RETRACE (24 page)

“Already leaving?” His straight strands fall to the side and his grin could not be more wicked.

“Yeah, we’re going to play Scrabble,” Nia replies enthusiastically. I stifle a laugh when I meet Jake’s knowing, cocky smile.

He raises a glass, “Happy Fucking!”

Nia turns into the brightest shade of red. I take her hand in mine and pull her after me.

“Smooth babe.” I dip my head to whisper next to her ear. She rewards me with an embarrassed glance and bites her lips. “For what it’s worth, I thought you looked incredibly sweet covered in red.”

She looks at me from under her lashes, smiling. She then throws back a glance at the group we’ve just left, and shrugs in a “whatever” kind of way before inching on her toes to kiss my jaw. I shrug in the same way and turn to hold her face in both hands and give her the kiss I’ve been dying to give her the entire evening.

“Take me home,” she breathes heavily into our kiss. I’m hopelessly in love with this woman.

I lie in my bed, covered by a light blanket, watching Reeves studying my body religiously, with his mouth, not leaving any area of skin un-kissed, untouched. Having him explore it reverently, I think about how he cleanses my soul, stripping me to my core each time I reveal another piece of me to him.

“I’m scared,” I say cautiously.

Reeves leaves a kiss on my knee and pivots his head. “What of?” He asks softly. He turns to sit cross-legged at my feet. Taking them in his hands, he starts kneading. “Tell me,” he says with dramatic flare.

“I’ve become dependent on us, on you.”

His face softens.

“I’m scared of what will happen if we just don’t…”

“Nia, that won’t happen. This co-dependence goes both ways. I can’t begin my day or go to sleep at night without you, or the thought of you.”

“I’ve let you in so deep inside, to my weakest hidden places,” I whisper.

“I couldn’t be more grateful for your trust in me.” He brings my foot next to his lips and softly kisses the spot below my ankle. He brings my other foot for the same intimate, simple gesture. “Nia, like I’ve said before, you’re inside my heart, and it’s not a temporary thing.” His eyes liquefy into mine. “It feels permanent.” I lose him, once again, to this thing that complicates his mind. Apprehension suffuses me as I watch his thoughts cloud his face. He seems to be having an inner battle before he finally squares his eyes with mine.

“I wish I could tell you more. I wish I could share with you
my
darkest turbulence.”

My chest tightens. “Why can’t you?”

“One of those, if I tell you I’d have to kill you, things.” He smiles a smile that has nothing to do with amusement. He seems tormented.

Words run stale on my tongue as I try to speak. Instead, I inch to my knees and move to straddle him. I wrap my arms around him and he buries his face above my bare chest, heaving heavily.

“There are visions etched in my memory I could never erase. One damn thing after another. Getting shot at, blown up, losing friends…” The last fragment holds so much pain, a thin layer screens my eyes at the light shudder wavering his voice. “There are some triggers I don’t think I’ll ever get past…”

I kiss the softness of his shortly cropped head.

When he lifts his eyes to mine they are also covered with a thin shiny layer, his face full of torment. “You take it away,” he says, low.

I nod, my heart pounding forcefully in my throat. I know what he means. It’s the exact sentiment he infuses in me.

Eyes locked with mine, he inches closer and kisses my lips. The air around us thickens with emotion and ache, and mostly with the deepest connection one can share. We are bound in this thing of ours that no one who hasn’t shared loss, and found someone to hold on to, someone to love, can understand.

In utter silence, where only our eyes converse, he lifts me with one hand and gets rid of his boxers with the other. My panties follow. Guiding himself under me, he eases me down to slide over him. We let out a breath of redemption as we unite. We are eyes to eyes, heart to heart, intimately linked. We never leave each other’s stares as I slowly glide up and down around him. He holds my thighs, it’s only our middles that move to meet in unhurried yet intense thrusts.

“Slow down, beautiful… I don’t want it to end,” Reeves whispers as I build up and accelerate my pace.

He brushes my hair to the sides of my face and brings his mouth to connect with mine. We move against each other in soundless, blissful absorption. I sink deeper on him, my eyes drinking his green irises in, and I’m countered by a sweet, caring smile. When I can’t hold it anymore, I let go and drop my head to the nook of his neck, reeling from my ecstasy and the love I feel for him. I pepper soft kisses along his neck as he joins me with a few slow and hard final pounds. Blissfully intoxicated on each other, we embrace, letting the warmth of our connection flood inside of us.

“Nuh uh.” Reeves snatches the remote control from my hand. When I try to get it back, he pushes me with one hand to the sofa till I’m flat on my back. “We’re not watching any of that crap.”

“Give me back the remote.” I squirm under his sprawled palm on my navel. As I manage to almost sit up, he moves to straddle me. He grabs my hands and pins them over my head, with his other hand pointing the remote at the TV.

“It’s not funny,” I squeal.

He shifts to look down at me, and wickedly grins. He bends to smack a juicy kiss on my mouth. “It’s not funny, it’s highly amusing.”

Finally finding something to his liking, he turns my way again, this time with dancing eyes and a devilish smirk. “I found your porn, babe.” I press my cheek to the sofa, turning to look at the TV, to find out what the hell he’s talking about. I burst up laughing as I see the opening credits of G.I. Joe on the wide screen.

“Oh yeah, baby.” I mimic Austin Powers. It’s Reeves’ turn to laugh.

Instead of salivating over the man in uniform on the screen, I gape at my own man as he brings another handful of microwave popcorn to his mouth. Truth be told, he does a much better job of speeding my heartbeat than his double on the screen. He looks so relaxed and content sitting with his legs resting on the coffee table, grey boxer briefs, sexy dog tags on a sexier defined, bared chest.

An almost forgotten emotion surfaces, one I haven’t felt in more than 1095 days. An emotion that tickles at my heart.
I’m happy
. No inhibitions, no undercurrent of gloom.
Happy
. Genuinely happy. And it’s all because of him, because Reeves is
my happy
.

“What?” He sends a popcorn kernel to land on my nose.

I pop the puffed seed to my mouth and smile back. His own grin broadens.

“Wanna combat my brains out?” I wriggle my brows, dropping my off-shoulder shirt further down to reveal the swell of my breast. At once, the popcorn bowl is set to the table, and I’m yanked back by my legs to lie on my back. A very distinctive bugle meets my middle when a mighty eager Reeves lands between my legs.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am. I’d be honored,” he says next to my mouth, and we both chuckle in unison.

Until we don’t laugh anymore.

I keep silent, okay maybe not, it’s more akin to producing breathy sounds while letting Reeves adeptly fulfil his duties.

“Oh God, I want to die.” I bury my face in Reeves’ chest that slightly trembles with his chuckles. I shake my head, inhaling his scent, a splendid combination of freshly showered, light softener powdery scent, and masculine musk. His arms clad in a long sleeves, white undershirt enfold me tightly.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he says, humor dominating his voice.

Okay, maybe Mrs. Perry catching us in a hot and heavy session at the studio, after hours, is not the end of the world, but it’s still beyond embarrassing. God, I’ll be mortified if she ever mentions it again.

I came to the studio to dance by myself. Something I haven’t done for a while. Something I’ve missed fiercely. We planned for Reeves to pick me up and go to dinner. He surprised me by arriving earlier, after a run and shower, to watch me dance.

Apparently Reeves’ reaction to watching me dance is the equivalent to my reaction to him in uniform… Hence the embarrassing moment in which I was pinned against the floor to ceiling mirrors, panting, grazing against an equally heavily breathing Reeves, when I froze to the sound of high-heels. As I froze, so did the tapping. And when I looked over Reeves’ shoulder, it was directly into the blue eyes of my highbrow boss.

“Carry on dear, there’s nothing here I haven’t seen, or done.”

I swallowed hard.

“Good evening,” she sang. The tapping continued and I watched Mrs. Perry sashay away, adorned by a tiny, yet mischievous, smile. Which brings me to this moment where I still feel my face radiating heat.

“Seriously, not that bad.” Reeves repeats through a chuckle.

“I’ll have to find a new job,” I say, and his smirk widens.

“Just make sure you don’t hump anyone during the interview.”

I feign a scowl that I’m not able to hold for too long when my traitorous lips pull up.

I lock up after us and slide my hand into Reeves’ waiting one. We pass by a few shops and a couple of restaurants when he says, “I want an encore later tonight.”

My eyes travel to his.

“You were saying?”

“I was saying,” Reeves opens the door to a small Brazilian place and gestures for me to step in first, “that I want an encore later.” His hand hovers at the small of my back, guiding us to a table for two by the window. “Only this time you’d be dancing naked,
on me
.”

The guy at the table next to us chokes on his drink. Reeves flashes me a naughty smile and I shake my head in return. We place our orders with the friendly waitress and toast my upcoming performance.

While we dig into our dishes, Reeves asks me more about Patrick. My reaction and the comfort I feel telling him about my big brother are the same as what I felt when I first let him inside my bedroom, where all my home and family mementos reside, I do it with ease. I want to tell him, and though the perpetual twinge is very much intact, so is a new air of a desire to share, a desire to tell Reeves everything.

It’s been more than two weeks since we made our “official” transition from just friends to – so much more. These two weeks were one of the best times I had in a long while. There isn’t something monumental I can put my finger on and say: that’s it, that’s what made it as wonderful as it was. It’s everything. It’s just simply being with him. He makes me happy, and he doesn’t make me forget, he makes me accept.

“I love the way you look at me,” Reeves says, pulling me back from my short reverie.

“How is it?” I ask, utterly indulging in the food that I’ve missed so much. Feijoada with Farofa, I’m in food heaven.

“The way your eyes shine, your beauty… It’s even brighter than before.” He takes my hand that’s rested on the table and kisses it softly in the center my palm.

“I’m happy,” I say.

Reeves’ hollering phone snatches his attention. “Stanley.” Silence falls between us as he listens attentively for a few long moments. He takes a sharp intake before his hand drops mine and moves to hold the back of his neck. “Is she okay?”

I tense and stare at him, curious, waiting for his next words.

He pushes an audible sigh before asking in a strained voice, “Where are you?” Another pause. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Fuck,” Reeves utters. “Fuck.” His hands move to hold his buzzed head. His eyes drop to me, “It’s Katie, she’s in the E.R. We need to go.”

“What happened?” My hand reflexively flies to my mouth.

“She took pills.” His words are sharp and woven with dread. A stark reminder of how you can never really know what’s going on in someone else’s mind.

“God, is she okay?”

“They pumped her stomach.”

As Reeves’ hauls a taxi, I ask in a small voice, “Are you sure you want me there?”

His response is a piercing look followed by a fierce, “Yes.” Even though I truly believe it’s not my place, I’ll be there for him in case he needs my support. The ride to the hospital is a nail-biting fifteen minutes in which Reeves is locked up behind worried eyes and a flexed jaw.

Tears clog my throat and I am thrown back at the sight of Katie’s parents. The lack of color in their faces and the pools of dread in their eyes hit too close to home. It slams my heart from side to side inside my ribcage, it’s my own parents that I see before my eyes.

Reeves covers Beth in a hug while talking to Stanley over her shoulder. I manage to catch only pieces of sentences given our distance, my shaken condition, and their low voices. What I can clearly see is the relief in Reeves air as he closes his eyes and drops his face to the crown of Beth’s head.

With an aim to give them some privacy, I walk out to the courtyard and do something I haven’t done for too long now. I take my phone out of my denim jacket and call my parents. This time, I wait anxiously for them to pick up, and it’s a very different kind of apprehension than the last times I answered their calls. This time, I want to talk to them, this time I miss them and want to tell them just how much I do.

“Nia.” My mother’s voice over the line is breathy. “Are you okay?”

My stomach coils. It’s me who put this worry in her. “I’m okay, ma. I miss you.” My voice breaks.

“Oh baby, I miss you so much. Every day.”

“I’m sorry ma, I’m sorry for everything.”

I’m sorry for blaming them for my self-hatred. After more than four months since I’ve left home, I
really
talk to my parents. My dad joins the call and I begin an unstoppable word marathon when I tell them all about the last few months. About everything that matters. Before ending the call, they make me promise to call more often and offer to buy me a ticket to visit home for Christmas.

For a moment, caught up in my own emotional bubble, I forget where I am. I tuck the phone back inside my pocket and go look for Reeves. I’m more than relieved to notice vitality has returned to Beth and Stanley’s cheeks when I stop to talk to them. They wait on a peeling, gray bench at the reception, holding hands and quietly talking. They both look up at me, though an air of relief colors their expressions, they still seem to carry mounds of concern. Stanley nods and Beth gives me a weary smile.