Regret Me Not (8 page)

"Did it hurt a lot?" He continues to leave soft kisses on my nose, and forehead. I feel his heartbeat still pounding fast and furious against my chest.

"In the beginning."

"I'm sorry." There's such tenderness in his eyes, it makes me want to devour him like a piece of sweet chocolate. If only. 

I thought I'd be too nervous to meet his stare, but I'm not. I'm not nervous or self-conscious at all. What I feel is . . . Loved. I think I understand what people mean when they talk about the difference between having sex and making love. This is definitely making love. That's what makes it special. I can feel the love, like its a physical object, something tangible that I can hold in my hands and examine. The love is what makes this one of the most incredible experiences I've ever had. I just wish I could bottle it up to keep safe and carry it with me always.

Brayden rolls onto his side but is still right up against me. I run my pointer finger down his center, from his neck, down his chest, past his bellybutton.

"Ready for round two?" I tease.

"See, I knew you just wanted me for my body." He brushes a piece of hair away from my eyes.

"And what a body it is," I lift the covers and look him over.

"Keep that up and you won’t be joking about round two."

"You say that like it’s a threat."

He smirks and cups my cheek. "Not tonight. Give yourself a chance to recoup."

"Always thinking about me."

"I have to, it's in the job description."

"See that's what makes you the best boyfriend . . . " I cover my mouth.

"What's wrong?" He looks worried as his forehead crinkles and his eyebrows come together.

"I didn't give you your gift."

"You gave me the best gift ever when you gave me your heart."

"Nice try." I give him a peck on the cheek before climbing out of bed and reaching for my clothes.

He groans. "Do you have to get dressed already?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Uh, yes. What if you're parents have a nanny cam or something set up in the other room to watch you bad boys when they're not around?"

"Then I'd say we already gave them quite a show before."

"Brayden."

"Fine, get dressed." He rolls on his back, but I still feel the warming power of his stare as his eyes are fixed on me.

I throw my jeans and jersey on and scamper to the front hall where I inadvertently left my other shirt and the gift. It's not as practical as the jersey, but the sentiment is just as grand. Back in his room, Brayden is sitting on the bed shirtless, his pants button undone. I stop a moment and breathe as I take him in. He is gorgeous. I wonder how I resisted him for so long.

"What?" he asks, a smile drawn on his lips.

I shake my head and close the distance between us holding out the red gift bag. "Sometimes when I look at you, I can't believe you're real."

"Oh I'm real," He lunges at me, grabs me around my waist and tosses me on the bed.

"Brayden!"

I can't stop laughing as he attacks me at full force, tickle torturing me.

"See how real I am?" He backs away and I suck in large gulps of oxygen trying to catch my breath. "By the way, that is the best sound ever."

"What, me struggling to breathe?"

"You laughing. Hearing you laugh like that is incredibly sexy."

I raise my eyebrows at him in disbelief, clearly we have different criteria for sexy.

"It is." He leans in and his hand makes its way onto my stomach.

"Hey." I warn. "It's time for you to open your gift." I lift the once again forgotten bag between us.

He reaches in and pulls the cardboard box out. Turning it around in his hands. "I love it. Look at all these straight lines and right angles."

"You're such an idiot."

"It's what you do to me. And for the record, I'll love anything you give me because it’s from you."

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Hug me, squeeze me, and love me every day of your life."

"That's a given. Now can you please open it and see what's inside the box?"

"Oh you mean this isn't the gift?" He opens the box and pulls from it a gold plated trophy. Brayden turns it around before he reads the inscription written on the plate beneath the statue, "Boyfriend of the Year, Brayden Turner."

I know my cheeks are pink. I feel dumb and wonder why I ever thought that was a good idea to begin with. He doesn't speak, just turns the award around in his hands once again, studying the fake, little man on the pedestal. The longer he goes without saying anything, the more certain I am he hates it.

"Wow." The playfulness is gone from his voice. "I can't tell you how much this means to me."

"You like it?"

"I love it. It's my most treasured trophy."

I look up at his shelves boasting the many awards and trophies he's collected and give him a "Yeah right," look.

"It is." He says reading the sarcasm on my face. "And do you want to know why?"

I decide to play along, "Why?"

"The others all came easy. This one I had to work my ass off for."

*

As Brayden fixes the bed sheets, I walk around examining the details of his room. I'm not sure if I'll ever make it back in here. Something on his desk catches my eye. An envelope. I take a closer look and realize it
’s not just one envelope, there are a few thick envelopes placed one on top of the other. I know what they are. I pick them up and look at the names of the return addresses in the right hand corner; University of Miami, University of Michigan, University of Tennessee.

Brayden's arms wrap around me. He leans his chest against my back and rests his head on my shoulder next to mine.

"What . . . Oh." He sounds almost as deflated as I feel.

"Why didn't you tell me? You've been accepted to all of these schools?"

He tightens his grip. "I didn't want to upset you. And I don't know where I'm going yet."

I squeeze my eyes closed, grateful he can't see my face. Every one of these schools is far away. As if he can read my mind he turns me around.

"I'm still waiting to hear from Penn State. That's my first choice. That's where I really want to go."

"What about Rutgers?" I hate myself for even asking. I don't want to influence his college choice. I don't ever want him to compromise himself or his future for me. If the shoe was on the other foot, I know I wouldn't do it for him.

He shakes his head, " I applied, but they're not a good fit. They've been grooming a sophomore as next years starting quarterback. I won't really get a shot there until its too late."

"Oh." I can't help the disappointment that trickles out of my lungs and into my voice.

"We'll get through it. I promise."

He doesn't realize I don't want to get through it. I don't want things to change at all, but like so many things in my life, I have no control and no say over what happens. I know this amazing feeling of being loved and cherished will soon be gone. I have no choice but to prepare for the moment the happiness boiling up inside me overflows and runs out of steam.

Chapter 8

The Next Step

It's a good thing we took our relationship slow in the beginning because once the cat's out of the bag, and I know all I've been missing out on, I have an insatiable hunger for him. Brayden's no better. We have a hard time keeping our hands off each other.

"You have no idea how bad I want you," he pulls me close and whispers in my ear every time we're together. It doesn't matter if we're in the halls of school, or sitting in the living room. If alone for even a minute, we touch and grope and caress. While the desire is abundant, opportunity isn't.

I know nothing will ever happen in my room; I'm never alone in the house. My mother and sister are almost always home, especially if they know Brayden is coming. Still I try to steal some quiet time with him in my room. I settle for getting lost in kissing Brayden, and delighting in a few forbidden touches. But it never lasts for long.

Each time we find ourselves behind my bedroom door, minutes later brash pounding startles us.

"Hey, Kenzie," Jess calls from the other side of the closed door. "Open up. I have an important question to ask you."

With more attitude then brains I swing the door open. "What do you want?"

Her answer is always something ridiculous, something insignificant that could have waited.

"I need a stamp, you have any?"

Stamps? Really? She knows I don't mail letters. Anything I have to say is communicated over email or text messages. Why the hell would she ask me something so stupid? I narrow my eyes at her and don't miss how she looks at Brayden. There's something in her eyes that unsettles me. She's looking him over from head to toe and I can't tell if she's interested in him or if she's angry with him.

"I don't have stamps, go ask Mom."

"Mm hmm. You're awfully quiet, Brayden. I didn't interrupt anything did I?"

"Nope. It's all good," he answers back.

"You know the rules, Sis. The door stays open."

I can see the gleam in her eyes and the smile playing at the corner of her lips and I wonder if she gets off on being evil, or if it's knowing she broke up an intimate moment that has her looking so satisfied.

"You suck, Jess. Get out of here." I push her out and shut the door.

"Come on babe," he takes my hand and leads me out of my room. "Let's get out of here, you know she'll be back."

He doesn't seem fazed by her strange behavior at all. Me on the other hand, I'm pissed. And she does it
every
time the door is shut. If it’s not stamps, she's looking for her phone, or clothes. Anything she can think of. Instead of letting me simmer in anger, Brayden steals me away. During the day we go for a walk, but if its night time, he drives us to a dark isolated spot. Nothing ever happens. He doesn't even attempt more than some serious, mind blowing make-out sessions.

Brayden's house is no better. I don't even feel comfortable being in his house. I feel his mother's eyes on me. She's always cordial and polite, but I get this uncomfortable feeling, like she knows the thoughts I'm having about her son and she disapproves. Big time. Brayden laughs it off and tells me I'm paranoid. What he doesn't understand is that just because you think the world is out to get you, doesn't mean it's not.

*

The first warm Friday night in March, Brayden tells me to dress comfortably, we're going out. I have no idea that "going out" literally means we'll be outside.

"Where are we going?" I ask as his hand moves from the steering wheel to the top of my thigh.

"Where we can spend some time alone."

"Alone?"

He turns his head slightly in my direction and smiles, "Alone."

I want to jump up and cheer. Since my sister has made it her business to be so nosy and annoying, even the thought of trying to be alone frustrates me. Only three weeks passed since we had sex, but it feels like three months. We waited to be together, now I'm done with waiting. All I can think about is the next time, and how amazing it will be. It isn't until Brayden parks the car on the street outside the playground that I realize this is our destination.

"Here?"

"Here." He smiles.

Not sure what to make of this I don't move. I stay in my seat. It's not until Brayden opens the trunk and starts rummaging around in it that I get out. Once I reach him, Brayden hands me a couple of blankets before closing the trunk and locking the car. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he uses it as a flashlight, takes my free hand, and leads the way up to the clubhouse where we first kissed. He lays a blanket on the wood floor of the apparatus and sits.

"Care to join me?" He extends his hand.

I look around. It's dark, really dark, I don't see or hear any cars, just the rustling of the wind.

"Sure." I sit down next to him. I'm barely settled before I feel him lean across me, his hand is under my shirt, just above my hip. I want him to move it up and over. I want him to touch me in all the spots my body is aching to feel him. While I'm focusing on his hand, his lips press hard against mine. I don't care that we're out in the open, exposed. I'm willing to risk getting caught. I lift his shirt, I want to run my fingers across the muscles in his stomach, but he pulls away.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing."

I meet his lips again. We get lost in the kiss  and I try once more to lift his shirt. Brayden takes my hands and leans into me so that I move back and lie flat on the floor. He's on his side, and his fingers move to my hair, over my shoulder, down my arm. He isn't looking at me, and I'm confused. He reaches behind me and grabs a second blanket. It's already folded up, but he folds it one more time and gently places it under my head.

"I thought it would be nice," he says reaching for the third and final blanket. He opens it and tosses it over us. "If we could just lay here and look up at the stars."

We can't look directly up and see them, but if we look out to the side, there's a beautiful spray of stars across the inky, black sky.

"You want to star gaze?"

"I want to hold you against me while you star gaze and I look at you. I want to kiss you, or touch you, without worrying that someone's going to interrupt us and set you off."

"Gee thanks."

He laughs. "Go ahead, tell me it doesn't drive you insane when your sister comes knocking on your door."

"She should know better. If I would've done that when she was dating Mike, she would've kicked my ass."

"Don't you think that's the point?"

"You think she wants me to kick her ass?"

He squeezes me close to him. "The point is, she used to do it with Mike, so she knows exactly what's going on, or trying to go on, behind the closed door."

"And you're okay with this? with her sabotaging every . . ."

His lips meet mine, but I think it’s just to shut me up. It works, because I can't think of anything but the feelings his kiss stirs up inside me.

"She's not sabotaging anything," he whispers. His eyes cast down. "Can we forget her and enjoy the quiet time together?"

"Of course." I smile, and with my hand under the blanket, I reach down. Brayden closes his eyes and moans. "Kenzie." My name is little more than a whisper carried from his lips.

With one hand I unbuckle his pants. "I wanted to do this the first time we kissed, but you wouldn't let me."

"Don't. I didn't bring you here for this. Just talk to me."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Can I talk and touch?"

After a deep breath he answers. "Yes. As long as you don't stop talking."

"Do you want me to talk dirty, or did you have something else in mind?"

"You've never really been clear on what your plans are. I mean after college."

I stop touching and sit up. I don't like thinking about college, or life after. I have no idea what I want to do. None. I have no skills, nothing I'm good at, nothing that really holds my interest. All it does is remind me that in less than six months we won't be together anymore.

"Hey," he sits up and slings his arm around my shoulder. "What just happened?"

"Nothing. I just don't like thinking about the future."

"Why not?"

I shrug, and he pulls me back down to a laying position. This time I rest my head on his chest.

"Ok, I'll go first."

"You don't have to Mr. Future NFL star."

"Yeah, I guess that is what you'd think. It's all anyone can see."

I don't miss the hurt and disappointment in his voice. I move away and lean my head on my elbow as I look at him. "Why do you sound like I just kicked you in the shin?"

"There's more to me than just football."

"Trust me, I know." I trace his bottom lip with my pointer finger.

"I'm serious, Kenzie," he pulls my hand away and holds it. "What if I just want a normal life, with you as my wife and a couple of kids running after me when I get home from my nice, boring job."

"Like what?" I smile. "Have you ever thought about what you'd want to do if football doesn't work out?"

"All the time. Sometimes I think I'd like to be a police officer, or an accountant, I'm good with numbers and finding loopholes."

"You're too smart for that, you'd need something more challenging like . . ."

"I really like the idea of forensics. I'd like to be one of those guys you see on CSI."

"Well I don't think you really have a choice. You've been groomed for football."

"I know."

"And you're so good at it."

He doesn't say anything for a long while. He just stares at me.

"Would you still love me if I quit?" He almost sounds like he's playing, but I don't think he is. There's something serious in his voice.

I wriggle my way on top of him, and meet his lips. "I'll always love you, No matter what you do or where you are. You're a heart thief. You stole mine, and now it belongs to you."

The conversation ends. No more talk about our dreams, or the future. He let me off the hook, and I wonder if he did that on purpose, or if he forgot. It doesn't matter, we're alone together, and knowing how rare these moments are, we take advantage of the here and now. Within minutes, he's on top of me and all conscious thoughts are lost to the actions taking place under the blanket.

*

Spring races by. The more time we spend together, the faster the days pass. It feels like I'm in a time continuum vortex that speeds up each day to supersonic levels. It's a force I fall victim to. No matter how hard I thrash and kick, my efforts to slow life down are futile.

The rain pounds against the gymnasium ceiling. Some graduation day. The clouds in the sky have been dark and threatening all day. The crashing thunder starts as we enter the school building. At the last minute the administration decided not to risk having the ceremony outdoors. I don't care either way. The sticky, oppressive humidity still causes the robe I'm wearing over my sleeveless dress to cling to my skin.

I sit and tune out the speakers. Who cares what they have to say? It's not like their wondrous advice will apply to my life. Maybe it would have if I had a chance at a real school and a real life. As long as I'm tethered to this narrow-minded town, just like the bulk of its residents, I'm going nowhere fast.

I didn't want to come to the ceremony, but my parents insist it's something I'll cherish and want to remember. I don't. Not now. Not ever. I don't want to commemorate this moment or commit it to memory. I want to deny it, forget it. Pretend it isn't real.

I understand the meaning behind it. This is the moment before the timer buzzes and it all comes to an end. Before everyone leaves me treading water in their wake. It's not something to celebrate at all.

Before I know it the commencement is over. As a group we are asked to stand. The tassel is lifted from the right side of the cap and moved over to the left. We are officially graduates. Caps fly into the air and the gymnasium erupts in cheers. Everyone around me is happy.

Everyone but me.

I want out of here. Out of the building, and away from prying eyes. I want to be left alone so I could cry and mourn all that I'm putting behind me: everything high school meant to me.

My hopes.

My dreams.

My future.

Before I make it to my parents, arms reach around my waist and turn me around.

"You're not getting away that easy."

Brayden. I look into his eyes and find the strength to mask my emotions. It's easy to smile when I look at him.

"And why not?"

"Pictures of course."

Flashes are going off all around us. Even with the digital cameras and smart phones people use the annoying flashes. There's no time to get out of the way before Olivia comes bounding into me. I stumble backward, but Brayden's strong arms hold me up and secure me.

"I love you!" Olivia acting out of sorts, grabs my face and presses her lips against my cheek. "I love you so much, Kenzie."