dissonance. (a Böhme novel) (14 page)

We stood there as our breathing increased, both afraid to move further. I wanted to thank the universe for being fucking awesome and allowing me this one moment of freedom with her. Every inch of her that my body touched was flying. “Damn it,” I said in a whisper.

She let go of me and my need to be near her was reflected in her expression. We stood there, staring at each other in silence. Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head. I noticed it was the same fearful expression she wore when waiting to join Conall on stage and it made me nervous.

Her breaths increased as her chest rose and fell. I watched her breathing and my eyes drifted to her spiral tattoo once more.

“I
like
you,” she said with a look of confusion on her face as if she couldn’t understand her own thoughts and emotions.

“That’s good to know. The feeling is reciprocated, by the way,” I said stepping near her again, letting my finger trace along the collar of her dress that dipped right to the valley between her glorious chest.
Glorious? Really? Where’d that fucking word come from?

She smacked my hand away. “That said, since I like you, I’m going to be honest. Not that I’m not honest anyway, but we have to wait. I don’t know what you’re used to, but we have to wait.”

I wasn’t expecting that statement, but I felt the same way.
What does that mean exactly—two people wanting to wait with each other?

“You know, honestly, I was just thinking that,” I said pulling my lip in, biting it, because if I didn't I was afraid I might make a liar of myself.

“I don’t take you as being the kind to wait. Why would you bring me in here then?” she asked, leaning her head back against the door once more and looking up at me.

“Well, take it as you like, Breck. But yes—cuddling you actually came to mind. Which threw me off, but I’ll be honest too. I brought you in here because I wanted to fuck your brains out against that wall. Maybe even the developing table." I shrugged as I looked over at the table. It did look like an agreeable place. I needed to not focus on the possibilities in this room. I took a breath before continuing. "But when I had you in my arms, I couldn’t do it now. It's too important. Go ahead and mock me, but it’s the truth,” I said as a smile formed on her face as if she were saying “awe” in her thoughts.

“But I will tell you what I think—you’re scared to like me,” I said. "I don't know if you have a hang up on our age, or if you don't trust me. But you're scared."

“Scared to like you?” she asked with an expression that made me want to beg her to go home with me. She looked pissed off too, which didn’t help my wandering thoughts.

“Yes, you’re scared to like someone as much as you like me. I can see it and it’s true because I like you a hell of a lot too. Which sounds fucking juvenile, but it’s the truth.” I said as I took her hand in mine and kissed her knuckles.

“Now we’re going to return to that room out there and I will sing a song. But I want you to understand that my loader is going to be full and I have a case of blue balls chambered. It doesn’t help that you keep breathing in and showing me that lovely chest of yours. I swear that spiral symbol keeps rising, just for me,” I said as I lightly traced her tattoo and she swatted my hand away again. “But I’m doing it for you Brecken McNett, every bit of it. The song, the loader, and the blue balls will be for you.”

“That’s somewhat crass Blake, but it’s sweet and it’s the hottest, most honest thing anyone has ever said to me. But I need to ask—did you just refer to your penis as a loader?” She laughed.

“Yes—why? That’s what it's labeled in my book—a loader,” I said in all seriousness.

She leaned over and pressed her hand against her abdomen as she laughed. “Holy shooter pants that’s funny.”

“Shooter pants?” I asked her as I pulled her in and let my chin rest atop her head.

“Yes, shooter pants. If you're going to refer to your dick as a loader, I have the right to say shooter pants,” she said as she turned her face up to me with her big brown eyes. I pushed loose hair from her face and did something unlike me. I kissed her right above each eye. The first thing I wanted is to understand is what is going on behind those eyes more than inside her pants. It was an epiphany for me. I guess there’s a first for everything.

When I adjusted myself, a smile spread across her face that was more relaxed than any she had given me yet. “Just so you know, I still haven’t decided on whether you get my phone number,” she said with a wink before she opened the door.

As I followed after her, I thought of one of my favorite video games of all things. She attached me to her as a familiar to its owner in this addictive role playing game I play.
I know—geeky.
But just like that familiar, I would protect her. I didn’t want to leave her side, and it was fucking lame but I realized I would follow her anywhere. The realization filled me with fear that I hadn’t experienced since I was a kid.

What if I failed her too?

This one came to the writer by inspiration.

Everyone was gathered upstairs, looking at the art and hearing the songs. But none of the spectators found themselves awake enough to realize the one thing they missed in the exhibition they viewed.

The creativity of the singers and artists grasped the very definition of humanity and only a handful of the spectators acknowledged it.

This
was
life.

Just as the boxes represented a microcosm of life, the gallery did as well. As an outsider looks inside that gallery though, they see half drawn people, lacking contrast and depth.

They didn't know they slept.

Inspired by the sight of the woman singing, the writer began to paint. The unplanned painting became the first of its kind. The writer normally thought out every placement, every detail, and every color. But tonight, the writer created this painting for the pure reason of creating something of beauty.

This was not one of the questions the writer intended for the reader, but it was the first question for everyone. Every spectator in life was to ask this question.

What makes you feel alive?

We walked through the crowd and my cheeks burned as I pulled Blake closer to me. I drew him against my back, our hands still held between us and the closeness of him influencing my muscle memory at how near we were minutes earlier.

I fought a battle with this animalistic need and my need to push him away. He made me want to abandon every boundary I established in my life to be held in his arms—a very unlike me behavior. Our conversation in that darkened room was how it should be though—I can’t do fast.

But before any further discussion on wants and needs and the bullshit that comes with it, Blake would sing for me. He didn't want to do it, but from my simple prodding he agreed. I had to admit, there was a sense of pride filling me at that. 

I pulled Blake up to the stairs and smiled at Conall. “Junior my boy, Blake wants to sing something.”

Conall gave me a scowl for calling him junior, but he deserved it for calling me auntie. When he gave his attention to Blake, he made sure to abandon his crabby look. I let go of Blake for the first time since we left the dark room and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Do good by me up here. I’ll be quietly judging you from over there,” I said as I pointed toward the wall where his friends stood.

As I turned he laughed and gave my ass a quick slap as if it were a normal action for him to do. I gave him a scowl.

He shrugged. “What? You did it.” His smile was infectious. I turned my back to him and walked away without a word. I knew he watched my every step. I refused to turn back to him though—I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

When I reached the wall, Karl came up beside me and pulled in a tight smile as he shook his head. “You crazy kids… did you sneak away to develop...
images
?”

I was not one to be embarrassed, but telling Karl details of Blake's and my intimacy was wrong. I mean I was Karl's babysitter at one time. “Yep, we were developing film,” I said with a tight smile of my own. Wynn laughed at the comment.

I rolled my eyes at how this was going to become an inside joke and any time Blake and I were off together in private, someone would say we were developing film. I hate inside jokes.

There cannot be inside jokes. That means we will become more than just a quick romp in the darkroom.
I can’t expect Blake to wait and take it slow with me. He’s young. He has to go sow his wild oats or some shit.
I could not expect more from him than the simple possibility of maybes. I couldn’t expect him to want to be with
me
. I’m passed the stage of starting out in life. His friends were starting their lives, and he should be too—the marriage, the babies, the house with a dog running in the backyard.

My breathing picked up as I tried to calm myself and the annoyance at being flippant with my emotions—my well guarded heart. I couldn't do this to myself again. These moments with Blake have brought the little girl who dreamt of fairy tales to rear her ugly head again. I needed to be honest before it went any further. There was no way I could let us continue on without him knowing full well what he was getting himself into with me. It would be selfish of me not to tell him.

“I’ve never seen Blake this way,” Hannah said, breaking me away from my spiraling thoughts. I turned to her and my eyes locked onto her hand, running across her belly. I had to turn away from that motion now and I was sure I’d have whiplash in the morning if I kept it up. Even though it has been so many years, every time I meet a pregnant woman, I'm flooded with memories of my own pregnancy.

“What way?” I asked, chewing my lip and focusing on Blake speaking to Conall. He was the most handsome man I had ever met. Every movement he made captivated me and I didn't want to set him or myself up for disappointment.
The age
. Damn the age difference, he was at the age to be planning his life. And I was in the prime of my life, not the start of it.

“He always has this lightness with his friends, but I’ve never seen him that way with a girl,” Hannah said with a smile and a sigh. "He acknowledges them, and introduces them, even talks them up to us. But I've never seen him be so aware of another person. Don't get me wrong, he cares, but this awareness in him now is astounding." Hannah watched Blake in awe and since I didn't know him as she did, I missed the point she was trying to make.

“Hannah that’s a great deal of pressure to put on her,” Wynn said with a laugh. "They haven't been on a date yet, much less discussed life or their personalities. I also don't believe Blake would appreciate it."

“I’m sorry,” she said with embarrassment. “I forget sometimes that not everyone wants to hear my thoughts. It’s true though, isn’t it Wynn?” she asked with a flirtatious smile that I assumed he couldn't resist.

He sighed, definitely unable to resist her. “Yes, she's right.” He looked toward me. “He must be having serious life expanding thoughts going on when it comes to you or he wouldn’t be on that stage,” Wynn said as he pointed at Blake. “He has an anti-knight in shining armor mentality. Though he doesn't realize that has always been a good description of him for most his life. I guess we each fail to see our inherent traits. He still has his blinders tightly fixed in place. But his behavior this evening is very much out of the ordinary." He looked to his friend again with a contemplative expression.

I was sure the shock showed on my face because Wynn’s assessment of his friend was far from what Blake showed to me. He seemed the very definition of chivalrous. He wanted to be Prince Charming, but his friend just said otherwise. I learned in that moment that I shouldn’t take things as I see them.

My ideas and understanding of Blake's behavior was partly why I reverted back to my old daydreams. He cared, and he protected and it made me believe that what I wanted as a child was still possible.
Damn it.

I took a deep breath and looked over at Wynn and Hannah again. I watched as Wynn leaned against the wall and pulled Hannah back against him. He wrapped his hands around her waist and began to trace her abdomen in the same way she had been doing. He whispered in her ear and it was as if no one else was in the room.
That is what Blake deserved.

I was kidding myself. Blake was ten years younger than me, planning a life with hopes of a wife and kids. I couldn’t give him kids, so I couldn’t be someone he could want long-term. And damn it if the age gap between us didn’t sink in more as I looked at Karl standing next to me.

As if he read my thoughts, Karl spoke.

“So I have to tell you something too, Brecken,” he said and I rolled my eyes.
These people and their input.

“At face value Blake appears to be this attractive ladies’ man. But he's not a player. He’s a great guy and one of my best friends. I wouldn’t say that to any chick either. I know you, Brecken—your history and how scared you are to trust people. But as your friend and on the bond we share from you helping me wipe my ass as a kid, I promise you, he is not an asshole.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the part about wiping his ass, but I sighed after the good laugh. "I'm starting to become worried since everyone keeps speaking so highly of him to me. I'm not sure if I look like someone who needs guidance or what. But it's getting weird. But since you needed to share, I will hold you to that Karl. If he turns out to be a real asshole, I’m going to kick your ass," I said the words but didn't mean them. I planned to not pursue things with Blake regardless of his asshole status.