by Carian Cole
Kenzi: No.
Me: Sorry you asked now?
More long moments of silence torture me as I stare at the ceiling with the biggest hard-on of my life, cursing myself while I wait for the coveted sound of her text. Just hearing that small musical chime lately turns me all inside out.
Kenzi: Not at all. That was the best present ever. I'm actually shaking.
She's ruining me. I want to run my fingers over her warm quivering flesh and feel what I'm doing to her. I want it so bad I'm on the verge of jumping on my bike and riding three hours in the middle of the night just so I can do exactly that.
But I can't. Because the truth is cruel; she's still her and I'm still me, and we were never meant to be this way with each other.
Me: Ok we have to stop now. Game over.
Kenzi: :(
Me: We both know this is wrong.
Kenzi: I wish it wasn't. :(
Me: Me too, Angel. But we should go now. I have to get up early and I'm going to have a hard time falling asleep after this.
Kenzi: I will, too.
Me: Thank you for sharing your photos with me. You're beautiful. In every way.
Kenzi: Thank you for sending me yours. :-) Don't take this wrong, but you're beautiful, too. Like a dream.
Me: We'll talk again soon. I love you.
Kenzi: I love you, too. Xo
I'm pretty sure there's now a seat in hell with my name engraved on it. Sleep is impossible for me when mere inches away from my pillow is a four inch device that holds all my deepest desires, fantasies, and sins. It's way too tempting. I've tried to be strong. I've tried to keep her away and yet still hold onto our special bond, but it's all crumbling around me.
Exiling her from my life isn't an option. Not talking to her? Not seeing her? Giving up our little us-isms? No fucking way. It would be like cutting off one of my own limbs.
In the discrete darkness of my bedroom, I transfer her photos to my laptop where I can analyze every detail of her forbidden curves. Every little birthmark. Some I've actually kissed, at a time when it was simply cute and innocent between us. The playful lift of her smile and her enticing mossy-green eyes seduce me from the fifteen-inch screen. She's given me the gift of being able to ravish her with my eyes here in the privacy of my house and the chance to play out my fantasies with the help of my right hand.
Hello, Satan. I know you've been waiting patiently for me since the demise of the good and noble Uncle Tor. I have a feeling I'll be staying here a while.
19
Kenzi
Tor ~ age fifteen
Ember ~ age fourteen
Asher ~ age fifteen
Being shy sucks. It took me weeks of smiling at the new girl in our class, Ember, to work up the balls to ask her if I could walk her home after school. She's shy too, though, and now we're walking in awkward silence. I want to hold her hand, but I can't tell if she wants me to. I've got my guitar with me, slung over my back in its case since I'm playing in a school project, so I ask her if she wants to stop at the park and listen to me play. I lose myself in the music when I play, and it always calms me down, stripping me of my insecurities. One thing I know I do well is create music and write lyrics.
"Sure," she says. "I do some singing. I'm not great, but I love to do it anyway. If it makes your ears hurt, I promise I'll stop."
It turns out she does, in fact, have an amazing voice, and my shyness starts to fade as we sit at a picnic table and I play some of her favorite hit songs and she sings along. I try not to stare at her, but it's hard not to. She's one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen, and the fact that we both have a passion for music is a surprise bonus I wasn't expecting.
"I thought I heard you twanging over here, man." Asher's raspy voice breaks into my daydream of asking Ember out to a movie this weekend.
"Hey," I say as he approaches us. "Do you know Ember? She just moved here last month. Ember, this is Asher Valentine." Asher is way more outgoing than I am, so maybe he can help us break the conversation ice.
"Actually, we haven't met yet," he says, giving her his full attention. "Wow, you've got some gorgeous eyes. Shit. There goes my heart."
"Nice to meet you," she giggles and gives her dazzling smile over to him. "Are you guys brothers?" she asks.
Asher laughs. "Nah. Everyone thinks that, but we're just friends."
"You guys look a lot alike. I actually thought you were the same person when I first saw you in the halls. It took me a few days to realize you weren't."
"It's definitely not on purpose," I say. "Just a weird coincidence. Ash has a younger brother that looks like him, too. And I guess, a lot like me."
Asher flashes a grin. "God thought I was so perfect he wanted to make some backups of me," he winks at Ember. "Just in case."
She giggles again, and I can feel myself slipping into the background. "You're that perfect?" She asks.
"Yup."
Her head tilts and she can't seem to take her eyes off him, and he's staring right back at her like I wish I had the courage to before he showed up. Suddenly, it's like I'm not even here, and my daydreams wither away.
Defeated, I put my guitar back in its case and snap it shut. "I should get going."
"Oh..." Ember says, looking from me to Asher, like she's torn between us.
"I'm going to hang out here for a while and then go over to the diner for a burger," Asher says, still holding her attention. "You want to stay and talk for a while? I'll buy you dinner and walk you home."
"I'd love to," she turns to me. "You don't mind, do you Toren?"
I shake my head and force a smile. "No, not at all."
But the truth is, I did mind. I minded a lot.
Kenzi
Tor's texts have me aflutter. That's the only word I can think of to best describe this new feeling. I think my Gram would be impressed with that word. My insides are shaking, rattling and rolling all about, and I can't get my heart to settle back down into normal, calm beats. I've been lying in bed for an hour since we said good night, but I'm too afluttered to sleep.
I quietly slip into the hallway and pad down to Aunt Katherine's small kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. It's odd how at home I only drink coffee, but when I'm here I drink all sorts of assorted teas and don't go near coffee at all. I'm not sure why this is fascinating to me at one a.m., but it is. With the steaming ceramic cup in my hand, I go back to my room and close the door behind me with a soft click.
Before I made my tea, I spent a half hour re-reading the entire text conversation. Tor's reactions to my photos and then his detailed description of what he wanted to do to me was definitely a surprising eye-opener.
Tor has an erotic side.
And that just ramped up his yum factor even more.
If his words are true - and I have zero reason to doubt him - he wants to show me that side of him, even though he's struggling with it because of all the alleged wrong's involved.
I stare out the window at the moon and its neighboring stars casting a shimmering reflection on the water, contemplating as I sip my tea. Is it really wrong for us to feel this way? If we care about each other, love each other, and want each other...is that wrong? And if it is, then why? Because of our ages? Because he's my dad's best friend? Because he's taken care of me?
Do those things make it wrong...or do they actually make it more right? Why is it acceptable to get involved with a total stranger, who could do any number of things to hurt you or betray you, but not get involved with someone who has cared about you since the day you were born?
Is it all a matter of social perspective?
Is it possible that falling in love doesn't always start when we think it might, and sometimes, it starts way before we're ready, and grows slowly over time, allowing two people to truly fall in love with every aspect of each other? Rather than the more typical way of meeting a stranger, being attracted to them first, dating them, having feelings for them, and then hoping they'll like you too and not rip your heart ou
t?
I wish I had someone to talk to about all these confusing feelings, but I'm not ready to even attempt to go down that road yet.
Grabbing my cell phone, I perch on the edge of my bed and read over the text conversation again, frowning at my own words. My replies to his photo and to his sensual admissions are disappointing. I should have come back with an equally honest admission of what I want and felt. He crept over the wall tonight, took a peek at me, and let me see a peek of him. Maybe it was wrong of me to send him the pictures to lure him out, but I wanted him to see me in a new light. As a new adult. And I was hoping to see more of him.
From the dresser I pull out the decorated box of note paper and the fountain pen that I brought with me with the intention of mailing Chloe and my Grandmother notes while I was here. Instead, I sit on the floor and hand write a note to Tor. He's the one who introduced me to calligraphy and he's always loved the handwritten notes I've given him. With the evolution of the cell phone, I've used that as my main tool of correspondence with him, but for something special like this, I know he'll appreciate it in my own writing.
Dear Tor,
Tonight your words were what I have been hoping to hear. You took my breath away, and gave it back to me again. I have not been able to fathom never touching again since the first time you kissed me, so don't be afraid of loving and fucking (your word) me into exhaustion. I want you to show me what that feels like someday. Just thinking about it is making me breathless all over again.
I want you to be my first. I want you to be my last. I want you to be all the in-betweens. I want you. Just you. Only you.
And I want to be all yours, in every way.
I know you're scared, but I also know how strong you are. We can be scared together, and we can be strong together. Trust that I know what I want. Haven't I always?
I'm here, waiting, anytime you want to climb over the wall again. And if you have to run back to the other side again, that's okay. I'll still be here.
I love you the most,
Kenzi
xo
I take a picture of the note with my phone camera and send it to him. Mailing would be much more authentic, but would take too long. I want him to have this when he wakes up.
Five minutes after I get back into bed, a text comes through my phone and I know it has to be from him.
Tor: Why aren't you sleeping?
Me: Why aren't you? ;)
Tor: I've been busy treating myself like a playground since you had to tease me with your pictures.
Me: OMG
Tor: Sorry. I have no filter when I'm exhausted and deprived.
Me: I'm not complaining :)
Tor: You wrote me a letter. I miss seeing your writing.
Me: I'll do it more.
Tor: Only you could make the word fucking look beautiful ;)
Me: LOL thanks
Tor: I don't think I've ever heard you say fuck before.
Me: I didn't say it, I wrote it. And I was quoting you.
Tor: Someday I'm going to get you to say it :)
Me: Someday works for me ;)
Tor: Kenz...I'm too tired to fight my feelings tonight.
Me: Good. I've declared tonight as being all rules off.
Tor: Oh really?
Me: Yes. Tomorrow we can go back to living in denial.
He's quiet for a few moments and I wonder if he fell asleep with the phone in his hand.
Tor: Don't hate me tomorrow when I'm back to normal.
Me: I'll love you more tomorrow.
Tor: You're really killing me tonight. It's not fair.
Me: I like honesty, Tor. If this is the only way you can do that with me, I'll take it.
Tor: This would be easier if you would just push me away, ya know.
Me: Sorry. No can do. :)
Tor: I'm going to type one more thing, then we're going to bed. I can hear birds chirping.
Me: Ok...
Tor: I've always loved how unconditionally you love me
Ah. The power that words can hold is nothing short of amazing. They can hurt you, and they can heal you. Or, they can completely gut you. And sometimes, like now, they can make everything right in your world.
Me: I always will. Now go to sleep.
Tor: You too, Angel. Maybe if we fall asleep at the same time, we'll see each other in our dreams.
Me: Wow, Tor. I never knew you were a romantic.
Tor: There's a lot about me you don't know ;)
After eighteen years, I seriously thought I knew everything about Tor. But cracks spidered through the wall between us and glimpses of him have seeped out through his words. He's sensual. He's lonely. He's possessive. He's playful. He's romantic. And he's afraid of getting hurt.
I pull the thin cover up over me and hug my pillow, eager to fall asleep now with the hope of meeting up with him in our dreams.
20
Tor
Kenzi ~ age thirteen
Tor ~ age twenty-eight
I glance at the clock again above the fireplace. It's only five minutes later than it was the last time I looked at it, but it feels like an hour has passed. I've been sitting in this chair in Asher's living room all night, listening to the tick of that clock with one ear and the sound of the door with the other. But there hasn't been a sound at the door, and with each passing minute I'm getting more worried.
I call her cell phone again and it goes straight to voice mail. I don't bother leaving a message.
"Fuck." I mutter, grabbing my car keys off the coffee table. I pull on my sweatshirt as I head for the back door just as she's coming in.
"Where the hell have you been?" Anger and relief flood through me. "Why didn't you answer you phone?"
Her big green eyes widen as she peeks up at me from behind her bangs. I grab her chin and lift her face up into the light.
"Are you wearing lipstick? And eyeliner?"
She pushes my hand away. "Maybe. A little. And my phone battery died." She skirts by me and opens the refrigerator, taking out a pitcher of iced tea.
"Where have you been, Kenzi? It's eleven o'clock. I've been calling you for three hours. You didn't even tell me you were going out. You just disappeared."
She pours herself a glass and puts the pitcher back, shrugging nonchalantly at me. "Chloe's cousin picked me up and took us and some other friends to the movies. Chill out."
"I'm not going to chill out, Kenzi. You're supposed to let me know where you are and who you're with."
Glaring at me, she tries to push past me to leave the kitchen but I grab her arm.
"Don't walk away from me."
"You're being a jerk. You're not my father, ya know. And I'm not a baby, I'm allowed to go out with my friends. I don't have to sit here with you on a Friday night."
I cross my arms in front of me and stare her down. "Fine. Next time your parents go on tour they can find someone else to watch you. You think I want to waste my time sitting here while you run around and act like a brat? I have a life, ya know."
"I'm not a brat."
"You're acting like one."
"Then just go home. I don't need you here. You were ignoring me, anyway."
"Fine. I'm outta here." I storm out through the back door and cross the yard to my truck parked in the driveway. Fuck this shit. If I wanted to deal with this I'd have a kid of my own. I throw my truck in reverse and turn to see her running down the walkway towards me.
"Uncle Tor..."
Sonofabitch.
I stop the truck and roll down the window. "Get back in the house, Kenzi. It's late."
She clasps her hands on my car door, tears running down her face, smearing her eye liner. She hasn't figured out yet that waterproof makeup is best for getting through life.
"Please don't leave."
"You told me to leave. So, I'm going. I'll call one of your uncles to come stay with you and they can figure it out with your parents."
"They all treat me like a baby. I didn't mean it, Tor. Please
don't go."
"I can take you to your grandparents, then. You can stay with them ‘til your dad is back."
She reaches into the truck and grabs my shoulder. "Please don't do that. I want to stay here with you."
I know she hates having to stay with her grandparents because they smother her with too much attention and try to give her tons of gifts. Kenzi's never liked to be spoiled or lavished with expensive gifts by her wealthy family.
"You can't just leave and not let me know where you are, Kenz. And you have to be home by your curfew. The rules don't change just because your parents are away."
She nods, swiping at her tears with her fingertips. "Okay. I promise. Just don't leave me. I didn't even want to go to the movie but you were on the phone with Sydni for hours. So when Chloe asked me to go...I left."
The phone marathon with Sydni started earlier today. I'd hung up on her three times but she keeps calling back, trying to justify the photos of her I saw on the internet. With two guys. One of them a drummer from another band who left a status on social media about his sticks being played with recently in a sexual way by a female rocker and he's auctioning them off to donate to charity. I've felt sick to my stomach all day with that vision stuck in my head.
Sydni's explanation that it was something fun that would benefit something good wasn't making me feel any better. And now I have a jealous thirteen year old to pacify.
"Is that what this is about? You're upset because I was on the phone with her and not paying attention to you?"
She lowers her eyes and fidgets with my door lock. "Kinda. I thought we were going to watch a movie together and make sundaes. Then she called and that was it. You forgot about me."
I turn the truck off and climb out, slamming the door behind me. "Look, I'm not a mind reader. If you're upset about something, you have to tell me. You can't run off. I've been a mental case worrying about you."