Beatless (11 page)

The soft sound of her snoring signaled that I could leave. I got up and made sure she was covered, turned off the television, and killed the lights. Up in my room, I checked my email and a few other places before deciding I’d had enough waiting to be called. I had more than three names in my phone. So I called one.

Sarah answered on the first ring.

“Are you doing anything right now? I need to rehearse my audition pieces.”

With my newly acquired confidence, there was no way I wasn’t going to pursue a part in the musical Tucker kept talking about. He seemed overly excited about the production, and I wanted to be a part of it. No matter how small my part was.

***

The first step in not being alone is . . . not being alone. Not in a desperate way. In a ‘hey, I’m interested in being your friend – this is a two way street’ way. I’d always waited to be invited. Always been expected to just tag along. But I couldn’t for the life of me remember why.

It’s one thing to be part of a group but it’s completely different to be the one that’s there as a silent bystander. I’d been the extra. The secondary. I’d been the one walking behind the others because there wasn’t enough room on the sidewalk or in the hallway. Now I was keeping up step for step.

Doubt still crept in every once in a while but it was fleeting.

Because the holidays were just around the corner and time together would be tight, we’d planned one last dinner with our circle of friends, each person responsible for bringing a dish. It turned out to be a night I’d never forget.

“How do you not know how to cook anything? You work in a
restaurant
.”

Tucker threw a dirty look Sara’s way. “I’m not a line cook. But if you want some eggs, you let me know.” He slid the store bought pumpkin pie across the counter at her and she stopped it before it collided with the wall.

“Testy,” she tsked.

“I made green bean casserole. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” I lifted the covered dish.

“Very domestic.” Marcus chuckled and gave a pointed look at Tucker.

Berkley was hosting and she’d already plated a huge roast and a few sides, claiming that she’d made it herself. But I’d caught a glimpse of the restaurant bags in the trash bin in her garage when I was getting drinks from the second refrigerator.

We sat and pretended to be civilized individuals; though it only lasted a few minutes before something perverted was said and then all hell broke loose around the table.

Berkley lifted her glass and tapped it with her fork, causing all of us to quiet down. “It’s our last supper. And I just wanted to say that I’m glad that I got to know all of you. Whether it was for a couple years or less than one,” she smiled at me, “I think we’re going to be friends for a long time.”

I lifted my glass and pretended to toast with enthusiasm but it was lost somewhere between my head and my heart.

Conversation turned toward future plans and Marcus shrugged a little because he hadn’t planned anything past getting his certification.

Sara was still banking on Juilliard.

I had started filling out the paperwork for the Pell Grant and a few other financial aid options my adviser had suggested.

Tucker, of course, didn’t have an answer.

“You
are
going somewhere,” I told him quietly.

He slipped his hand into mine and squeezed. “I know. Let’s not talk about it tonight.”

We spent the rest of the evening playing music, reminiscing about the last few months, and eventually ended up watching a movie in Berkley’s home theater. The others drifted off to sleep, and Tucker and I were left awake, snuggled into two plush seats. Making out was our favorite hobby, and we wasted no time taking advantage of the gentle snoring of our friends.

“Come on,” he whispered in my ear, tugging my hand to lead us quietly out of the room. Once we cleared the door, he had my back against the wall, kissing me with such force that I pushed back a little.

“We’re not at my house,” I chided him.

“Then let’s go there.”

“We can’t just leave . . .”

He placed a kiss by my ear and his voice shook a little. “Yes. We can.”

In no time at all, I was standing in my bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I’d prepared myself for this moment over the last few days, going so far as buying a pretty white underwear set. It was completely see through, and when I picked it out I had a fleeting rush of shame that I was using my mom’s money to buy sex clothes. But it passed.

Sam was asleep, and even though she’d given us a midnight curfew, we had snuck in well after 1 a.m. I tried not to feel guilty about that, too. This was something that I wanted for me. Or at least I was convincing myself I did.

I stepped into my room, suddenly feeling shy and vulnerable in the tiny lingerie that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Tucker was distracted by my alarm clock again, fiddling with the radio knobs, shoeless as usual. But when the bathroom door quietly hit the stopper on the baseboard, he turned to look my way. The shock on his face was enough to make my chest bloom bright red.

“You don’t like it?’

He stood stone still, his eyes raking across every inch of my body from my face to my toes and back up again. “Of course I do.”

With wobbly legs, I crossed the room to stand in front of him. His hands reached for my waist, greedy to close the space between us. The bed felt the brunt of our weight when we fell onto it, tangled up in one another, me pulling at his clothes until they began to drop onto the floor. Each piece that was removed made my skin prickle with anticipation. I listened intently for any sounds from the room across the hall as Tucker breathed heavy across my shoulder, his finger lifting my bra strap off my shoulder.

“Do you hear that?” I whispered, leaning up on my elbows to listen for the tell-tale creak of my aunt’s door being opened.

He palmed my bra cup and moved his face to kiss my stomach. “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough.”

Like I’d slapped him in the face, he sat up and scooted to the side, his elbows resting on his knees. “What’s this really about? Because you’re clearly into it – here.” He pointed at my thighs. “But your head is off somewhere else.”

He was right. There was more to it. I just couldn’t muster the courage to say it out loud. Until I did. “I need to know what happens next.”

Tucker rubbed at his ear and eyed me slyly. “Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me I was going to . . .”

I nudged his thigh with my toe and curled my legs into my shaking chest. “Be serious.”

“I
am
serious. You’re practically naked.”

Pushing up to sitting, I sighed and reached for my comforter. Once I was covered, I grazed his thigh with my fingers. “What happens next? With us? I can’t just . . . I need to have something to hold onto, if I’m going to give you this.”

He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face roughly. “I can’t answer that. How can anyone answer that right now?”

“You’re right.” My throat tightened. “It was a dumb thing to ask.”

He reached over and ran his fingers across my neck. “Why are you like this?”

Mustering the courage to tell the truth was an inner battle I was quickly losing. I wanted to say,
I’m scared. All the time. Even when I think I’m not, I am. My mom’s not coming home anytime soon. Sam’s . . . not the same. My dad moved halfway across the country. I’ve been left behind. I feel alone all the time. Everywhere. And no matter how good it gets between us, I can’t help but feel like this won’t last either.

Instead I gripped his elbow and settled onto my back, pulling him down to anchor my body with his weight. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry I brought it up.” My kiss was timid. Unsure. “I just want this.” I could think about all of that stuff another day. What I needed was to allow myself to just be in that bed with him and forget about anything else. “I want you.”

He exhaled slowly, the air ruffling my hair as he moved a wayward lock from my forehead and bent his face to mine. “I want you, too.” His mouth was warm and inviting, teeth tugging and nipping my swollen lower lip. The comforter was pulled away and I lay beneath him, searching his eyes for some semblance of understanding about how huge of a deal this would be for me. Fooling around and making out in libraries or cars was one thing. And I’d thought I’d been ready that night, but my head was speaking louder than my heart or any other part of my body as I waited on that bed.

The heat in his stare as his hands roamed my figure only served to ignite the nervousness I was experiencing, so I closed my eyes and allowed him to search, finding every last part of me, each bend and fold, every soft spot that I’d kept hidden until now. It was slow and deliberate, the way he progressed down my body until he was kissing across soft lace and I finally, finally let myself go.

Being quiet was difficult, but under the glow of twinkling lights, we only sighed and whispered, listening to small gasps and the rustling of sheets as he removed the things I’d bought for him and bent over the side of the bed to retrieve a small blue foil packet from his jeans. I waited, open and shivering, until he nudged my thighs apart and silently asked for permission with his eyes. Gripping the base of his neck, tugging his hair gently, I met his lips with my own and reached between us to guide him. And when he pulled his hips back and pushed forward, I bit my lip against the discomfort that I knew would accompany my first time.

His eyes were shut tightly, brows knit together as he let out a small sound, and I couldn’t stop staring at him, the way his eyelashes fluttered before he moved again, deeper and slower. Lazy eyes opened to find my face and he started to speak but I wouldn’t let him, silencing him with my tongue in his mouth until he fell into a slow rhythm that took my breath away.

Sometimes, he took all of the air in the room. Completely from my lungs. This time I didn’t even try to fight it.

***

His lids were drooping with impending sleep as he held my hand against his chest and turned to kiss my head. “I forgot to tell you that you looked so pretty . . .” He fell asleep quickly and I watched his chest rise and fall beside me, one arm lifted over his head while the other cradled mine.

A small smile was all I could give, even though he wouldn’t see it. Because it felt like I’d given so much. And the finality of my decision weighed on my heart with a whisper that I’d changed more than I’d anticipated.

Mal,

You know how movie stars are always asked in interviews what superpower they’d like to have?

 . . . I think it’s a bullshit question.

The question I’d like the answer to is: What would you do if you had a time machine and could go back to change anything in your life?

For me, it wouldn’t be about altering the things I’ve grown to regret.

I’d go back in time and un-meet all of the people that changed my life for the worse.

And I’d spend more time with the ones that made it better.

Sam

~*~11~*~

He left before sunrise, quietly and with a promise that he’d call later. It was his day with Eliza, he reminded me, before wrapping me up in a warm hug and lingering kiss goodbye.

I sat in my bed for a while, staring at the wall and wondering exactly how I felt about everything. I’d gotten what I wanted, and yet the strange feeling of shame, or something similar, was settling into my bones. Like maybe, even though they weren’t here, I’d disappointed my parents with what I’d just done. For the last few months I’d pretended not to care. But my entire life up until that point had been about gaining their approval, and it wasn’t a thing I could just brush off altogether.

I had just drifted off to sleep again when my phone rang. My knee jerk reaction was to answer quickly because it had to be him. Tucker was calling and all my anxiety was for nothing. Everything was fine and nothing had changed.

And then, when I read the caller I.D., my mouth went dry and my stomach tightened in anticipation.

“Hello?”

“Hey. What are you doing?”

Lassiter was on the other end of the phone like she hadn’t been missing for months. Like no time had passed. And just like that, I was back at square one.

“Nothing. I was just about to take a shower. How have you
been
?” It seemed the obvious question.

“Oh God, I’m so good. I’m pledging a sorority next week. But I popped in for the weekend and we should get together for breakfast or something. Brunch. Meet me at the IHOP in an hour. I haven’t talked to you in
forever
.”

I wanted to say that I’d noticed. I wanted to say no. But that familiar pull – that part of me that missed her in ways I couldn’t reconcile – made me agree.

I stood in my closet trying to decide on what I would wear to eat with someone I really didn’t know anymore. Berkley had given me a huge box of her clothing one night before she left and I settled for one of her flannels and some tights. An old worn pair of boots. It was cold but not freezing, and the warmth of the shirt’s material was comforting as I drove my car over to the restaurant and sat in the parking lot. I kinda wanted to tell Lassiter how much it hurt that she hadn’t reached out to me. I wanted to reveal everything I’d been up to while she was gone. To tell her about Tucker and last night and my new friends and how I was planning on auditioning for the upcoming musical at the local theater. About Sam and my mom’s new boyfriend. About Beatless.

But as soon as I saw her cross the parking lot, digging through her purse, her perfect hair flying in the wind and wearing a thick cream colored knit sweater over skintight jeans – a magazine’s definition of physical perfection - every last word I’d wanted to say fell from my tongue and I rushed out of the car to meet her at the door and hugged her so tightly I thought I might break her in two.

She pushed back and looked down, smiling the same way she always had at me. Affectionately and mildly amused. “What are you
wearing
?” She laughed and rubbed the flannel between her fingers, scrunching her nose.