by Jessa Russo
“Mom, you’ve always been a good mother, and I understand that you needed some … um, time … away from life. It’s okay, really. I didn’t mind taking over the chores and stuff.”
“Well, I appreciate that, honey, but it stops now. Well, not completely, of course—I mean, all kids need some responsibility, right?” She winked and smoothed my messy hair a bit.
My cheeks heated up as I thought about why my hair was so messy right now.
“By the way, how’s that boy from next door? Toby, right?”
I was weary of her quick subject change, my guilt flaring up and making me feel like she could somehow sense he’d just been there. Before I could shake myself of my momentary stupor, she continued.
“Are you two still … dating?”
I knew the word “dating” was difficult for her to get out, seeing how uncomfortable she’d been from the beginning of my relationship with Toby, but what shocked me wasn’t her struggle with the word, but the fact that she was completely unaware that he’d been out of my life for the past month.
“Um, well … it’s sort of … um … complicated right now, Mom.”
“Well yes, complicated. I understand. That’s how it is when we’re young. You’ll figure it out.” She gazed off into the distance, and I could tell she’d expended her energy for the night. It would probably just come back in little spurts for a while now anyway.
I hugged and kissed her goodnight, relieved she was beginning to find a way out of her funk. I closed the door again, then walked to the window. I looked outside, squinting at the darkness, hoping Toby was nearby waiting to crawl back inside. I still felt the excitement of having him back in my life and wanted to feel the warmth of having our bodies so close together again, so I was disappointed when I didn’t see him waiting outside my window.
With all the different emotions running rampant inside me, I didn’t think I’d be able to fall asleep any time soon. I sighed and turned back to my bed, only to jump at the sight of Frankie sitting on it.
“Shit! Frankie! What are you doing in here?”
“I think the question, Ever, is what were you doing?”
The characteristically playful tone of Frankie’s voice was gone, as was his familiar pet name for me. No ‘Hey, Dollface’ tonight. He looked at me, unflinching, and I grew uncomfortable under his accusatory stare.
“What? Nothing. None of your business, Frankie. Please, leave my room so I can change. You shouldn’t be in here anyway; my mom was just here.”
“I know. I waited ‘til she was down the hall. She’ll be asleep soon anyway. It’s late.” His glare intensified ever so slightly with that last word.
“Still, I’d like you to go. We can talk in the morning, Frankie.”
He chuckled as if I’d said something humorous.
“In the morning, huh? Nah. Right now works for me.”
I was shocked by his tone and the menace in his words. He’d never spoken to me that way before. In fact, I’d never heard Frankie speak to anyone that way. Least of all, me.
“You know that guy’s no good for you, Ever, but still you wait for him. Now he’s back and you’re all excited like an ignorant toddler waiting for Santa Claus. But Santa’s a myth, Ever, isn’t he? A myth. So what gives?”
I did not like being compared to a toddler, and I was especially angry that he had the audacity to call me ignorant. What was even worse was that Frankie was coming in here—to my bedroom—with more negativity toward Toby, when I had just finally gotten Toby back. Never mind that he may have had a point. I mean, yeah, I had pretty openly accepted Toby back into my life, very few questions asked. But that was my business. And I planned to talk to Toby about the past month. I would talk to him about it. Soon.
“That’s enough, Frankie. You have no right to tell me who to date, and I don’t appreciate the way you’re talking to me right now.” There. That sounded direct and strong, didn’t it? No toddler tantrums here, thank you very much. I was pacing the room but halted when Frankie jumped up from the bed and rushed me.
He stopped inches away from me. My heart raced. If he’d been human, I would have felt his breath hot on my face, smelled the cigarettes he carried with him at all times. His next words came out so angrily that I probably would have felt spit fly as well.
”Dammit, Ever! Wake up! You really are pathetic, you know it? That guy is bad news, Ever! Where’s he been for four weeks? Huh? Did he tell you that much? Did you even bother to ask, or did you just jump straight into bed with him?”
Excuse me? Now that was going too far. What he implied … I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself before I spoke. My fists clenched and unclenched instinctively as anger flooded me. I took another deep breath. I didn’t want my mom to hear us and come back down the hall. How on Earth would I have explained this angry, confusing passion between Frankie and me?
“How dare you, Frankie?” My words were cool, calculated—so unlike the fire in my chest or the fever in my cheeks. “How dare you say something so … so cruel? If you think I just jump into bed with random guys, then you don’t know me at all. You have to leave now, Frankie.”
“Huh. So you weren’t just in bed with him?”
My mouth dropped open. I had been in bed with Toby, but … geez … not in the way Frankie implied. Not quite anyway.
What could I say, though? Frankie had clearly made up his mind about me.
For a few excruciating moments, we stood nose to nose, his head bent down toward me. His lips were just inches away from mine, his mouth a tight line. His anger I could handle, but his obvious disappointment in me was the worst part.
“You shouldn’t be with someone like him, Doll. He’s no good for you. You deserve”—his shoulders slumped, defeated—”You should be with someone like …”
As his words trailed off, he turned his back to me and headed to the door. His arm reached out for it, not because he could physically twist the knob and open it—he tended to just go through doors—but because every so often an old habit reappeared, an old habit like opening a door by hand or reaching out to touch me.
“With someone like who, Frankie? Someone like you?”
My voice was softer, my anger quickly fading as I sensed the pain in the words he didn’t speak out loud. I heard myself falter, my voice cracking just enough to show that my thoughts mirrored his. He was right. I should be with someone like him. Someone who cared about me no matter what. Someone who knew me, understood me. Someone who accepted my quirks, my insecurities. Someone who loved me beyond my faults.
Frankie. Frankie loves me like that. He has all along.
He slowly turned to face me again, the anger almost completely gone from his face. His eyes were sad, wistful, his voice a near-whisper. “Yes, Doll. Someone. Like. Me. Is that so hard to imagine?”
No. It isn’t hard to imagine at all. He was beautiful and funny and kind and always knew what to say to make me smile. He was my best friend, my rock. And so much more than that. He was a savior when the nightmares struck, making me feel safe and loved, and … I love him. It was as simple as those three words.
I’d always loved Frankie.
Yet, none of those things mattered. I had no choice but to push my feelings for Frankie away, tuck them deep down inside, and continue to focus on my life. Frankie could never be what I wanted or needed him to be. I had to move forward with Toby.
My feelings for Frankie … Frankie’s feelings for me … they were completely irrelevant.
“You’re dead, Frankie.”
He was gone before the words even left my lips.
I stood there quietly after those last heartbreaking words, waiting for something to happen. I didn’t know what I was waiting for, but nothing happened.
My words hung conspicuously in the air, and I wished I could take them back. I stripped out of my clothes then threw on a pair of plaid cotton shorts and a black tank top. I climbed into bed, knowing I was way too upset to sleep. I was mad. At Frankie. At our cir
cumstances. At the confusion now surrounding my once-easy feelings for him.
But then, there was Toby. Very much alive and right next door. Regardless of my feelings for Frankie, I couldn’t just lay there all night thinking about how impossible a future with Frankie was. I’d been thinking about that for too long to note, and nothing had changed.
Nothing.
After lying in bed for an hour or so, too restless to close my eyes and try to sleep, I took a chance and hopped out the window. I don’t know what made me decide to do it. Maybe I was so mad at Frankie that I wanted to shut off my feelings for him by being with Toby. Maybe I was crazy and pathetic after all and didn’t make sound decisions anymore. Either way, for whatever reason, there I was tiptoeing through the night, slinking across our yards, the grass cold and wet on my bare feet.
I didn’t know which room was Toby’s, but I hoped it wasn’t Frankie’s old bedroom. I practically grew up in that house, in that particular room. I almost stopped myself, knowing I shouldn’t be going over to his house in the first place, but feeling even guiltier about it because it had once been Frankie’s house. I had to stop to take a deep breath, steeling myself before continuing.
Figuring I had nothing to lose, aside from someone actually catching me sneaking around in the middle of the night, I headed to the other side of Toby’s house, hoping luck was on my side.
The first window I came to was open, and the blinds were drawn. The screen was removed and leaning against the wall below the window, which was the first indication that this was the right room, and led me to believe that Toby used this as an entry/exit point as he did with my bedroom window.
Why he should need to escape quietly from his window at twenty-two years old, I had no idea. But his dad was pretty scary, so … .
The room was bare, with only a few things on the walls, and not much to go by as far as deciphering whose room it was. The plaid wall border still lined the room from when it used to be Frankie’s dad’s office. The memory was hard to swallow. It occurred to me I’d completely avoided this house since Frankie’s dad moved away, divorced and suddenly childless. For a moment, I tried to remember the last time I’d been inside. Shaking my head, I tried to let go of the memories.
That was a different time, a different life. A different me.
I leaned into the room to get a better look. I didn’t dare climb in though—my courage went only so far.
As I scanned the room, my eyes passed over a neatly made bed with simple forest green bedding and a couple black throw pillows tossed on top. Next to it was a small table with an alarm clock, a lamp, and a couple magazines—but I couldn’t tell what they were from where I stood. There were a few clothing items tossed about, and Toby’s black boots sat on the floor at the end of the bed, giving me all the proof I needed.
He was exiting the bathroom, towel drying his hair when he saw me and stopped in his tracks. A wry smile played at the corner of his lips, and I knew my being there shocked him.
Somehow though, he’d managed to shock me.
I was momentarily stunned by the beauty of him. His chest was strong and sculpted but lean, that same beautiful tanned color of his arms, with a small patch of golden hair right in the middle that looked like it was sun-kissed. The way the muscles in his chest moved with each breath sent nervous chills through me without our skin even connecting. His tattoo was massive—a beautifully intricate angel wing reaching up and over his shoulder.
Below his belly button, the muscles began to form a ‘V’ that ended somewhere under the waist of his … .
Towel.
Oh. My. God. He’s in a towel.
He was wearing a towel, nothing more. Heat rushed to my face as I blushed, realizing where I was staring. I looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. I ran my fingers through my hair, a nervous and unavoidable response. Oh my God, this is so embarrassing. I think I heard him chuckle, but I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see if he was smiling. I was smiling awkwardly of course, my nerves getting the best of me.
When I opened my eyes again, he was standing right in front of me. I gasped. With the height of the window and the slant of the lawn, I was eye level with his waist. Oh my God.
Standing this close to him—in only a towel—I was so embarrassed and feeling so awkward. I knew my cheeks must have been crimson, and I was tempted to run away right that very instant. What was I thinking coming over here in the middle of the night!?
I should leave.
Instead of leaving though, which would have been the responsible thing to do, I found myself slowly looking up at him, his smile making my stomach flutter uncontrollably. He reached out for me and helped me climb inside.
I should leave.
Before my feet were even on the ground, his lips were on mine, and the fresh scent of his clean skin overwhelmed my senses, bringing that welcomed warmth back to my veins. Before long, I was right back to tangling my hands in his hair and kissing him hungrily, as if the interruption earlier hadn’t even happened.
Damn. Clearly, I have zero self-control.
“Well, this is a surprise,” he said when he stopped kissing me to take a breath.
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Tongue-tied was an understatement.
I slid my hands down from his hair, feeling the curve of his shoulders, the muscles in his chest, the strength of his arms. Suddenly very brave, I traced my fingers along his tattoo, the bottom feathers of the angel wing dipping below his left nipple, and the three tips of the lines of the dark tribal design stretching up over his shoulder. He was unlike anyone I’d ever seen—not that I had much to compare to—and I just couldn’t fight the urge to run my hands all over his skin.
He stood perfectly still, watching me study him, his breath catching when I ran my fingers over certain more sensitive areas.
He led me to his bed, easing me down on my back, and slowly lay down beside me. His towel remained on—thank goodness—because I didn’t know if a red exists that would be able to describe the color of my face if he were to strip down before my eyes. I was barely keeping it together as it was. I could have busted up laughing from my crazy nerves any second.
The kissing resumed, softly at first, his lips and tongue teasing mine in that sexy way of his. His legs stretched out around me, one of them nestling firmly between mine. His hands left my face, and he ran them over my body, slowly and firmly feeling every inch of me.
I was so nervous … but so completely excited. I was a jumble of emotions. I felt so ready to be with Toby, but I was terrified at the same time. What if I did something wrong? What if it hurt? What if I didn’t like it?
Oh geez, what if he doesn’t like it with me?
What if he breaks up with me again?
What about Frankie … ?
To shut off the millions of terrified questions in my head, I spoke. “Toby … I … I’ve never … .”
“Shh. It’s okay, babe.” He smiled a reassuring smile. “I’m perfectly happy doing exactly what we’re doing right now.” To make his point, he kissed me again, pulling me closer.
Then he sat up, leaning back to look at me. My heart kept skipping beat after beat as I watched his eyes roam over me. My arms instinctively moved to tug my shirt down over my belly, and my cheeks flared up bright-red from embarrassment. I’d never had anyone just look at me like that before.
“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, Ever.”
He smiled appreciatively and took both my hands in his, kissing the tops of my knuckles one by one before laying my hands back down at my sides. He leaned down and, starting with my shoulder, left a trail of kisses all the way across my collarbone to the other shoulder. He brought his face down further, lifting up the hem of my shirt just enough to expose my belly, and resumed his kisses, dropping them randomly on my rib bones, then my belly button, and then stopping right at the top of my shorts. I shivered with each one, goose bumps covering my body and embarrassment over my exposed stomach making me blush. With
the last kiss—the kiss closest to the uncharted area beneath my clothes—I giggled from both nervousness and because it tickled. He ran a finger lightly across my lower belly, tracing the line of my shorts from hip to hip. I silently cursed my stupid aversion to sit-ups.
He brought his face back to mine and kissed me gently once more.
“I’m glad you surprised me.”
I had worried that he would want to push the sex issue, but he just lay down on his side next to me, curling me into him ‘til my back was pressed tightly into the curve of his body. He reached past me and turned off the light on his desk.
“Sweet dreams, love.”
We lay like that for a while. I found comfort in the feel of his body wrapped around mine, and the knowledge of having him back in my life. The past month would need to be discussed, I knew that, but for now, I was happy to leave it alone. Being near him was all I’d wanted for the past month, and there he was. Finally. His pillow smelled just like him, and I was overwhelmed with the happiness that being with him brought me. I dozed off in his arms, breathing in the scent of him and listening to his breath near my ear.
When I awoke from my nightmare, Toby was propped up, peering into my face and rubbing the sweat-matted hair away from my eyes. I turned onto my back to look at him, confused and disoriented.
Blood everywhere. So much blood.
Once again, I remembered only all the blood and fear, nothing else carrying with me from the dream but my concern for Frankie’s safety. Frankie! My gaze quickly darted around the room, looking for him, and I realized I wasn’t in my room.
“Shh, babe. I’m here. It was just a bad dream.”
I was still at Toby’s house. The sky outside his window was a dark purple—the color of early dawn.
“Shoot! What time is it?”
“Almost four.”
I decided I should hurry back to my room before my mom figured out I’d been gone. Toby put his arms around me and nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. His closeness slowly eased me out of my nightmarish world, his body comforting mine.