More Than We Can Tell

by Brigid Kemmerer

  “Are you going to leave the sweatshirt off for school tomorrow?” I eventually ask him.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t want—I’m not ready.”

  I glance over and let my gaze travel over his arms again, the muscled planes of his chest. My cheeks are going to catch on fire, but I’m also honored he trusts me this much. “I guarantee you, no one would be looking at your scars.”

  Now he’s blushing. He looks away. “You’re funny.”

  “I’m not even kidding. If I punch you, would you even feel it?”

  His eyebrow goes up. “You think you could make contact?”

  It’s the closest thing to flirting that he’s ever done. It makes me want to punch him, just to see what he’d do. I look into his eyes and see stars there. “Want to find out?”

  He laughs. “See? Fearless.” Then he sobers. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

  “What if I knock you over the guardrail?”

  “I’ll ask you to show me how you did it.”

  I love how there’s no arrogance in his voice. Especially since he could probably knock me over the guardrail with one finger.

  Maybe that’s what gives me the courage to make a fist, draw back an arm, and swing.

  He moves like lightning. I expect him to knock my arm away, but he doesn’t. Not really. He moves inside the circle of my motion, and suddenly I’m wrapped up in his arms, his face against my shoulder.

  He’s so warm against me. I’m breathless and giddy. “I should have tried to hit you a long time ago.”

  “You weren’t really trying to hit me.” He lets me go, and honestly, that’s a real shame.

  He’s standing now, and I stare up at him. “You stop a punch with a hug? I totally pegged jiu-jitsu wrong.”

  He laughs, full out. “The point is to stay close.” He pauses. “Distance gives someone room to hurt you.”

  “Can you do it again?”

  “Sure.”

  I swing again. He catches me again.

  “I think I’m going to need about a hundred more demonstrations,” I say.

  He laughs again, and I can feel it through his body. Saturday night I was ramped up over the feel of his back against mine. This is a billion times better.

  He’s slower to let me go this time.

  “So that’s really how to stop a punch?” I say to him. “I feel like TV has lied to me.”

  “Technically I should bring you to the ground, but—”

  “That sounds promising.”

  Clearly my brain has disconnected from my mouth. My face catches on fire.

  His eyebrows go up. Way up. He gives a choked laugh. “… but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that on the pavement.”

  I take his hand. “Okay. Come on.”

  He follows readily, and I lead him into the yard of the vacant house. My heart skips along in my chest. The grass is lush, and the ground is soft from the recent rain. Texy trots around the yard, dragging her leash behind her.

  “Show me for real,” I say.

  Rev hesitates. He looks like he’s deliberating.

  “Scared?” I tease, but my voice is breathy.

  “No.” He pauses, and a blush finds his cheeks again. “Maybe. Are you?”

  “I’m fearless, remember?” I close my fist and swing.

  He catches my upper body, but I’m not ready for the foot that hooks my leg. I’m on my back in the grass before I even realize I’m going down.

  His weight is heavy against me, his face close to mine. I can feel his breath against my neck.

  I would totally be okay with staying right here for the next hour.

  Texy chooses this moment to start licking my forehead. I giggle. “Texy—go away. Go, dog!”

  She licks my forehead again and trots off.

  Rev has drawn back. He’s looking down at me, his hands braced on the ground beside my shoulders. It’s doing amazing things to his biceps. “Was it everything you thought it would be?”

  I laugh. “All that and more.” I pause. “What happens next?”

  His eyes glitter in the darkness. “You tell me.”

  “You’re the jiu-jitsu expert.”

  “Well.” His voice is rough. “In jiu-jitsu, you wouldn’t let me get this distance.”

  “Distance is bad?”

  He nods. “Distance is bad.”

  My hands find his shoulders, just the bare brush of fingertips against his warmth, tracing down the length of his sleeve until I find bare skin.

  He goes completely still. The smile is gone.

  I let my fingers go still, too. “Is this okay?” I whisper.

  He nods—the movement small and barely perceptible, like he doesn’t trust his voice.

  I trace a few more inches of skin with my fingers, and he shivers.

  “Still okay?” I whisper.

  He nods again. One arm goes down to an elbow, and he’s closer now, a bit of his weight against me. His chest expands against mine as he breathes.

  “Okay?” he whispers.

  Now it’s my turn to nod.

  His fingers trace the line of my face, lingering like he wants to memorize the feel. The arch of my eyebrow, the slope of my cheek, the curve of my jaw.

  My hands have gone still on his arms. Every brush of his fingers fills me with warm honey. I reach up to find his face, his jaw just a little rough under my palm. I want him closer, all at once.

  Distance is bad, indeed.

  His eyes fall closed, and he turns his face to kiss the inside of my wrist. I exhale.

  “Okay?” he says softly.

  I nod vigorously, and he smiles.

  Then his lips brush mine, and I gasp. My fingers lace through his hair.

  Another brush of his lips, but this time he lingers a bit longer. His mouth moves against mine, and my lips part in response. He tastes like cinnamon and smells like vanilla and I am drowning in the moment.

  His hand finds my waist, the sliver of skin where rolling in the grass has pulled my shirt away from my jeans. My own fingers have slipped under his sleeve, and I’m gripping his shoulder, holding him against me.

  Then his tongue brushes mine, and it draws a low sound from my throat. His hand slides below the hem of my shirt, his palm hot against the skin of my waist. My world zeroes in on this moment, the warmth and the sweetness and the feel of his body against mine.

  Then Rev draws back. His breathing is a little quick, his eyes dark and intense. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I feel like I should slow down.”

  I’m almost panting. “I have no idea what you’re doing either, but I feel like you’re really good at it.”

  He smiles and draws back farther.

  “No,” I say. “Distance is bad.”

  His smile turns into a grin—but he rolls to the side to lie next to me. “Hold on. I’m having an existential moment.” His fingers wind through mine.

  “Is that a euphemism for something else?”

  He laughs. “No comment.”

  I cannot believe what’s coming out of my mouth.

  God, I’ve played online too long. Now that feels like a euphemism. Thank god I didn’t say it out loud.

  I roll up on my side and look down at him. The shadows almost hide his scars, and the moonlight makes his eyes sparkle. His face is open, his expression unguarded. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

  “Wherever you take jiu-jitsu,” I say, “they should put this in the brochures. I feel like more people would do it.”

  He picks up our joined hands and draws my knuckles to his mouth, dropping a kiss there. “I’ll put it in the suggestion box.”

  I shift closer to him, putting a hand against his chest to support my weight. “What else can you teach me?”

  He grins. I love how it lights up his whole face. This is a Rev no one sees. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Emma

  My imagined scenarios of making out wit
h a guy never involved jiu-jitsu.

  Not that my imagined scenarios ever went very far.

  Now they are. Going that far, I mean. Kind of. I don’t have any experience to speak of. But I’ve seen Game of Thrones.

  Great. Now I’m blushing in the grass. I want to hide my face. Thank god Rev’s gaze is trained straight up, at the stars scattered in the sky above us.

  Our fingers are laced together again, his palm warm against mine. Texy is flopped out in the yard somewhere nearby. My lips are swollen, my hair is a mess, and grass prickles my arm, but I don’t care. I’m thinking about the feel of his arms wrapped around me, of those brief moments when he would go still, and my world tunneled down to touch and breath and my heart beating so hard.

  I will never stop blushing.

  He rolls up on one elbow, eliminating half the distance between us. Looking down at me, he blocks the moonlight, and his face is in shadow, his eyes catching nothing but starlight. Our faces are less than six inches apart. “What are you thinking?”

  I bite my lip. I’m thinking my cheeks are going to burn right off my face.

  “Come on, Fearless,” he whispers. His eyes are so intense, dark and shining. His hand lifts, his fingers brushing a piece of hair out of my face. His touch is featherlight, but hits me like a bolt of lightning. Every time we break to breathe, I think it’s a good thing, but then he touches me, and I want more of it, all at once.

  His thumb brushes across my cheek. My whole body warms again, just from that one touch. My lips part, almost of their own accord.

  Texas barks.

  I jump a mile. I sit up like a shot. Our heads knock into each other.

  Ow. Hello, awkward.

  Somehow I manage to catch Texy’s leash, but she drags me through the grass before I get her under control. She was ready to bolt after an elderly man walking a tiny Yorkie. The man glares at us but continues walking.

  I rub my forehead and look at Rev. He’s doing the same thing.

  “Do you believe everything happens for a reason?” I say.

  He smiles. “ ‘Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.’ ”

  “I might need that one translated.”

  He shifts closer and leans in, as if to whisper in my ear. I shiver at his closeness. “It means,” he says softly, “things happen when they’re meant to happen.”

  His cell phone chimes. Twice.

  He straightens and sighs. “Like that.”

  When he looks at his phone, he laughs. “Dec wants to know if I left him in front of a church on purpose.” He slides his fingers across the phone to reply. “I should mess with him and say I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  I smile, then pull out my own phone to check it, too. The ringer has been off, but I don’t expect much. Mom probably didn’t even notice I was gone, and even if she did, she never worries when I have the dog with me.

  To my surprise, I’ve missed twelve messages. All from Ethan.

  He started at 8:30 p.m.

  Ethan: Have you logged on to OtherLANDS lately? Something is going on. You need to get to a computer.

  Five minutes later.

  Ethan: OK, there’s definitely something going on.

  Four minutes later.

  Ethan: There are signposts in all of your lands. I’m looking at one right now that says Azure M is a cunt.

  Every ounce of warmth generated by Rev has been replaced with ice. I can’t breathe.

  Ten minutes later.

  Ethan: Emma, please check your messages.

  Do you have any info on the guy who was sending you those e-mails?

  I looked for his earlier accounts but they don’t exist.

  Was he on 5Core? I know people who can track him down.

  I’m shaking.

  Eight minutes later.

  Ethan: It’s worse.

  Look.

  There’s a picture of what must be his computer screen. Right in the middle of my tavern, the gathering place for new characters, is a huge pornographic image. It’s blurry on the phone, but I can make out a woman on her knees.

  A small sound escapes my mouth.

  Ten minutes later.

  Ethan: Emma. I’m so sorry.

  The last message was sent fifteen minutes ago.

  “Hey.”

  I look up. My fingers are shaking on my phone. Rev is studying me.

  “Are you okay?” he says.

  “I don’t—I don’t know.” I read Ethan’s messages again. He’s going to get a read receipt on all of them at the same time. He must be sitting there staring at his phone, because I see him begin to type another message.

  “Is it your parents?” says Rev.

  “No—it’s just—it’s a guy I game with sometimes.”

  “Nightmare?”

  I swallow. “No. Ethan is a friend. But something happened. He—I don’t know what to make of these messages.”

  “Can I see?”

  I hesitate, then hand over my phone, just as a new message from Ethan appears. I can’t see what it says.

  I almost don’t want to see what it says. The first screenshot is enough.

  Rev reads for a moment, then looks up at me. “Emma. You need to—to call the cops or something. This has to be illegal.”

  “I need to go home. I need to shut down the game. I can block him—”

  “Don’t you think this has gone beyond blocking someone?” He scrolls through the messages again. “Does this Ethan guy know who’s doing this?”

  My cheeks redden. I grab my phone back. “No.”

  “He says he knows people who can track him down. Do you think this is someone at school?”

  “No—Ethan doesn’t go to Hamilton. I don’t—he’s just a friend in-game. I don’t know him in real life.”

  Rev frowns. “But he has your cell number?”

  “Yes!” I snap. “And thank god, because otherwise I wouldn’t know this was going on at all.” This is terrible. I need to get home. I need to shut down OtherLANDS.

  I’m a breath away from crying.

  Texy shoves her nose under my hand, and I rub her ears absently.

  “Can you fix it?” says Rev. “What can I do?”

  I look down at my phone.

  Ethan: Can you get home? I can help you find him.

  “Nothing,” I say. I look up at Rev. “I need to go home.”

  “Okay. Let me just take Dec his keys—”

  “No. I need to go fix this.” I swallow. That filthy image is burned into my eyeballs. I want to cry. I want to punch someone. I want to scream.

  He takes my hand. “Emma—it’s okay. I’ll go with you.”

  I jerk away and glare at him. “Are you kidding?” I demand. “Did you see what he did?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  I’m wasting time. I start walking. “I need to go home,” I say. My voice breaks. “Okay? Just let me go.”

  Rev frowns. “Emma. You need to tell your parents. Please, I’ll go with you—”

  “You think I can tell my parents? Are you kidding?”

  “This is not just some Internet troll,” he says, his voice fierce. “Why won’t you let anyone help you?”

  “Because I can handle this, Rev. You don’t understand.”

  “Emma.” He’s still following me. “I trusted you to help me. When I needed to tell my parents about my father’s letters—”

  “No.” I round on him. “You told me to go away. And I did.”

  He stops short. He knows I’m right.

  “I can handle this,” I say. “You told me that if someone didn’t want your help on the mats, that you wouldn’t help. That you wouldn’t interfere. This is me telling you. It’s my turn to tell you to go away.”

  Those words stop him in his tracks. I regret them immediately. It’s like I can’t control what comes out of my mouth.

  “Okay,” he says quietly.

  I wish he would follow me. He doesn’t.

&n
bsp; I slip into the darkened shadows along the road.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Rev

  Tuesday, March 20 10:05:44 p.m.

  FROM: Robert Ellis

  TO: Rev Fletcher

  SUBJECT: Proverbs

  He who sires a fool does so to his sorrow, And the father of a fool has no joy.

  My phone chimes with the e-mail as I’m walking up the steps to go in through my back door. The kitchen is dark, and I slide the glass door carefully. Heavy silence greets me, and I tiptoe across the tile floor. I never ate dinner, and I’m starving. I grab a box of cereal and a Gatorade from the fridge, then prepare to sneak down the hallway.

  “Rev.” Mom’s soft voice catches me when I step into the hallway.

  I turn and find her sitting with a book in the corner of the family room.

  “I thought everyone was asleep,” I whisper.

  “They are. I was waiting up.”

  “For me?”

  She nods. “How did it go?”

  It takes me a moment to realize she’s asking about Declan. Our trip to the prison feels like it happened days ago. I don’t want to talk about Declan and his father any more than I want to talk about what happened with Emma. Her parting words won’t get out of my head.

  It’s my turn to tell you to go away.

  I don’t know if I deserved that. Maybe I did.

  I wish I could redo it. I wish I could fix this for her. I wish I could protect her somehow.

  I drop onto the couch across from Kristin and thrust my hand into the cereal box. “It was fine. It was good for him, I think.”

  “You were gone a lot later than I expected.”

  “Dec fell asleep in the car. I drove around for a while.” I pause. “Then I went for a walk with Emma.”

  “Emma.” Mom’s expression warms. “I’ve been hoping to hear more about Emma.”

  My own expression darkens. “You have?”

  “Of course.” She pauses. “It’s nice to see you coming out of your shell a little bit.”

  Interesting. That pushes away some of my irritation. “You think I hide?”

  “I wouldn’t call it hiding. But I do think you keep your environment very tightly controlled. You and Declan both do.” She hesitates. “Honestly, I wondered if him finding a girlfriend would open a little door for you, too.”