She Dims the Stars (20 page)

Telling the truth is supposed to set you free. It’s supposed to give you a new beginning. For me, it simply feels like every last thing I thought about myself is true, and now that I’ve said it out loud, I’ve given it life. I’ve relived it and made it real instead of letting it stay on a movie reel inside my mind.

My knees begin to shake, and I reach out to support myself on the inside of that hollowed out tree, but I’m met with the strong arms of my former best friend as he pulls me to his chest for the first time in over six years. There’s comfort there that I’ve sought after for so long that it knocks the wind out of me. I find the strength to wrap my arms around him, too, when he assures me, “It’s not your fault, either, Byrdie. I’m so sorry for my part in it. I had no idea.”

He makes a strangled sound, and I pull away to look up at him through my tears. “Are you crying, too?” I ask, wiping the wetness from my face.

Cline’s eyebrows are drawn together, and his face is sweaty as he shakes his head back and forth. “No. There’s a bug crawling up my leg, and it’s getting really close to my boxers. I don’t want to ruin the moment, but another two inches and it’s gonna be on my balls.”

I push him away and crouch down, folding over as I laugh and cry at the same time, listening to Cline let out a scream like a little girl as he unbuckles his belt and turns his back on me to run out of the tree and drop his pants outside. I don’t care that there are bugs on my feet and legs. I don’t care that I’m alone laughing through my tears. I don’t even care that I’m covered in sweat from telling him everything I’ve been holding inside for six years.

I did it.

I did the scariest thing in the entire world: I told my truth.

There’s something to be said about seeing your roommate run out of an old haunted-looking tree, dropping his pants and screaming like a woman while a beetle is heading straight for his nut sack. On my list of Hilarious Shit I’ve Seen, this ranks in the top five. Watching September run to his rescue, catch the beetle off of his manhood, and carry it away, though? Completely priceless.

Cline is sweating and pulling up his pants, breathing hard and staring after her as I walk up next to him, unable to hide my laughter. “What? Were you not covered in bugs in there? Am I the only one because I’m taller than you? Is it my musk?”

“I don’t think height has anything to do with it if they were coming from the ground, so, no. And I had a few ants, but they were worth it.” I clap a hand on his shoulder while we watch the beetle being set free a hundred feet away.

“I’m gonna marry that girl. She took that beetle right off my balls like it was nothing. I have the weirdest boner right now.” His face is twisted in confusion while he palms his zipper.

It is at that moment I realize Audrey is still inside the tree. “Is she still in there? Shit.”

He waves his other hand at me. “We had a good talk. She’s just getting herself together. She’ll be out in a minute.”

The fact that he says it was a good talk leads me to believe him, because had it gone sideways, his demeanor would have been very different standing outside. My gut instinct tells me to go after her anyway, so I approach the manmade door and poke my head in, hoping she’s not covered in bugs and too terrified to move.

Audrey is crouched down, holding her knees and bouncing, her fingers brushing ants off of her shoes. She hears my footsteps and looks up, her eyes glistening in the limited moonlight. Without a word, she’s on her feet and in my arms, hugging me harder than she’s ever held me before. Her hands pull my face to hers, and she kisses me with so much force, I almost trip but find my footing just in time.

When she pulls away, I can see that she’s been crying, but she’s smiling while she sniffles.

“So it went okay? Did you get to talk to him about everything you wanted to?”

She nods and presses her cheek to my chest, squeezing me once more. “Yeah. I think we’re going to be okay. I think everything’s good again.”

She’s quiet on the way back to the house, staring out the window at the sky, but holding onto my hand as tight as she can. Her fingers don’t tap, and they don’t shake while in my grasp. I lift her fist and kiss her knuckles, watch her mouth pull up into a smile even though she doesn’t turn to acknowledge me in the backseat of that truck.

Inside the Worley house, Cline pulls Audrey into the living room, and they speak quietly for a few minutes. I keep my distance, because it’s not my business, but my friend has a big mouth, so I’ll find out soon enough exactly what’s being said anyway. I have patience. He holds Audrey’s hands between the two of them, and after she nods a few times, he tugs and she falls into him for a hug where she almost disappears inside his embrace.

It’s hard for me to imagine them as kids, but seeing them like this now, it’s obvious how they could have been best friends all those years ago. They just fit together. When he lets her go, her eyes find me and she gives a smile, tilting her head in the direction of the room we’ll be sharing. I follow her silent invitation, and we meet on the stairs so that she can lead and I have a fantastic view of her ass the entire way.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says and starts to pull out some clothes from her bag. I have a sense of deja vu from just a few hours before. “I feel disgusting after being out there. Don’t you?” There’s suggestion in her question and tone. “Plus … we shouldn’t get these sheets all dirty. It would be really rude.” Before I can respond, she’s disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

I’m stuck in one of those moments where I don’t know if I’m supposed to follow her into the shower, or if I’m supposed to wait for my turn. There’s a chance that I could use the bathroom in the hallway, and we could just shower at the same time. Why the hell are there so many scenarios? Can’t girls just say what they mean?
Elliot, come get in the shower with me.
So easy. Damnit. Cryptic girl shit.

I’m going to go with the third option of showering at the same time so that I don’t look too eager but also want to be clean, that way if she’s ready to go to sleep, we can do that. Or if she’s up for something else … I’m ready for that, too. My bag is pressed up against the nightstand where her phone is charging and I jostle it, causing her cell to fall to the floor. It buzzes as it becomes unplugged, and I reach over to grab it so I can plug it back in when I notice the green texts and notifications along the face.

25 missed phone calls and quite a few very angry-looking texts in all caps from her step-mother, Miranda. It’s as if Audrey hasn’t even touched her phone—hasn’t opened it—since we left school. I don’t remember hearing it ring once, and she hasn’t made or taken any phone calls as far as I can remember. I’ve spoken with my mom at least twice. Cline has talked with a few friends and had a call from his mom more than once. But Audrey hasn’t used her phone for anything. I wonder if this is the first time she’s even turned it on.

I mull it over in the shower, whether or not I should mention it to her. If that’s an invasion of privacy or not. I have a legitimate excuse for seeing it, but she could read too much into things, as she is known to do, and what’s ending up to be a good day, could instantly turn into a bad one. It’s still in the back of my mind as I finish getting dressed for the night and crack the bedroom door open. As soon as I see her sitting on the bed in a pair of underwear and a tank top, I almost forget my own name.

She smiles, and I can see that she’s nervous through her bravado as she turns and crawls up to the top of the bed to pull the covers down. Her butt is high in the air, and the tank rides up her sides, staying there when she straightens up and looks at me over her shoulder. “Are you ready for bed?”

My mouth has gone dry, and I’m bracing myself for this to be another night of just cuddling even though she’s throwing crazy signals at me right now. It’s better not to assume. “Yup,” is all I can manage to say. I turn off the light and crawl under the covers next to her, lying on my back, my body on high alert due to her closeness.

Neither of us move for a few minutes, and then she turns into my side and lays an arm over my stomach. Her fingers inch down until they’re under my shirt and she’s tickling my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind with each pass. The simple touch is already having an effect on me, one she notices when her elbow grazes a little too low. Her breathing changes just the slightest bit, shallow and heavy by my ear. It only takes a turn of my head to find her right there, our lips touching in a light kiss.

Her tongue trails along my lower lip and slides inside my mouth, and I turn on my side, rolling her onto her back to kiss her deeper. There are a lot of things that I like to do, favorite pastimes I’ve grown fond of over the years, and kissing Audrey is quickly becoming top of the list. She grips the back of my head, fingers sliding through my still-damp hair while she bites gently on my tongue. I pull back to move lower, my mouth on her neck and tongue on her collar bone, hands gripping handfuls of her breasts through her tank top while she arches into me from below.

The bed doesn’t make a sound when I kick the blanket off and trail even lower, pulling her shirt up and running my nose over her stomach and across her hip to leave a kiss above the elastic of her underwear. I’m just about to ask if I can take them off when her thumbs slide into the sides and she raises up and rolls them down for me. They’re discarded across the room and I’m staring up at her from between her legs as she maintains eye contact from above, holding herself up on her elbows for support.

The first kiss makes her exhale, and I close my eyes, concentrating on her taste and her sounds, the way her body is reacting to what I’m doing. Her legs tense up and shake while her hands tug on my hair to push me away for a second before her hips rise to my mouth again. She’s sensitive and so responsive to the things I’m doing to her that at some point, her sounds become muffled, and I look up to see that she has a pillow over her face to try and quiet herself from being heard.

I reach up and pull the pillow away, my face inches from her while I replace my mouth with my fingers and she clings to me just like she did in the tent the first time. Her moans are short and high pitched, and she’s biting her lower lip to stop, but it’s useless, because her hips are meeting each pump of my fingers, and her leg is beginning to shake.

“Elliot,” she gasps, pushing down onto me and rolling her pelvis against my stomach. She kisses me, her lips dry and breath stilted before she speaks again. “I really like you.”

“Oh, good. I like you, too,” I whisper and slide my thumb upwards.

“Oh! Oh, God. Oh … Ummm. I …” Her eyes are squeezed shut and her body begins to rock a little again.

I try to keep my tone conversational. “Yes? Was there something you wanted?”

“Jesus, Elliot. Please tell me you have something, or else—“

“Or else I’ll have to keep doing this?” I ask and circle my thumb quickly before sliding two fingers upward. “That would be a shame.”

Her eyes are on mine and she’s trembling as she grips my side. “You’re going to make me say it.”

“I told you you’d have to ask me for it.”