by Alyne Robers
Since the other night with Kane, I think about him more than I would like to. He is everything I usually avoid, but then I see parts of him I think he tries to hide. He took me to the marina and spent all day watching me take photographs. He spent the night in a bathtub for me. It's those moments that make me think differently about him.
Brooklyn will play with him until she gets bored or starts to feel anything. He will never mean anything to her. It seems like such a waste to me. I saw a different side of him when he broke in to save me during the storm. He cared and was understanding—gentle even. Brooklyn won't see that side of him and I will never see the side he shows to her.
I pick up the eyeliner on the counter. I start to line my eyelids, putting it on dark and heavy. Brooklyn is the one who looks hot and gets the guys. I used to be happy to be the opposite. It made me different than her.
Now I'm bored and I'm sick of always being the good girl. I give my eyes a smoky look and apply mascara. My eyes shine back at me, large and curious. I feel a little more alive as I transform myself. I feel sexy and confident. Like I can take whatever I want without consequences. I feel more like my sister.
That is until I hear a knock on the door.
"Shit," I whisper in a panic. I look ridiculous now that I know someone will see. Like a little girl playing dress up in her mom's closet.
I can't do anything about it and someone keeps knocking, getting more urgent the more I stall. I rush to the door and yank it open. I expected Miles, or maybe Brooklyn since she can't seem to ever remember her keys. What I do not expect is to see Kane taking up the entire door frame.
"Maybe you were right," he says, taking a step inside. He leaves me no choice but to step aside and let him in.
I shut the door and turn to face him. His hair is windblown and messy. His face is set and serious as he intently stares at me. I think I was going to say some words, but I'm silenced by the look he is giving me. Like he wants to strangle and fuck me at the same time.
"Maybe I don't get to get jealous. That was the fucking rule, right?"
I don't know what to say that and talking is impossible as he closes in on me.
"I was never one for rules, so I fucking broke them."
I'm pinned against the door as he crowds over me. I'm about to say something when I get lost in the dark depth of his eyes. No one ever looked at me like that before.
"I can't stand the thought of someone else touching you."
His lips slam into mine. I gasp and Kane takes the opening, slipping his tongue in to taste mine. His large hands frame my face as he kisses me deeper. The same buzz he gave me the other night in the dark is back, but stronger. Every nerve ending comes to life, wanting a piece of this man. They don't care he isn't mine to have.
Kane isn't just kissing me. He's possessing me. Devouring me.
His hard body is pressing me to the door. I feel his heartbeat pounding against my own. His heat is burning through our clothes. This is the fire that I have searched for, but I'm always too scared to touch.
"You say you're done with me, but I want to know why you push everyone away from you," Kane says against my lips.
"I'm not," I manage to breathe out.
Kane takes my words as a challenge and not the weak dispute they really are. His fingers tangle in my long hair, tugging my head back. He kisses down my neck, licking the spot where my pulse is beating. I get lost in the sensations and the heat warming me from the inside out.
This is everything I imagined it would be, but more powerful.
Each touch and taste is filled with desire and determination. Kane is intent on making me feel everything he wants to give.
He's trying to change her mind. To make her feel.
Not mine. Not me.
I stiffen and Kane pulls back to look down at me. He searches my face and finally sees it.
My body goes cold when he steps back quickly. There's only maybe a foot between us but I feel like it's an ocean. I touch my swollen lips. I can still taste him. I'm still tingling from head to toe, even knowing that wasn't for me.
"London? Shit."
I'm silent as Kane paces the small living room. He roughly runs his fingers through his hair. I want to say something it make it better, but I can't think of anything to fix this.
"Why didn't you stop me?" Kane asks, stopping to look at me.
Since he walked in, he hasn't looked at me as London. He saw Brooklyn when he barged in and pushed me against the door. No one has ever looked at me like that before.
Now he sees me. But that heated look he had isn't much different now than it was minutes ago.
"I don't know."
I didn't push him away or fight. Even knowing he thought I was her, it didn't stop the way my body responded to him. It doesn't make me less affected by that kiss.
I hold my breath as Kane steps up to me. I'm still against the door he pushed me against to kiss me, unable to move. I'm cornered by him but I'm not scared.
I'm excited.
Kane stops inches from me. I'm pretty sure he can hear my heart pounding in my chest. A man like him isn't blind to the way I'm reacting. It obvious by my pink cheeks and wide eyes how much that kiss affected me. The look Kane is giving me says he knows exactly how I feel.
His hand comes to my face and his thumb touches my bottom lip. He looks at my lips like he is seeing them for the first time.
"Why aren't you kicking me out?" he asks.
"I probably should."
Neither one of us moves. Knowing the truth, we are closer than we should be. I feel his breath on my lips that he's touching. I don't think I look even remotely annoyed or upset that he kissed me. Usually I'm the one doing as she should, but I'm not now.
"Probably," he agrees.
He looks down at my lips again and I lick them instinctively. The hand that is not cupping my face grabs my hip. I arch into him thoughtlessly. It's like I've done it thousands of times before. Like it belongs. In reality, it's not my body that belongs with his.
"London?" Kane's voice is deep but soft and I feel it flutter across my lips.
"Hmm?"
One inch closer.
One more swipe on my lip.
"You need to tell me to leave or I'm going to kiss you again. On purpose this time."
I deflate. Now I need to make a choice. Give him permission or stop this before it goes too far.
What my head and body want are at war. I'm used to always doing the right thing. I'm just not used to not wanting to this badly.
"You should go," I say, hating the way the words taste.
Kane nods in understanding and lets go of my face. I bite my lips to keep them shut because a part of me wants to take it back. That selfish part of me that gets shoved down wants to have her say. For once, I want something that I shouldn't and damn the consequences.
But I'm the good girl. I'm the girl with a head on her shoulders who does the right thing. She definitely isn't the one who kisses guys interested in her sister.
"I'll let her know you came by."
"Don't bother. It's over with us."
That doesn't make opening the door for him any easier.
"I would say I'm sorry, but I can't say that I am," Kane says as he walks out.
I close the door and lean against it, finally letting out the breath I was holding. My knees and hands are shaking. I'm not sure what is shaking me the most. The guilt from kissing Kane, or how much I liked it.
EIGHTEEN
Brooklyn
Kane doesn't come into the club. I passed him once in the hall, but we didn't speak. I got a wave that he gives the other neighbors. You would think that after years of ending relationships I would get used to the avoidance. I'm used to it, but it isn't fun.
Growing up with my father, you couldn't risk letting anyone too close. Besides Miles, no one knows what we went through. Everyone thought Dad was sick. That wasn't entirely wrong. He was a sick man.
Getting close meant they could see
the bruises. Or they could hear the yelling. Someone would notice how long we had been alone.
I never really liked anyone enough to take that risk. The only people I can't imagine my life without are by my side now. I have London and Miles. I'm happy with that. As close to happy as I can feel.
Even though I should feel bad about blowing off Kane, I'm not sure that I do. It was bound to happen eventually. When I feel trapped, I bolt. I felt trapped in that VIP room with Kane. If anything, I feel angry.
Kane said we were just sex. That was all I wanted or needed. Kane offered an escape from my own mind and past. If I miss anything, it was the way I was in another world when I was with him.
I keep myself as busy as possible now. Anything to keep from seeking him out. It's not as hard as I suspected since London decided to stop cleaning. Not just after me. Cleaning anything up at all. She's on some unspoken strike, it seems.
"I've got a high school dance to photograph tonight so I'll be home late," London says as she rushes through the living room.
"That sounds fun," I joke. "Your first dance."
"Just a few years too late."
I step over a pile of clothes in the living room. I think it's a subtle hint to do laundry.
"Is that my dress? How did you find something clean?"
"Our dress. The laundry is in the basement. Quarters are in the jar."
London points at a jar of coins by the door. She looks great in a blue dress I bought last year at a thrift shop. We do share our clothes, but there are things we buy assuming the other would never wear. The hem is short and she's showing more cleavage than she is normally comfortable with.
"Um. Okay."
London grabs her stuff and leaves me utterly confused. She is acting oddly and I don't like it.
The kitchen is filled with dirty dishes and the pantry is empty. In the bathroom, makeup is used and covering the vanity. It's so unlike London to leave things out of place. Part of the reason we can share everything without drama is that we barely notice we are sharing. Clothes and makeup go back where they came from.
Well, maybe I don't notice since London is the considerate one.
It takes a while to find something to wear and to do my hair. The apartment is a disaster. This is so unlike London that I start to worry. I know I take advantage of my sister. It became the way we operate so long ago. She never complained, but now I sense a shift in her mood.
Resentment? Anger? Tough love? Did Miles piss her off again?
I try to call Miles but he doesn't answer. I realize it's the weekend and he's probably playing at the Sand Bar. I need to eat and I need someone to talk to. Miles can fix anything.
The cab drops me off as Miles and the band start their set. He looks so natural and at ease up there on the stage. He looks like he belongs here when I feel like an outsider everywhere I go. His eyes are closed as he strums the guitar and sings into the microphone.
"London!" a blonde little pixie yells as she bolts toward me.
"Brooklyn," I correct her, trying to smile so I don't come off rude. I didn't realize London made friends here already.
"Oh shit," she says with wide eyes. "She wasn't kidding."
"She rarely does."
"Well, I'm Leslie. My boyfriend is Braxton, on the drums." She points to the band and I spot the massive man banging on the drums. I cock my head sideways trying to imagine them together. She's so tiny. How does he fit?
Leslie wastes no time in pulling me to the stage like we were best friends. Back home, Miles played in a lot of the local bars. They were usually all the same. Filled with college kids or old men, drinking and having a good time with music in the background. Here, the people watch them play. They are here for the music.
I smile up at Miles as he glances down and sees me. He winks at me and goes back to being the rock star that he looks like under the lights. I still see the little boy next door that we fell in love with, deep down, just hiding under some very grown-up looks.
Leslie cheers next to me like a fan-girl. I would have to guess she's been to every show since everyone seems to know her and she knows every word. Yet she acts like she's never seen them live before. I feel stupid next to her while I'm quietly observant, so I detangle from her and sneak to the back of the room. After grabbing a drink, I find an empty table in a corner to watch.
The band moves into the next song without pause. The room goes quiet as only Miles strums his guitar. The melody is dark and haunting, unlike anything I ever heard him do. Slowly, the rest of the band joins him. The energy in the room is buzzing even with the slow song. It's like they sense something coming that I don't.
Miles's deep voice fills the room. It's soft and low, aching sounding. He looks like he's in pain as the first few words roll of his tongue. My heart is in my throat and I feel the air shifting around me.
He sings of fire and smoke. It clouds him, keeping him captive and bound. He loves so deeply, so hard but it's burning in the flames.
My skin heats and I don't dare to breathe for fear that I would miss a single word. Miles keeps his eyes tightly closed as he sings about trying to get through the flames. He can't save her. He can't find her.
It's heartbreaking and crushing. I hurt because he hurts. His lyrics are about a love so strong it doesn't turn to ash. He carries it, and it haunts him. It's tugging at the heart that I thought was frozen cold. His fire is warming it so it's pounding loudly in my chest.
For the first time, I wish someone cared for me like that. I wished I was on the other end of this love that can't be burned down. I wonder if these are Miles' feelings and if so, for whom?
The song ends on a powerful and drawn-out note. I wipe my face discreetly and take a drink, hoping no one noticed my reaction. I'm not even sure how to respond, as I've never felt a heartbreak like that before. Especially not from words alone. I don't notice my single tear until it falls on my lips and I taste the saltiness.
When I look back up, the stage is empty. The massive drummer has tiny Leslie in his arms. I was right, she is swallowed by him. I see a movement out of the corner of my eye and look over just in time to see Miles coming for me.
I try to smile but his face is unreadable as he clears the distance between us. I want to ask him if he wrote that song and where the emotion behind it came from. But I never have the chance because Miles grabs my face and pulls me to his lips, stealing any words I had on the tip of my tongue.
His lips crush mine, hard but gentle. I inhale the familiar smell of him as his fingers push into my hair. He pulls me closer as he pushes me deeper into the secluded corner. I gasp around his kiss but he doesn't stop. His mouth is like fire on mine. It's melting me into him.
Miles moves between my knees and I wobble on my stool. He holds me tightly, never letting me fall over. His tongue slips past my lips, sweetly tasting and exploring. If feel in every inch of my body more than any other touch before. He's everywhere and everything in this stolen moment.
When his hand glides to my lower back and flattens my chest to his, I moan into his mouth. I tug at his shirt, trying to get him closer even though it's impossible. I feel his heart beating against mine. It's just as fast and strong as my own.
Thoughts and emotions battle inside me. I wish I could shut them off like every other time, but I can't. I want more of this, and the panic that comes with feeling anything is bubbling underneath it all.
I pull away, gasping much needed air. Miles runs his lips down my exposed neck and over my collarbone. He's breathing hard when he rests his forehead on my shoulder. I'm practically panting, too, my hands shaking.
So many questions are screaming to be heard in my head. What is behind the song? Why did he kiss me?
Does he think I'm London?
My heart aches and I swallow down the question. His hands are softly caressing my arms, trying to tame my trembling. His lips are ghosting over my skin. His warm breath is tickling my face.
It's a softness and care that I've never experienc
ed. Only because I never allowed it. Never wanted it.
But this moment, I don't want it to end. I don't want to know if he's kissing the wrong girl. I don't want to think he's in love with me.
I just want this moment.
"I'm glad you came," he whispers in my ear.
"Seems like it."
He laughs easily and I smile at the Miles I know coming back to me. It's a strange but intoxicating mixture of the old friend and new interest.
"You like the show?"
"Loved it." It was the truth.
Miles pulls back and searches my face. I can feel him digging, exploring, wanting. I am too raw to hide, to fake anything. It's terrifying and amazing at the same time. Like I'm on fire, but loving the heat.
"Glad I could make your first show a good one," he finally says.
My eyes widen and my heart skips a beat, as cliche as that is. He knows exactly who I am. He was not mistaking me for London. I don't know if I like that or if it scares me.
"It was always you, Brooklyn. Always will be," he says in my ear.
Miles leaves me there, gaping at his retreating back. His words replay in my mind until I feel them sink into my bones. I feel them everywhere.
As the band starts back from their break, I sneak out and head home in a fog. I know this isn't surprising. Miles knows me well enough to know that I will need some space, which is exactly why he left me there after kissing me senseless and shoving heat into my icebox of a heart.
I expect he will find me soon. He will force me to listen and talk to him. But for now I need to escape everything swelling in my heart and head.
NINETEEN
London
I've never hidden anything from my sister before. She's my best friend and the only person I fully trust. I can trust her never to judge me and to take my secrets to the grave.
But I haven't told her about the kiss with Kane. Every time I think about telling her, I stop myself. I'm not sure if it's because it's not just my secret to share, or if it's because I don't really want to share it yet. Once I voice it, it's real. It's out there for us to discuss and talk about. I'm not ready for that.