Underwater (17 page)

I needed more.

I lunged forward, but my captive hands prevented me from getting closer. I kissed him back with eagerness, my tongue connecting with his. His hands let go of mine and he cupped my face. We kissed as if we’d done this a million times before.

His fingers moved along my jaw, then up until they were buried in the roots of my hair. He tightened his grip and pulled me even closer, swallowing me whole.

My hands were busy doing their own touching. I began at the base of his stomach, feeling his abs flexing under my touch. My fingers rose until they reached his strong and broad chest, up to his collarbone, until they touched the scar on his chin. I traced its path, feeling the raw and carved place where smooth skin use to be. I tore my mouth away and kissed the jagged lines. He needed to know that it was a part of him and he was beautiful to me, scars and all.

His body stilled, but I carried on with my inspection. When I was satisfied I hadn’t missed a spot, I looked up and found him watching me, his eyes wet with unshed tears. They shined with sadness, acceptance, warmth, and affection.

I watched him intently as I braced myself to expose my soul to him. It was time. I would not run away anymore.

I opened my mouth and said, “I meant every word.”

I
was too shocked to react, staring at her in bewilderment. I imagined myself walking toward an imaginary cliff and screaming my happiness at the top of my lungs, shouting to the world that the girl I wanted so fiercely had finally admitted she needed me as much as I needed her.

I didn’t mean to kiss her like that. It was a split moment decision where my body acted on its own.

I wanted – I took. I had no control over it.

I just couldn’t stand the fact that she refused to open her eyes and look at me. I knew what I would find hiding in her green depths. I couldn’t let her run away from me anymore. I’d promised her I would be her friend and we’d take things slow, and I had every intention of staying true to my word. But at the same time, I had to get her to admit her feelings for me.

So I’d kissed her. I kissed her like I had never kissed another. Everything I’d experienced before that moment disappeared into oblivion, washed away, never to surface back into my conscious. From this day forward, I would only remember the touch of her full, sweet lips against mine.

I could kiss her forever if she’d let me.

My greedy body ached to feel her warmth, to touch the softness of her long, silky hair, to breath in the mouth-watering scent of vanilla that filled my nostrils and lured me even closer. I was afraid for a moment I would crush her with the intensity which I held her. I couldn’t help it; I pressed her closer to me. All I wanted was to be consumed by her. And I was. I devoured her and she tasted better than every sweet treat I’d ever tasted.

When I felt her small hands hugging me, I finally felt peace. I felt at home.

In one swift movement, I picked her up like the princess she was and walked towards the living room with her in my arms. She laid her head on my shoulder, and if it was possible, I tightened my grip on her even more.

In three long strides, I placed her carefully on the couch and took a step back. Her eyes were wide with surprise and curiosity. With one side of her lip curving up, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“I promised you my famous hot cocoa. Wait here and I’ll go make it for us. You can turn on the TV, put some music on or whatever. Make yourself at home.”

I was going to make her the most delicious hot cocoa she had ever tasted in her life, with the hopes she would come back even if it was just to drink it again.

I put a saucepan on the stove and put in the cocoa, sugar, salt, and milk, then whisked them together over medium-low heat. When the cocoa and sugar were dissolved, I added the rest of the milk and stirred until it was ready, then added vanilla and a touch of honey. I smiled the whole time as I poured the dark liquid into the matching white mugs and carried them into the living room. When I entered, I stopped mid-step.

Tiny sat on the couch… my father’s guitar rested on her lap while she played with the strings, creating a beautiful, haunting lullaby. In all my life, I’d never heard anything so calming, so gentle.

Perhaps she sensed my presence because she quit playing and turned her head towards me. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Why did you stop?”

She lowered her head. “It’s just something I’m working on and for some reason I can’t make it right.”

“You composed that?”

“Yeah,” she answered softly.

“Tiny, what you just played, I swear, it was amazing. I could have listened to you forever.”

“Thank you. Wait, what did you just call me?”

Oh fuck.
I didn’t realize my nickname for her had slipped out.
Motherfucker.
I rubbed the back of my neck, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.

“Well, I... don’t be mad, okay? I just...” I ran my fingers through my hair. “When I saw you that first day in the support group, the word
Tiny
jumped into my head and it just felt right to keep calling you that.
In my head
.”

“So you’ve called me Tiny in your head? All this time?”

“Yes..?”

She shook her head and chuckled. “Okay, then.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay.” She shook her head. “Why? Should I be angry? It’s kinda cute,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I laughed and moved from the place where I stood rooted since the moment I heard her play. When I reached the couch, I placed the mugs on the table and sat next to her.

Clearing my throat, I hoped she wouldn’t hear the desire and lust in my voice. “Are you ready to be amazed?”

“I believe I am.”

I handed her a mug. “Cheers.”

“And health,” she added quietly.

We clinked our cups and she brought hers to her mouth, closing her lips over the rim. I watched, eagerly awaiting her reaction. I’d promised perfection. I needed to know if I’d delivered.

“Wow. This is amazing.”

I could feel my face split with a wide smile.

“I can taste the vanilla,” she said. “But there’s something else, I just can’t pinpoint what it is. It’s very subtle.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she said, taking another sip.

We quietly savored the hot liquid and then I remembered what Toby had asked me the other day, and the time seemed right to bring it up. “I need to ask you something.”

She placed her mug on the table and turned her body in my direction, giving me her full attention, and waited for me to speak.

“Do you have a job?”

Her eyes ventured down. “No, I quit recently. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” I started, “you know Toby right? The owner of the bar?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He asked me about you. He saw your performance and would like to hire you for evenings.”

“Are you serious?”

From her tone, I couldn’t tell whether she would accept or decline. I nodded. “Yes.”

“I would only have to sing, right?”

“Yeah, only singing. For a few hours in the evenings. You’ll have free access to the bar if you want a drink between sets. I would be there too if you needed anything.”

With a whimsical smile she said, “I actually needed something with evening hours. You’re like my guardian angel with the timing. Thank you.”

I felt my face warm. It happened frequently when I was in her presence. “Why did you quit?”

“It was hard working during the day while taking care of my dad’s needs. And even though they understood, I didn’t feel comfortable continually asking them for shit. So I did the only thing I thought was right at the moment. I quit.”

It was the first time she had talked about herself and the first time she broached the subject of her family voluntarily.

“You liked it there.” It wasn’t a question. I had a feeling in my gut she loved her job and the last thing she’d wanted to do was quit.

Her eyes found mine. “How did you know?”

“It just seemed like if you had a choice you wouldn’t have quit.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It wasn’t fancy or anything. I worked at a clothing store, but I loved the people and it took my mind off stuff.”

I took her hand and brought it to me, placing it on my thigh and locking our fingers together. Her eyes were fixed on our joined hands, but I needed her eyes on me for what I was about to say. “Aria, look at me.”

Her eyes rose slowly, hesitating.

“Tiny, I want you to...” I shook my head, “No, I
need
you to know one thing. Whenever you feel lost and you feel like you’re about to lose hope, whenever you feel your family has taken over your life… my home can be your refuge, your sanctuary, your safe heaven or whatever you wanna call it. Even if you won’t accept the offer, it’s still yours for the taking. You can come here whenever you like.”

Her eyes began to mist. She squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Dorian.”

“You’re welcome,” I whispered.

We sat quietly, staring at one another. Until I broke the silence.

“Ever since I came back from Afghanistan, I...” I paused, trying to find the right words to explain my condition. “I’ve had a problem with touching people. I still do.”

“When you saved me at the bar – what about that guy? You touched him.”

“When I touch people during a fight or while I’m angry, for some reason, I can handle it. It’s like my mind shuts down and I just do my fucking thing. But if I have to touch them, I try to touch their clothes instead of their skin. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but it does to me.”

She was quiet and then asked, “What other symptoms do you have?”

“Noises. I’m always on alert, needing to watch the door for the best way to escape. And sometimes, I get flashbacks in the middle of the day. I’m used to the nightmares. I live with them every single night. But the flashbacks are what scare me the most.”

“When we first met, when I found you on the floor and you...” she trailed off.

“Attacked you? You can say it. I fucking attacked you. Hell, why aren’t you afraid to be alone with me right now after what I did?”

I felt ashamed to even look at her. I lowered my eyes and shut them. Just the thought of hurting her and making her afraid of me broke my heart. The memory of her trying to get away - and how she attempted to be swallowed up in the wall - haunted me every night…along with the nightmares of the monster.

“What did I tell you?”

I shook my head, not sure what she meant.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. I knew you weren’t conscious of what you were doing and I don’t hold it against you. I don’t give a shit about it anymore. It’s over, so let…it…go.”

Before she even said the last word, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her, bringing her closer, while I buried my head in the sweet spot of her neck.

“I don’t understand one thing, though.”

“What?”

“You touch me. A lot actually.”

I pulled back to look at her, cupping her face. “Honestly, I have no idea why I can touch you like that. It was hard for me to even touch my family when I came back. I still can’t figure out how I can touch you without an episode. New people, new contact, it never worked well with me.”

Her eyes clouded. “But you still got the flashback.”

This was the first time we openly talked about what had happened. I felt a heavy weight falling off my shoulders. Letting her in… it helped.

“It didn’t happen because I touched you,” I began to explain, dropping my hands from her face. “I was sitting alone, waiting for you. Only one thought is needed for a flashback to happen. One fucking thought to cross my mind and all hell breaks loose. But if you played any part in that episode it was that you pulled me out of it.”

She looked back at me with eyes filled with
something
I couldn’t describe. In a soft voice, she said, “I still don’t get the touching, though.”

“Hell, that makes two of us,” I shook my head. “But you know what? I decided not to fight it. If there is anyone in this world I’m glad I can touch, it’s
you
.”

Her fingers reached out and caressed my jaw line, sliding up until they reached my cheek. Her touch was soft, gentle, loving. When she finished her inspection, she ran them over my eyebrows. She began to trace their shape, moving right to left and then left to right.

I felt… cherished.

“I love your eyebrows,” she murmured.

I choked back a laugh. “What?”

Her eyes widened, as if my question snapped her out of the trance she had fallen into and her cheeks turned hot pink. “Nothing.”

I grinned. “That was definitely something.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I… I have a strange fascination when it comes to eyebrows.”

“That’s…odd,” I said, unable to hold back my amusement.

She nodded and then shrugged. “I know,” she said, still embarrassed.

“Hey,” I said, “I think it’s cute. You can fantasize about my eyebrows anytime you want. I insist,” I finished with a grin.

After a few moments of looking into each other’s eyes, I murmured, “Sing for me… I missed the sound of your voice.”