by Amy Henwood
What was happening to me? Forty-eight hours ago, I was watching movies, daydreaming about a future that I didn’t care if it came for another ten years. Now, I was finding myself falling in love with a man I had only known for that same span of time. A man I thought just might be falling in love with me simultaneously.
We didn't stay long after that. People were still coming and going, but at a slower pace, with the overall population dwindling.
He drove the entire way home with one hand on the wheel, as the other was occupied by my grip. Each time our bodies connected, my attachment for him grew. I needed to build an immunity to his touch. I needed to control the sensation that swept through me each time we contacted, weakening my overall strength.
He escorted me to the front door of my place and wrapped his arms around me once again. I buried my head below his collarbone, eyes closed, savouring the time spent within his muscular build. Pushing me back gently from the embrace, he gazed deep into my unprotected world, invading my exposed space. With two fingers, he gently lifted my chin and kissed me. His hands placed on my lower back, my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling one another closer. His lips were perfect. Tender and luscious at once. My heart paced faster—quicker. An immeasurable amount of time passed as he continued to bring himself in deeper, intensifying the submerged contact between us, creating sensations I have never experienced—sensations I didn’t know existed. He pulled away from my lips, keeping his forehead pressed against mine.
For once I wished Mia and her overprotective, watchful eye was there to coach me. She wanted this for me, but she never prepared me. Fortunately for my sake, and possibly his, Chase broke the silence. His lips were only millimetres away from mine.
“You better get inside before you freeze.”
I wanted to stay with him. I didn’t want this moment of perfection to end. I needed to be by his side forever.
Then the words sprinted out of my mouth without analyzing the potential consequences. “Do you want to come inside?” I asked in almost a whisper.
“Yes.”
My heart quickened, my thoughts ran wild. At last, someone in my bed. Someone to caress me and take my body to a place it had never been. Exposing it to new levels. Discovering feeling I had only read about. My lips became covered by a single finger, halting my racing mind.
“I want to, sunshine, do I ever, but…” He shot me down, and fast. “Tonight is not the time.” The build-up of anticipation sunk into a wormhole of abyss. I stared blankly at him, shocked by the rejection. “I want it to be perfect for you when the right time comes.”
He placed his lips once more on mine, the stubble of facial hair on his face only intensifying the attraction, making the rejection even harder to endure.
Reaching behind me, he turned the doorknob, forcing me in. I slammed the door more powerfully than I intended in expressing my frustration of rejection. I wanted nothing more to do with the day and threw myself into bed, still fully clothed. The sooner I could fall asleep, the sooner I could void my mind of him.
I slept until late morning. No sounds of rustling from Mia, nor the scent of coffee. Within our small rental and with a severe lack of ventilation, any aroma flourished fast and took time for it to diffuse.
The absence of those two main factors was a strong indication she went out with her newest and steady fling, Ryan, and had yet to return. At least she had settled down with one man for a while now and had been hooking up with him and only him the past several weeks.
Drinking hot, brewed-by-my-lonesome-self coffee, I reminisced about the events of my evening, wishing Mia was home to tell. I was bursting with the urge to tell someone, anyone. I dropped my barrier, and she was waiting to greet me, like she was expecting my confession.
Grandma, I'm sorry I haven't talked to you much lately.
Scarlett, you are getting older by the day. I would expect the time would come that your connection to me would fade.
No, that's not it. It's just…
I paused, giving my sole attention to her, showing her my family connection commitment to her.
I had my first kiss last night.
Great for you, honey. You deserve to find someone, the right someone; but hear me out, I am cautioning you to be mindful and careful.
Careful about what?
I need you to thoroughly assess everyone you involve yourself with. Not everyone is who you think they are.
Then she left. No goodbye, no radio sign off, just dead air in the black void. I set my barrier back up as soon as the vacant spot of Grandma became available, not wanting anyone to sneak into her location.
My coffee was no longer appealing to my taste buds as I analyzed her words. What was she trying to warn me of—or more specifically, who? Someone trying to cover their identity from me? The far-fetched idea had the utmost unlikelihood of standing true. Picking through each person I knew and every encounter we had turned me off as much as tuna on rye.
My hand was still wrapped in Andrew’s expertly dressed gauze and medical tape. It held up quite well, with still no ache of lingering irritation. I was no medical expert, but still thought it would be in the wound’s best interest to get some oxygen and a smaller bandage. No work or class was scheduled, so I felt comfortable of letting it go unprotected for the day.
I removed the tape holding on the gauze and carefully exposed the healing slice on my thumb, getting a better look of how bad the cut was. After seeing the never-ending flow of blood yesterday, my internal assumption was the worse outcome.
With a warm cloth, I gently wiped off the dried blood, uncovering the hidden cut, but there was nothing to show.
My hand shook. My mind went on the edge of mental. No open wound. No scrape or scab. Not even a scar. My thumb was perfect, as if it did not happen. But it did happen—I know it did. I was sure of it. There had been a copious amount of blood—dripping—on the floor at work. There had been blood on the bandage I removed. I checked to make sure I was not losing my mind. Red blood was indeed smeared on the cloth in my opposite hand and on the gauze in the garbage. But what the hell happened to the deep laceration?
The front door burst open, and a gust of cold air held Mia. Quickly, I put the gauze and cloth deep into the garbage can, covering it with tissue.
“Good afternoon.” I acknowledged her not-so-graceful entrance. “Coffee?”
“I have an hour before it's officially afternoon, and yes, please.” I served her a cup, and she expressed her delight with the still hot brew. “How was your evening with the hottie?”
“My evening? I should be asking you. At least I came home.”
“Touché.” A smile slipped out of the corner of her lips. “Ryan called late and wanted to hang out.”
“You went for a booty call?” I raised my brows.
“No—well…” She paused to caffeinate. “If you look at it that way, okay, but I didn’t lose in the end either.”
“Nasty.” I tried my hardest to prevent visuals.
“Be proud of me, Scarlett. I agreed to see him again in a couple days.”
“Settling down to a single male figure. Yes, that is something I can be proud of you for.”
“Time out,” she said, raising her hands shaping the letter T. “I didn’t say I was going to marry the guy. No lifetime commitment. How did your night go with Mr. Hottie? Any good action you wish to share with me.”
“Not close to the excitement for yours.” I remained disappointed in his flat rejection of me. “We did kiss.”
“Fantastic! Now details.”
6
Weeks passed with Chase, and my life had taken on a new normalcy. Eating, sleeping, partying, sprinkled with some studying when I had spare time with my new social life. The enjoyment of the extracurricular activities on my agenda put a real damper on my grades, but the cushy marks I posted at the beginning of the semester had my caring factor lowered—drastically. Honestly, who was going to remember if I was on the honour roll every semester, when my li
felong ambitious career was laid before me by none other than Mom and Dad.
Keeping up with Chase’s demanding social schedule was becoming harder to keep track of. We would attend one party, only leaving with invitations to another three. Anyone who crossed our paths would instantly be drawn to us like a gravitational pull. We had been granted power couple status. People craved for us to attend their parties in order to gain a higher social rank. Chatter would erupt when we entered a room. Comments of, look who they invited, or, can you believe they are here? What only movies depicted, I was living.
I hurried inside my house, getting ready for another night out. I had improved my hair and makeup skills in the last weeks, as attending multiple parties a week had me well-practised. Once I was ready, I joined Dominic, Sadie and Brandon, who were waiting patiently in the backseat of Chase’s Civic parked in my driveway. We were going somewhere I had never been, surrounded by people I had never met.
We pulled to a stop a short distance away from my rental, Chase and Dominic led the way from the car to the house as Sadie and I traced their footsteps from behind, our arms linked.
She and I had grown close, evolving our friendship by associated relationship. She intently listened when I spoke, never interrupting me or adding in sly comments. She had even put in the effort of stocking overnight essentials at their rental, including toothbrush, hair supplies and razors, along with a minimum two full sets of clean clothes, ready to go, hanging in Chase’s closet, awaiting the day that ended with a happy ending.
The house was a red brick bungalow, with general home maintenance not on the to-do list. Soiled dishes and beer bottles were scattered on tables, shelves and any flat surface that was stable enough to support the janga-stacked mess. Scuff marks layered the walls from lack of any general caring; it took extra effort to look past the disgusting state of our host house.
A heavy cloud escaped the door upon opening, taking off with the breeze. The stench of smoke inside followed, burning the interior of my nostrils.
A bearded, long-haired, tattooed male—for a lack of better description—greeted us.
“Hey everyone,” his voice rasped from more than just a year or two of smoking cigarettes.
“What’s up, Owen?” Dominic responded, giving him one of those firm part-hug, part-handshake ordeals.
“Come on in,” he said, opening the door wider.
Sadie made herself right at home, retrieving drinks for the five of us. I used to get uncomfortable with her helping herself in places not belonging to her, but nobody had ever flinched at both serving herself or others. Maybe there was some unwritten party rule I was unaware of that once you were invited in, everything was free game.
I craved to be by Chase’s side, as I fell deeper for him with each passing day, but I also had the urge to divide that time with Sadie. She had yet to protest being stripped from Dominic to spend time with me, making her give up the opportunity to mingle with others.
Tonight, we were the lone females. Males generally outnumbered the females, but we had never been the only ones.
One item I had grown accustomed to was the taste of beer. Not every household carried the wide variety of drinks that Sadie’s did. Well, no one had yet come close to her selection.
This particular party had a different vibe to it than the others. The crowd was outfitted with bearded, tattooed individuals with much of the same demeanour as our host, Owen, setting an overall, uncomfortable tone. Multiple white lines of powder lay neatly parallel on the unsanitary coffee table. Chanting was followed by erupting cheers when a line disappeared into a willing contestant.
Chase was seated on the floor at the heart of the action. His legs spread apart and bent at the knees, I nestled my body into the provided opening.
Freshly rolled joints worked their way around the deformed circle of people. One landed in his possession, and without hesitation, he took a long drag.
Remember who you truly are, the voice said.
This voice in my heard was unlike any of the other spirt voices I had heard. When my barrier was up, I was able to block out all incoming spirts, but this one was different. This one talked to me when my barrier was on full guard, like an inner conscious, but with male vocal cords. Yet this time it sounded different, like there was a discrepancy in the usual voice I heard. This one posed a deeper, calming tone. The strangest thing was, the voice was familiar to me, yet I couldn’t pinpoint where I had heard it before.
Focusing back on my immediate surroundings, I shifted to the side, clearing my way from Chase’s exhale. He moved the joint past me without offering, knowing I would likely decline. The second-hand smoke hovering in the air was substantial enough for me.
Time moved with more beers, more smoke filled the house and more lines of cocaine disappeared, blurring my vision with it as I drank, inhaled and watched.
An unexpected but welcomed kiss was softly placed on my neck. As he slowly broke contact, I wanted him more than ever.
“Ready to go?” he whispered.
Unable to murmur any words, I nodded my head in agreement. He gestured Dominic, who motioned Sadie, who retrieved our coats. All movements orchestrated with precision like a well-rehearsed show.
Sadie aided in getting my coat on while Chase kept me upright with tight grips on my upper body. She took a turn at the wheel, as I enjoyed Chase’s company in the backseat. His arm nestled around me with fingers twirling my feather-mangled hair, tugging gently on release.
Once home, Chase assisted me up the three, maybe four, possibly five steps to my front door. My keys fumbled in my hands, dropping them on the ground in the process. Bending over to reacquire them, the thinned blood in my body rushed to my head like a gallon bucket dumped at once. I was stuck in the position, as any sudden movement would indeed cause me to faint. A hand at my outer thigh travelled down my pant leg to my ankle, reached between my feet and picked up the keys. With the keys clinking against my stomach, the hands gently assisted me upwards, preventing the possibility of passing out.
All the lights were off, with complete darkness falling across inside, as the door closed us in.
He maneuvered me to my room and pulled down my bedsheets. Kneeling on the floor, he removed my shoes and socks. Taking a hold of my wrists, he pushed my arms into the dead, still sky, running his hands down them and my torso. Halting at the hips, he pulled my shirt over my head with care, and across my arms. Next, he undid the single button and short zipper on my pants, sliding them over my hips, running his hands down my legs in the process.
This is it. The night Chase and I put the final piece of our relationship together. With his body tightly pressed against mine, my hands explored him. Taking him in slowly, savouring every piece. I was lost in the impending reality of forthcoming passion, not immediately noticing him guiding me to my bed, clothed only with my bra and underwear.
The moment I had longed for, only seconds away.
Gently, he laid me down and pulled the sheets up to my neck.
“You’ve had a long day, sweetheart. Get some rest and I will call you tomorrow.”
He set his lips against my forehead, kissing me once, following by a kiss on the tip of my nose. He whispered in my ear, “I love you.”
My door shut and he was gone. My visions of spending the night together were shattered within the moment of abandonment.
* * *
The succeeding morning was rough on the entirety of my body, with considerable emphasis on my head and ego. My movements came slow and patchy.
“Ah, shit!” I said aloud, acknowledging to myself that I had slept through accounting class.
I’m allowed to miss a class here and there, right? Kids do it all the time. I would consider it a sick day. After all, I was not feeling well. I managed to put food into my system and downed two ibuprofen for my headache and went back to bed.
I turned on my television and tuned into a daytime soap opera. I never watched soaps, so I had absolutely no idea what the storyline wa
s or who was dating who, and whose sister was sleeping with the gardener. Why is it that every family on soaps are rich?
I hoped the bland, slow-moving storyline would assist me in going back to sleep. My eyes did get heavy and I closed them for what I thought was going to be a brief moment. Hours later I awoke. Still feeling ill, I went to the kitchen for a drink of water. Mia heard me stumble around with elephant feet and exposed herself from her room. She had returned from class while I was sleeping the early afternoon away.
“Scarlett, we need to talk,” she said firmly.
“Hi to you too.” I expressed agitation in my response to her unsettling intonation.
“You must have had quite the night.” She crossed her arms as she spoke.
“And why would you assume that?”
“You could have woken up a war zone the way you came thumping in.”
“I don’t follow. I slipped into bed quietly, trying not to disturb you.”
She let out a huff. “Drunk people always think they are quiet, when in reality, including you, they are vicious lions.”
“And what promotes you in thinking I was drunk?” My limits were being tested with her.
“Isn’t it obvious? When you need someone to assist you in getting undressed for bed, you are clearly too intoxicated to do it yourself.”
“How would you know what did or didn’t happen?” My volume turned the dial right.
“You of all people should know. Our walls are not that thick, Scarlett.” I hoped she wasn’t implying that I listened to her sexual encounters. Little did she know, I had invested well over a month's wages into a high-quality pair of noise-cancelling headphones.
“You were the one coaching me through the beginning stages of my relationship with Chase. Doing my hair and makeup, taking me shopping for the right outfits and accessories. Now I am the criminal for being with him?”