by Sarah Buhl
“Well, I’m flattered he mentioned me,” Brecken said. “How far along are you?” she asked Hannah, as she pointed toward her belly. Brecken was diverting the conversation from my embarrassment and that need to go all caveman happened again.
Hannah traced her hand across her abdomen as most pregnant women do and looked at her belly with a smile, “I’m twenty-seven weeks.”
“Congratulations,” Brecken said, tightening her hand in mine. “You look beautiful, by the way,” Brecken said, with a sincere smile.
“Thank you, you aren’t so bad yourself,” Hannah said with a wink. Then she clucked her tongue and looked at me. The hormones must be getting to her. It was more than that because both she and Wynn were happy and carefree. Every time I saw them now, it was sickening how happy they were. But I was thankful for it. If anyone deserved happiness, it was the two of them.
“So you guys live outside town?” Brecken asked.
“Yes, we have a place an hour out of town. It’s wonderful. You and Blake should come for a visit sometime,” Hannah said as she gave me a tilted smile.
Brecken looked up at me with a smile of her own, “Well, if Blake ever invites me, I will be there. We still haven’t had our first date, so planning a trip to your house might be a bit much,” she said with a coy grin.
“Oh no, that isn’t too much. I always try to bring women to meet my friends and family first. It helps figure out who is worthy, as Hannah so lovingly put it,” I said with false seriousness.
“I see. Well Blake, I look forward to the opportunity and the lesson in worthiness,” Brecken said.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Wynn said. “Blake is the least judging person I have ever met. He likes to pretend he is particular and choosy. Honestly, if he did do as he suggested he does, everyone would have benefited.”
“Oh yes, I believe I met one of those that fell through the crack of worthiness,” Brecken said and gave me a raised eyebrow.
“Did you now?” Hannah asked. “Is she here this evening?”
Brecken nodded.
“Time to move on please,” I said. “No need to continue mocking me.”
“Yes, let’s move onto other things Blake. Did you decide what song you’re going to sing?” Brecken asked.
“Blake’s singing a song?” Hannah asked.
“Yes, I thought of singing a song from a musical, but after Wynn’s disapproval, I changed my mind. Because apparently, that's what I do— I want to make everyone happy,” I said, knowing Brecken asked in hopes that I was going to change my mind and shy away from the challenge.
“Don’t change your mind on my account.” Wynn laughed and pulled Hannah closer to him.
“No, it's not because of you. I decided this will fit their style more,” I said as I waved toward the stage. “I'm inspired.” I smiled at Brecken and without a pause, pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. She smiled at me shyly before stepping away and looking around to the group. I leaned back against the wall and studied her reaction. I made her nervous.
“Now I can’t wait to hear what Blake’s going to sing,” Mason said to Brecken with a smart ass grin.
“Well I for one am sick of hearing only talk and want to see more action,” Brecken said, evading her nervousness as if it were hunting her. Everyone laughed as she squinted her eyes at me in challenge and pointed at my chest.
“Before I do, I want to show you something,” I said. I pushed myself from the wall and stepped closer to her. I invaded her personal space and looked down my nose to her, meeting her eyes as she peeked up at me under her long-ass lashes.
“What are you going to show me, Blake?” she asked with a flirtatious grin. She didn't realize the impact that one grin had on me, but she was going to find out.
“Excuse us, everyone,” I said with a nod to them. Wynn gave me a smile and nod in return. He tapped the side of his temple and pointed at me before he turned to give his full attention to Hannah.
He always gave me that gesture when he wanted to let me know he understood me.
I took Brecken’s hand and led her through the crowd and toward the hidden door off the room that housed the artists’ photographic portraits. Wynn had taken each of the photos and they really were exceptional. He was an amazing photographer and I know I’m partial to saying that since he’s my best friend. But the portraits weren’t why I came here.
On the other side of this room was the door leading to the darkroom and the rooftop. I opened the door and flipped on the red light for developing film. I pulled her in behind me and shut the door and backed her into it.
I didn’t speak a word to her, but lifted my hand and barely traced the hair that she wore tucked behind her ear. It was the ear that her tattoo hid behind and I leaned in to let my nose trace across it. I needed to be that near her again. The one time earlier wasn’t enough.
When she leaned against the wall in front of me earlier, I thought I was going to make a scene. She smelled amazing and it was as if she radiated this heat from her that pulled me in. I wanted to touch her.
She put her hands atop my chest to stop me from leaning in and with a throaty laugh she looked up at me. “You wanted to show me a darkroom?”
I nodded.
“Is this your way of prolonging the inevitable? You’re going to sing Blake, no way around it.” She pulled her lip in again in the nervous way she had the entire night. The conversations with others, her hesitation at my closeness, her leaning toward me with a shy lowering of her chin as she spoke—signs that she wanted this as much as me but she was nervous. And I couldn’t forget her choosing the same song to sing that I sent to her earlier. Well, that I sent to her via Karl. I’m still claiming it as mine. What he intended as a mockery of me became the highlight of my month, if not my year.
“What will I get in return for singing?” I whispered into her ear, before placing a light kiss over her elephant tattoo once again.
“You will get the privilege of singing for those fine people,” she smiled and tilted her head back against the door. She pushed onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck. My eyes closed briefly by reflex and I had the same anticipation as I did when I was eleven waiting to see those dancing women on the TV. A simple hug was the first step she was taking into me and I felt the longing between us—not only physically but in the air. It was palpable. Just being near her made me feel whole.
My heart was racing. My heart was racing? My heart never raced—especially not from a hug. I never had this eagerness or this anticipation. This uncontained need to put my arms around a woman and just hold her.
Just hold her. That was what I wanted from her. I wanted to kiss her, and I wanted to hold her. I didn’t want to have sex with her… yet. Oh fuck, do I want to cuddle? That’s insane.
Brecken lowered her hands to my biceps, and as she tightened her grip her eyes fluttered closed and that alone made me drop all inhibition and restraint. I grabbed her waist and pulled her from the door and looked at her as if she were going to disappear in front of me. I traced my hand across her face and her eyes opened and our attention was only on each other.
Her lips parted and an airy moan left her as if just my touch was causing every part of her to ache.
That moan—that amazing, sexy fucking moan. I closed my eyes, controlling myself from going any farther than just holding her and touching her.
I traced my hand across her back and stopped right above her ass. I wanted to touch it from the moment I first saw it tonight, wrapped nicely in her dress. The more she walked in front of me, the more she walked away from me, the stronger the need became and now I was so close to finally experiencing first hand just how amazing it was—but I stopped.
I didn’t want to stop. But I needed to stop.
I pulled her to me and I wish I could say the motion was only for her, but I’m a guy and it was amazing just to press myself against her. I let her feel the need she caused in me and a light gasp escaped her. My cheek pressed to the t
op of her head and I traced my hands along her arms, and then I lifted them above her head, pressing her into the door. I leaned down to trace my nose along her ear, and remained still as our breath mixed between us.
We stood there as our breathing increased, both afraid to move further. I wanted to thank the universe for being fucking awesome and allowing me this one moment of freedom with her. Every inch of her that my body touched was flying. “Damn it,” I said in a whisper.
She let go of me and my need to be near her was reflected in her expression. We stood there, staring at each other in silence. Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head. I noticed it was the same fearful expression she wore when waiting to join Conall on stage and it made me nervous.
Her breaths increased as her chest rose and fell. I watched her breathing and my eyes drifted to her spiral tattoo once more.
“I like you,” she said with a look of confusion on her face as if she couldn’t understand her own thoughts and emotions.
“That’s good to know. The feeling is reciprocated, by the way,” I said stepping near her again, letting my finger trace along the collar of her dress that dipped right to the valley between her glorious chest. Glorious? Really? Where’d that fucking word come from?
She smacked my hand away. “That said, since I like you, I’m going to be honest. Not that I’m not honest anyway, but we have to wait. I don’t know what you’re used to, but we have to wait.”
I wasn’t expecting that statement, but I felt the same way. What does that mean exactly—two people wanting to wait with each other?
“You know, honestly, I was just thinking that,” I said pulling my lip in, biting it, because if I didn't I was afraid I might make a liar of myself.
“I don’t take you as being the kind to wait. Why would you bring me in here then?” she asked, leaning her head back against the door once more and looking up at me.
“Well, take it as you like, Breck. But yes—cuddling you actually came to mind. Which threw me off, but I’ll be honest too. I brought you in here because I wanted to fuck your brains out against that wall. Maybe even the developing table." I shrugged as I looked over at the table. It did look like an agreeable place. I needed to not focus on the possibilities in this room. I took a breath before continuing. "But when I had you in my arms, I couldn’t do it now. It's too important. Go ahead and mock me, but it’s the truth,” I said as a smile formed on her face as if she were saying “awe” in her thoughts.
“But I will tell you what I think—you’re scared to like me,” I said. "I don't know if you have a hang up on our age, or if you don't trust me. But you're scared."
“Scared to like you?” she asked with an expression that made me want to beg her to go home with me. She looked pissed off too, which didn’t help my wandering thoughts.
“Yes, you’re scared to like someone as much as you like me. I can see it and it’s true because I like you a hell of a lot too. Which sounds fucking juvenile, but it’s the truth.” I said as I took her hand in mine and kissed her knuckles.
“Now we’re going to return to that room out there and I will sing a song. But I want you to understand that my loader is going to be full and I have a case of blue balls chambered. It doesn’t help that you keep breathing in and showing me that lovely chest of yours. I swear that spiral symbol keeps rising, just for me,” I said as I lightly traced her tattoo and she swatted my hand away again. “But I’m doing it for you Brecken McNett, every bit of it. The song, the loader, and the blue balls will be for you.”
“That’s somewhat crass Blake, but it’s sweet and it’s the hottest, most honest thing anyone has ever said to me. But I need to ask—did you just refer to your penis as a loader?” She laughed.
“Yes—why? That’s what it's labeled in my book—a loader,” I said in all seriousness.
She leaned over and pressed her hand against her abdomen as she laughed. “Holy shooter pants that’s funny.”
“Shooter pants?” I asked her as I pulled her in and let my chin rest atop her head.
“Yes, shooter pants. If you're going to refer to your dick as a loader, I have the right to say shooter pants,” she said as she turned her face up to me with her big brown eyes. I pushed loose hair from her face and did something unlike me. I kissed her right above each eye. The first thing I wanted is to understand is what is going on behind those eyes more than inside her pants. It was an epiphany for me. I guess there’s a first for everything.
When I adjusted myself, a smile spread across her face that was more relaxed than any she had given me yet. “Just so you know, I still haven’t decided on whether you get my phone number,” she said with a wink before she opened the door.
As I followed after her, I thought of one of my favorite video games of all things. She attached me to her as a familiar to its owner in this addictive role playing game I play. I know—geeky. But just like that familiar, I would protect her. I didn’t want to leave her side, and it was fucking lame but I realized I would follow her anywhere. The realization filled me with fear that I hadn’t experienced since I was a kid.
What if I failed her too?
This one came to the writer by inspiration.
Everyone was gathered upstairs, looking at the art and hearing the songs. But none of the spectators found themselves awake enough to realize the one thing they missed in the exhibition they viewed.
The creativity of the singers and artists grasped the very definition of humanity and only a handful of the spectators acknowledged it.
This was life.
Just as the boxes represented a microcosm of life, the gallery did as well. As an outsider looks inside that gallery though, they see half drawn people, lacking contrast and depth.
They didn't know they slept.
Inspired by the sight of the woman singing, the writer began to paint. The unplanned painting became the first of its kind. The writer normally thought out every placement, every detail, and every color. But tonight, the writer created this painting for the pure reason of creating something of beauty.
This was not one of the questions the writer intended for the reader, but it was the first question for everyone. Every spectator in life was to ask this question.
What makes you feel alive?
6
Brecken
We walked through the crowd and my cheeks burned as I pulled Blake closer to me. I drew him against my back, our hands still held between us and the closeness of him influencing my muscle memory at how near we were minutes earlier.
I fought a battle with this animalistic need and my need to push him away. He made me want to abandon every boundary I established in my life to be held in his arms—a very unlike me behavior. Our conversation in that darkened room was how it should be though—I can’t do fast.
But before any further discussion on wants and needs and the bullshit that comes with it, Blake would sing for me. He didn't want to do it, but from my simple prodding he agreed. I had to admit, there was a sense of pride filling me at that.
I pulled Blake up to the stairs and smiled at Conall. “Junior my boy, Blake wants to sing something.”
Conall gave me a scowl for calling him junior, but he deserved it for calling me auntie. When he gave his attention to Blake, he made sure to abandon his crabby look. I let go of Blake for the first time since we left the dark room and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Do good by me up here. I’ll be quietly judging you from over there,” I said as I pointed toward the wall where his friends stood.
As I turned he laughed and gave my ass a quick slap as if it were a normal action for him to do. I gave him a scowl.
He shrugged. “What? You did it.” His smile was infectious. I turned my back to him and walked away without a word. I knew he watched my every step. I refused to turn back to him though—I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
When I reached the wall, Karl came up beside me and pulled in a tight smile as he shook his head. “You crazy kids… did you sne
ak away to develop... images?”
I was not one to be embarrassed, but telling Karl details of Blake's and my intimacy was wrong. I mean I was Karl's babysitter at one time. “Yep, we were developing film,” I said with a tight smile of my own. Wynn laughed at the comment.
I rolled my eyes at how this was going to become an inside joke and any time Blake and I were off together in private, someone would say we were developing film. I hate inside jokes.
There cannot be inside jokes. That means we will become more than just a quick romp in the darkroom. I can’t expect Blake to wait and take it slow with me. He’s young. He has to go sow his wild oats or some shit. I could not expect more from him than the simple possibility of maybes. I couldn’t expect him to want to be with me. I’m passed the stage of starting out in life. His friends were starting their lives, and he should be too—the marriage, the babies, the house with a dog running in the backyard.
My breathing picked up as I tried to calm myself and the annoyance at being flippant with my emotions—my well guarded heart. I couldn't do this to myself again. These moments with Blake have brought the little girl who dreamt of fairy tales to rear her ugly head again. I needed to be honest before it went any further. There was no way I could let us continue on without him knowing full well what he was getting himself into with me. It would be selfish of me not to tell him.
“I’ve never seen Blake this way,” Hannah said, breaking me away from my spiraling thoughts. I turned to her and my eyes locked onto her hand, running across her belly. I had to turn away from that motion now and I was sure I’d have whiplash in the morning if I kept it up. Even though it has been so many years, every time I meet a pregnant woman, I'm flooded with memories of my own pregnancy.
“What way?” I asked, chewing my lip and focusing on Blake speaking to Conall. He was the most handsome man I had ever met. Every movement he made captivated me and I didn't want to set him or myself up for disappointment. The age. Damn the age difference, he was at the age to be planning his life. And I was in the prime of my life, not the start of it.