Beyond Heat

by Ashley Logan

  She laughs that horrible empty laughter again and opens her door. “So beautiful you don’t want to fuck me? You do intimate, intensely erotic things to me, but you don’t even get hard when I come on your face!”

  “It has nothing to do with you!” I cry, scraping my hands down my face. How did I fuck this up so bad? “I want to fuck you so bad it hurts. I just can’t. Okay? I couldn’t stand what you were thinking about yourself, so I tried to make you see what I see. I’m sorry if it was wrong, or if you hated it, but I loved seeing you raw and wanted to make it all about you. I couldn’t have shown you in the way you would’ve wanted because I’m broken.”

  She looks at me all squinty-eyed as if she doesn’t understand a word I’m saying.

  “My dick doesn’t fucking work Scarlett! Or he does for a minute and then dies a painful fucking death. Please don’t let my limp dick convince you you’re not 100% perfect, because that fucker can’t be trusted!”

  Oh shit. My mouth shuts firm.

  Now she knows. I wonder how long it’ll be before the rest of the girls are laughing behind my back.

  Scarlett’s eyes drop to my crotch, but rise again when my hands obscure her view. Keeping my eyes fixed on the floor, I rush past her, back to the safety of my own room. Pulling on clothes, I keep my back to her as she comes to stand in my doorway.

  “Bruno,” she starts, but I ignore her. Throwing my phone and wallet into my shoes, I grab a pair of socks and slide past her, jogging down the hall without stopping to put them on. I need out.

  “Bruno!” she calls after me as I run down the stairs two at a time and break out into the street.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SCARLETT

  The front door slams as I stand at the top of the stairs in my robe.

  Fuck! Rushing back to my room, I dig around in my piles of crap until I find my phone. It’s dead. Shit!

  Digging again, I hunt for my charger and kick a pile of clothes away from where the electrical socket should be. Plugging in the phone, I wait for it to charge enough to turn on, swearing at it to hurry up.

  It begins to glow again and I swipe at the screen, calling up Bruno’s number. It rings, but I’m soon disconnected.

  Frowning, I try again, but am directed straight to voicemail. Damn it. Checking the time, I call Vi.

  “You better have a good reason for calling me this early in the morning,” she mumbles, her voice rough from sleep.

  “Vi, I fucked up. Bad. Can you please ring Bruno? He’s not answering my calls and I need to know if he’s okay.”

  “What? Slow down, Scar. What happened?”

  “Too many things to explain. Please call him!”

  “Okay, okay. Anything I should know before I do?”

  I think about that a moment. “No. Just check he’s alright and say that I’m sorry.”

  “What did you do?” she asks, much more awake now. “That man loves you to bits, Scar.”

  “Don’t say that shit to me Vi! Call him!”

  I hang up and pace my room, trying to make time pass more quickly. Grabbing my empty hamper, I start sorting through the clothes on the floor. A strangled sound creeps from my throat as I pick up the panties I was wearing when Bruno turned me into a steaming pool of sensuality. Throwing them in the hamper, I pull his hoodie off the floor and bring it to my nose. Sighing, I shrug out of my robe and into the hoodie, not caring that I’m not even wearing underwear. Bruno and I are beyond that now.

  What we are, I’m not quite sure, but I feel better in his sweatshirt than I did in my robe.

  My phone chirps and I dive at it, anxious to see who the text is from.

  Bruno: I don’t want to talk to Vi either.

  Sinking to the floor, I answer my phone as it rings.

  “Hey Vi.”

  “Hey. He wouldn’t answer. Should we be worried? Is he a risk to himself? What happened?”

  Sighing, I lean against my bed. “I don’t think he’ll hurt himself and I couldn’t even begin to explain things if I tried.”

  Vi says something quietly to Serge. “Did he have an Afghanistan flashback? Or is this a reaction to something you should feel guilty about?”

  “It’s no Afghani day trip Vi, but I’m pretty sure it stems back to it. I forced him to let slip something he was holding close and he ran before we could talk it through. And before that, he... he... we... stuff happened and he said these things,” I try to explain. My voice cracks and the lump in my throat aches when I try to talk, but I force words out, even though they’d make little sense to Violet. “And he kissed my nose and said it was okay!”

  “Scar, I’m coming home. Go and make yourself a cup of tea and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  She hangs up. Setting the phone on the floor, I wipe my cheeks and reach for a tissue. Looking around my room, my eyes fall on the bed and I start crying again as I think of what I just let Bruno Jackson do to me, not knowing it would make me feel so treasured. So loved. And then him telling me he knew I didn’t want that love and how sad he was when he said it was okay. And then...

  Tidying the rest of my room, I get dressed. Folding Bruno’s hoodie carefully, I put it on the end of his bed, which is still unmade from when he’s thrown his covers off to sleep on my floor after I woke him with my screaming. His blanket is on the floor, where I threw it off to escape his questions about Kenny. Folding the blanket, I put it next to his hoodie and wipe away more tears.

  I’m a freakin’ mess.

  Bruno’s room is immaculate apart from the bed, and I feel as if there is no way I could ever belong in his world, yet he keeps me there, I realize, by feeding my curiosity small parts of himself, but never enough. Eying up his footlocker, I study the lock on its catch.

  His Library books are stacked at the end, largest at the bottom, smallest on top. Sitting next to them, I run my finger over their spines before crouching in front of them for a closer look at the eclectic mix. He has everything from romance novels to thrillers, art history, auto-engineering, famous gardens and landscape design and an illustrated book about birds, and I can tell he’s been reading them all, because each one has bookmarks keeping his pages.

  Standing up, I realize that Bruno Jackson knows an awful lot about me and I know jack-shit about him.

  I know he was a soldier until his spinal injury, but I don’t know how he was hurt. I know he’s determined and kind-hearted and loves to argue with me, but I don’t really know who he is, or why he moved to Buffalo two years ago from Miami. I don’t know if his parents are alive, or if he has any brothers or sisters. I know he likes caramel crunchies as much as I do, but I don’t know who he shares them with, or why he insists on keeping that to himself.

  Sighing, I head back to my room, grab my overflowing hamper and head to the laundry room, putting the kettle on as I go past. I throw my clothes in the machine, wondering why he invests such time into thoughts of me, and why have I not noticed before this week. Am I a horrible person for not realizing how wonderful he is before now?

  Turning on the machine, I write my name on the board above it, so my roommates know that it’s my gear. Struck by the thought that I just broke the rules about getting involved with roommates, I groan at myself and return to the kitchen.

  Vi is already there, pouring the tea. Looking at me carefully, she says nothing, hands me a cup and walks down the hall towards our rooms. She stops outside my open door and turns back to me, her expression even more worried.

  “What the hell happened?” she asks, frowning as she checks Bruno’s room. “He didn’t even make his bed.”

  Hanging my head, I sigh. “I know. I told you it was bad.”

  Vi shakes her head at me and grabs my hand, leading me to her room. She sits on the bed, pulling herself back to lean on the wall. I perch on the edge and stare at my tea.

  “When did this all start?” she asks, “It’s not even 8 a.m. on a Tuesday.”

  Sighing again, I take a sip of tea. “I guess it all started at GlamSlam,
when Bruno decided to show me a fraction of what he feels for me and I got curious. But you know about that, and the kiss in the lingerie store, and my dancing last night and the incident I caused by following him.”

  “He’s mad at you for putting yourself at risk?” she asks, trying to understand. I shake my head.

  “If he was mad at me, he never said anything beyond his words at debrief,” I say quietly, blowing on my tea. “I had another nightmare and Bruno slept on my floor. We’ve been waking up early,” I say, not giving a reason why. It seems wrong to tell someone else the secret we’ve been sharing each morning outside the bathroom. As much as Vi would love to know about Natalia’s singing, I feel like it’s something special between Bruno and me, and that if I share it with someone else, the spell will be broken. “And talking more,” I continue. “I started pushing him about some of his secrets and we were arguing and he brought up Kenny and I freaked out. Apparently I mentioned that asshole in the night.”

  “You did,” Vi confirms. “You want to talk about that, or stick with the Bruno thing?”

  Shaking my head, I wipe a tear from my cheek and sniff. “I was messed up by it and I yelled at him, but he waited and made me focus the hate on him and then he tried to make me feel better and... Oh shit, Vi. He made me forget the whole damn thing with his stupid love and not wanting any in return and he said he knew I didn’t want his love and that it was okay. That it was okay that I’m a crazy bitch! My words, not his. Because I must be crazy to hate the thought that someone that amazing could love me, right? And I challenged him and he let something huge slip and now he probably thinks I’m even worse than he thought, but he wouldn’t stay! And we’re roommates, and gym buddies, and everything is ruined.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Vi says, swatting my leg. “So you had an argument. You and Bruno argue all the time. I thought that was why you’ve secretly enjoyed his company so much this last year and a half. He’s the one that challenges you when you’re talking shit. Saves the rest of us from doing it,” she says, laughing and poking my butt with her foot. “Give him some time and he’ll be back giving you hell in no time.”

  Shuffling back, I lean against the wall next to her. “I don’t know if he will,” I say quietly. “I don’t think he’ll ever look me in the eyes again.”

  “Do you want him to?” Vi presses, her real question hiding in the words. Do I love him?

  “No. I don’t know.” Shrugging, I finish my tea. “All I know is that I’m hurting because he’s hurting and I want it to stop.”

  “Can we go back to the Kenny thing?” she asks gently.

  I set my empty cup on the floor and twiddle my thumbs in the hem of my t-shirt. “Why? Are we analyzing why I don’t trust people to get close to me? Because I can tell you now it has everything to do with Kenny.”

  Vi snuggles closer, leaning her head on my shoulder in support. “You’ve never mentioned him, is all,” she says. “Was he there that night?”

  I snort. “He’s the entire reason I was there. I told you it was a camping trip?”

  Vi nods, but keeps quiet, waiting for me to say more.

  Taking a deep breath, I release it long and slow.

  “It was summer. The weekend after the seniors graduated. Kenny and I had been dating for almost a year and I was very much in love with him. We were the perfect all-American couple.” I laugh bitterly. “I was head cheerleader. He was the star quarterback, and the world was our oyster.

  “I still had a year of school, but he’d landed a football scholarship to Colorado State, and we never said it out loud, but we knew our days were numbered.” I shake my head at how young and naive I was then.

  “A bunch of us went on this camping trip, you know, to celebrate the end of school and graduation and all that. After some time drinking and dancing and having fun around the main camp, Kenny and I walked a ways to our own private camp. I’d thought it was perfect. Far enough away from the others so that we could barely hear them, with a little clearing amongst the trees, and a stream that had a little curve deep enough to be our own private swimming hole.” I sigh, remembering how picturesque I’d thought it was. It was the perfect place for Kenny and me to share some of our last times together before he left for college.

  “We talked about the future, and how hard it would be to do long distance and how it was the mature decision to end things with the summer, but that we should make the most of the time we had. We went skinny dipping and made love under the trees and the stars and everything was as perfect as I could have imagined. We lay by the fire, barely covered by our fleece blanket because it was a warm night. I fell happily asleep in Kenny’s arms, thinking he’d be happily falling asleep with me.” Looking at my fingers, I untangle them from my t-shirt and flatten the fabric out against my stomach.

  “I was wrong though. He wasn’t with me and when our blanket caught fire and melted to my skin, I had no-one to help me. I stumbled into the stream by accident and that’s what saved my life. I would have screamed and called out for at least a quarter hour before anyone came to help. By then I was fighting to stay conscious and trying to pull myself out of the water to call an ambulance for myself.”

  “Oh, Scar,” Vi breathes, slipping her hand into mine. “When you’d said your blanket caught fire on a camping trip, I had no idea about the circumstances! That must have been... there isn’t even a word bad enough for how that must have been.”

  I shrug, giving her hand a squeeze. “I lived. Kicked Kenny to the curb, which Mom is still upset about.” I laugh a little. “She was convinced that because he tried to keep visiting me in the hospital, that he was some kind of saint. She thinks I threw away the love of my life because I was too stubborn to let him see my hideous body. She was all like ‘Scarlett, honey, your face is still beautiful’ and trying to school me on how best to arrange my hospital gowns to hide my bandages.”

  Chuckling again, I pat Vi’s knee and scoot forward when she lifts her head off my shoulder. “Summer had to end sometime and after that night, there was no way I was seeing Kenny again. I’ve got to check if my phone’s done charging, find Kat and get to the market. You want to come on the delivery?” I ask standing up and checking the time on Vi’s phone.

  “Nah, you go ahead. I’ll stay home in case Bruno comes back and needs to talk,” she says looking out the window and frowning at the dark clouds.

  “Good idea.” I watch the clouds too, my guilt growing. “I hope it won’t rain on him.”

  Violet nods. We don’t know where Bruno’s thoughts go when it rains, but we know it’s somewhere far away and worrisome. I run my hands up and down my thighs nervously and move to get my phone, hoping to see another message from Bruno.

  There’s nothing.

  Sitting on my bed, I text him.

  Me: It’s fine if you don’t want to talk, but please just let me know you’re OK.

  My phone chirps in quick response.

  Bruno: Any chance we can forget this morning ever happened?

  Tears prick my eyes and I brush them away angrily. At least he’s communicating. Although it hurts, I guess it’s an understandable request. I wonder which part he’s regretting the most.

  Me: The whole morning?

  Bruno: No.

  Me: Good. I don’t want to forget. Are you OK?

  Bruno: Not really. I’m going to stay away for a bit OK? Not you, me. Sorry.

  Me: I’m sorry too.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  BRUNO

  Sitting on the curb outside Hal’s Garage, I text Benji to let him know I’ll meet him here. Sighing, I kick a can from the gutter into the road, but feeling guilty about leaving it there, I collect it and take it round back to the recycling bin next to the dumpster. Then I kick the dumpster instead.

  I’ve trapped myself. Stuck between wanting to love Scarlett and knowing I can’t, I’ve worked myself into a corner. The only way to make it less tight is to stay away. I’ve told her I will. Hopefully she’ll understand it
has nothing to do with anything she’s done, and that I meant what I said about her being beautiful. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m rejecting her, or abandoning her.

  That was her word.

  Taking out my phone, I text her again.

  Me: This has nothing to do with abandonment.

  Scarlett: I know. Where are you?

  Me: Waiting for Benji. I still don’t want to talk, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think my leaving was about you.

  Scarlett: OK. You know where I live x

  I do know where she lives. That’s half the problem. Taking a deep breath, I scroll through my contacts and call Nina.

  “Morning Bruno,” she says lightly. “You up catching early worms?”

  “Hey Prez. Sorry it’s still early. Um, I’m having a bit of an issue-”

  “Is this about Scarlett?” she asks with a knowing tone.

  Thrown, I scratch my head. “Sort of.”

  “Did you two finally stop fighting and hook up?” she asks with a laugh.

  “Sort of,” I admit slowly, “But not exactly. It’s complicated. No-one screwed anyone-”

  “But you want to,” she says, laughing.

  “I’d love to, but it’s not a happening thing. Don’t worry. I’m keeping my distance. But I don’t want to dance this week. Is there something else I can pick up around the club? I can’t really take the drop in pay. I’m looking outside too, so it’s fine if there isn’t any work going. I just thought I’d ask.”

  “Well you can work the door on Ladies’ night instead of dancing, but I can’t guarantee the ladies won’t eat you alive out there.”

  I laugh a little. I’m actually pretty good at repelling women when I have to. “That’ll be fine. Anything else? Maintenance-wise maybe?”

  “Well there’s always maintenance,” Nina says with a sigh. “You any good with a paintbrush?”

  “Sure. Just tell me what you need painted.”

  “Okay, great. That shabby wall on the far side of the bar, where we had all those balloons that time? They pulled some of the paint off when they came down. And the kitchen needs freshening up, but that’s a major, because anything you paint will need scrubbing first from the grease and stuff. Think you can handle it?”