Pulled

by Danielle Bannister

  I only open the door a crack; afraid to look in his eyes, not sure how angry he’s going to be. He misinterprets my hesitation to let him in as something else completely.

  “Naya? Is someone in there?” His eyes are hot.

  My eyes widen with shock.

  “What? Seth, no. There’s no one here,” I reply.

  “Then why aren’t you opening the door?” He is positively fuming now. He pushes past me before I can get a word out and storms into my very empty room. His bloodshot eyes scan the room, hunting.

  “Happy?” I ask through my teeth, put off by his accusation. I assume that no warm bodies in the room will appease him, but it doesn't. He marches over to my messy bed and throws back the covers. Finding it empty, he searches underneath it before he whirls around, glares at me, then heads for my closet.

  He catches a tiny shift in my eyes and his fists clench. Pushing me aside he rips open the door and I hold my breath. When he doesn’t see anyone standing inside, he hesitates for a second before stepping inside. He then proceeds to tear my closet apart.

  The clothes stop flying after a few crazy seconds and then it gets very quiet. The look on Seth’s face as he emerges from my closet shakes me. His large chest is heaving in frantic jolts. One of his hands is pinched to the bridge of his nose. He’s crying.

  Guilt takes over and I rush over to him and lace my arms around him, trying desperately to soothe him. His strong arms wrap around me and hold me tight.

  “Naya, when you didn’t answer your phone last night, I thought something happened to you.” He kisses the top of my head softly and strokes my hair, the way my mother used to as a child. “Then when you answered my call this morning, I thought you’d be in the hospital or something, but you were in your room…I guess my mind jumped to the wrong conclusion. I’m sorry.” He pulls my face back to look me in the eyes. “Forgive me,” he whispers.

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” I reach up and kiss him softly. “If anything I should be asking you for your forgiveness,” I say, pulling gently away from him. Seth grabs my hand before I can break away.

  “Where were you?” His eyes are pleading with me.

  “Here,” I say, simply.

  His eyebrows pull together. “Then why didn’t you answer your phone? I called your room and your cell at least a dozen times!”

  Here it was, the moment of truth, and I was going to lie through my teeth.

  “I had a tough rehearsal last night and I ended up with a migraine,” I whisper, not able to look him in the eye.

  “A migraine?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

  “Yeah, I haven’t had one this bad since...the accident. It hit hard and fast. So, I came home, downed some Tylenol PM, turned off all of the lights and my phones. I just needed it dark and quiet.” I bite my lip, hoping he'll take the bait.

  His eyes lighten a touch. “You don't know how worried I was.” He pulls me tight against his arms. The worst of it is over, I think, so I allow myself a small grin.

  “I know. And I'm so sorry.” He lifts my feet off the ground and kisses the nape of my neck. “Thank you for being so understanding,” I say into his chest.

  He pushes me back down and looks me in the eye. “Just because I understand, doesn't mean you're forgiven. You should have called me. You should have answered your damn phone! That's why I bought it for you.” Seth walks over to my door and locks it, then closes the blinds. “Now take off your shirt,” he orders, slipping off his belt.

  My eyes glaze over. My body shifts into auto pilot. I pull my shirt over my head causing my dark hair to cover my face. The warning crack of his belt sounds so I sink down to my knees and grab onto the handles of my bureau. Shifting my weight to find my center of gravity, Etash's smile flickers once against my closed eyes, and I gasp.

  “I should give you 12 lashes,” he whispers, hot against my ear, “one for each call you didn't answer.” He straightens up and takes a deep breath. “But since it's a school day, I'll only give you six.”

  I know I should be scared, but I'm not. I'm just...sad. The first lash comes without his normal warning and I have to hold back a scream that almost escapes. There is just enough time to shove a pair of socks into my mouth and hang on again before the next one comes. By the fourth lash, he's found his rhythm, and so have I. My back has gone numb, along with my mind, so by number six, I don't even flinch.

  Etash

  When I wake up in the morning I feel completely and utterly drained of all emotion. Like someone has sucked out every ounce of happiness I've ever felt. Opening the closet door, the sun assaults me and I shiver against its warmth.

  Stumbling out, I feel my way to the bathroom and take a long hot shower trying to coax the blood back into the muscles of my upper back. Sleeping in the closet must have done a hell of a number on it. I can't believe how raw and sore it feels.

  My stomach growls when I limp out of the shower, but as I start to make breakfast, I feel uneasy again. I opt to get out of my apartment and hit the cafeteria for breakfast instead.

  Once there, I pour myself an enormous cup of coffee, which is strange, because I don’t typically care for it. I load my plate with a bowl of granola and some fruit and make my way to the tables when I hear my name being called from across the cafeteria.

  “Yo, Etash! Over here!” It’s Seth. He’s with Naya, and he’s waving me over to their table. I see panic flood into her eyes, but I can’t stop my feet from walking over to them.

  “Etash, man, thanks for coming over,” Seth says.

  “Uh, sure. No problem.”

  Naya’s hands jump to her chair, as though she’s holding herself down. Seth doesn’t appear to notice.

  “Have a seat,” he says, kicking out a chair with his foot.” Not sure what else to do, I sit.

  “So, I never got a chance to properly thank you for helping out Naya the other day.”

  I don’t tell him I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  “I was happy to help.”

  Naya eyes are glued to her toast. Her lips form a hard thin line. She is clearly upset by my presence.

  “So, Naya tells me you quit the show?” He says with a smirk, forking an entire sausage link into his mouth, clearly pleased. He thinks I left because I was threatened by him.

  “He’s still the Assistant Director,” Naya says, looking up at me for the first time. I’m struck by how pale and ashen her skin looks this morning.

  “Really?” Seth mumbles through a mouth full of food, probably annoyed that he didn't get rid of me completely. He takes a swig of milk and studies me for a moment before he says, “That’s a hell of a scar you got. How did you get it?”

  Naya looks up at me wide-eyed, apologetic.

  “Accident,” I say, taking a sip of the bitter coffee.

  Seth nods his head and forks a hunk of pancake in his mouth. “So I heard you guys had a tough rehearsal last night?”

  “It was?” I ask, carefully avoiding Naya’s eyes, but do notice that she's keeping her back ram-rod straight.

  “That's what I hear. So, since you're the Director and all,” Seth begins.

  “Assistant Director,” I clarify.

  “My apologies. Assistant Director. Can you do me a favor?” Seth asks.

  “I can try,” I say, confused by what he would possibly ask from me.

  He leans over to me, holding his knife a little too close to my face, and I see a glint in his eyes.

  “Take it easy on my girl.”

  “What?” Naya and I say at the same time.

  Seth turns to look at her, and starts rubbing her shoulder and she flinches as though she's in pain, but he doesn't notice, or care, and keeps rubbing. It’s all I can do not to rip his arm off.

  “You must run some tough rehearsals for a pro like Naya to get so worked up. She came home with a pretty bad migraine last night.”

  She had a migraine?

  “Did you take her to the Nurse?” I demand, surprised by how possessive my v
oice sounds.

  “It was just a headache,” Seth says slowly.

  “Yeah, a headache right after she lost consciousness and hit her head!” I snap back at him.

  “I’m fine,” Naya shouts. A small whimper escapes her lips as she stands up. “I need more coffee.” She grabs her untouched cup and leaves.

  Seth eyes me suspiciously as I watch her walk away. “She pulled a muscle last night in her back, so you take it easy on her tonight. You got that?”

  I'm only half listening to him as I watch her go past the coffee machines, ditch her mug and disappear out of the cafeteria.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have a class to get to,” I say, pushing away.

  “Sure,” he says as I stand up. His gentle smile turns lethal.

  “But if you hurt my girl again, you will be sorry.”

  Naya

  I can't go back to that table. I just can't. If Seth was to even suspect that I was thinking some of the irrational thoughts I was of Etash...well, I don't even want to think about it. The way my back is throbbing now is enough of a warning for me to stay far away from Etash.

  I text Seth a message saying that my back hurts and I need to lie down. He'd not only believe that, he'd expect it, and probably feel proud. But I can't go back to my room. I need my sanctuary. I need the stage.

  Walking into the complex, I keep my eyes on the floor, not wanting to meet the gaze of any of the other students lingering in the hallways. I rush past the black box stages—I can't go there. That place is tainted now. I need a safe place; a place free of pain.

  I head straight for the main stage, worrying offhandedly that it might be in use. Opening the double doors to the theatre I find it dark inside. I close my eyes in relief.

  My hand fumbles around the wall until I find the house lights; a warm glow instantly fills the theatre. There is just enough spill from the house lights to illuminate my altar.

  Reverently, I make my way down the center aisle and up the side stairs to the stage floor. The lush velvet red curtains are pulled closed leaving only a few feet of stage floor exposed, but I don’t care. I’ll take what I can get.

  Running my fingers along the heavy curtain brings instant relief. My breathing slows, my heart finds its normal rhythm, and all the hairs on my arms are laying flat, just as they're supposed to be. I take a deep, healing breath in. This is my little piece of heaven. No one can hurt me here.

  Sinking down to the floor carefully, I rub my hands along the floorboards. I yank my hoodie off, flinching as the fabric brushes against my back. I roll it into a ball and shove it under my head and I lie down carefully on my side. I put one arm over my eyes and bend my knees to my chest, forming a tight protective ball.

  Etash

  Once I get outside, her scent has grown cold. I debate on heading back to her dorm, but my gut tells me she won't be there, not where he could find her. On a hunch, I head for the theatre. Perhaps the stage is her refuge, just as the dance studio is mine.

  The closer I get to the theatre, the more confident I feel. She’s in here. Now I just have to find where.

  I check the black box first, but find it empty. Of course she’s not here. This place would only remind her of me, and she doesn’t want to think about me. I try the Main Stage next.

  Racing up the stairwell to the theatre, my senses come alive. I can already pick up her lavender lotion.

  A trickle of light coming from underneath the doors to the theatre suddenly go out, and I smile. She knows I’m here, and she’s trying to hide from me.

  I open the door and step inside. The sunlight pours in from behind me into the darkness, but I can’t make her out in the shadows.

  “Naya, I know you’re in here.” She doesn’t answer me. “I can feel you,” I admit.

  Still, she doesn’t make a sound.

  Fine, I’ll find you. I move my hand along the wall, searching for the light switch. The house lights come up and my body jumps. She’s standing right in front of the light switch.

  “Naya,” I gasp, instantly consumed by her pull. She opens her eyes, like a frightened child, but I can do nothing to calm her fears.

  I close my eyes and will myself to step back from her. When her pull against me lessens, I stop and open my eyes again.

  “We need to talk,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  “Fine,” she whispers. “You stay there; I’m going to walk further away so I can think better.”

  I nod in agreement. Distance is good.

  She walks to the stage, hops up to the lip and sits down, flinching again.

  “Okay. Talk,” she says.

  “You're hurt,” I say. Her eyes get wide for a moment, then narrow.

  “Yeah, I scraped my back on something in my closet.” She's a horrible liar.

  “Oh yeah? Your boyfriend said you pulled a muscle.” Her head whips up to look at me.

  “What do you want?” she hisses. She's covering up for that bastard. My body starts shaking with rage.

  Naya

  He’s not saying anything. He's just standing there looking all God-like, and asking questions I'm not prepared to answer. So I try to change the subject.

  “Why did you quit the show?” I demand.

  He raises his head and glares at me. A look of complete confusion washes over his face.

  “Do you really have to ask?”

  “Apparently, I do.”

  He shifts his weight and brings his hands through his thick, dark curls before answering. “Have you been awake the last few days?” His voice is coated with anger. He stands and turns his back to me, like he is trying to reign himself in. “I can’t get near you, Naya,” he says almost in a whimper.

  “Why?” I can’t help wonder aloud, “What's wrong with me?”

  Spinning around, he starts barreling down the aisle toward me, stopping only when he gets about two feet away from me. His face crumples in pain. A small moan escapes his lips.

  The need from before returns, begging me to go to him. Officially having lost all control of my limbs, my body pushes itself off the stage, propelling me closer to him.

  Our bodies inch cautiously toward the other, stopping just shy of embracing. Even though we aren’t physically touching, I can still feel the heat of his body rolling off him in waves. It is positively hypnotic, and like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  His face leans in toward mine so painfully slow that I’m positive I’ll pass out in anticipation. Etash brings his lips close to my ear; his cheek nearly brushes mine. The current passing through my limbs is electric. My whole body feels like a live wire.

  “This is why I can't be your Romeo,” he whispers softly into my ear. His breath is like fire against my neck. It makes my mouth water. “Can’t you understand that? You steal away my will to do anything but be close to you.”

  My entire body is pulsing under my skin at the sound of his voice and my hands begin to tremble. All I have to do is move any part of my body just an inch and I could easily fall into his arms and happily stay there forever.

  As though he can sense what I'm thinking, he pulls away from me, and my heart cries out in protest. His eyes are closed as he clenches his teeth together. Then, without warning, he turns and is gone.

  At the sound of the door closing, my knees buckle and I hit the floor, further bruising my back, but I don’t care. Succumbing to the emptiness that now floods into my chest, I close my eyes. Etash is right. We could not get close to each other. It is far too dangerous, for both of us.

  Chapter 8

  Etash

  As I run out of the theatre, my limbs are shaking and my insides ache. Fighting the screaming voices in my head to go back to her, I slip up the stairwell and head for the dance studio, and for the next few hours, I dance. Angry, fast, frustrated dancing that leaves me weak, winded and devoid of all emotion. Just what I was searching for.

  After I shower, I put in my hours at the bookstore, reveling in the mind-numbing monotony of stocking shelves. In
haling a sandwich at the student center, I spread my books across a table and finish up my choreography notes before I have to meet Elizabeth for Romeo recasting.

  We’ve got four guys coming in this afternoon to choose from, but based on their previous audition, I know any one of them will be a poor choice.

  A bit before four, Elizabeth and I head over to the black box and find them all, huddled together in a little cluster. I frown. One of them is going to do the job I can't. Gritting my teeth, I take a seat safely in the back as Elizabeth sets herself up at the director's table close to the stage.

  Sulking in my darkened corner, my heart starts beating fast with recognition.

  “Naya’s here,” I announce. Elizabeth turns to face an empty hallway. Although she hasn’t entered the black box yet, I know she’s there, just outside the door. A moment later, the door opens and Naya enters. She's wearing a Red Sox T-shirt over her dark leggings and I shake my head: I’m a Yankees man.

  “You’re here! Wonderful. Have you met all the guys?” Elizabeth asks Naya, showcasing the men like Vanna White.

  “Um, I know Ben, from class, but not the others,” she says.

  “Well, this is Zach, Eric,” Elizabeth says, pointing at each of them, “and this is Tom.”

  “Thomas,” he corrects quietly. I like Thomas.

  Elizabeth runs her hands together, anxious to begin.

  “Well, now that we know one another, why don’t we get started?” They all start moving up to the stage, not sure what to do.

  “Okay, Naya, I just want you to go and stand next to each of the men, one at a time. I want to see how the two of you look next to each other before we do anything else,” Elizabeth instructs.

  Awkwardly, Naya makes her way to Zach, who is closest to her, and stands beside him. Elizabeth walks to the back of the house and takes a seat next to me. She leans in and whispers, “He’s so tiny!”

  “Yeah, but his bouffant could probably be poofed up at least another few inches,” I whisper back. She slaps her hand over her mouth, covering her laugh.