September Rain Bk 2, Savor The Days Series (26 page)

“Moms’ got the night off.” He
murmured, and I wondered if he could read my mind.

I tossed a bemused look. “Am I that
predictable?”

He shook his head just as Deanna
walked in from the back porch, padding quietly through the kitchen,
carrying a tall glass of iced tea. It was late and she looked wide
awake. Her sharp eyes examined the two bodies on the
couch.

“What are you two whispering
about?”

“This movie’s weird,” Austen
complained. “I’m going to my room and listen to music.” As he got
up, his gaze scraped past me.

Deanna snorted, “Good. Remote’s mine.”
She fell into the newly open corner of the couch. It was the best
spot, directly in front of the TV and right under the vent of the
perpetually running air conditioner. There was a standing rule that
whoever nabbed the coveted spot got the remote. Austen was the one
who started the rule, which was never really enforced since Deanna
worked all night and slept most of the day.

“You mind if I change it?” Deanna
asked.

“Go ahead,” I waved absently at the TV
and crossed my arms. “I’m not into ironic commentaries on violence
in modern society.”

Deanna commenced channel surfing. It
was late and there was nothing on except cable movies already in
progress and re-runs of old sitcoms.

We could hear Austen’s music creeping
up from the hallway. I nodded my head, singing along to Cult of
Personality. I loved the guitar hook. During the second chorus, I
turned to Deanna.

“Is it okay if I go listen to music
with Austen?”

My question was met with her easy
smile. “Go ahead.” Deanna stopped the clicking the remote, settling
on an old episode of M.A.S.H.

I smiled, casually lifting from the
sofa. “Thanks.”

“And close his door, would you? I
don’t need that noise.”

“But it’s Living Colour.” I reasoned,
sounding slightly disagreeable, as if closing his bedroom door
might impede my listening capability.

Deanna scanned the dim room and gave a
wide wave towards herself, gesturing to her dark skin. “I got
plenty color.”

I hummed my way down the hall,
glancing into Angels’ room as I passed. She was wearing headphones
and dragging a blanket into her closet. I stopped for a moment,
waiting for her to notice me. I assumed she’d look on quizzically
and then I’d give an exaggerated wink before dancing into Austen’s
bedroom. But that didn’t happen. She just sat on the floor of her
closet and curled her knees to her chest.

I continued on to Austen’s room and
closed the door behind me.

“What are you doing?” Austen asked,
wide-eyed, from where he sat on his bed. He held an open binder on
his lap. It looked like I was interrupting him trying to
study.

His eyes were wired with surprise, but
followed my hands as I slid them down my hips, along my
thighs.

Austen’s cheeks flushed. His eyes
darkened. “You’re pure evil.”

The temperature in the room shoot up,
like the earth suddenly shifted closer to the sun. I almost told
him he could call me Sheila if he wanted, but decided to lift my
skirt up around my waist instead.

“You might even be the devil.” Austen
whispered, closing the binder.

I was on him before he set it on the
bed side table.

+++

It was almost like I never left. I was
back in the living room, my curiosity—and only my
curiosity—satisfied, just as the ending credits of M.A.S.H began to
roll.

“Back so soon?” Deanna smiled and
patted the cushion beside her.

“Yeah, Austen’s taste in music is
terrible.”

She chuckled. “I tried to warn
you.”

29

—Avery

I was not taking anything that wasn’t
offered.

He never loved me. Matter of fact, by
the end I’m sure he hated me. Truth be told, Jake only responded to
what I did; Angel was the one he pursued.

Part of me understands why she hates
me, but another part is still unsure why it bothered her so much.
All things considered; we were best friends. We shared
everything.

+++

The night air was sticky. I’d walked
for a long time and my feet were hurting almost as much as the
ever-present ache in my chest. It was throbbing so badly I couldn’t
sleep. I had already drawn the lovely lines on my hip, but it did
nothing. I was afraid I might go deeper and threw the razor blade I
took from the pencil sharpener out the window, into the dirt before
climbing out.

I had to get up and move. I was too
restless and there was only one thing that could relax me, but I
had no idea what that thing was so I just started
walking.

I came upon Troy’s house without
meaning to. All the lights were off; none burned from inside or
over the porch. Both his parents’ cars were on the driveway. I
imagined his sleeping house, how peaceful and cool it must feel
inside.

I thought of climbing over
the back gate on the side of the driveway like I used to. I almost
did. I was at the top of the driveway, dragging a knee up on the
hose mount to hop the fence when I heard a distinct
clinking
noise shoot
from the other side.

I cautiously looked between the slats
of the wooden gate and saw two electric eyes darting back,
accompanied by a low growl. The mean Rottweiler they usually kept
inside was out, roaming the yard. I turned on my heel and booked
down the driveway. The dog barked as I hustled over the empty road
onto the sidewalk across the street and up, until Troy’s house was
out of sight.

I wondered if Troy did it on purpose;
if he had shoved Lucille outside to keep me away from his window.
The possibility was gnawing at me, making me want to punch Troy’s
face until it was as bloody as I felt. The anger burned so hot, I
was sure the flames would consume me from the inside out if I
didn’t find something to distract me.

I kept on walking, sticking to the
right-hand side of the road, following the sidewalk out of the
neighborhood until I came to another development. One with slightly
older homes in the standard and slightly varied lay-outs, though
they all essentially looked the same. I recognized the track homes
right away and moved along the next four blocks to make a left into
the cul-de-sac.

The white passenger van was on the
driveway. There were no lights on inside that I could see, but they
didn’t have a dog. I walked over the gravelly yard, passing the
cactus with a broken wagon wheel at the base. Without pause, I
passed through the unlocked side gate and into the back
yard.

When I got to his window, it was wide
open as if he had been waiting for me. The bent frame of the screen
easily popped out. I poked my head inside.

His bed was up against the outer wall,
just a few feet from the window. Set right in front of me was the
nightstand. I licked my lips and climbed inside.

The first time it happened, I hadn’t
planned it either. As a matter of fact, I never planned anything. I
pushed—I pushed knives into my arms, I pushed teacher’s buttons, I
pushed my luck in hundreds of ways—but I never planned to. Jake was
no different.

Perched on top of the bedside table, I
watched him breathe. In. Out. Slow. Shallow.

The air inside Jakes bedroom was
muggy—just like outside. I hopped down from the small table,
hearing the scrape of my shoes over the wooden top. There must have
been gravel stuck in the treads.

Jake shot straight up, looking around
the dark room with wide eyes. They landed on me. He let out loud
breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I explained, kicking
my boots from my aching feet.

“So you decided to walk two and a half
miles—” he stretched back and snatched the alarm clock from a shelf
on his headboard—“at four-thirty-seven in the morning? And climb
through my bedroom window?” He set the clock radio back behind him
as REO Speedwagon began floating into the dark air. I knew the
radio was on that station because that was where Angel liked it. My
stomach should have turned a little, but it didn’t. I was going to
take it on the run just like the song said.

I shrugged. “Basically.”

A chuckle growled from low in Jakes
throat. “Oh, you got it bad.”

I did not return his smile. I didn’t
say anything. I never wanted his affection, or to take anything
away from Angel. That wasn’t even a possibility. I did not want him
for myself. I didn’t want him for anything. I just needed to feel
like a whole person, if only for a few minutes and even if it cost
me more than I was willing to pay.

I wanted—no, I needed—a distraction
and Jakes’ touch had always felt like a balm to Angel. I wanted it
to heal me, too.

I couldn’t make out Jakes’ form, but I
heard him pull back the sheet he was covered with. I unzipped my
pants, shoved out of them, and my tank top quickly
followed.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” Jakes’
husky voice carried from his corner in the dark.

“Don’t you want me here?” I wished I’d
thought to consider the possibility that he’d reject me, or at the
very least, asked the question while I was still wearing
clothes.

A small lamp flicked on. It was
sitting on his headboard, pointing straight down, but still giving
plenty of light to Jake’s studious gaze. His eyes were glued to my
body.

“Dumb question.” He shifted in a way
that showed me he had no intention of making me leave.

I didn’t let myself feel the relief of
acceptance; I simply took away the space between us, shoving Jake
onto his back. I saw his lips part and leaned away. Jake gasped
when I forced his boxers down with my feet. He sat up so we were
nose to nose—pressing his lips to my shoulders and neck. He tried
to cup my face, but I turned my head.

Before he could change the encounter
into something resembling intimacy, I grabbed his long hands and
shoved them down to my waist so he could feel the lines, so he’d
know what I needed and why. He’d seen the marks enough times and he
said I could count on him.

Don’t cut yourself. Come
to me, first. I’ll do what I can.”

“One of those nights, huh?” He
whispered in my ear, and then took my soft flesh into his rough
hands.

The second we connected, it was
there—a little silence, almost a glimmer of peace. I nearly howled,
so pleased to feel something more than the angry
nothing.

It was helping, but I couldn’t clear
my mind, not with his eyes right there watching me. I tossed his
hands away and leapt to the middle of the bed, facing the wall.
Jake followed, wordlessly gripping my shoulders. I relaxed again,
feeling him tense up, aiming to deliver the help he
promised.

And then—the glorious ache. I started
to cry out, but Jake set his hand over my mouth. “Shh!”

Oh yeah, the doorknob
still wasn’t fixed.

His fingers knotted into my hair and I
groaned, begging for more. More pleasure, more pain, more
everything. Anything to make me stop thinking.

“Any more and you’ll go through the
wall.” Jake whispered into the skin of my shoulder, but kept
pulling my hair because he knew I needed it.

His moves were concentrated and
wonderful, shooting my aching void and the nagging beast inside it
to the moon.

+++

I lay beneath him panting.

Feeling his hot breath against my
back, his voice was husky. “You’re crazy.” His lips skimmed my
shoulder before he rolled over to grab a cigarette.

And that was my cue.

“I’ve got school.” I scrambled out of
bed, grabbing at my discarded clothes.

Jakes face soured. He flicked the
lighter on and drew in a puff of smoke. “I’m driving you
home.”

“No.” I turned around in search of my
shoes.

“Hey,” He touched my arm and I
froze.

His fingertip felt like a brick flying
through a plate-glass window. I was broken and desolate all over
again. Another mistake.

Another fucking colossal mistake to
add to the flurry of shit that followed me wherever I went. Another
reason for Angel to hate me.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” The word came out like a
bullet, with force. “I just want to walk.”

I carried my shoes with me outside,
scrambling to put as much distance between me and that house as I
could before I broke.

Shit!

No amount of speed could carry me fast
enough to outrun the emptiness that opened again, more ferocious
than before. The tears were coming. Still, I tried to outrun
them.

3
0

—Avery

Of course Angel decided to chase Jake
out to California. Worse: she expected me to be happy about
it.

She was the one leaving everything
behind—except me, of course—and still stressing on how to make
everything easier for Jake. It was typical Angel: so sure she
wasn’t worth Jakes’ time and constantly trying to make-up for that
bullshit. But Jake had that effect on people—he could make them do
things they never thought they’d do without a
second-thought.