Bend Me, Break Me

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “Because I don’t want to,” I said. “Haven’t you figured out by now that I hate everyone?” I laughed, trying to make it a joke, but I was mostly serious. I was supposed to hang out with Lacey, but I’d cancelled on her and she hadn’t pushed to reschedule. We’d fallen back into just saying hello to each other and exchanging small talk if we saw each other.

  “But maybe you wouldn’t hate everyone if you gave them a chance. You gave me a chance and now we’re friends,” he said, running one finger along my knee, making my leg jerk a little at the contact. I blushed and shifted into another position, my back against my desk.

  “You’re an exception,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Are you trying to pawn me off on someone else? You tired of me, Coen?” I couldn’t help the flirty tone that crept into my voice when we were like this. I loved flirting with him.

  “No, I don’t think I could ever be tired of you, Ingrid,” he said, picking up the last pea pod with his chopsticks and holding it out to me. I moved my face forward and took it from him and the action somehow felt sexual.

  The air in the room shifted and thickened. Coen put down his chopsticks and scooted closer to me.

  “I think you should know,” he said, pushing some of my hair back, “that I like you.”

  “I think that’s obvious,” I said, my voice breathless.

  “I like you very much.” He leaned his mouth into my cheek and gave me a little kiss. I turned my head and kissed his lips and soon the lo mein was forgotten.

  Somehow I found myself nearly sitting in his lap, my fingers diving into his hair, my mouth desperately seeking his, my tongue aching to taste him.

  He moaned into my mouth and I couldn’t hold back. I filled myself with him and it blocked everything out. Past and present. Everything was Coen.

  With a desperation I didn’t know I had inside me, I kissed his cheeks and his forehead and moved down to his neck. His fingers dug into my skin and the noises he made urged me on. I clawed at his shirt, as if I was going to shred it with my nails and that was when he put the brakes on.

  “Whoa, Ingrid. Hold on.” I pulled back and opened my eyes to find his two green orbs staring back at me. His mouth was red and puffy and there were marks starting to appear on his neck. I’d never given anyone a hickie before. I’d never wanted to.

  I leaned back and realized what I’d done.

  “Oh, Coen I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” I stumbled back and ended up sitting on one of the empty food containers, but barely even noticed.

  He came after me, reaching out.

  “It’s okay, it’s so totally okay. I just needed a breather before we went too far. I just… I don’t think either of us is ready for something like that.”

  He was talking about sex. Yes, I liked kissing him, but I definitely wasn’t even remotely close to THAT. With Coen? No way.

  I stared at him as if he’d been speaking in another language.

  “Ummm,” was all I could say. I could feel how red my face was and I really wanted to dive under my bed so he couldn’t see me.

  “And I just put my foot in my mouth and totally killed the mood. My bad.” He looked embarrassed too and there was awkward silence for a few horrible moments.

  He caressed my arms up and down, causing my skin to erupt into goosebumps that I knew he could feel when he touched me.

  “It’s okay,” I said and climbed off his lap. I could have sworn I heard him sigh a little as I settled back in next to him.

  “Now I feel like kind of an asshole, I’m so sorry.” He was making way too much of this. I knew he treated me like a precious piece of glass that was liable to shatter, but that was taking things a little too far.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I said, touching his arm. “I was the one who attacked your face with my face.” He choked out a laugh and I joined him.

  “I am not complaining. At all,” he said and I snorted.

  “Well, good because I’m liable to do it again at some point.”

  “Anytime, anywhere, Ingrid.” Hot. I was hot all over and the air got heavy again.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, scrambling to my feet and dashing for the bathroom.

  Too much. He was too much. We were too much together.

  Whoa. Things went from zero to… well, I was definitely adjusting my pants and praying that Ingrid didn’t notice. I was almost relieved when she escaped to the bathroom because it gave me time to breathe and talk myself down, so to speak. I got up and paced her small room, trying to think of anything but the kiss that had just happened. My eyes fell on something poking out from under her pillow.

  I shouldn’t have touched it. It was wrong. But in hindsight, right and wrong were so much clearer. I reached for it and pulled it out.

  A journal. Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have touched that. I struggled to put it back before she returned, but the book slipped out of my clumsy hands and fell open on the floor.

  The heaviness of your leather jacket,

  Our shoulders greeting one another,

  Your chipped perfection,

  The way you said my name,

  The way you said my name,

  The way you said my name…

  I shouldn’t have read it. I shouldn’t have read it. I shouldn’t have read it. My hands trembled as I closed the book and put it back under her pillow. I wanted to wipe off the cover. Like Ingrid was going to dust it for fingerprints periodically.

  The one good thing about the journal was that it helped fix the issue I had going on south of the border, so by the time Ingrid came back, I wasn’t popping out of my jeans.

  “You okay?” she asked. I was probably looking pretty guilty, but there were a lot of other things that I could feel guilty about so I just shoved this in the box with the others. They clattered around in my head and I fiddled with the food containers to distract myself.

  “Yup, just thinking about stuff.”

  “That can be dangerous, you know,” she said. Her smile was so much easier now. I still cherished every one of them and they stopped my heart each time.

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” She flopped down on the floor again with me, her hair falling in her face. I fucking loved her hair. Just the few times I’d gotten to run my hands through it…

  Shit. I was getting hard again. Everything she did was so sexy and seemed to be designed to turn me on. She had no idea the effect on me she had and I kinda wanted to keep it that way. Constantly pitching a tent wasn’t going to do anything toward getting her to trust me.

  “So, I hate to break it to you, but I actually have to do homework. You can either stay and not talk and pretend you’re not here, or you can leave.” I’d been so blind when I thought she was fragile and delicate. She had these moments where I could see her natural personality coming out. The her that was untainted by the things she’d been through.

  “Well, those are awesome choices. I think I’ll take the first, since I also have work to do and I just happen to have brought it with me,” I said, pointing to my overflowing backpack. That had been good planning on my part.

  She rolled her eyes and pulled out everything she needed and set up on her bed.

  “Any room for me?” I asked, raising one eyebrow at the space that was dominated by her notebooks, textbooks, highlighters, laptop and body.

  “Sorry, you’re outta luck. But the floor is definitely available.” She was sassy tonight. Yet another turn-on. Her wit was razor-sharp and I loved that too.

  I pretended to scowl at her and set myself up on the floor. A few seconds later, a pillow hit me in the head.

  “Thanks,” I said and she smirked down at me.

  I would love to say that I tuned Ingrid out and was able to have enough concentration to focus on my homework and not her, but then I would have been a liar.

  I had my earbuds with me, but putting them in and cranking up the music seemed like cheating so I didn’t. Instead, I spent the entire three hours just waiting for her to make another sound. Wheth
er she was turning a page, uncapping a marker, sighing or humming quietly along with her music, every sound she made sent a little jolt through me. I wanted to live in a world with these sounds. With these Ingrid sounds.

  I didn’t risk looking up at her very often.

  I managed to slog through about a third of what I needed to do, so I was definitely going to have to squeeze in some time alone the next day to finish it all, but it was totally worth it just to exist in the same room with her.

  “Ugh,” she said and I looked up to find her rubbing her eyes.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, just tired. Do you ever feel like your brain is tired but your body isn’t? Like, intellectual exhaustion.” I closed my book and shoved it aside, focusing my attention solely on her.

  “All the damn time,” I said. To be fair, most of my mental exhaustion was self-inflicted. I could have stayed back home and gone to a state school and never come here. Never thought about Ingrid or sought her out. Never chased her here, or approached her, or tried to be her friend.

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked down at her books.

  “I’m glad I have you, Coen. I don’t have anyone else.” I knew that, but she didn’t know that I did, so I feigned being puzzled and asked her what she meant.

  “I don’t have any f-family. It’s just me. And you know I don’t have any friends.” She stumbled on the word “family” and I was surprised she’d even gotten it out at all.

  I didn’t want to ask, but I wasn’t supposed to know, so I had to.

  “What happened to your family?” She glanced up and I was nearly knocked over by the raw pain in her eyes. I’d never seen her look like that and it killed me.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said hastily. “You don’t have to. But if you ever wanted to, you could. With me. You can talk to me about anything, Ingrid. I won’t tell, or judge you. Ever.” She turned away and nodded, but I could tell she was getting lost in her head again.

  “Hey, do you want to watch a movie or something?” Anything to pull her back from where she was going. It was a deep, dark place and often, I worried that I would lose her in there. That she’d never find a way out.

  “Sure,” she said, her voice flat. I scrambled up from the floor and fiddled with her TV, trying to find something, anything, that would bring her back. I wasn’t having any luck until she made a sound.

  “Oh,” she said and I looked back and forth from her to the screen. I didn’t know what show or movie it was, but it could have been paint drying for all I cared. She was sitting up and some of the storm had faded from her eyes. Good. Fantastic.

  She slid some of her books aside and patted the place next to her.

  “Oh, I’m allowed to be on the bed now?” She rolled her eyes and patted the space again as I moved to occupy it.

  “What are we watching?” I asked, still confused. She gaped at me.

  “Have you never seen House Hunters?” I shook my head.

  “No, what is it?” Ingrid just shook her head slowly and snatched the remote from me.

  “Watch and learn, my young Padawan.”

  Two hours later we were both screaming at her television.

  “You can change paint color, you morons!” Ingrid screamed.

  “Do they even know what an open floor plan is?” I asked to no one.

  “Seriously, I hate this show and I love how much I hate it at the same time,” Ingrid said, sighing and turning down the volume. “I mean, it’s just so predictable every time. There’s something comforting about that. I’m pretty sure it’s because this thing is scripted, but who cares?” I shifted a little until our shoulders were touching and I was violently reminded of the poem I’d seen in her journal.

  I knew it was about me and I hated that I’d seen it. It was like sneaking into her mind without permission. I couldn’t undo it, but I wished that I could.

  “What?” she asked as I jolted with the memory. My eyes went to her pillow, but I couldn’t see the journal peeking out from underneath it anymore. I’d made sure to tuck it further back. I really, really hoped she didn’t notice.

  “Oh, nothing. Just annoyed by these terrible people. I’m pretty sure when I buy a house, I’m not going to be that much of an asshole.” Buying a house was weird to think about. It seemed like something that would happen so far into the future that I couldn’t even begin to think about it.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’d be okay with ugly paint color since you can always just paint over it. But unless you want to do a huge renovation, you can’t fix a bad floorplan. Sometimes I have no idea what people are thinking when they build their houses.” She talked about a few other episodes of the show (clearly, she’d watched it a lot) and we laughed about random things. There was a pause as our laughter died and she looked like she wanted to kiss me.

  And then she did. Her hand gripped my chin and she pulled my face right where she wanted it. It felt like when she’d climbed on my lap and taken hold. There was something wild and reckless about her that I’d only caught glimpses of so far. It reached out to me and I had no choice but to answer to it.

  Her kiss was death and life at the same time. It wasn’t just how her mouth fit against mine. It wasn’t just about how she tasted or used her tongue or the way she sounded when I did something she liked. It was good. It was all good. It was too good.

  It made me feel out of control and crazy, in the best way. Somehow I found myself pushed back on the bed, with her straddling my lap again. I gasped and looked up at her. Her eyes were filled with liquid heat and she looked at me like… like she wanted me. I had had girlfriends before, but never like this. I’d never been wanted like this.

  Then again, I’d never been with anyone like her. Ingrid was in a class by herself.

  My fingers dug into her hips and she very slowly ground them on me. I wasn’t even sure she knew what she was doing, but my body had its own ideas and I couldn’t help the groan that escaped my mouth. My eyes slammed shut and I honestly thought I was going to die if she did that again.

  “Coen?” She said, and my eyes popped open to see her looking down at me with shock on her face. “What are we doing?”

  Wasn’t that the question?

  “Honestly? I have no idea. But I do know that I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you right now.” Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, but I had to say it.

  Instead of climbing off me, or telling me that I was pushing things too far, or doing any of the things I thought she would do, she smiled slowly.

  “I know what you mean.”

  Oh, fuck me. This girl was definitely going to kill me.

  “So what happens now?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. But I think… I think I should probably get off you before we do something that either of us is going to regret.” Oh, Ingrid. I could never regret a moment spent with you.

  “Or you could keep doing that thing with your hips and we can see where this goes?” I could hear the pleading in my voice and I hated it. I didn’t want to pressure her at all. “But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Ever.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to, Coen. It’s so not that. I just… I can’t feel like this right now.”

  “You mean you shouldn’t,” I corrected and she opened her eyes. It was a wonder I could even form sentences with the minimal amount of blood that was going to my brain.

  “I-I don’t know,” she stuttered and I could feel the moment starting to cool, at least for her. After a beat of silence, she swung her leg back over me and went back to the position she’d been sitting in before the kissing had happened.

  I lay there for a second, trying to gather myself back together. It was also painfully obvious just how much I wanted her. I was embarrassed and wanted to move, but I just couldn’t seem to.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice
.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Ingrid. Nothing. I don’t know what this thing between us is, but I know that I don’t want to lose you. Even if we just stay platonic friends. I want you in my life. I need you in my life, Ingrid.” Every now and then I said too much about how I felt about her and this was one of those times.

  “I want you in my life. I just don’t know what that means. I want you and I want to kiss you, but I don’t want to want you at the same time. It’s just…” she trailed off and then put her face in her hands and groaned.

  “Believe me, I know. I didn’t plan for this.” This wasn’t a lie. I never planned to fall for her, but I should have known it was inevitable the first time I saw her. There was no stopping it now. All I wanted was her.

  “This is crazy,” she said with a little breathless laugh as she pulled a hand through her hair.

  “Not really. I knew the first time I saw you that I wanted to talk to you. I don’t know if I believe in fate, but if we hadn’t been put in the same class, we might never have met, so what would you call that?” She shrugged one shoulder.

  “I don’t know. I definitely don’t believe in fate. And if one more person tells me that everything happens for a reason, I’m going to flip a table,” she said. I knew exactly why she felt like that and I had to agree with her.

  “I know. I hate it when people say that. I just want to show them a picture of a baby with cancer and ask how the hell could there be any reason for that.” She looked at me and our eyes locked. We understood one another perfectly.

  “You’re kind of amazing, Coen LaCour,” she said, stroking my cheek with her fingertips. A fire flared inside me, shooting sparks everywhere.

  “Yeah, well.” I shrugged, unsure what to say to that.

  She broke the contact and glanced down at her phone.

  “It’s late. You should probably go.” I made no move to get up.

  “Yeah, I should. But I don’t want to.” I couldn’t reel the words back in once they were out.