keys and wallet on the table. I kick off my boots and head straight for the shower. I’ve been sweating all day, but I’m also hoping a cool shower can simmer down my cock’s need to be inside a woman. Well, inside one woman in particular.

  I strip down and walk right in, not waiting for the water to warm—the colder the water, the better at this point. With my back to the shower wall, I lean my head against it and let the water run over me.

  I’ve never been this wound up over a girl. Especially one I barely know.

  I cared about Gelissa, but our relationship was mostly physical and only skin deep. She gave one hell of a blowjob but was a certifiable narcissist.

  And it didn’t take long for me to know how devious she could really be.

  Shaking off the thought of my ex, I think back to earlier when I finally got to feel Cam’s body pressed against me.