Without Scars

by Jones, Ayla

  “You know what I mean. I don’t want to shake things up while they’re so good.” Except maybe I did. A knock sounded on my front door. “Lea, someone’s here. Talk to you later.” I belted my robe and walked out of the bathroom. “Who is it?” I yelled. A bouquet of red petals was on the other side of the peephole.

  Then it vanished. Charlie. He was here, and my insides dissolved into a puddle. I collapsed against his chest the minute I managed to collect myself enough to open the door. “Oh my God!” He lifted me into a hug after dropping his bag and the flowers. In an instant my nerves were settled, my heart soothed.

  He was home.

  “You’re supposed to be driving back right now. You lied to me, you jerk,” I whispered against his neck. He was holding me so tight it hurt. I didn’t care. What I’d felt when he wasn’t here was far worse.

  “Yeah…but after our presentation, it was either stay or drive back right away.” They were in Pensacola last night. Nine and a half hours away.

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  He shook his head. “It was worth it, though. I knew where I wanted to be.”

  “Well, you’re not…allowed to disappear again,” I told him, taking his face in my hands.

  He smiled. “Sorry…” His lips hit my cheek and I held my breath. Charlie did it again and inhaled against my skin. His mouth glided just above my jawline, his lips slowly parting the closer he got to my mouth. I closed my fist around the back of his shirt. Every hair on my arm was upright, electricity just beneath the surface of my skin. Sparking. Jolting all my nerve fibers. I didn’t breathe again until the contact ended. I hated that his mouth wasn’t on me anymore.

  Charlie was looking at me. So focused, so unflinching. Leaving me completely disarmed. Which was a great substitute word for dizzy, stupid, and tongue-tied. “Well…so…um…are you…hungry? Hungry, yes. You have to be hungry. Your mom brought me tostones and mofongo. It’s still here. She made a lot.”

  He still hadn’t put me down. “You know what this means, right?”

  “She’s thanking me for taking her to the beginner class at SoBe.”

  “You took my mom to a burlesque class?” Charlie frowned.

  “She asked me! It was fun. Then she brought me food. And kept bringing me food.”

  “My mom cooking for you means she’s crazy about you. She only does that for people whose well being she honestly believes will be affected if she doesn’t bring them food. And don’t worry about me; I’ll eat later. Tonight is about you…and right now you are beautiful.”

  “The gold isn’t too much?”

  “Gold what?”

  “Eye shadow!”

  “I just told you you’re gorgeous. But if you’re worried, I’ve seen what you’re wearing; no one will be looking at your face.” He shrugged as he put me down. I punched him in the stomach. “I have something for you,” he said, swatting me away easily. After rummaging through his bag, he pulled out a box with Apple’s logo on it. There was an iPod inside. “Read the back.” I was tearing up before I could. For the girl who’ll never need wings to fly, the engraving said. “I’ve been building you a music library for weeks. I tried to put some of the songs you lost—”

  “Thank you.” It didn’t matter what was on it. “Thank you so much.”

  “Are you excited?” he asked.

  “Yes…but…I haven’t performed for anyone like this since L.A. But this is what I’ve worked for, right? The show is sold out. It’s going to go well, right?” I made a futile attempt to gulp down the sudden panic rising in my throat. I paced a few steps. “Because a lot of girls wanted this job, Charlie. We were all good. And that makes me replaceable. Easily.”

  “Nope. We’re not gonna do this. You’re not gonna drive yourself crazy. Come here.” Taking my hand, he led me into my bathroom and lifted me to sit on the countertop. He walked out and returned with a small black bag. Then Charlie pulled out a razor and shaving oil.

  “Wait…you want me to…you’re trusting me to shave you?” I asked as he handed the razor to me. “Like, put a sharp instrument on your neck…where your pulse is beating. Blood flowing—”

  “Yes. I have to get ready. And guess what you won’t be worried about while you’re worried about possibly killing me?”

  I laughed. Fair enough. “You want everything gone? I really like when it’s like this…” I cupped his face just to feel the stubble on my palms.

  He smiled. “Okay. A little five o’clock shadow this time. But we gotta handle the neck beard.” He wet both his hand, pumped out shaving oil, and slathered it onto his neck. Then Charlie put his hands under my knees. I froze. “You probably need to get a little closer…” With a gentle tug, he slid me to the edge. A blaze of desire burned inside my chest. He pushed my knees apart next, spreading my legs, and then moved his hips between them.

  His gaze hit my robe’s wide-open V for a second, and I didn’t even wonder what was showing. I wanted him to look. “Ready?” He put two of my fingers on his Adam’s apple. “Everything below here…on a curve from ear to ear.” Charlie flattened my palm on his collarbone. “That should help stabilize you a bit.”

  He tilted his head back. His arms flexed at my sides as he leaned forward to balance his weight on his hands. My thighs were tight against his thighs. He flinched when I moved even closer, dipping his head down to lock eyes with me. Charlie’s gaze continued down my chest—seriously, God, please free one of my nips right now.

  “With the growth, right?” I asked, barely above a hoarse whisper as he tipped his head back again.

  “Yup…with the growth.” Holding the bottom of his neck, I drew the razor down in short meticulous strokes on one side and worked my way to the other. He placed his hands on top of my thighs. Charlie was wrong. While I wasn’t as scared about performing tonight, not killing him was sliding down the scale of importance. “Leeward released the final list of the panelists for their new media forum,” he said. Charlie was going back to his alma mater as one of the guests at an event, and hosting some workshops at another university as part of a huge tech summit in Silicon Valley.

  “You’re aware that I have a blade over your jugular? Shut up so I can concentrate.”

  “Yeah, well, I need to not think about you killing me,” he said with a nervous laugh. “You should see the names, Nik. These are guys I admire and look up to.” When he turned his head and pointed at the hair I still had left to shave on the side of his face, I caught worry in his eyes. “Heavy-hitters in tech. Me and my little web show. And I won’t have Samira with me. She refuses to fly cross-country with a toddler.”

  “Aw, my little baby is going out into the world alone,” I teased.

  “Shut up.”

  I poked his abs. “You’re smart and people always like you. You were made for that forum.”

  “You’re obligated to say this, Nik. Best friend and all.” After I finished up with the shave, he checked out his face and said, “Awesome job. Better than me on most days.”

  “All those years of nearly bleeding to death trying to shave my legs prepared me for this exact moment…” I joked but I wasn’t amused at all. Charlie didn’t need me to shave him, so I was touched by the meaning and effort behind this. It was my comfort that mattered to him. Charlie was so good to me. He was so good. I’d let myself settle into the security of his kindness having no bounds. But there was taunting fear that one day I would storm face-first into its borders. Because my darkness would come out. He’d see my dad’s injuries. Or he’d have a long enough conversation with Camryn to discover the gaps I’d created in her mind. Or I’d pick up the bottle again. Then everything would change. If that day ever came, I knew the pain would be unbearable. Especially now that my feelings were so invested. Now that they had changed so much.

  He cupped my face. “What’s that look? I’m not hemorrhaging on the bathroom floor. Wasn’t that bad, was it?”

  “Not at all,” I said, holding his wrists. But it was intimate and couple-y. Fo
r a moment, I imagined waking up together and sharing the bathroom as we got ready. And Charlie Dara getting in the shower with me. Damn. How excited was I that I’d get to see him naked on the show eventually? There was not a word in existence to properly capture my feelings just yet.

  He peeled off his t-shirt suddenly. This is never going to get old. I tried to keep my eyes on his face, not that he’d mind me ogling him. “All right, I’m gonna shower. No freaking out while I’m in here. Or I’ve got more places for you to shave,” he said, winking.

  “Promise I wont.” I want to see those places. Not shave them. I hopped down and walked out just as he was stripping his jeans and boxers off. I didn’t need to see more of his body while mine was charging down.

  Okay, so…I took a peek over my shoulder and got a glimpse of a very sculpted butt.

  “Definitely not as nice as yours…” he said, startling me. “Admit it.”

  Crap. He’d seen me in the mirror. “Shut up and shower!” I slammed the door shut. After I carried Charlie’s bag to my room, I got into my costume. I thought it was better to get dressed at home and wear something over it that was easy to take off. The first performance of the night, which my Mayhem character was a part of, involved sexy black bodysuits, and cool black wings that I would put on right before the show started. I threw on a gray cotton t-shirt dress, touched up my makeup, and left the room to give Charlie some privacy. I had promised no freaking out, so I did everything around my apartment to keep my mind off the show—cleaned, rearranged, put break-and-bake cookies in the oven. Even did jumping jacks. What I wanted most, though, was a drink.

  I’d only be able to stave off the craving for so long. I needed to go to a meeting. They had been a regular part of my life once: first, as a requirement of my probation, and then because I really did need them. If I was going to be this stressed all the time going forward, I had to consider that the brick wall therapy wouldn’t be enough.

  “Hey, Nik, could you come here a sec?” Charlie yelled through my bedroom door. He looked so handsome when I walked in that I sighed. He was dressed in a plaid shirt—unbuttoned—with a graphic white t-shirt under it, and dark wash jeans. “We’re good enough friends to talk about anything,” he said. No inflection in his tone.

  Not a question.

  “Yes,” I said, speaking carefully. He was prefacing something. Where was this going? Back to our conversation at the theater?

  “That?” He cocked his head to the right. My gaze followed. Oh.

  Shit. I swallowed. My big black vibrator was still on my nightstand. When you lived alone and didn’t have many guests over—especially unplanned ones—you didn’t always put everything away. But I wasn’t going to be embarrassed, either.

  Just turned on that he’d seen it.

  “What do you want to know?” I said with my best poker face, approaching him. His stare seared me with every step, but this look was different. Like seeing my Body Wand had given him a new lens to view me through. I braced myself, too, imagining that this was the moment I had been expecting and dreading equally the entire span of our friendship. He was going to mock me now, morph into one of those men who didn’t get the point of vibrators when it was raining dicks out.

  “Uh…umm…” Charlie gulped down when I sat. For the first time ever, he appeared uncertain in his words, in himself. He was fiddling with the edge of his shirt. Oh my gosh. Hilarious because Charlie Dara was no shrinking violet. “Remember I told you about Sami’s episode? We keep calling it our most anticipated one ever. Well, in one scene she’s using Chuck’s computer for a school thing and comes across one of those porn blogs in his web history. She’s curious, so she looks. And she gets so turned on she—”

  “Fingers herself?”

  “Uh…yes…right there at the desk.” He nodded. Haltingly. I snickered inside. Charlie Dara didn’t halt. “I want it in there like Samira approved it, but Hillington is being weird. They want me to change it because she’s not…weird about masturbation.” He paused and cleared his throat.

  “What are you asking me, Charlie?”

  “S-s-so, if you were Sami and doing that…what I’m asking is…is there…a way you do it?”

  “I like the way you’re describing it. Not with candlelight and music or anything like that. It’s not romantic in the cliché sense. For me, it’s not romantic at all, actually. It’s me playing with myself. I just want the rush and quick release,” I said, speaking with confidence. Charlie’s pupils grew and shrank in a single heartbeat. His clenched jaw pulsed. It was as though the more frazzled he got, the more self-assured I became. I was being truthful but getting him all worked up was exhilarating. The flood of desire in Charlie’s eyes was empowering. But the lust growing inside my own belly had me biting the inside of my cheek. The room went up twenty degrees around me.

  “I’m not ashamed about knowing my body so intimately, either. I should know it. How else would a woman understand the kind of stimulation she likes? See her nipples get hard. Feel the tremble in her legs. Know how wet she gets. Feel her pussy clench around her fingers…”

  “Right.” The word was said in a sharp breath from him.

  “I hate the idea of a man showing her the light from the get-go. She should be holding the sun already, you know? I mean, show me a woman who owns her sexuality, and I’ll show you a woman I’d like to fuck…” I trailed off and smiled, stifling my laughter when his eyes bugged out. “If I were a guy, that is. Or into women.”

  “I’m into women. I’m a guy.” Charlie fidgeted, moved closer, and just stared at me. “I’d love to fuck that woman.”

  “Maybe for Sami, she is so turned on, thinking about you…” Tingles rolled across my arms. “Not you you. Chuck. She doesn’t even hesitate to touch herself.”

  “Do you—would Sami—touch other parts of her body at the same time?” His voice came out in a whisper. I imagined his breath on my stomach. A soft beat pumped between my thighs. Heat was radiating through my skin from the inside out.

  “Yup...”

  “Do you usually have someone in mind?”

  You. I nodded slowly. “Most times. Sami would obviously have you—Chuck—in mind. It can heighten the experience, when you’re pretending. Like your hand is someone else’s...maybe even their tongue…” Didn’t I know it. “Say their name right before you lose control...” My gaze went to his lap when his legs shook. Charlie’s dick was hard. His jeans were keeping the bulge there so impacted it looked painful. “He doesn’t randomly walk in and it ends, right? She comes, right?”

  “Shit…” he whispered, his gaze roaming me.

  “Charlie, she knows how to make herself come, right?”

  “Yeah…yes. Yeah. Of course. I would never finish anything without a woman coming.” Damn. I hoped he hadn’t heard me moan as he stood up and walked toward my bathroom. “Great. I’ll, uh, incorporate your thoughts into…um…yeah. Thanks for the…yeah.”

  ****

  The Sinners simultaneously eased down onto the backward facing chairs as the contemporary version of Ella Fitzgerald’s “Too Darn Hot” ended. My heart rate was flying, both from the strenuous dance routine and excitement of the performance.

  The crowd’s applause rose inside the theater. My cheeks were actually hurting from smiling so much. I could hear my friends shouting my name. They were hooting much louder than anyone else. I couldn’t wait to get out there to them. But we had to take pictures and greet fans first. Yes, Mayhem already had a small following, apparently.

  Out in the lobby I waved to Charlie and he returned a strained smile as he watched me snuggle up to a few college guys who had asked for a photo. Then it was a bachelor party. A bachelorette party. Girl friends from Tampa out for a 21st birthday weekend in Miami. And finally a group of women who looked like they might be in my mom’s book club.

  When the crowd died down, I wrapped myself up in my silk robe with Ms. Mayhem scrawled in gold sequins on the back and went to talk with my friends. “Oh my God!” Le
a said, squishing me in a hug. “You were so amazing. So gorgeous.”

  “I have too much cellulite to do all that,” Denise said.

  “You think I don’t?! All the girls were slathering on creams and using Saran wrap for an hour before the show,” I whispered to both of them. “I’m so glad you came!” I said to everyone else.

  “I haven’t yet, Nikki. But it’s only midnight. Maybe if you hook me up with one of your coworkers…” Deacon said. Lea blushed. Everyone else groaned. He swung his arm around my shoulders, a conniving look that only his face seemed capable of forming appeared. Uh oh.

  By the way, his t-shirt tonight: “That Chair You’re In Will Never Be As Comfy As My Face,” under a blazer. A goddamn blazer.

  “We were way in the back. Could you take off your robe and turn around and grab your ankles for a sec?” he asked.

  “You first, Deek. You showed me how to do it in the first place.” We all laughed. Or so I thought.

  “Shut the fuck up, Deacon,” Charlie said. The laughter cut off suddenly, like all the sound had been vacuumed out of the place. Everyone looked at him. He had spoken in an eerily calm tone, but he was staring at Deacon like his murder was imminent.

  “Uh. She’s not mad, so what’s up your ass?” Deacon asked. He turned to me with a smirk. “We’ll be back to that ass in a moment.”

  “You really should shut the fuck up,” Charlie warned again. His hands were balled into fists, and his jaw set, teeth grinding. Jesus. Are you serious right now? I wanted to ask out loud. It was Deacon Specter. Sexual harassment was, like, his personality.

  But who the hell was this crazy person with my best friend’s face?

  “Make me, bitch,” Deacon responded.

  Heart thudding, my gaze shifted between them. I’d only been worried about their friendship’s long-term survival before. Now I think all of us were just waiting for the animosity to become physical. And when it finally happened it would be bad.

  A few of the other dancers and idling audience members turned their heads. My concern morphed into annoyance. Were these two trying to get me fired on my first performance night? I pulled Charlie away from the group and led him outside to the street before the argument escalated.