by Charity Rose
Leaving the water to boil, I run to my room and get dressed. I don’t do anything drastic. I shimmy into a navy blue off-shoulder sweater and my favourite pair of black leggings. I dab on a little lip-gloss and clip my hair up into a messy-cute bun and wrap a sheer navy scrunchie around it. I run back down the stairs to check the pot and toss in a few more spices just to heat things up a bit.
Soon enough I hear a car horn, I run to the kitchen first to turn off the pasta that’s boiling on the stove, and give the chicken a quick turn over. Then I head outside, Keith smiles when he sees me. His button up navy shirt beneath a black cardigan looks good on him, it fits snug in all the right places and accentuates his strong arms and broad chest that tapers down to a thin waist. He’s carrying a bright red rose in his hand. I can’t stop smiling. He’s so sweet.
“Wow, you look amazing. I mean, you always look amazing,”
“Thank you,” my smile reaches my ears, and my skin is warm.
As we enter my house, I escort Keith through the living room and into the kitchen. He takes in the area and lets out a low whistle, “Nice,” he says.
Stepping into the kitchen, I stir the pots, and the scent of spices rolls through the room, the smell is fantastic. Whenever I get to cook, I do, I’m grateful that my mom decided to teach me how to cook our family’s traditional Indian dishes. I feel Keith’s hand on my hip, “You look sexy when you’re cooking,” he says, letting me go and leaning back against the counter.
I blush at his use of words; he notices and smirks so I turn my attention back to preparing our meal. I try to ignore how good he looks tonight, but Keith is standing right behind me now; his breath brushing against the back of my neck as he leans over. “K-Keith,” my lip trembles as he takes hold of my shoulders. Squeezing his fingers in little circles, he massages my neck as I continue to stir our food.
Keith takes the opportunity to nip at my ear, my whole body responds with a shiver that sends goose bumps running down my skin. He chuckles light, smiling against my ear. He moves down to my neck, sucking gently but with enough force to make me jump. I let the spoon fall back into the pot, “Keith,” I moan, “Stop, or the food will burn,”
“Hmm, let it,” he answers against my neck in response.
“Keith,” if he continues with this sweet torture of his, I might just lose it. I moan again, louder, surprising us both. Keith smiles against the skin of my shoulder blade. His lips creeping further down as he pulls down the wide neck of the sweater an inch or two to reach more skin.
Keith hums against my skin as his arms wrap around my waist. We take a step back to keep from burning ourselves on the open flame, he said, “You have no idea how turned on I get hearing those noises come out of you,” he turns me around to face him and leans down, trailing little kisses against my cheek and forehead. “Remember—” he says against my ear. “If I kiss you, I don’t think I can stop.”
That familiar warning of his kills me every time he says it in the most sensual way possible, “I don’t want you to stop,” I announce. Did I really say that out loud? He pulls at my arms and guides me out of the kitchen and into the living room right onto the sofa where he slowly pushes me down onto it. I edge my body back so that there’s enough space for both of us. But he refuses to sit down and instead, places one hand on the top of the sofa and leans over me, hovering in the space above me, his eyes study my face and I smile at him,
“If you’re mother walks in on us, I don’t know how I’ll be able to look at her during dinner,” he jokes leaning down to kiss me. I pull him in closer, my hands tugging on his hair as a few moans escape his lips. I feel like I’m on fire, the flames are rolling up my body and consuming me. It’s the most exquisite feeling I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I want Keith, I know that I’ve wanted him for a while now. We’ve been taking it so slowly that it’s killing me. He might not have been sure of us, but I sure as hell was.
I move my hands down his body, grabbing onto the hem of his shirt, untucking it from his pants. I can see the clock on the wall behind him. My mom could arrive any minute now. The thrill of it adds more sweetness to the temptation. But as much as I want him, I also know I want it to be perfect. I don’t want it to be quick and dirty. I want it to be sweet and slow and tender, just like things have always been with us for the past four months.
“Keith,” I whisper. He’s still kissing my neck, tracing the edges of my jaw. I try my hardest to suppress a moan, “We can’t,” I say and manage to grab his attention. He climbs off of me and stands, his breath comes quick. His pupils are dilated, and his lips tremble. Instead of gaining my composure and returning to finishing up dinner, I find myself sitting there, frozen, my body both cold and hot. Without warning, Keith pulls his cardigan up over his head and unbuttons his shirt, leaving his body exposed.
My face turns red, and I squeeze my knees together unbidden as my body begins to tingle, and my heart quickens. I’ve felt up his body many times, but I’d never actually seen what he looked like beneath his clothing. His chest was broad and muscled, his shoulders looked strong, the biceps thick and bulging. His waist was all muscle, with abs cut like marble. I think back to my History class; we had reviewed Greek mythology and learned the story of Aphrodite and Adonis. At that moment, looking at Keith – half-naked and vulnerable – I completely understood why Aphrodite would be willing to do anything to save keep her lover to herself.
Chapter 14
I’ve been gapping at him for what seems like forever now, but he hasn’t moved an inch. He stands there smirking, waiting for me to make a move. Waiting for me to touch him. To get up and kiss him and trail my fingers down that smooth chest and ridged abs. And I really do want to touch him. I just don’t know where to start. I feel embarrassed. I mean, the kissing part was easy to figure out it just came naturally. But now have a half-naked man standing in my living room, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with him.
“Vee—” Keith snaps me out of my thoughts, “Are you alright?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, covering my eyes with embarrassment. I feel feverish, hot to the touch, “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of my arms and places them on his bare chest. I gasp. I want to roam my hands further around his body, but they are stuck in one place. Why am I making this so awkward? I know I’m new to all this, but I’ve watched enough movies and read enough books to understand how this is supposed to go. And this isn’t it. Is this how everyone actually feels in this situation? Have we been lied to? I’m starting to think that maybe TV and social media isn’t the best teacher when I feel Keith’s eyes on me.
He looks down at my unmoving hands over his chest then looks back at me, grinning. “Do you need any help?” he asks gently but with a hint of sarcasm. I just nod, “I’ll help you,” his hands glide over mine, slowly guiding them over his body; my fingertips slide over up his chest, over his collar bone and then back down, and then down some more. His abs are as solid as they look, the delicate curls of hair that grow between the swells of muscle cause me to swallow hard as he tenses, turning hard muscle to steel. My hands go down more. I feel his eyes on my face, but I’m busy watching my hands.
“Stop,” I say, “I-it’s too much,” I whisper. I don’t know what else I should do.
Keith smiles at me, lifting my chin up to meet his eyes. I can tell that he is trying to suppress a laugh, but failing badly at it. “Keith!” I whine. “Don’t laugh; I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say, “You drive me insane, and my mom will be home soon,” I say, the words coming out in a rush. I push back away from him, sinking back into the cushions I look away from him.
“I’m not laughing, I’m sorry,” he says, and then laughs anyway.
“Keith!” I yell, walking away from him. I need to check the pot anyway; I can smell the spicy mixture all the way through the house.
“Vee, come on. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh,” he follows me. I can hear his footsteps halt as he stops to collec
t his clothing. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone—” I whirl on him, throwing a finger up in the air. How many girls has he been with? I just assumed she had been the only one. The thought makes me angry like he hasn’t been telling me anything.
“Please, don’t say that word. It makes me feel stupid, and I’m not stupid,” I say brushing his words off and heading back into the kitchen to finish preparing our meal. I turn the flames off and reach into the pantry to gather the good dishes and set them out on the counter. The rice steamer is venting little puffs of clouds, letting me know its nearly ready.
“I really am sorry, Vee,” he says, “But, I’m not the one you're angry at am I?”
I sigh, gathering together a serving bowl and spoon and placing them next to the pot, I start to scoop the soup into the dish but I’m annoyed, and I slop the hot liquid in too quickly, spilling some on the counter, I turn to face Keith,
“I’m just frustrated,” I say, pursing my lips and refusing to meet his eyes. A few seconds ago, I felt like a fish out of water, like I was suffocating. During the party, I had no trouble at all. I was eager to take as much of him as I could. Maybe it was easier because it was just kissing and we were under a lot of stress and just needed to get it out of our systems. Who am I kidding, I’m just scared. I should just tell him the truth, I frown. Keith finishes buttoning his shirt and pulls his cardigan back on. Fully dressed, he stands to one side of the counter as he watches me grab a towel and clean up the mess I made before popping open the rice steamer.
“You’re frustrated because of me?” he asks slowly, I can hear the hurt in his voice. The hesitation. He thinks he’s stepped the line, but he hasn’t, I have.
“No. No, Keith. Not at you, at myself. I’m frustrated with myself,” I say picking up two of the plates that I’ve prepared with rice and paneer tikka masala, and place them on the table. I move on to make one for my mom, and I put it in the microwave. She was supposed to be home by now, and I don’t want it to get cold before she can eat it. My father hasn’t shown up either, and then I realise I had been so busy with Keith that I hadn’t checked my phone. It’s usually glued to my hip. I have several messages; dad is staying over at work again, and mom took on another shift, she won’t be back till later. I slam the phone on the counter and take my seat at the dining table. Just perfect, this night was supposed to be perfect, and now I’m just angry and annoyed. Keith doesn’t follow he just gapes at me. “The food will get cold,” I say.
“Forget the food, Vee. We said we’re going to give this thing a shot. We promised each other. So, let’s start now. What are you really angry about?” he asks, his voice growing cold. Defensive.
“Yeah, we did promise, so why don’t you start by telling me why the hell you think you’re going to hurt me? I’m not your ex-girlfriend,”
“No,” he cuts in, “I know that I can’t explain it,”
I slam the flat of my hands onto the table and yell, louder than I mean to, “Then what can you tell me, Keith?”
“You promised that we would take it slow,” he counters, his voice is soft, but I can hear the hidden edge in it. His shoulders are bunched up tight along with his fists, if he were a dog, his hackles would be raised and his teeth bared.
“Yeah, well maybe this is too slow. I told you all the shitty stuff about me, but you’ve barely told me anything about yourself, except for the rape. And you only told me that because someone beat you to it,” I say, the words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. I know what I’m saying. I know it’ll hurt him. But some reason my tongue keeps moving, “And I’m pretty damn sure you wouldn’t have ever have told me about it otherwise. You said it yourself you had no intentions in bringing me into this side of your life. What are you so afraid of Keith?” I stare at my plate, appetite gone, standing I look at him,
“You know what, maybe you should go.”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead he nods and looks away. Fumbling in his pants pocket for his car keys he heads out the door, into the chilly air. A few flakes of snow are falling. I know I shouldn’t, but I follow after him.
As he makes it to the driver’s side of the car, he pauses and glares at me, his voice is tight, “You know I thought you would be different. But you’re just like her,” he shakes his head, drops into his car and drives away.
It’s been an entire day since my perfect night went to hell. Keith hasn’t texted me at all. And I haven’t tried to text him.
Chapter 15
As the days go by, my mind is clouded by thoughts about Keith. I don’t know what to do. I get that we were meant to go slow. But the fact that I know there are things he still hasn’t told me. Dangerous things, which are fogging up his mind as well, it gets to me. I don’t want to be one of those pushy girls. But I just wish he would tell me a little more.
For instance, not once has he mentioned his father. Did he die? Is he no longer present in his life? When I visited his home, there were no indications that anyone other than his mom and himself lived there. He never has once mentioned his father, only his mom.
I want to know why he thinks that he’ll hurt me? What happened with him and his ex before the assault? What about after? He glossed over the events, so quickly I was left with more questions than answers. I’ve got so many more questions that I want to ask him, but now I won’t get the chance. How am I like her, Keith? What did she do? Who was she?
It’s been almost a week, and not a word from him. I mean, I don’t know what I should be expecting from him, besides an apology? Is that what I want? I should just admit that I’m confused, that I clearly don’t know what I want from him.
I’m demanding too much for someone I barely know, just because I was quick to trust and tell him everything doesn’t mean I should expect the same from him, should I?
This is ridiculous, I’m being a psycho, and maybe that’s how his ex was. That’s probably why they broke up. She wanted answers, and he wouldn’t give them to her. Then how was he expecting us to work out if he was only going to continue with the same cycle of silence? Now I’m intrigued. I have to know.
The next morning is a blur, my mom started to decorate the house, but I just can’t get into the holiday spirit. I go downstairs to find rolls of lights on the floor waiting to be detangled and hung. Christmas music is playing loudly throughout the house. I gobble my breakfast and move on to help her; after all, I’ve literally got no plans for Christmas break. Well, I was going to have plans, but I assume I don’t anymore.
By noon, we’ve nearly untangled all the lights. Enough to assemble the Christmas tree and start decorating. We decided to leave the rest of the lights for tomorrow and take the rest of the day off, “How about you and I do a little last-minute shopping? There’s a lot of sales going on,” my mother says once we’ve laid out all the strings of lights. My dad will probably work on putting them up around the eaves once he’s home later on.
“Sounds good to me,” I say and try to sound excited. She pushes me to go get ready and change out of my pyjamas. Hurriedly I braid my hair and then slide on some leggings and a sweater. I stop and pull a warm beanie down over my ears before rushing back down the stairs to meet my mom outside.
“So where are we going?” I ask, once inside the car.
“How about we change our usual location, and we go downtown to your favourite mall,” she answers me.
I make a face, “You mean the only mall,”
“You got it,” she answers with a wink. I roll my eyes as she shifts the car into gear and we’re off.
After making a few purchases, some new jeans, another sweater, and a new book, I settle into a seat at the food court. My mom has run off to look for something that she has to have for my dad and said she will meet me here at 3:00pm. I dig through my bags and pull out the book, opening up to the page I marked where I had already started reading it in line at the book store.
I’ve been infatuated with this novel since the very beginning, in the best way possible.
Because, give it to the author to make all my expectations fall to the floor.
Maybe ten minutes have passed when I see a shadow of a person loaming over me. I put my book down but when I look up, expecting to see mom, but its Keith with an awkward smile on his face.
“Hi,” he says. His voice is low and almost inaudible. He looks broken. His face hides a shadow of hurt, and he refuses to meet my eyes.
“Oh, hey,” I say back to him. I see my mom walking towards us. She slides in between us and glances at Keith.
“Ready Vee?” she says and then glances at Keith again,
“Hi,” she says, directing herself to Keith. “The science fair partner, right?” she says to him.
He nods his head, “That’s right,” he pulls out his hand for her to shake. She makes some small talk with him about the excellent grade we, I, received.
“So, Vee, are you ready to go?” my mom asks me. I look between her and Keith, and I feel my heartbreak. I nod and say goodbye to Keith. He doesn’t respond.
As we walk to the opposite side of the food court, I can’t help but look back at Keith. He hasn’t left his spot where we were just talking. “Ah, mom you know what—” I stop in our tracks, “I need to pee, really badly,” Please say you won’t accompany me; please say you’ll wait for me somewhere else. Please tell me that you don’t have to pee.