Raw (33 page)

He’s a raging fire. And I’m a fragile moth fluttering into the flame. Sooner or later, I’m going to get burned. I know this.
 

Will I even survive the heat?

How can I trust this man after everything we’ve been through in such a short time?

Without skipping a beat, my mind provides the answer.

Easy.

Spending the afternoon revisiting my decision to be involved with a man like Twitch made my mind turn to mush.
 

I have an ethical responsibility within my sector to help all that need it. I know Twitch needs help, even if he doesn’t believe that. It’s no real secret that man has anger issues that borderline violent. I wonder what I’m getting myself into. He has secrets. Secrets that run deep.

Thinking of the things that could have possibly happened to him makes my heart squeeze.

People don’t turn into the kind of person Twitch is for no reason at all.

Something terrible has happened for him to be this way. And I’ll be there, waiting patiently for when he finally wants to reveal those reasons. Something tells me that by giving him the promise he all but begged for, to not leave him, his trust in me has risen to a new level.

Twitch asked me to meet him at my place when I was done with work. He said he was taking the afternoon off and we’re going to be staying at his house tonight.

Everything inside of me told me not to go. To not be at his beck and call. That I needed to be independent.

But all I could think about was how much lost time we had to make up for.

Truthfully, learning about Twitch is more important to me than anything.

And tonight is going to be the night.

I text him back, telling him that I would meet him and that he’d better be ready to talk.

And talk is what we did.

I found him in my room when I got home, and at seeing my selection of underwear, he curled his lip in disgust. “Seriously, babe?”

“What?” I asked.

He took a pair of my pink cotton panties and stretched them between his fingers. Making a slingshot with them, he flung them across my room, then stalked over to the bed.

Sitting, his eyes took in my body as if he were undressing me with his eyes. And it made me a little uncomfortable. I’m not used to being scrutinised so close up.

He pulled me towards him so I stood between his legs. His hands travelled up my sides, then over my breasts and back down. He muttered vacantly, “This body.”

Snapping out of his daze, he offered, “A body like this is a gift. So it needs to be gift-wrapped. I like my gifts to be wrapped in sexy.” Trailing a fingertip from my belly button down to the top of my mound, he muttered, “I like my women in silk and lace, frills and bows. I don’t do pretty, but I like women who do pretty.”

Looking up at me, he stated, “You do pretty, you won’t get rid of me.”

For Twitch, that was kind of sweet. And very macho. And seriously sexist.

The feminist in me booed and hissed, while the horny teenager in me slumped against a wall and sighed dreamily.

Not wanting him to know that, I teased, “You’re my stalker. I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried.”

His lips twitched. “I like Lexi. She’s funny. Not a huge fan of
Alexa
, though. She kinda sucks.”

I was confused. “But I’m Alexa. And Lexi. We’re the same person.”

He grinned hugely, “No. You’re not. Just like I’m Twitch sometimes, but I’m also…” My eyes widened.
 

Please tell me. Open up to me. Please.

His smile faltered only a second before he said, “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

Home.

With Twitch.

That felt so right that my mind wasn’t able to form words. Mouth parted, I simply nodded, and off we went.

Home.

Spending the afternoon with Lexi was crazy.

It was crazy because I don’t remember a time in my life when I laughed so much or smiled so hard. The woman is a serious clown. She’s adorably goofy. And I love that.

I never thought it could be this way with the two of us.

She says she loves me. And when she said it in anger, I knew it was true. I can’t tell her how I feel about her yet. I need her to know me – all of me – before I can tell her that. I have my reasons.

We spent the day outdoors. She dressed herself in the bright yellow sundress I bought her, after an argument which lasted almost an hour about me buying her things. She lectured me about people starving around the world, and about kids living on the streets. She only gave up her argument when I blurted, “I know, Lex. I was a street kid. So I get it.” Her face turned soft and her argument died. I added, “Just wanted to do something nice for my girl, okay?”

Standing by her dresser, she answered quietly, “Okay, honey.”

Like I said, I
always
win.

I showed her some of my favorite places in the city, including a small Italian café where we had something light for dinner. She said smiling, “You like Italian food, huh?”

Leaning back in my chair, I told her, “I think it’s got something to do with my heritage. I
love
Italian food. It’s my favorite.”

She smiled harder. I’m sure it had something to do with the fact that I was slowly giving her information about myself. “Okay, then. I’ll remember that,” she uttered.

Hand-in-hand, we walked all over, mostly in silence, but every now and then explaining to the other what places we liked and why.
 

I found out that Lexi loves Mexican food. The spicier the better. She also told me that she made a mean cocoa, as long as I didn’t mind a lot of booze in it. She mentioned her brother, which held my attention. She said he was a great brother and was extremely protective. When I asked where he was, she pulled her emotions back inside of her and told me blankly that she hadn’t spoken to him in a while, but the last time she checked, he was back in the US.

It made my chest ache for her.

The funny thing was that even though I knew everything she was telling me, it sounded like brand new information coming from her mouth. Like the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about her friends, Nikki and Dave.
 

Nikki and Lexi were roommates in University. Dave happened to attend the same University and worked at the campus coffee shop. Dave being gay was hassled on a daily basis, and one day spilled coffee on a male customer. Not thinking, Dave grabbed a handful of napkins, and apologizing, started to wipe the coffee off the customer. That was when the customer called Dave a faggot, knocked him to the ground, and started laying into him. Lexi and Nikki watched in horror for all of ten seconds before they took their book bags to the man and managed to knock him out cold. Smiling, she explained, “We were arrested, but the charges were dropped. Dave came to visit us the next day in our dorm, and started the conversation with ‘well, aren’t you all just a bunch of crazy bitches!’” She laughed openly, “And we’ve been friends ever since, even though Nikki and Dave have this stupid rivalry going on.”

I was about to ask her about her family when she blurted out, “So, Happy, huh? He’s like, gay or bi-sexual or something?”

That threw me off. “What?” I was confused.

She just played with my fingers, and I asked through narrowed eyes, “What do you know, Angel?”

“Just that he’s enjoying the company of Dave.
And
Nikki. So I just assumed he was gay, but he’d definitely be bi then, wouldn’t he?”

I told her pointedly, “He’s not
anything
. He’s just Happy.” She looked at me like I was crazy when I reminded her gently but firmly, “You know how I feel about labels. Happy likes what he likes. He doesn’t need a label.”

Her brows rose in thought. She nodded once. “Okies.”

“Okies?”

“You know? It’s like okay, but cuter.”

Staring into her laughing eyes, I muttered, “Okies?”

She burst into laughter, and I watched the way her face bunched in delight; her full lips framed her straight, white teeth, and it was then that I knew I was a goner.

Which brings us to now, chilling in my bed, watching TV with my girl.
 

“Why are you like this?” Lexi asks softly, as she reaches for my hand in the subtly-lit room. She entwines our fingers and whispers, “Something bad happened to you.”

No shit, Sherlock.

A minute passes and we remain silent, but her thumb strokes mine so gently that the urge to talk overcomes me. “Had a shitty childhood. That shitty childhood turned into a shitty adolescence. I met someone when I was just a kid who made me believe it might get better. In my head, I told myself that I had to make the most of what I had to make things better, so I did what I could. I ran away from said shitty childhood and lived on the streets for a few years. Things got better in some ways. But other things just got worse. Ended up in bad places, doing bad things to make a buck to live. Eventually
bad
– in my mind – became
good
.” A look of confusion crosses her face. I try to explain, “What I mean is that those bad things, I didn’t see as bad anymore. It was just my life. So I guess you could say I’m desensitized to a lot of bullshit. Most shit that would shock and disgust a normal person doesn’t shock me at all. And
bad
doesn’t seem so bad anymore. In my mind, most bad things are good.”
 

Turning, I take in Lexi’s semi-lit silhouette, which watches me with wide eyes, clearly in shock over me revealing so much of myself. I’m shocked too. The only two people who really know about me – I mean
really
know about me – are Happy and Julius. Happy, Julius, and I all met in bad places. We get each other.

Turning the tables on her, I ask, “What made you who you are?”

Lexi shrugs. “A whole bunch of things. I don’t know really.”

I tut, “Bullshit. I asked you a question, girl. I expect an answer.”

She lies on her side, resting her chin on her upturned hand. “Okay, smartass. Well, I guess it started at home with me too. Things weren’t good. Mom was working all the time. Dad was a mean old bastard. Mom would work most nights because it was better money, and the dropkick I called Dad would spend most of that money on weed and booze, drowning out the mess that was his life. Me and my brother looked after each other as much as we could. But I couldn’t protect him the way he protected me. I was small and fragile. Whenever Dad got mad, my brother would shove me in my room and lock the door from the outside. They’d tussle, but nothing too bad. Eventually, my brother turned to drugs because Dad was…”
 

Her eyes lose focus, and something churns in my gut. An unfamiliar feeling.

Protectiveness. I feel protective of Lexi.

I don’t know what to do with that.

Shaking her head, her eyes meet mine and she forces a smile. “Everyone’s got a story. It could’ve been worse though. My neighbors growing up, they…” Her brow furrows. “They weren’t nice people. I was just a baby, maybe five or six, and I would hear them every night. Yelling and hurtin’ on their son.” She whispers, “He was just a boy. And I would sit in my room and…and just cry. Cry
with
him.”