Our Last Time: A Novel
Page 6
I made it my mission to change that. I snuck through his window, because I could. His bedroom was on the bottom floor, and he never locked his swingy window. I knew I’d be able to get inside. His mom, Trace, slept on the top floor, and had always been a heavy sleeper. Before Kennedy and I knew what sex was, I would spend the night at his house all the time. We’d watch movies, eat food, and play random kid games. We liked to go outside and ride our bikes, mostly, and at night when Trace was asleep. That was before we built our home, so now that we had our home, it was okay that we couldn’t spend the night at each other’s house anymore. We had our own plans. I wanted to surprise him on his birthday, so I took a chance and snuck through his window. I couldn’t call him. This was the only way.
He groaned and turned so his back was facing me as I sat on the edge of his bed. He was wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a plain T-shirt.
I punched him softly on the left ass cheek, and he muttered a nearly inaudible, “Ow.”
I smirked. “Kennedy, it’s your birthday and it’s time to party like it’s your birthday.”
“What could we possibly do at this time, Will?” he asked gruffly.
“Oh, I don’t know…” I teased, as I lay down on his bed behind him, and hiked a leg over his hip.
“Get you and your estrogen away from my caboose.”
Kennedy was still as a board and his tone had been low, but I hadn’t taken it into consideration at the time. I was just teasing him.
I listened, and sat up on his bed. My feet were dangling just above the floor as I turned my head to look at the back of his. I was relieved when I saw the smile on his face as he turned around on the bed to face me.
“Party like it’s my birthday, you say?” he was whispering, and he looked like he had an idea.
I burrowed my eyebrows and nodded in his direction.
His smile had gotten bigger. “What if I was wearing my birthday outfit, you know? To celebrate this big eighteen.”
“Kennedy…”
“I wouldn’t be alone,” he had cut me off. “You’ll be right there with me.”
He was smirking, and I hadn’t quite understood what he was going on about. He seemed thrilled with the idea he had. “What are you talking about…?” I paused.
“We should go streaking.”
“No, Kennedy.”
“Hear me out, Will,” he urged.
I sighed. “I don’t want you to see me naked, and I don’t want to see you naked.”
He crinkled his face at me as his hand reached the center of his chest. “Ouch. I was thinking you’d be begging to see me naked by now.”
He was sarcastic and he was smiling.
I rolled my eyes. “You said for me to hear you out. So I’ll hear you out.”
He sighed a hopeful sigh. “We can wear blindfolds so we won’t be able to see each other’s birthday elements.”
I hadn’t known how to shut it down successfully. “We won’t be able to see where we’re going, and what’s the point of me being naked if we’re going to be blindfolded? It’s not my birthday, it’s yours.”
He shook the bed by rocking his hips in frustration, while making a small gurr sound. “It’s my birthday, and I want us both naked in the streets on my birthday. If seeing me naked is a problem, we can wear blindfolds. We do everything together, remember? This is a memorable time,” he went on, and the determination in his voice had me sighing yet another faltered sigh. Jesus. How could I tell him no if he was that into doing it?
“What can we do about the not-seeing-where-we’re-going situation? How would we get back home?” I asked him. I was reacting like a mid-class mother, but I had always worried too much.
He tilted his head on one side, then the other. “What if we were roped together and I ran behind you? You wouldn’t have to wear a blindfold if we did that, and you would guide me in the right direction,” he said, shrugging.
“Where do you get these ideas?” I grumbled. Only he would suggest something like this. “And people would also see us naked as they drove past, Kennedy. This is a small town.”
“Stop trying to back out, it’s happening,” he grinned. “We’re running in the streets, and we’re both going to be wearing our birthday outfits doing it.”
I was struggling with a response.
“I have four yards of rope on the top shelf in my closet, and a few ties for when I dress fancy. Let’s just do it without thinking about the outcomes. It’ll be fun,” he smiled goofily, and I ended up chuckling under my breath.
“Why do you have a rope in your closet? Is there something you’re hiding from me?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I still have the rope we used when we were kids, and would play tug-of-war. It’s like a trophy, because I always won our tug-of-wars.”
“You’re a guy,” I defended.
“We were like seven, though, Willow.”
He had a point, but it was still a surprise that he’d kept it.
“Let me think about this for a moment.”
He got off the bed after a few silent seconds, and got on one knee in front of me. I sighed as he looked up to catch my gaze, and he grabbed my hands.
“Willow Renee Monroe, may I please have the honor to spend my eighteenth birthday with you as my streaking partner?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is there someone else in line?”
He scoffed. “It wouldn’t be nearly as special with anyone else.”
This was strange, but I loved Kennedy more than I loved myself. I’d worry about someone seeing me naked and running in the streets - with Kennedy also tied behind me wearing a blindfold - later. It was his birthday.
“Get the supplies,” I muttered, pushing his face to the side with one of my hands.
I couldn’t believe I was going to actually do this, and he was excited as he quickly got up and went to his closet to fetch whatever he had suggested to use.
How was this a good idea? I mentally told myself to live in the moment, because it was for Kennedy.
12:46a.m.
I tied the tie over Kennedy’s eyes, and wrapped one end of the rope around his bare waist from under his shirt before I turned away, and we stripped. Our clothes were now bunched in separate piles outside near Kennedy’s bedroom window.
I picked up the other end of the rope that was lying next to my feet, and wrapped it around my waist.
“Are we just going to run for it?” I asked, as I tightened the knot at my waist a little.
“Yeah, start jogging,” he answered, and in a much louder voice than I expected. He wasn’t being very secretive.
“Why are you talking so loud?” I hissed under my breath.
He chuckled. “I think it might have something to do with my lack of sight, but that doesn’t really make sense.”
He was quieter that time, so I pushed my shoulders forward and took a deep breath. I grabbed some of the slack in the rope. “I’ll pull on the rope a little if you’re traveling too closely,” I said.
“How would you know?” he asked slowly.
Deep down, or secretively - I knew Kennedy was self-conscious about me seeing him naked. But I wasn’t going to look at him. Not on purpose, anyway. “If the rope is dragging the ground, you’re too close,” I answered.
I wouldn’t want any accidents to happen, even if it would be funny.
He answered with an, “Okay,” and I slowly started moving.
It was weird, because it hadn’t felt like what I expected it to feel like. When we were jogging on the sidewalk and passing the minimal street lights, it felt kind of…freeing. Kennedy was whooping - shouting - and I wasn’t cringing to the sounds, because he was happy. I also felt pretty happy myself. He was wearing a blindfold, running down the street naked - with a naked me attached to him, and guiding him.
It was funny, and I was laughing. When a car would pass us, I’d laugh harder, and tell Kennedy a car just passed us.
When Kennedy spoke, and said, “Maybe we should turn a
round now,” something dawned on me. How would I turn us around without seeing him naked?
My eyes squeezed shut as I stopped. I pulled on the rope so Kennedy would know I was stopped. “I’m stopped,” I told him, just to make sure he knew.
I sighed as I heard his movements abruptly come to a stop behind me. “Kennedy, how am I going to turn us around without seeing your birthday outfit?” My voice was small, and kind of weak. I couldn’t come up with random ideas on the spot like he could. He was going to have to guide me through this.
“Hmm…” he paused. “Well, you can close your eyes, and hope you don’t run into me.”
Shit, I was going to see him naked. I had a feeling that I was. He hadn’t had to know if I did. Hopefully I wouldn’t react out loud. I was going to give it a shot, though, and close my eyes.
I distinctively held my hands out in front of me as I turned around, my eyes squeezed shut. I had expected to possibly touch his stomach or his arm, and I had figured that wouldn’t be bad.
I had stumbled a little through my third step, and my eyes flew open because I got scared - and I found him with a shit-eating grin as he held his crouch with his hands. His tie was no longer wrapped around his eyes.
I glared at him as my hands flew up to cover what they could cover. “Kennedy, what the-”
“I can explain,” he interrupted me. “It fell off, Will. A few feet back, it just flew off.”
“Why aren’t you shutting your eyes, then? Why’d you tell me to turn around?” I groaned out loud and stomped my foot on the ground. There was nothing I could do now, though. Kennedy had seen me naked.
“I panicked, and you turned around without warning,” he answered. He was casual about it.
I told myself it wasn’t a big deal.
“I agreed to do this, so I guess I asked for it,” I crinkled my forehead. “Is your birthday outfit too small for you, or something? Why are you covering it?”
I placed my hands on my hips because he already saw me naked, anyway. It was funny, because we were still tied together. Kennedy widened his eyes at me.
“It’s…” he paused, stuttering a little. “It’s just...you’ve never seen a man’s birthday outfit before, and this is mine you're talking about.”
I hadn’t faltered with a comeback, and my eyes narrowed on him slightly. “My ass was the first female ass you saw, and it was as I was running down the street,” I fired back, in a matter of fact tone. “And here I am.”
I was completely presented. He saw everything. I wasn’t sure if seeing Kennedy’s birthday outfit was a good idea, I was just thinking of what was fair.
“It’s my birthday, and I’ll hide it if I want to,” he smirked, and I decided I wasn’t going to pry. I hadn’t had to see his birthday outfit. The fact I had been a little disappointed made me feel guilty.
I rolled my eyes, and motioned for him to turn around. “You’re leading this time.”
“Okay, but only because I want to,” he countered, and then he winked.
I had thought I was a horrible best friend as we ran down the sidewalk, still attached to each other with a rope - and my eyes were glued to his ass. It was a nice ass, but it was Kennedy’s ass. I wasn’t supposed to like the way it looked.
I wouldn’t lose Kennedy just because he saw me naked, and I saw his ass. That couldn’t happen.
We’d always be just Willow and Kennedy.
August 24th, 2006, 9:46a.m.
Willow
I wasn’t dreading work today, because I had two new patients to distract me from Wyatt. I wouldn’t be as stressed, and I’d feel more like a nurse rather than a slave. Tessa had four patients to care for, and she had told me she should have taken Wyatt because she cared for him before, and would know how to handle him. I told her it was too late now, because he was set on having no one but my attention. I hadn’t known why he was set on me. Maybe it was because he hated me for some reason, and wanted to see me with red eyes and satanic demon coursing through my veins. He’d gotten his wish, if that were the case. I’d felt like I was ready to murder by the end of all of my shifts.
I had my hair up today in a small ponytail. A few strands settled on the back of my neck, because my hair was too short to be in a ponytail, really. I hadn’t minded it. I no longer had bangs like I’d had when I was a teenager. My hair was layered now, which made it harder to put it up any type of way. My face was bare, and I was exhausted from lack of sleep. I was going to be sluggish today, and Wyatt was going to have to deal with it.
Karrie Timmons was my first patient to arrive; she came in sometime in the middle of the night. She was only twenty-two years old, and she had a visitor with her who appeared to be a boyfriend or maybe a husband. She had to get her stomach pumped because she accidentally overdosed on pain killers when she had too much to drink. She had claimed it was an accident. I believed she had suicidal thoughts, and hadn’t wanted to admit it in front of her visitor. I’d talk to her alone later, when she felt like talking to me. She’d probably be leaving sometime around noon, but that only depended on what she’d tell me when we’d talk.
Farrah Albrooks was my second patient; she arrived this morning a few hours before I came in. She was thirty-four, and had been four months pregnant. Her husband was with her, and I noticed the grief held under both of their features - they were sad. She had complained about overly discomforting cramps, and an excessive blood discharge. It was something out of the ordinary, she’d said. I knew what was wrong after the mentioning of cramps, and blood in one sentence. She had a miscarriage. I noted for Doctor Venice to check her out immediately. I was fairly certain she had lost her baby, and I felt for her. It was sad, and it was terrible how often women would come in with this same problem, same tragedy. I wouldn’t have a soul left within me if I were to lose my Annette.
It was now time for me to go and check on Wyatt, and I was surprised he hadn’t been calling my name so far this morning. Maybe he had a visitor, I thought. That would relieve me significantly. I was ready for him to be taken out of here, and dealt with by someone else. Someone that loved him - if only I could convince myself that someone out there had loved him enough to take care of him. If he had a mother, I hoped she was close, so she’d eventually realize what had happened to him, and take him off my hands. Only a mother’s love could be strong enough to love Wyatt Blanquette, I believed.
I opened 209’s door after knocking, hoping to see someone sitting in one of the chairs on the far side of Wyatt’s bed. I came to find something very different from that. It was something I was starting to believe to be impossible.
“Hey, Willow.”
He was smiling at me. He said Hey to me, and he was actually smiling. I was freaking out on the inside. Was he playing a trick, or was he truly happy to see me? Why hadn’t he called my name - screamed it? He’d always be screaming my name when I came in for work. I approached his bedside slowly, waiting for the answer to be revealed. This was strange, and it only got more unfamiliar as I got closer.
“Wyatt…” I paused, my tone thick with suspicion. “Are you ready for breakfast? Are you hurting this morning?”
He touched my hand, and I flinched. I just studied him as he moved his hand away from mine, and rested it on his thigh.
His eyebrows were scrunched, and there was an uncomfortable line lying across his forehead. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for my behavior. I have my own personal issues, and I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. Can you forgive me?”
I was dumbfounded and hadn’t known how to respond. An apology from him was the last thing I had expected.
“Are you apologizing because it won’t happen again, or because you feel sorry I have to put up with it?” I asked.
I thought he’d have a snarky comeback, but he looked defeated and guilty when I asked him the question.
“I won’t be...unreasonable.”
He wouldn’t be unreasonable. If this had been a true statement, I’d be pretty satisfied.
I never made eye contact with a man for so long since I lost my forever, and it pissed me off that Wyatt Blanquette was the following. Remembering it was August, I thought that he couldn’t be April fooling me. This could be a real apology.
“Yes,” he answered. He cleared his throat. “But you have to be nice, too.”
I smirked, because he was the only patient I wasn’t nice to, and that was his entire fault. “The fire within me didn’t start until you showed up, Mr. Blanquette.”
“Can you not call me Mr. Blanquette?” he groaned. “It’s kind of weird.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “So it irritates you when I call you Mr. Blan-”
“Yes, it does,” he interrupted me. He sighed, and then dragged his hand softly over his facial hair. He had let it grown out over the past few days. “Sorry, I’m just a little moody, because I have no one to talk to here. I miss having students,” he said, then waved his hand at me, because he realized I hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. “I’m a teacher,” he clarified.
I nodded. “You can always talk to me, though, Wyatt. It’s kind of my job. You might not like me, but I’m someone,” I said softly.
He exhaled, his eyes remained on me. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Willow.”
“Then why are you so mean?”
“To avoid attachment,” he shrugged. “I might be here for a while. I have had two heart attacks in my lifetime. I will drop dead one day, and that could happen sometime soon. If I show vulnerability towards anyone, I’ll regret it.”