4. Colt
4
COLT
I’ve stopped being my own person around school.
The rest of the world sees me as Colt Alistair, Leni’s boyfriend, not the kind of guy you want to fuck around with.
But when we get to school, I stop being me. Now, I’m the guy whose brother died. That’s the risk you take when you spend so much time with someone who happens to look a hell of a lot like you. People get used to seeing you together everywhere you go. Then all of a sudden, there’s only one of you, and every time they notice you’re alone, they remember why. They get this sad, almost embarrassed look on their faces.
It happens all the time, even months later. You’d think they’d get used to it by now, but it still feels fresh. At least now, no one says anything. I couldn’t handle more questions like, “How are you? Are you holding up? Is there anything I can do to help?”
So now, I don’t have to fight the urge to ask if they know how to bring people back from the so-called dead.
They wouldn’t believe me, anyway. I can’t even get Leni to understand, so why would a bunch of people I don’t care about, whose names I hardly remember, believe me? I used to care about the way I was seen around here. There was a time I enjoyed walking across campus, being recognized, waved at, invited to parties, and that kind of thing. It used to matter.
I barely remember being that person now.
The one bright spot in my life is the girl walking by my side. She’s a ray of light, almost like she carries her own personal sun inside her and glows from the inside out. I can’t believe I ever saw her the way I once did. I can’t believe it was ever so easy to hate her, to abuse her. Love changes everything.
But it hasn’t changed me. Not completely. There’s still a darkness deep inside. The impulse to remind her that she belongs to me when she smiles as we pass a group of people who call out to us. They don’t deserve her attention. Only I do.
It’s like she hears me as we walk, glancing up at me before color floods her cheeks. “What will you do between classes?” she asks, brushing a strand of red hair away from her face when a gust of wind teases it from her ponytail. The floral scent of her shampoo reaches me and soothes the worst of the boiling, swirling darkness that’s always just under the surface, threatening to consume me.
“I thought I would go to the library.”
The way she narrows her eyes before tipping her head to the side tells me she doesn’t exactly believe my answer. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in the library lately.”
“Have I?” I shrug. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Better be careful.” She gives me a gentle nudge with her elbow, a playful smile tipping the corners of her mouth. “I might start thinking you’re meeting a girl in there.”
Coming to a stop at the intersection where one of the paths leads to the library, I turn to her and take her face in my hands. How is her skin so soft? “That’s one thing you never have to worry about.”
“I know. I’m only playing.” She closes her eyes before I press a kiss to her forehead, forcing myself to memorize the softness of her skin under my lips. How eager she is to accept affection. I carry that in my heart all the time, along with every little thing I’ve cataloged and memorized about her. Sometimes, those memories are all that keep me from losing myself to the rage. Maybe one day I’ll have to process it or whatever, but today is not that day.
As much as I don’t like letting her go off by herself, there’s no choice but to watch her continue to the arts and sciences complex where her next class is. Once I watch her walk inside, I turn around and head for the library.
Of course, Leni was right. I’m not here to study. Maybe it’s wrong to hide this from her, but then again, right and wrong has never mattered all that much to me. We spend so much time together at the apartment, I don’t feel comfortable doing my research there. She might see me, get a little curious, and start asking questions. She’s not going to like the answers she gets, and I won’t like the way she doesn’t like it. I’m pretty new to this whole relationship thing, but I know it’s smarter to avoid the shit you see coming a mile away. That’s why I use one of the computers in the library to dig around.
I don’t even know what I’m looking for. A sign, any sign. I have to do something. I can’t sit around and accept what everyone else has accepted. I would know if my brother was dead. I never saw the body. There was no ability to test his dental records since he was basically blown apart.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t Nix. I don’t know who else would have been in the house that day, but it wasn’t him. Nix wouldn’t let himself get blown up like that. He would’ve smelled the gas—it was a gas leak that set off the blast. He would’ve been smart enough to get the hell out of there.
Because otherwise, he did it on purpose, and I can’t accept that. The idea of him doing something like that, without at least hinting to me he was thinking about it… it doesn’t make sense. That’s not him. That’s not us. And that’s what Leni couldn’t possibly understand.
Finally, when my research comes up with nothing as it usually does, I move on to the next step. There’s no way to know whether he reads these emails I send every few days, but I have to keep trying.
First, though, I have to look around, make sure nobody’s paying attention. This whole thing has turned me into a paranoid freak, always looking over my shoulder, because I know anyone would think I’m crazy or pathetic and deluded if they knew I can’t accept Nix’s death. Like I’m some emotional basket case who can’t accept the truth.
Brother,
When are you coming back? Life is pretty fucking boring without you. I feel like I ask that question all the time, but the days keep going past, and you still haven’t said anything to at least let me know you’re okay.
Maybe this will get you to show yourself: Mom is awake. We saw her a few days ago. I’ve been waiting to get back on campus to send you this email and let you know. She’s doing well, at least according to her team. I don’t think they ever expected her to wake up. Now that she has, I’m not sure I was ever all that confident either. I mean, I hoped. I thought I could make her wake up somehow if I concentrated hard enough, or something like that.
I know she wants to see you. She can’t talk yet—it might be a long time before she ever can—but I know. Right away, she wanted to know where you were. Maybe you were always right when we were kids, and you said you were her favorite. It would suck if her favorite never came to see her.
I’m acting like the kid I was back in those days, trying to goad him, but I’m pretty fucking desperate at this point. Whatever it takes, I need him to respond. I would feel it inside if he were gone. I’m sure I would.
She’s at the hospital I told you about before, where I had her moved closer to me instead of hiding her out in Florida the way that asshole did. I told her he’s gone, and she cried a little, which tells me she still remembers things. I told her you went away because that’s the truth. I know it’s the truth. You’re not dead. I don’t know why you feel like you have to stay away. Is it guilt? Are you afraid somebody will blame you for the explosion? You don’t have to worry about that.
You don’t have to worry about Leni, either. You know how things are between us now. She knows why we did what we did. She doesn’t hold it against us.
Even as I type the words, I feel a strange, uncomfortable sensation growing in the pit of my stomach. It’s another thing I’m not used to—second-guessing myself. Is that what love is? Trying to do the right thing, and then always wondering if it was right after all? Going over every conversation when things seem off, wondering if you did or said something wrong. If you brought the person you love closer or pushed them away.
I think something is up with Leni, but she is pretending nothing is wrong. You know what a terrible liar she is. She tries to act tough and strong. She thinks she has the world fooled, but we can all see through her. I don’t know why she can’t be honest with me. I don’t know what I have to do to make her trust me. The more she doesn’t trust me, the angrier I get. The more hurt she gets. I see that hurt in her eyes—fuck, she might as well punch me in the face when she looks at me. It might be easier if she did.
“Hey, Colt.”
My head snaps up at the sound of a voice murmuring my name. A lot of people think they can just walk past and start a conversation when somebody’s busy. They’re lucky I just jerk my chin in recognition. I’d rather ask them why they can’t mind their own damn business. I feel like a guilty kid caught cheating on a test or something, looking around again to make sure nobody’s watching over my shoulder as I basically treat my brother like my personal diary. The whole thing is pretty pathetic.
But then they wouldn’t understand. If anything, I’m glad for them. Glad for anyone who doesn’t have to carry this weight around. Knowing in their heart that things aren’t the way they appear.
By the time I send the email, I know what I need to do when we get home later. I need to figure out what the hell the girl who supposedly loves me doesn’t trust me enough to tell me.
I’m barely able to wait until we’re inside with the rest of the world locked away on the other side of the door before pouncing on her the way I’ve thought about doing ever since I was in the library. She wants to keep something from me? She needs to know she can’t do it for long. I have ways of making her talk. I know exactly which buttons to push.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.” She’s giggling, unaware of what I have in mind while I paw at her, holding her against me from behind before she’s had the chance to drop her backpack on the floor. When my hand cups her tit, she lets out a soft moan. “You know, I was planning on working on a paper as soon as we got home…”
“That can wait,” I whisper in her ear before letting my tongue play over the lobe until she trembles against me. It is so easy to push her buttons and get her hot until she has no memory of why she wanted to do anything but lose herself to this pleasure.
Pretty soon, she’s wiggling her ass against my dick. “Tease,” I breathe in her ear, and she shivers, moaning softly when I slide a hand inside her T-shirt, working my fingers under her bra cup to tease her nipple. “So that’s the game you wanna play? Turns out, I had the same idea in mind.”
Only it’s going to go the other way around.
“Can I at least get a snack first?” When I squeeze her tit hard enough to make her gasp, it’s all the answer she needs. She doesn’t put up a fight as I walk us both toward the bedroom, since I want her spread out for me, flat on her back. I want access to all of her.
“Take off your clothes,” I murmur, letting her go once we’re next to the bed.
“You don’t feel like doing it for me?” Sure, keep playing, play while you can. I don’t say a word, only stepping back with my arms folded until she gets the hint and pulls her T-shirt overhead. Her jeans come next once she kicks off her shoes.
At first, it’s enough just to stare at her body in the light coming in from the window at her back. She’s perfect from head to toe, a wet dream come true. Even the scar on her back only sets off the perfection in the rest of her, a small flaw that makes the rest of her shine through.
Holding my gaze, she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, then just as slowly slides her pink bikini panties to the floor. “Now what should I do?” she asks in a seductive voice, with a smile to match.
“Lie down. Ass on the edge of the bed. Leg spread.” She’s trembling with anticipation but does as I say, parking her ass on the edge of the bed and lying back with her thighs spread wide.
That’s how much she trusts me in moments like this. Doing as I say without asking why. The thought is humbling in a way, but I don’t have time for that right now. I can’t let myself get lost in the moment.
At first, it’s enough for me to run my hands from ankle to hip, teasing her skin until goosebumps rise over it. She giggles and squirms, looking up at me with desire in her eyes. So beautiful, all mine. And it’s up to me to fulfill that desire.
Right now, it’s also up to her, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
There’s a wicked gleam in her eyes when I reach into the nightstand drawer on my side of the bed and pull out a magic wand vibrator. “Heavy duty, huh?” Her knowing laughter is edged with anticipation. “What did I do to deserve this?”
If she only knew how right she is, that she did something to deserve this. “You’ll find out,” I decide to answer as I plug it in. “Maybe I just want to make you feel good.”
“You’re too good to me.”
She won’t feel that way much longer. At first, it’s enough to start at the lowest level, letting the vibrator’s head take the place of the hands that were just touring her legs. “Oh, that’s nice,” she whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That feels good.”
“Do you think that’s good?” When I touch the head to one nipple, then the other, her back arches and a moan tumbles from her lips.
By the time I move further down, watching her contract before reaching her mound, she’s writhing slowly, sensually. It’s almost enough to make me forget why I’m doing this and take her here and now.
But no. I’m getting answers. Moving up to the next level, I begin running the silicone over the inside of her thighs, watching her juices flow freely, coating her lips, making them glisten. “Yes,” she moans, angling her hips to give me better access to her pussy. “Yes, so good.”
“You like that? What else would you like?”
“What do you think?”
“You have to tell me, or I won’t know what to do.”
“My pussy.” Her already flushed face goes a shade darker. “Please. God, you’re driving me crazy.”
“Oh, that’s what you want?” Her throaty groan makes me laugh before I ever so slightly touch the vibrating head to her mound.
“Fuck! Yes!” She’s lost, completely consumed by her pleasure. “Yes, more!”
That’s fine. I’ll give her more. I’ll give her more until there’s no choice but to give me what I want. Upping the intensity, I run the vibrator along her seam, careful not to move too deep, content to play with her while she grinds her hips in slow circles, her hands running over the duvet, her head moving from side to side while she moans helplessly.
I’m content to let her keep going, to watch her pleasure build, to listen as her breathing gets faster, harder.
And when I touch her clit, her hips shoot up off the bed, a broken cry filling the air. “Yes! Yes! God, so close!”
Which is exactly when I pull back a little.
Her green eyes fly open, filled with confusion. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not going to come,” I tell her, “until you tell me what it is you’ve been keeping from me lately. And I know you have, so don’t bother lying.”
“What? Are you kidding? Colt!”
Her protests go silent when I press harder, leaving her drowning in sensation again. “You heard me. Do you want to come? You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”
“But… I can’t!”
“You can’t come? That’s fine.” I go back to teasing her lips, and I’m pretty sure she’s on the verge of tears, but somehow, I can’t feel sorry for her.
“You know what I mean! There’s nothing to say!”
“I don’t believe it. You’re keeping something from me, and you’re going to tell me what it is.” Rubbing her clit again, I wait until she’s moaning before asking, “Don’t you want to come? Wouldn’t it be nice? I bet it’ll be a good one, too.”
Her fists twist the duvet. “You’re killing me!”
I’m sure it feels that way. “Nobody ever died from this. Maybe I’ll just stop.”
“No!” she howls. “Please, let me come!” I’ve never heard her like this, so full of desperation, like her life depends on me releasing her from this torture.
“Not until you tell me what I want to know. I can do this all day,” I warn, holding the toy against her just enough for stimulation, but not enough to take her over the edge. She’s a sopping mess, hips grinding, lifting them like that will do anything to help. It only makes me pull back on the pressure even more until she sobs in frustration.
“There’s nothing… to tell you…!”
“And I know you’re lying. I can always tell when you’re hiding something. Why can’t you…” Trust me. Believe in me. She can lie back and spread her legs at my command, but she won’t let me any deeper than that. She won’t let me help her.
“This isn’t fair!”
I don’t say a word, only moving the vibrator through her wetness, noting the sloppy noises that result. She is that close, and it has to be torture. “It’s up to you. I’m actually getting off on this—I don’t want it to end.”
“Oh, my god!” Her back arches, her face twisting in agony before she finally shouts, “Messages! Threats, it’s stupid! That’s all!”
My rigid cock suddenly starts to soften. “Somebody’s sending threats?”
“Probably Deborah,” she whimpers, still fighting to reach the finish line, rolling her hips, trying to get the help she desperately needs. “That’s all.”
Then she sobs again, louder than ever. “Will you let me come? Please!”
Someone has been fucking with her. “How long?”
“Colt!”
“Tell me.”
“Months. I just wanted to ignore it.”
That’s the thing about Deborah. She won’t give up. “You don’t keep these things a secret from me from now on. Understood?”
“Yes! God, yes!” I get the feeling she would agree to anything now. She would sell me her soul if I would let her come.
I take pity on her, finally pressing the buzzing wand against her clit until her anguished screams turn to ecstatic shrieks. Then she goes stiff, holding her breath before falling back against the bed with a shuddering cry.
It goes on, her bliss, but I can barely pay attention now. For months, somebody who is probably Deborah has been fucking with her, and she didn’t think she needed to tell me? What else is she not telling me? Any thoughts of fucking her now are long gone—I’m not in the mood. I don’t know if she even has it in her after the roller coaster I just put her through. She’s splayed out on the bed, whimpering weakly.
Tossing the vibrator onto the bed, I sit next to her, my elbows on my knees. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, staring at the wall.
It takes a minute for her to answer. She probably needs to catch her breath. “You’ve already got so much on your mind.”
“That’s not an answer. You’re my girlfriend. I love you. And if somebody is hurting you in any way, I need to know about it. Understood?”
She sits up slowly, sighing. “I understand. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
And I’m sorry, too, even if I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. I’m sorry we started off the way we did. I’m sorry there was ever a reason for her to not trust me in the first place.
I wonder if there’s ever going to be a time when I’m able to make up for all of that. If I can ever help her forget the pain I put her through.
Otherwise, I can have her body. She can sleep beside me every night, eat her meals with me, share her thoughts with me. But I’ll never really have her. There’s always going to be this invisible barrier between us.
I don’t know how long I can live with that.