Intense 2

by Hebert, Cambria

  I took one last breath, raked my fingers through my hair, and pulled my robe tight before I opened the door. Brady straightened from the doorframe and whispered, "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah. Why?" I whispered back.

  He shrugged and went into my bedroom. I followed, but not before I heard two different sets of snores.

  "What'd Clarissa want?" When I went in I pretended to look through my closet. I had no idea what I was looking for; I just needed something to do with my back to him. I couldn't look, but I felt his gaze on my back. Then the bed dipped under his weight as he sat down. I peeked over my shoulder and saw he was glaring at me. He had placed his hands back and was resting on his arms, but he was staring right at me.

  "What?" I held something against my body, but I had no idea what it was.

  "You're freaking out."

  "I'm not freaking out."

  "You are. You totally are." He nodded again, as if it made perfect sense to him.

  "Don't do that! Stop!" But I felt my arms start to shake and then my entire body. I was suddenly cold, really cold.

  "This is the talk. This is when we talk about it, isn't it?" Brady murmured to himself as he shook his head.

  "We're not talking," I managed through chattering teeth.

  "Look at you." He lifted a hand to me. "You're totally freaking out."

  "I am not!"

  "Shh!" He glanced at the door and then turned on the fan. As the sound dulled the air, he crossed to me and grasped my elbow to pull me down on the bed beside him.

  I did not lie down. I sat. I only sat, perched on the end.

  "Okay…" One of his hands lifted to take mine, but I scurried back. I stopped when I hit the wall and that was how we sat. I was against the wall. Brady was turned towards me with one of his hands in the air.

  A confounded look came across his face, but his eyes searched mine for a moment. I wasn't sure what he read in my eyes, maybe panic, but he laid his hand on his leg. I watched, fascinated, as his fingers curled into his leg like he was trying to restrain himself. His other hand was clenched into his other leg. His shoulder muscles were bunched together tightly. I noticed that his hair was wet and a droplet of water slid down the back of his neck, gliding over his muscles.

  "Did you take a shower?"

  "What?" Brady asked, distracted.

  "You took a shower. Did you go downstairs?" Grandpa had his own shower in the basement.

  "Uh…yeah. I smelled." Brady stared at something on my floor.

  I looked, but couldn't see what it was.

  Then my eyes widened in terror when I saw it was a pair of pink underpants that had fallen off the pile of laundry. It caught on a drawer on my desk and hung there, on display. I sucked in my breath and hurled off the bed to snatch it up. When I turned back, Brady's eyes were laughing at me, but he didn't say anything.

  That's when I lost it. The fright. The panic. The "freak out" all vanished as one chuckle wracked through my body. Pretty soon, I couldn't stop the giggles. Brady joined in and both of us were laughing until I clamped a hand over my mouth to quiet myself. Tears blinded me for a moment, but they weren't those types of tears. I kept laughing, silent now, and I wiped them clear. I blinked to keep more from appearing. Brady's shoulders shook in laughter.

  "Okay…" I murmured when I had resumed enough control to form sentences. I moved and sat beside him again, but this time I knew that I wouldn't scamper off. "I won't do that again. I promise." I patted his knee.

  "Thanks." He caught my hand. "I don't like having my best friend scared of me."

  Brady lifted his blue eyes to mine and I was startled to see how sombre they were. He'd just been laughing, but…

  "You were scared of me, Rayna. Don't do that again."

  I couldn't look away. Somehow, my hand found its way to the side of his face and it cupped his cheek. "I won't."

  "Promise." His hand rested on top of mine.

  "Promise." I could barely talk.

  "Okay."

  "Is it hot in here?"

  He chuckled. "I don't think it's the room, Rayna."

  I suddenly missed the nights when I curled up with a book. "So…uh…what did Clarissa want?"

  Brady yawned as he ran his fingers through his soft blonde buzz cut.

  I loved his hair. My fingers itched to replace his hand and curl his hair around them. Whoa—change the mind topic.

  "…her place tonight. I told her that I'd ask you…"

  I ripped my gaze from his hair and jumped when I saw a knowing glint in his eyes. Brady smirked.

  "What?"

  He just shook his head. "You need to get control of yourself. Or else we're going to get in more trouble."

  My jaw dropped, but I looked away. We both knew what he meant. "Okay, so what were you saying?"

  "I was saying that Clarissa's having a party tonight at her dad's place. I left my cell at the police station or something. She called here because she thought you might know where I was. You want to go?"

  "What?" I swung my gaze back to him. He was very close, very, very close. I gulped, itching to move back, but I wouldn't. I could control myself.

  "I said…" His lips quirked upwards. "…do you want to go to Clarissa's party?"

  "Does Clarissa want me to go?"

  "Yeah, actually. She told me to make sure you came. It's graduation week. You need to let loose and celebrate. Plus, you'll keep me out of trouble."

  Not at this rate. I almost said it, but I clamped my lips shut and kept them that way. Brady nudged me with his shoulder. "So? What do you think?"

  "I don't know." I eyed my door. "You heard Viola. If she comes in and finds me gone again she's going to ground me."

  "No, she won't. She'll ground me, but she won't ground you. She loved that you stayed out all night with me. Your grandmother is worried about you. She thinks you're never going to loosen up and get married someday."

  That was true. She'd hinted enough about it, but I ignored her. A person would have to have sex to get married…and the thought of me ever having sex had been like a hot air balloon on a windy day. Something you might look at, but never touch.

  I shifted under his gaze.

  Brady tightened his lips when he saw that I pulled my robe closer around me, but he didn't say anything. I jerked a shoulder and mumbled, "I don't even know what to wear. I can't wear what I usually do."

  "You mean the turtlenecks and baggy sweaters?" Brady nudged my leg this time.

  I ducked my head, but couldn't stop a small smile. "You know what I mean. I can't wear that to one of her parties." My wardrobe choices weren't that bad. A baggy sweater, but not a turtleneck. Ever.

  "You make it sound like Clarissa is an alien or something." Brady leaned back on his elbows. He kicked his legs in front of him and just like that, the room had transferred from being hot and intimate to being the same as always. Brady was back in charge again. He grinned, cockily, when I stood in front of him.

  "You know what I mean," I muttered and scrutinized my closet. I had nothing that would pass as semi-attractive.

  "No, I don't, Ray. You've always been weird about Cumberly. Why is that?"

  "Why don't you ask her?"

  "I have. It bothers her. She doesn't think you like her."

  I swung back; eyebrows arched, and stared at him.

  Brady liked to use gel in his buzz cut so that his short hairs stuck up a little, but after his shower his hair had already dried and looked soft to the touch. He looked like a little boy, complete with two dimples as he grinned back at me. He was different when he was with me. If we'd been at the party, he would've had the hard edgy look to him. He liked his tattoos to be seen, but I saw that he had pulled a blanket to cover the tribal tattoo on his stomach. The one on his shoulder was hiding in the shadows.

  "It's not that I don't like her. It's just that…she's one of them."

  "One of what?"

  "You know. Your girlfriends."

  "My what?"

  "Your g
irlfriends." I didn't think that I needed to spell it out. "She's…I don't know. She's cool and confident and…she's not the type of person that I'm friends with."

  "You're friends with me." His voice was quiet.

  The air shifted again. Here we were…I knew that I needed to tread lightly, very lightly. I met his gaze, swallowed over a knot in my throat, and felt that we were talking about something different.

  "You're different. I mean…we're not normal, Brady."

  A scowl formed at his mouth. "What are you talking about? We're not normal?"

  "You know—you're…one of them and I'm…not."

  "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He threw himself off the bed and stalked towards me. "You are just like me. You are no different than me. You are no different from Clarissa."

  "Yeah, but…" I was pressed against the doorframe as Brady towered over me. "I'm not one of your girlfriends."

  His chest was in front of mine. Another step, just an inch, and we'd be pressed against each other. His gaze was glued to my lips. I kept looking from his eyes to his lips, but then I felt something strange wash over me when he murmured, throatily, "You're more than that."

  I sucked in a large breath, I couldn't let it out. I stood there, frozen in place. He skimmed the side of my face with his hand, then tucked my hair back and cupped my cheek. He moved close and slowly, so slowly, rested his forehead against mine. His breath tickled my lips. "You're my best friend, Ray."

  My hands had lifted to his arms. I felt his muscles shift underneath my fingers and I clasped harder. I couldn't fall.

  "What are you doing?" The words wrangled out of my throat.

  Brady didn't answer. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his mouth against my temple. My hands slid from his arms to his shoulders and then behind his neck. One of his hands cupped the back of my neck where he applied pressure and arched my head back. The other hand skimmed the side of my robe. When his fingers spread out, the top of his thumb brushed underneath my breast.

  "Brady, I don't…" I couldn't talk anymore, but I knew there was something that I needed to say. I knew it, but…

  "Shhh." His lips touched mine. They rested there, but there was no pressure, no demand from him.

  Then his lips opened over mine. A surge of need rushed through me and I clasped him tight. Brady pushed me against the doorframe and he urged my leg to wrap around his waist. I couldn't get enough of him. It was like before, but this time it was different. I knew what would happen.

  I never thought I'd do this or be like this, but it was Brady.

  His thumb slipped inside my robe, touched my breast, and all thought fled my brain.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "I have to go to church."

  I was on my back, entangled with bed sheets as Brady collapsed beside me. I stared at the ceiling, felt the breeze from my open window, and all I could think was—"I have to go to church and pray."

  Brady snorted and rolled his head into his elbow. He burrowed into my side, but didn't say a word.

  Not me. I continued, but only after I had panted for a few sweat-slicked moments. "And I'm going to sing loud. I'm going to kneel when the pastor says 'bow your heads.' I'm going to do the whole thing. I'm going to kneel, fold my hands how the Catholics do, and I'll bow my head so far that my shoulders are going to hurt. I don't care if Viola looks at me weird. Neil won't care. He'll be proud."

  I caught short at those words. He'll be proud. No he wouldn't, not in the slightest.

  "And if Pastor Radlinson asks for a volunteer for anything, I'll do it. I'll bake twenty dozen cookies. I'll read stories at church. I'll even…" I gulped. "I'll even sing in the choir."

  "You need to shut up," Brady growled with his nose tucked into my shoulder.

  His breath tickled me, but I ignored him. "I should go to confession. I should be a Catholic tomorrow—today. I'll go to confession and confess my soul, because…oh God…I have a lot to confess."

  Brady lifted his head and glared at me. "Shut up, Ray."

  I met his gaze. "I'll pray for you too, Brady. You need prayer more than me."

  "Oh, my God." He flipped to his back. I ignored how his thigh slid against mine or how his hand fell on my exposed thigh.

  I gulped. "I need to tell my grandmother."

  "No, you don't!" Brady sat up. He didn't care that he was naked. He looked relaxed, well—he looked annoyed with me, but he was relaxed too. He was always like that. I blinked as he glowered at me and then my fingers slid through his soft hair.

  Brady closed his eyes and moaned.

  It was the moaning. My eyes snapped back to reality and my hand retracted itself, like it'd been burned.

  I needed to be burned, scalded, something. I couldn't control my hand.

  "Why do you do that?" Brady shifted on the bed again, but he moved closer and rested his forehead against mine. As he breathed in and out, I stared straight ahead. I was not affected…

  "Ezekiel 33:10 says that our sins weigh us down and we will waste away our lives because of them."

  He pulled away and ran his hands through his hair—my hand started to rise of its own volition. Brady slapped it away and grunted when he shifted against the bed's headboard. He folded his arms, which bunched his muscles together.

  I swallowed.

  "It's just sex. That's all."

  "It's a sin. Twice. We sinned twice."

  "And you totally took that verse out of context."

  "I don't care." I pulled the bed sheets tighter around me and then I looked at the door. I waited until I heard my grandparent's snores. They were like vampires when they slept, completely out of it, but I was still paranoid. It'd be my luck that they'd wake up and decide to check on me the one time I had sex in my room.

  "You should care." Brady brought me back to our reality. He added as he yawned, "I think it's a sin to take a Bible verse out of context. It's like you're twisting the message."

  "Shut up!"

  Brady grinned at me as he skimmed a finger down my back. He swept it up to brush against the side of my breast.

  "Stop that." I twisted away from his touch.

  He rolled his eyes and collapsed against the headboard.

  "Stop that, too."

  That got a chuckle from him. I couldn't believe it. While I was mortified, already planning how to repent for my actions, he laughed.

  "Look at you." His shoulders shook from laughter. "You're so mad at me right now. Anyone else, Rayna, anyone else, and I wouldn't put up with it, but you—you're mad at me and I just think how hot you look."

  I flushed and looked down at my lap. Warmth flared in me, but…anyone else…there'd been lots of other girls, and there'd still be lots of girls, but for now—no! I was not going to go there. I tightened my resolve. "You shouldn't say things like that to me. It's not right."

  "Why?"

  He knew. The bastard knew darn well what I meant.

  "You know what I mean."

  "No. I don't." He wrapped a hand around a corner of the bed sheet and tugged it backwards. It tightened around me and I was pulled against his chest. He wrapped both of his arms around my waist, held me captive and propped his chin on my shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my neck.

  "Don't."

  Brady grinned against my skin and then shifted so I ended in his lap. "Brady," I tried to chastise, but his fingers distracted me. They slid underneath the sheet and started to massage my stomach. When they slipped lower, I gasped.

  Brady chuckled into my ear. "You only live once, Ray. Even Viola agrees with that."

  "That doesn't mean…" I was having a hard time remembering my argument. His fingers now rested on the inside of my thigh. The lower they went, the foggier my thoughts became.

  Brady kissed the corner of my jaw and caressed my back with his free hand. His hand was cool against my skin. And I was burning up. I was going to burst into flames, literally.

  Then my phone rang. Again.

  Brady cursed into my neck, but I col
lapsed in relief. His fingers left when he answered the phone. When I heard Clarissa's voice on the other end, I jolted upright and grabbed a pile of clothes left on the floor before I ran to the bathroom.

  Déjà vu.

  I hurled into the shower, blasted the water, and slid to the floor as I wrapped my arms around my knees. Yes, the world wasn't ending, but mine was. Everything was different. Me and Brady…we weren't me and Brady anymore. I couldn't deny that anymore. My arms trembled, but I pressed my forehead into my knees. As the water beat down on me, I gasped and took a deep breath. I needed to take a breath, just one. Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't get so screwed up. Maybe I could go back in there and Brady would be dressed, ready to go party and I could stay home like normal.

  When I tiptoed back into the bedroom I saw that Brady hadn't dressed. He sat on the end of the bed with the sheets pooled around his waist. His chest was in shadow while the moonlight beat down on his broad, muscular shoulders.

  "I'm not going with you!" I blurted out before I found myself noting how sexy he looked with those broad…shoulders…

  "What?" He stared at me, distracted.

  "What?" Shoulders.

  He shook his head and focused on me now.

  "What—you…what?"

  "What are you talking about?" Brady clipped out.

  "That was Clarissa, right? She called about the party…and I'm telling you that I'm not going."

  "Oh." Comprehension flashed across his eyes. "No. I wasn't going to ask about that."

  "Oh."

  "No, I mean—" Cursing, Brady stood up.

  My eyes widened and I squeaked, but the sheets fell to reveal white and blue striped boxers.

  "I meant that I'm not going to the party either. So…that's why I wasn't going to ask if you wanted to go."

  "Oh…okay." I bit my lip and looked out the window. Brady watched me as I watched the window. Neither of us spoke until I swung my gaze back. His eyes had a gleam in them.

  "What are you wearing?"

  "What?"

  He gestured to my clothes. "You look like a wet clown who's going out clubbing. You look ridiculous."

  I didn't think about it, my fist jerked out and I watched in sick fascination as I punched him in the eye. I saw it all in slow motion. His eyes widened when he realized what I was doing and then I saw the jerk of his head as my fist made contact. When he fell back on the bed, it was over so fast that I stood there, shocked.