Blindness (12 page)

“Just…” I hear him swallow, and even though I
can’t see him, I know he’s struggling. I keep my eyes forward and
watch his fingers curl into a fist on the door, clinching tightly.
“I won’t…I wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I’m not asking you to
do anything. Please…please just stay,” his head falling flat
against the back of mine as he speaks. I can feel him breathe me
in, and I feel like I’m racing down a hill, lightheaded from the
conflict brewing inside.

“Okay,” I whisper, not even aware that it was
me
speaking. I’m on autopilot, turning away from the path I
know and recognize on the other side of the door, but desperately
worried that it won’t be there when I finally leave this room.

Cody’s hand slides from the door to my
shoulder, and I shiver as he traces the back of his fingers down
the length of my arm, until he finds my hand once again. He pulls
me to him, forcing me to turn into his body. I keep my eyes focused
on the words on his shirt, reading the dates and towns to myself.
Some tour shirt—a concert, perhaps? Or maybe a race? I’m trying to
keep my mind busy with this pointless task when Cody reaches for my
chin and pulls my face to look at his.

His eyes are serious. Even in the darkness of
his room, I can see the flecks of blue—I’m that close. I watch them
as they move to the side of my face to follow his hand as he pushes
my hair away slowly, tucking it behind my ear, but leaving his hand
there, his fingers tangled deep within my hair. He tilts his head
to the side, and I think for a moment he’s about to kiss me. I lick
my lips on instinct, and I feel him tense up from it.

His hand forces me forward into him, and I
close my eyes, almost believing that if I don’t see it coming, I
won’t be able to stop it. I feel his chest press to mine next, then
his hand wraps deeper into my hair so he’s cradling the back of my
head. His other hand slides up my side to the middle of my back,
and his chin comes down above my head so I’m completely tucked
within his embrace. I’m sheltered, and it’s the first time I’ve
ever felt my heart actually stop from being in someone’s arms.

Giving in, I bring my hands up Cody’s back so
I’m hugging him tightly to me, my fingers gripping at his torn
T-shirt. I slide my face flat against him and let out everything
I’ve been holding in—it feels like for years.

I cry. I cry hard. I didn’t see it coming,
but I can’t stop it now. Cody is pulling me with him slowly to the
bed, and when he sits down I fall onto him. He reaches around my
legs and pulls them up so I’m draped over his lap, my body still
cradled in his arms, and the sobs coming harder than before.

Cody pulls the blanket from the side of his
bed and brings it around me, wrapping me in it and rocking me side
to side. I stop the tears only for a few seconds when I listen to
his voice trying to calm me. “Shhhhhhhh, it’s okay. Sometimes you
have to cry,” he says, kissing the top of my head and squeezing me
tighter.

I’m shattered in his arms, unable to breathe
without my body shaking. We stay like this for several minutes
before I realize he’s slowly slid us up his bed, and I’m now laying
flat in his arms. I’ve never slept in anyone’s arms—Trevor can’t
sleep with me on him, not that I really ever tried. I’ve always
gone to sleep alone, even when I’m lying right next to someone.
Thunderstorms as a child, breakups in high school, roommates, the
first time I had sex with Trevor—I’ve always drifted off on my own
time, often hours after everyone else.

I let my eyes grow heavy, lulled by the
constant stroking of my hair and the feeling of Cody’s fingertips
as they graze along my scalp and neck. I’m pretty sure that what
we’re doing isn’t okay, and I know even now, without even thinking
about it, that I will never tell Trevor. But I’m not leaving
this…
this feeling.
I’ll sort through the
consequences—tomorrow.

Tonight I’m going to dream, and lay here in
Cody’s arms under the stars he made for me.

Chapter 7: The Mask I’m Wearing

I can’t face Cody. He’s in a deep sleep,
slightly snoring, when I wake. The sun is shining through the
cracks in his blinds. I’m a little ashamed.

I dreamt of him last night. I dreamt of him
while I lay in his arms. In my dreams, he kissed me. It was soft
and sensual and beautiful. It was right here, in this bed. I look
at him, and focus on his lips, his mouth. They look strong. It’s
maybe my favorite thing about him—other than his eyes. His smile
stretches the full width of his face. When he’s giving one
genuinely, it fills me with butterflies.

But Cody is my friend. That’s it—it ends
there. And his stepbrother, the man I plan to marry one day, hates
him. My head is spinning just trying to sort through my situation,
trying to find fixes, ways to keep Cody in my life without keeping
it a secret. Regardless, I know nights like last night can’t happen
again—and I can never talk about it…with anyone.

I manage to slide from the bed without making
it move. I’m so worried I’m going to make a noise that I bend down
to the floor so I’m on my hands and knees, and I army-crawl my way
out of Cody’s bedroom. I stop to take in where I am one last time.
His handmade stars have faded with the sunlight seeping into the
room, but I’ll never forget how they looked. And I may never be
able to look at the real stars without comparing them again.

Cody’s door opens without any noise, and I
hold my breath until I’m safely out of his room and sprinting down
the carriage house stairs. My heart is beating so hard I can feel
it in my throat. I almost feel like I’m going to be sick.

I make it to the backdoor at the kitchen and
am relieved that it’s unlocked when I tug on it. The house is
quiet. I’m sure Shelly has long passed out from drinking her
problems away. I pull the gallon of milk from the fridge, and
looking around to make sure I’m completely alone, begin to gulp it
down. I’m so thirsty, and my stomach is turning—when I was a kid,
this was the only thing that ever soothed me. Mac never cared when
I drank from the container. He did it more than I did.

It’s barely seven. I know Trevor will be
awake, and I know he probably called me last night. I put the milk
back in its place and tiptoe up the stairs to our room. I stop
briefly at Shelly’s door just to listen. I hear nothing but the
light mumbling coming from her television. I’m sure she’s down for
the count.

I’m so happy to see our room. Like I’ve been
out in the wild and just made it to home base. I think maybe part
of me was worried it wouldn’t be the same, that it would be gone
somehow. I sit down on the bed and lay flat on my back. I turn my
head to the side to take in our clothes—Trevor’s, and mine—lined up
and intermingled in our closet. The picture I have of us from our
last Dean’s dinner is propped up on the night table on my side of
the bed, my phone charging next to it.

When I scoot up the bed, I notice the message
light blinking. My body reacts with a shot of adrenaline, my eyes
almost not focusing, and my head swirling with dizziness. I’m tense
until I listen to Trevor’s message, and when I realize it’s only
from a few moments ago, I’m flooded with relief.

Without stopping to think, stopping to plan,
I hit dial. I realize I’m not sure what to say when the ringing
begins. I’m thinking about hanging up, but then Trevor’s voice is
there—familiar, warm, and happy.

“Hey, you
are
up!” he says, almost
surprised. My wits are about me enough to realize that it is a
little earlier than I usually get up on a Monday. My first class
isn’t until ten, and I’m only at my internship on Tuesdays and
Thursdays.

“Yeah…I couldn’t sleep anymore. I decided to
just get up. Must have been in the shower when you called, sorry,”
I say, the hardness in my gut needling at me from my lie.

“Good. I mean…not good that you couldn’t
sleep. Just…I’m glad I didn’t wake you,” Trevor says, his voice
sweet and full of sureness.

My guilt swallowing me up just a little more,
I try to up my enthusiasm to match his. “I miss you. What are you
doing home? Aren’t you usually in the office by now?” I ask,
suddenly worried that something’s happened.

“Yeah, I actually just got home. We were up
all night going through some old case files,” Trevor says through a
yawn. “I was just hoping to catch you before I went to bed.”

“I’m yours,” I say, my arm covering my face
at the double meaning—perhaps a reminder to myself.

“Well…I happen to have two tickets to
West
Side Story
at the National Theater this weekend…” he doesn’t
even have to finish, and I’m squealing in the phone. I’ve been to a
few live theater shows in Cleveland, but nothing truly big. To see
something on stage, at the National? The building is approaching
200 years old. And of all musicals to see—I used to watch
West
Side
late at night when I waited for Mac to come home.

“When can I come? When can I come? When can I
come?” suddenly I’ve become a puppy, ready for my treat.

“I thought you might be excited. I have a
ticket for you already. You’ll need to leave Friday morning. I’ll
pick you up at the airport. The show’s Friday night, but I have
Saturday off. An actual day off! Thought we could spend it together
and then you can head back Saturday evening,” Trevor’s voice is
proud; he loves surprising me.

“Perfect,” I say, the torn and twisted
feeling that was torturing me minutes ago fading.

Trevor chuckles a little. “You’re easy, you
know that?” he jokes.

“Hey, don’t think this means you’re going to
get me in bed that easily,” I tease back, already thinking about
the sexy outfit I’m going to pack. I stand to look for it in my top
drawer. I really only have one, and I bought it right before we
moved in together, not thinking about how uncomfortable life would
be in his parents’ house. Also not foreseeing the distraction
covered in ink and piercings—who was now suddenly standing in my
doorframe.

Shit!

“Okay, well I’ve gotta get some sleep. I can
barely keep my eyes open. Love you,” Trevor says.

“I love you, too,” I say, almost a whisper,
hoping that somehow Cody would miss it, and wishing like hell he
didn’t have to hear it. His face looks like it did after his mother
slapped him.

I expect him to bolt, so when he doesn’t, the
discomfort that’s already clouding up the entire room gets thicker
by the second. We don’t speak. We don’t even blink. We just stand
there, chewing on lips, flexing fingers, shuffling feet and
staring. It’s like I knocked the wind out of both of us with one
tiny sentence.

I’m riffling through every possible thing I
can say, nothing coming to mind, when Cody finally breaks
through.

“Hey, I hope…I hope I didn’t make things
weird,” he’s unable to look at me, and it breaks my heart.

I want to rush him, throw my fists on his
chest and pound, yelling “Yes. Yes, you made things weird. But I
don’t regret a single second. And I have no clue how I feel about
it!”

But I don’t. I just look down, and nod
slightly, unable to square up with his eyes. “It’s okay. I chose to
stay,” I say, giving him just enough, hoping he understands. I
force myself to look up, and when I do, I meet his eyes. I see that
small glimmer in them, and I know he’s feeling the same thing I am.
His smile almost appears, but it fades fast.

“That Trevor?” he asks, nodding toward my
phone.

I look down at it in my hand, and toss it on
the bed before I look back to Cody. “Yeah, he was just getting
home,” I don’t know why I tell him that, like I’m making an excuse
for Trevor not coming to find me in a jealous rage or something.
Cody just stares at me, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I won’t say anything,” he says after
awhile.

I just nod in response, my lips in a tight
smile. I can’t thank him—I’m not sure I’m thankful. Part of me
wants him to put up a fight for me, to try to take me from Trevor.
He’s about to leave, when he turns back to face me for one more
question.

“So, you’re going to see him? This weekend?”
he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose while he waits for my
answer. He looks like he’s about to be pushed off of a high dive. I
give him the shove he needs.

“Yes. I leave Friday,” I say, no longer
thinking about the sexy bra and panty set in my drawer, but instead
of reasons my flight might be cancelled, and wishing for the storm
of the century. And for a fraction of a second, Cody looks at me
with eyes that are begging me to stay. I can see the plea balancing
on the tip of his tongue as he bites it with his teeth, stopping
himself.

“Yeah, well…have a nice trip,” he turns
abruptly. He’s down the stairs quickly, and seconds later I hear
the back door slam closed. I’m at my window immediately, and I see
him reach into his pocket for his keys, climb into his truck, and
fly from the driveway.

I was hoping class would be a distraction.
The seats are all full because midterms are approaching. I know I
should be paying attention to Dr. Rush. I’ve managed to bring my
grade up to a high
C
, and I’m sure if I took Cody up on his
offers to help, I could be at a comfortable
B
. But I’ve been
afraid of quiet time—alone—with Cody. And last night is proof
positive why it’s a
bad
idea.

“Ms. Hudson?” my name sounds muffled, like
it’s being announced from a tunnel. When I look to both sides, I
realize the other students are all staring at me, some of them
snickering. I’m sure he asked me a question, but frankly, I
wouldn’t be able to get the answer right even if I did hear
him.

“I’m sorry. I’m a little lost,” I say, hoping
that my honesty will buy me a pass. It doesn’t.

“Yes, that seems to be your
thing.
Getting
lost,”
Dr. Rush frowns. He’s not going to let this
go, so I shrink down a little in my seat to try to shield myself
from the heat of everyone’s judgment. My shelter is short-lived,
though. “Please, join me at the board.”