A Flawed Heart

by April Emerson

  “Hey,” he greets me.

  “Hey.”

  “Were you enjoying that puddle?”

  I look up at him and his grin takes my breath away. “Thanks for picking me up. I could have walked.”

  “I’ve been Lydia’s big brother for a long time, and one thing I’ve learned. If she wants something, you give it to her.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  We’re still parked at the curb. I try to read his face. He stares out of the windshield.

  “So, Jason—”

  “I like your boots.”

  “What? Oh, thanks.”

  A simple compliment makes me catch fire. He shifts the car into gear and we head down the avenue. The silence between us is heavy. Jason puts on the stereo and a song plays softly.

  “What are you listening to?”

  “May This Be Love by Jimi Hendrix. I can change it if you don’t like it.”

  “No, it’s nice. I like it.”

  He turns it up.

  “This is one of my favorite songs actually. The soft drumming and the melody feel perfect in this weather.” I look out my window at the rain-soaked streets.

  Jason starts speeding. He takes the car way above the thirty mile an hour limit, and I wonder if it’s because he can’t wait to get rid of me. We pull up in front of his building. Jason throws the car in park. The rain beats on the roof and on the windshield, and the beautiful music continues to play from Jason’s speakers. We sit there, silent except for the sound of our breathing. The car is filled with Jason’s cologne and unspoken tension. I start to feel that pull to him. He’s gripping the wheel and out of the corner of my eye I see him clenching his jaw. I’m chickening out. I can’t have this conversation, and he’s not going to start. I put my hand on the door handle to exit.

  “You smell nice,” he says.

  “What?”

  “I like your perfume. It smells, sweet…” He runs his fingers over his face, still not looking at me.

  “Thanks. You smell nice, too.”

  I’m wrestling with whether or not we should talk, when really I just want to touch him.

  “Listen, Jason—” I begin.

  “I have to go,” he cuts me off. “I’m late. Have fun with Lydia.”

  “All right. What are you doing tonight?” I can’t help that I’m curious about what his plans are, and who he’ll be with. Part of me feels this unexplained ownership of him, even though we barely know each other.

  “Playing pool at Alexa’s.” His reply is short. He’s still looking away from me.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then. Thanks for the ride.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  I get out and run to the front door. I stop to turn around, and watch Jason pull away.

  When I get to the top of the stairs, Lydia opens the apartment door. She’s wearing an apron with little ketchup bottles on it.

  “Did Jason leave? He’s acting weird today. Are you hungry? Do you want some wine? I brought red and white.” Lydia hurls a flurry of questions at me as we walk into the kitchen.

  “I’ll have some red, thanks.”

  The apartment smells like garlic and onions. My stomach growls. I’m starving.

  “Do you need any help?” I ask.

  “Yeah, can you make a salad? Everything’s on the counter.”

  “Sure.”

  I chop lettuce and we cook, chat and drink. When Kat, Ben and Alana show up, we eat and then move to the living room to watch Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Lydia does an amazing Spicoli impression, and we all crack up getting drunker by the minute. After the movie, Lydia and I sit and talk in the kitchen while Kat cleans up, and Ben and Alana hang out in the living room. She tells me stories about her friends, some of whom I met at the show. I debate bringing up the Jason situation with her. I feel really guilty keeping it secret, but I don’t know if Jason would want her to know. I feel that it was just a one-time, drunken thing, which Jason obviously regrets, but the wine makes me bold so I broach the subject.

  “You said Jason was acting weird earlier, do you know why?” I ask.

  “No, he didn’t want to talk about it. Why? Do you know something?”

  “I saw him at a café on Bedford today, and it looked as if he was fighting with Skye.”

  “Well, that must be it then. Maybe they broke it off. That would be good in the long run—she’s trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you see her at the show? She was such a mess! I don’t want her around my brother.”

  Lydia seems so protective of him, I wonder if she’d be mad if she found out I kissed him.

  Ben and Alana say goodnight and head out. Lydia and Kat curl up together on the couch, but it’s clear they want to be alone.

  Lydia yawns. “It’s getting late. We’re gonna crash in Ben’s bed since he’s staying at Alana’s. You can sleep here, or I can call you a cab. Or can you wait for Jay to come home and get a ride from him.”

  I could walk or take a cab, but the idea of seeing Jason again is very tempting. “I guess I’m going to stay.”

  Lydia makes the couch up for me, and heads to Ben’s room. The wine has made my eyes heavy, and I have no problem falling asleep…

  I’m standing in the rain. I see him walking away from her, toward me. He stops right in front of me, not even an inch away. He’s so close and the rain is dripping off his hair, down his chin. His shirt is clinging to him with the moisture. I put out my hand to touch him, but he stops me.

  “Claire, I want you to walk away.”

  “No.”

  His expression is tortured. He takes my hand and places it on his lips, softly kissing my fingertips. His eyes fill with fire and he pulls me closer, holding the back of my head in the palm of his hand. He brings his mouth down to mine, stopping just before our lips meet. I look into his eyes…

  I wake with a start. Disoriented, I look around the room. Someone sitting in the chair across the room from me but I can’t discern who it is in the darkness.

  “Who’s there?” I whisper.

  “It’s me. It’s Jason. I heard you talking when I came in. I thought you were awake.”

  “What did I say?”

  Jason walks through the darkness toward where I’m lying on the couch. He gazes down at me, but says nothing. He sits on the edge of the couch, near my hips. I feel vulnerable with him this close to me. He says nothing. He just stares.

  “Jason?”

  He must be drunk. I see his face now and his eyes are glassy. His breath quickens. “You were calling to me, Claire. That’s why I thought you were awake. You said ‘Jason’.”

  He places his hand on my hip. My embarrassment turns into longing and my heart rate accelerates with his touch.

  “What did you want?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were dreaming, and you said my name. What did you want?”

  I sit up straight, our faces parallel.

  He licks his lips, and moves his hand onto my thigh. “Tell me.” He barely whispers.

  Our eyes lock and in the cover of the dark I feel safe, as though I can be honest, as if I can tell him anything. His breath smells of beer. He probably won’t remember this anyway.

  “I said your name because…I was dreaming about kissing you.”

  At my admission he takes a breath and cocks his head to the side. His gaze shifts to my lips, and he brings his mouth to mine. Forceful and passionate, his kiss is intoxicating. I feel as if I’m floating as our tongues move together, and our lips meet again and again. I slide my hands from his shoulders into his hair. He holds my face and then moves his hands down to my hips. His grip on me tightens, and I feel warmth begin to spread through my body. My skin tingles everywhere he touches me. I want to feel every part of him. I start to lie back, hoping he’ll understand, but he stops kissing me and pulls away.

  I stare at him as he strokes my cheek with his thumb. A hundred emotions move a
cross his face.

  “What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?” I ask.

  “No. Nothing’s the matter. Can I show you something?”

  “Okay.”

  He takes my hand and we get up off the couch. I follow him to his bedroom.

  Chapter Three

  The wooden floors creak, and I’m afraid we’ll wake Lydia. When we get to Jason’s room he lets go of my hand and flips a switch. The room is illuminated by the soft light of a small lamp. His queen-sized bed is covered with a navy duvet and several pillows. There’s only a small window, and tall bookshelves overflow on each wall. Across the room are an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar with an amp, and a keyboard. Knee-high shelves line the far wall, covered with CDs and records. I see candles by the bedside. Vintage music posters and some of Lydia’s sculptures decorate the room. There’s a dark green area-rug around the bed, and long curtains hang from the window.

  “I like your room. It feels…intellectual…sort of.”

  He smiles and walks toward me. He places his hands on my shoulders and his eyes burn into me. I feel my nipples harden at his touch, and I look away as I blush.

  “I was surprised to see you, or hear you, when I came home, but I’m very glad you’re here.”

  I turn to mush at his words. It’s only been moments since we kissed, but I crave his lips again. I take a risk and put my hands against his chest and step closer, hoping to feel his mouth on mine. He places his nose in my hair and takes a breath, then steps back and takes my hand.

  “Come.”

  We walk toward the window where the keyboard is.

  “You play piano?”

  “Yes. Do you want me to play something for you?”

  “I would love that, but won’t we wake Lydia and Kat?”

  “No, they sleep like the dead. Any requests?” He straddles the stool next to the keyboard.

  “I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll like anything you play.”

  “Sit down,” he says. It’s a command, not an invitation.

  I sit on the edge of his bed and he clears his throat. “I’ll play a song I was listening to earlier tonight. It made me think of you, actually.”

  My heart speeds up at this admission. He turns his attention to the keys and closes his eyes. His expression changes into one I’m becoming familiar with—concentration and intense emotion. He strokes the keys and begins to play the chords. His gruff appearance doesn’t mesh with the fragile notes he sings. I feel all the walls that I’ve ever put up come down as I watch him reveal himself through this beautiful song. His rough voice caresses the tender, gentle lyrics. I feel as though he wants me to share my secrets with him, and he wants to tell me his. My eyes begin to water. Maybe he feels this connection too…he bends his head down as he plays, tapping one foot and moving his hips in time with the music. He closes his eyes as he sings. I watch him pour his heart out for me.

  He finishes the song and stands up from the keyboard, with his eyes still closed and his head bent toward the instrument. His shoulders rise and fall as he breathes. I want to go to him, wrap my arms around him and pull him toward the bed. He opens his eyes and looks at me. I’m startled by his expression. Without speaking he stalks toward me, stopping just at the edge of the bed. He clenches his hands into fists at his sides.

  “Jason, I—”

  “Claire, don’t.”

  “Don’t what? I’m sorry. I should go…”

  I stand, but he steps forward and closes the gap between us. He pulls me off the bed and places my wrists at his shoulders. His mouth is just an inch from mine.

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  I’m captured in his strong grasp. I don’t struggle. He brushes his lower lip against mine and moans. His kiss is gentle.

  “Lie down.”

  His tone is full of authority, and I do as I’m told. As I slide back onto the soft duvet and into the sea of pillows, my hair spreads out beneath me. He places his hands and knees on the bed, creeping over to me. His shirt rides up at his waist, and I see the waistband of his boxer briefs, and the soft trail of hair that runs from his belly button into his pants. I raise a finger and gently brush against it as I gather up the courage to look in his eyes. The sea of blue green bores into me, and he smiles at my touch. He cranes his neck down and nibbles my ear. This small contact sends me over the edge. I grip the waist of his pants and pull his hovering body onto mine. I wrap one arm around his neck, and one leg around his thigh. His smile widens.

  “Amazing,” he whispers.

  “Kiss me,” I reply.

  He brings his mouth closer and licks my parted lips. He moves one hand to my breast, cups it, and then pinches my hard nipple. He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into my mouth. I feel his erection growing and I rub my hips against his crotch. Our bodies are perfectly aligned.

  “I wanted you the moment I saw you. You’re so beautiful, so sweet.”

  I love hearing him say these things. I dig my fingernails into his shoulder blades and he moves his down my neck to my chest. I smell his unwashed hair. He slips my shirt over my left breast and begins to kiss it. His mouth is so warm. He stops and looks up at me.

  “Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

  I’m at a loss for what to say to him. I’ve never been with a guy who wanted to please me so much. I take his hand and move it between my legs. He smiles, slides his hand into my panties, and then brings his mouth back to mine and kisses me as his fingers slide up and down my slit.

  “You’re already so wet for me.” He rubs his knuckle in small circles and I feel my entire body tense, all my nerves are focused on the burning sensation between my legs. He kisses my mouth and my neck; his hot breath is in my ear. I hear him pant and feel his hard length press into my leg. I gasp.

  “You feel so good inside.” His pace quickens and I begin to sweat. I open my eyes to find he’s watching me. He begins to grind his hips into my thigh. “Don’t look away from me, please, Claire.”

  His hands and his words push me over the edge, I cry out, my whole body warms, and I keep my gaze fixed on his fierce eyes, until the pleasure I feel causes them to close.

  When my breathing returns to normal, he kisses me again and props himself up on his elbow. I roll over onto my side to remain close to him.

  “Is that what you wanted to show me?” I ask.

  He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair.

  “No, we didn’t make it that far. Do you want to see what I wanted to show you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “All right, hold on.”

  He gets up from the bed and goes over to his closet. He fusses with something for a moment and returns to me carrying a blanket, a sweatshirt, and some socks. He hands me the socks and sweatshirt.

  “Put these on.”

  “Are we going somewhere? It’s raining isn’t it?”

  “No. It stopped a couple of hours ago. Get dressed.”

  He zips up his sweatshirt and walks over to the window carrying the blanket. He opens the window, and I watch as the muscles in his back and arms move and flex as he forces it open. He turns to me. “Come on.”

  He gestures for me to step through the open window. His window opens out onto a fire escape. I step through the window and he follows. The night sky is clear. Out across the endless span of rooftops, I can actually see stars twinkling overhead. The air smells like wet concrete.

  He spreads out the blanket. “Sit.”

  “You’re kinda bossy, you know that?”

  The grin emerges. “Yeah, I do. Now sit.”

  He sits next to me, takes out a cigarette and lights it.

  “Can I have one of those?” I ask.

  “This is the last one I have. We’ll share it.”

  He passes it to me once it’s lit and as I take the cigarette from him my fingers brush against his. I feel the electricity from this small touch in spite of how intimate we have just been.

  “Th
is view is really beautiful.”

  “I love it out here at night. It brings me peace.” He stares out over the rooftops. “So, what were you doing at the gym today?”

  “I was swimming.”

  “You swim?” He seems surprised.

  “Yeah, I was a lifeguard in high school.”

  “Why did you run out of the gym? I wanted to talk to you.”

  “You saw that, huh? I was nervous I guess.”

  “Do I make your nervous?” His eyes twinkle in the light from his window.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Well, I’ll have to fix that.”

  I pass the cigarette back to him and he places his arm around my waist and pulls me closer.

  “Are you nervous now?” he whispers.

  “Not really.” I smile and look down at my hands. “I saw you today at the café.”

  “You did? I didn’t see you.”

  “Yeah, I was with Kat. I didn’t want to bother you, since you were with your girlfriend.”

  “She is not my girlfriend, Claire. Look at me.”

  I turn my face toward his.

  “She’s not my girl.”

  “Okay.”

  We sit in silence, smoking together. After passing the cigarette back and forth several times, Jason flicks it off the fire escape. We lean back against the brick and look at the stars. I place my head on his shoulder and he rests his hand on my knee. Our conversation moves from music, to books, to Ben, to Lydia. He tells me how close he is to his sister, and I confess how great a friend she has been to me. We talk and laugh in the darkness for what feels like hours until I feel my eyes getting heavy…

  I wake to the buzz of an alarm clock. When I open my eyes, it’s not my apartment I see. It’s Jason’s perfectly sculpted and intricately inked chest in front of me. I pop my head up. He sits up and shuts off the alarm. I look down and find that I’m fully clothed and Jason’s only wearing his boxer briefs.

  “How did I get here? What time is it?”

  “Calm down. You fell asleep on my shoulder, on the fire escape. I carried you in. You sleep like a rock.”

  “So, we just…slept?”