by Anna Brooks
When the cops arrive, I give my statement, and they let Brandon go. I run to him and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my head in his chest. He holds me tight and kisses the top of my head. His arms welcome me, but every nerve in his body is tense and on edge.
Because his dad is a cop, word got around fast, and about twenty minutes later, Steve pulls up. I hear his booming voice, and when I look up, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so mad. Please don’t be mad at Brandon.
His eyes hone in on me, and when he gets close, he pulls me into his arms and gives me a hug. “You all right, honey?”
“Yeah,” I sniffle, “I’m fine. Thanks to Brandon.”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll make those little shits pay for what they did.” He hands me back to Brandon and pats his son on the back before walking away to talk to the other cops.
I don’t know what to say, so I just twist my fingers in my ponytail and cuddle tight with Brandon.
He takes me to his car, and after shutting my door, slowly walks around to his side. He stands by his door, hands his hips, breathing heavy. When he finally gets in, he cups my face in his hand and whispers, “I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life. I thought I lost you.”
Chapter 2
Brandon
I SIT ON MY front porch after dropping Mary off at her house. She insisted that she was fine, but I stayed for a little while to make sure.
I’ve been in some intense situations before. There’s nothing like being one pitch away from breaking the school record or one hit away from a win. In those situations, I thrive. I look my opponents in the eye and silently dare them to push me. An entire baseball field filled with fans—parents, students, and teachers—can either be cheering me on or booing me. It doesn’t matter; I keep calm and play baseball. And I do it well.
Tonight when I couldn’t find her, I thought I was going to pass out. Fear like I’d never felt coiled inside me, and I used every ounce of fight I had in me to get to her. For those minutes I couldn’t see her in the dark, my heart felt like it was going to fall out of my chest. As soon as I got the three minions off me, I ran in the direction I saw her shadow being pulled. I felt the walls and found a door. When I opened it and saw her being groped by that fucker, his arm raised like he was going to punch her, I lost my shit.
Her cry hit me in the gut. Once I got my hands on the fucker who had her on the ground, I’m not sure I would have stopped if the security guards hadn’t pulled me off. Never in my life have I felt that much anger. Not even anger, but a kind of rage I didn’t know existed.
My head jerks up when a car door slams, and I scoot over so my dad can sit down next to me on the step.
“You all right, son?” He squeezes my shoulder.
“Ha. Not sure all right are the words I would use, but physically, I’m fine.” I open and close my fists and hide a wince at the pain from my swelling knuckles.
“I know that. I didn’t teach you to fight so you could get your ass kicked. Proud of you, too. But I’m not talking about your body. I’m talking about your heart.”
I shake my head and lower it in my hands. “It’s my job to protect her, and I didn’t do it.”
“I’m not so sure. You fought off three guys your own size and saved her from God only knows what. I think you did a fine job.”
“He never should have been able to touch her in the first place.”
“You were taken off guard and outnumbered in a dark haunted house. You did the best you could. And your best was pretty damn good.” He leaves no room for argument.
I shrug and continue to stare out toward the street. He stands and says, “I know you love that girl. We all love her. And pretty soon you’ll be old enough to make the kinds of decisions about her that will change your relationship. But I still stand by my rule. You wait until you’re out of high school.”
I nod, and he goes inside, the slamming screen door signifying that I’m alone again. He told me about the Mary rule when I was fifteen. Apparently, he saw the way I was looking at her and lectured me that night. He told me that she was too special to ruin our friendship with teenage hormones. If I tried anything with her, he wouldn’t allow her to ‘sneak in’ at night anymore. He only allows it because he knows her parents are worthless.
Mary doesn’t tell me anything about them other than they’re not home a lot, and when they are, she still feels alone and sometimes scared. I’ve asked my dad to look into them, see what’s going on, but he just tells me to keep doing what I’m doing and that he’s keeping an eye on things.
I’m also afraid to give in to my feelings because I’m afraid it will ruin our friendship. She’s my best friend, and I love her more than anything. I don’t want that to change.
* * *
We’re a week from graduation, and I’m playing in my last high school baseball game out of state tomorrow. It’s Friday night and Mary and I are in an epic MarioKart battle.
“Stop being a jerk and let me pass!” she yells and bumps me with her shoulder. Her bare shoulder. The tight red tank top hugs her body perfectly, and I can’t stop the heat that runs down my arm straight to my dick.
Our eighteenth birthdays were about a month ago, and I’m still trying to keep our friendship intact. We’ve made out a few times, dry humped a little, but I don’t let it go any further. I just can’t. I promised my dad I would wait until we were out of high school. If I’m anything, it’s honest, and for all he’s done, all the times he’s let her sleep over, I can’t betray his trust. My dick doesn’t agree, but it’s just a little while longer, then I have big plans for us.
“Nope. Sorry. I love you, but I won’t ever let you win.” I chuckle when her Princess Peach car spins and falls off the track.
“You’re such an ass.” She throws the controller on the coffee table and pouts. Her crossed arms make her boobs sit higher, practically spilling out of the flimsy shirt.
I’m painfully hard now and know I need to do something to tame my dick. Clearing my throat, I set my controller down. I’m about to get up when she throws herself on top of me, hands on my neck, and tickles the shit out of me. I should have never told her about the one place I’m ticklish.
“Dammit, Mary. Stop!” I laugh and try to grab her quick fingers. She squirms around and stills when she lands on my throbbing erection.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Her eyes bore into mine, and I hiss when she grinds onto me. Holy shit, she feels good. Hot. So damn hot.
Her hands slowly slide up my neck and fist my hair. Leaning down so her mouth is inches from mine, she whispers, “Brandon,” then circles her hips again.
“Mary. Stop,” I plead, squeezing her hips, not sure if I’m pushing her away or pulling her closer.
“Please,” she begs.
I lean up and press my lips to hers, trying to show her how I feel without the words. Once I speak them, I can’t take them back, and I’m too much of a pussy to tell her yet. I wrap my hand around her ponytail and pull her head back, then set her on the couch and walk away, needing to distance myself before I do what I really want to do. What I’m craving. What my body tells me is right.
“Brandon. Stop. Don’t leave.”
I stop in the doorway and turn with one foot on the step. She rises from the couch and grabs her controller. When I realize what she’s doing, I shake my head.
“Boom. I beat you, sucker!” She dances around with the controller and kisses it, taunting me. When she makes her way to me on the stairs, she leans up and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Love you.” Her ass shakes when she walks to the fridge.
“You’re evil.” I grab my crotch and adjust myself, not giving a shit that she’s watching.
“I am not. I can’t help it all you think about is sex.”
“I’m an eighteen-year-old man. What do you expect? You sitting there, pushing your boobs up and rubbing yourself all over me.”
She tosses a soda at me and I catch it, grateful for a distraction. The cold bubble
s do nothing to cool down the heat inside as they slide down my throat. For good measure, I slam the entire can. It serves as both a distraction and also to give myself a minute to calm down.
“Boy.”
“Huh?”
“You’re an eighteen-year-old boy, not a man.”
“Okay, little girl. Whatever.” I again grab at my crotch, and she laughs.
“What is it with you and that thing? Seriously. You act like if you don’t touch it every ten minutes it’ll fall off.”
I crush the can and toss it into the garbage, purposely not answering her. I only touch it so much because every time I’m around her it has a mind of its own, and I have to move it so I don’t get permanent indentations from my zipper.
“I’ve gotta go to practice. Want me to give you a ride home?”
She lowers her head and gives a rough shake.
“No?” I ask.
“No,” she whispers, “I’ll just go to the library.”
Dammit. I wish she would tell me why she refuses to go home. I know her parents suck a big one, but there’s gotta be more. I’ve begged her to tell me, but she shuts me down right away.
“Just stay here,” I offer. My family loves her. I’m sure she could move in without an argument from my parents. Travis is fourteen, so he really doesn’t care about anything.
She raises her head slightly, just enough to connect with me. The piercing green of her eyes takes my breath away.
“No. It’s fine. I have to study for finals anyway.”
I know she’s lying, but I don’t push her. I’ve found very quickly that it’s the easiest way to piss her off.
“All right. Come on.”
I grab her hand and we walk to my car. Once inside, I cringe when she puts country music on. It’s worth listening to just to see her smile, though, so I don’t say a word.
* * *
“Hell yeah, Brandon!”
“We won!”
“Woohoo!”
All the yells and cheers in the locker room are deafening. I laugh and celebrate along with my friends, but the one person I wish was here isn’t. Mary is back at home, and I miss her, even though it hasn’t even been a day since I last saw her.
“Let’s go celebrate! I got the room number to those girls who invited us,” Donnie, my friend and the team’s catcher, says.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Come on. One night away from the ball and chain. Live a little.”
I shake my head and laugh him off. The guys are always giving me shit about Mary. They say I spend too much time with her, I’m pussy whipped, and I follow her around like a puppy. All of which are true on some level, I guess. But I don’t give a shit.
“Dude. You’re going to college in a few months. You’re really telling me that you ain’t gonna tap another ass aside from Mary?”
Little do they know that I haven’t yet. What we do or don’t do in our relationship is our business. Nobody else’s. And I want to, and I will. Just not yet. Soon, so fucking soon.
“Why are you so worried about my sex life? You should worry about your own, buddy.” I hit him with a towel and finish getting dressed.
“’Cause, man. You’re a good dude, and I hate to see you tied down by one chick.”
“I’m not tied down, all right?”
“Whatever, man.” He slams his feet into his shoes and stands to readjust his hat. “I just don’t know how one bitch can be—”
I grab him by the collar of his letter jacket and slam him against the wall. “Don’t call her that.”
“Yo. Chill, Parker.” Juan grabs me and pulls me away.
“I’m fine.” I throw my shirt over my head. “It’s cool.”
“Hey, my bad, man. I didn’t mean it like that.” Donnie sticks out his hand, and I shake it.
“Whatever. I’m outta here.”
I elbow my way out of the locker room and walk to the hotel. I’m supposed to wait for the team, but I don’t give a shit. As soon as I get into my room, I fall face down on the bed and punch the pillow a few times. The frustration of not actually being with Mary is starting to drive me crazy.
My phone rings, and I catch my parents’ name on the caller ID.
“Hello.”
“Brandon! You won, I’m so proud of you!” my mom yells. She and my dad couldn’t come because he had some banquet for the station this afternoon.
“Thanks.”
“What’s wrong?”
She’s not only my mom, but also a therapist. I get both sides, sometimes at the same time. Both a blessing and a curse. She’s taught me so much about communication and shit. But sometimes, when I don’t want to talk, it’s really annoying that she can read me so well . . . even over the phone.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not true. Can I help you with something?” Her voice has dropped an octave now. I swear she’s better than any lie detector test out there.
“No. It’s just . . . Nothing. Nevermind.” What was I thinking? Attempting to talk to my mom about Mary.
“Brandon. I may be your mom, but you know you can talk to me about anything and I won’t judge you. If this is about a girl—”
“Mom, no. Just. Stop. It’s fine. How was the banquet?”
“It was great. We had a good time, but we wish we could have been at your last game. I feel horrible.”
“You’ve been to every other one, it’s fine.” And they have. They’ve always been my biggest fans, too. I got lucky with a great set of parents.
“Well, I’m off to bed. Just wanted to say congratulations.”
“Thanks, Mom. ‘Night.”
“Good night. I love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
I hang up my phone and rub my hands down my face. I just need to do it. Tell Mary that I’m actually in love with her. We’ve skirted around the subject, but our feelings for each other are just . . . there, and it’s about time we sit down and actually talk about it. It’s fucking time. High school’s done, which means Dad’s rule is done, too. Tomorrow. When I get home, I’ll tell her. I can’t pretend anymore. When I leave for college, I need to know that she knows she’s mine.
The phone rings again, and I answer it without looking at the caller ID, ‘cause I’m assuming it’s my mom again.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, son. Wanted to say congrats. I didn’t know your mother called otherwise I would have talked to you then.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You don’t sound too excited. And I don’t hear a bunch of yelling, so that must mean you’re alone. What gives?”
What is with my parents? God, I can’t get anything past them. I don’t want to talk to my dad about this again. He knows how I feel. I’m eighteen; I don’t need his permission anymore.
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll let you go. Congrats again. I’m proud of you.”
I hang up and grab a quick shower. Right as I’m getting out my phone rings again. Jesus, they’re annoying sometimes. I race to my bed and pick it up.
“Yes? What did you forget to tell me?” I laugh.
The silence on the other end confuses me, and I pull it back to see Mary’s picture on the screen. Her beautiful face always makes me smile, but my gut tells me something different right now.
“Mary?”
Her breathing is heavy, but she’s not talking.
“Mary, talk to me.” I pick up my hotel phone and dial my dad. I tell him to get over to her house because something isn’t right. He doesn’t question me, just says he’s on it. He’ll call for backup, but because we live so close, he’ll get there first.
“You’ve gotta give me something, babe.” Still nothing. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and images of her hurt and bleeding flash in front of my eyes. Hoping to get her attention or some kind of reaction, I yell into the speaker, “Mary Jane!”
Chapter 3
Mary
“SOMEBODY’S HERE, BRANDON. I’M scared,” I whisper into the phone.
“I know you are. Where are you?”
“Under my bed.”
“Just stay there and don’t move. Stay calm.” The breath he blows out is audible. He’s trying to be strong, but his voice trembles with as much fear as mine. “I called my dad. He and the cops are on the way.”
“Okay.” I attempt to cry quietly, not wanting the sobs to alert the stranger in my house to my presence. I’m in my sleep shorts and a tank top, hidden under my bed on the second level. Staring at the slit beneath my comforter and the floor, I’m waiting. The only light is coming from a dim lamp on my nightstand. Since I’m home alone, I didn’t lock my door for the night because I had just gotten out of the shower.
“What’s going on now?”
“More glass breaking. So far, they’re still downstairs.”
“You’re doing well, Mary. Just stay quiet and still.”
Footsteps echo on the stairs, getting louder as they ascend. When they get to the top, a shadow passes, and I almost drop the phone because my hands are shaking so badly. The telltale creak of my parents’ door opening gives me an idea. I’m fast. He can’t catch me.
“He just went into my parents’ bedroom. I’m going to run downstairs.”
“No!” Brandon shouts, and I pull the phone away from my ear to turn the volume down. “Don’t you fucking dare. Stay there. Don’t you move, Mary.”
“Okay. I’ll stay.” Still whispering, but it’s so quiet, I feel like I’m yelling.
A few more minutes pass before the footsteps pad to my room. Black loafers take up my line of vision, and I suck in a breath, dropping the phone. My hand flies up to cover my mouth while Brandon’s voice, muffled, still comes through the earpiece.
“What do we have here?” I’ve heard that smooth, creepy voice before. I can’t place who it belongs to, but he’s been to my house.
My mind is in overdrive, and I freeze for a moment, terrified. I try to crawl out the opposite side, but he seizes my ankles. As I’m pulled from under the bed, the cold wood burns my skin as it stretches. My shaky and sweaty fingertips grip the box spring, and I kick a foot free from his gloved hand.