15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Which floor is he?”
“Same as Sax.”
I look at Jesse; really? And he giggles like a fucking girl.
“Level one.”
“Now’s not the time to get flustered, Jess. You know what it does to me. It’d be pretty awkward to have a hard-on with my arms around your friend.” Sticking my foot out, I stop the elevator door from closing and shuffle inside.
“Guess we’ll have to drop him off quickly, then.” Jesse looks at me in the mirror, then hangs his head bashfully as another brick is knocked off the top of my wall.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” I ask, maneuvering us so we are facing the door.
“Pretty sure you’re the one with all the powers of seduction.”
“True. But all you need to do is look at me and I question everything.”
I can see Jesse look at me from over Romeo’s limp head, but all I can do is lock in on the rusty join of the elevator door as the stillness swallows me whole. My back feels bare, uncovered, like I could be jumped any second. My fingers are tingling, my nose and head hurt, and I’ve not felt so vulnerable since I cried for my mother and she ignored Dad’s handprint and the blood running down my face.
“Come on, Romi.” Jesse steps out of the elevator and tugs us forward. “Saxon’s already moved on,” he jokes with a jerk of his head towards his door and the sound of his shower running.
I force a huff, but can’t make a smile appear on my face
A few more feet and we’re at Romeo’s door, and Jesse rifles through his jacket to find his key. “We’re back at your room, mate,” he says loudly, slapping him on the cheek once the door is open.
The light from the hallway is enough to illuminate the way into his room, but I already feel like I need to get out. So as Jesse leads us sideways toward the bed, I find myself desperately reaching back, smacking at the wall until I find the light switch.
Like a bolt of electricity shooting through him, Romeo hisses and springs to life. I let go of him and cower away as he stumbles, but he’s fading fast. With a spin of his shoulders and a nudge from Jesse, he collapses on the mattress and is out cold again.
With a hand on either side of the narrow entryway, I look back over my shoulder to make sure the door is still wide open.
Every breath I take feels like a cyclone whirring past me. Into the room, then back out again.
Trying to knock me over.
Making me vulnerable.
With nothing to hold on to, my fingernails claw at the drywall as I try to convince myself no one is going to hurt me. But I can never know anyone’s intentions but my own, and half the time they aren’t righteous either.
Who can I trust when I can’t trust myself?
I’m a human grenade. My pin is falling out and there are only so many times I can try to push it back into place before it slips out and I take everyone down with me.
Holding my breath, I spin so my back is against the wall and watch as Jesse kneels by Romeo’s feet.
Untying his shoelaces, Jesse slips his shoes off before standing again and wrestling with his heavy coat until it’s off and Romeo is lying face down on the bed. Sliding his cell phone from his back pocket, he puts it on the nightstand and rolls his friend back over.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he grins up at me as he slides Romeo’s pants down his legs.
“You shouldn’t either, cause the only way you’ll ever top me is if I’m passed out.”
The smile melts off Jesse’s face, and I bang my head back against the wall.
There’s never a ‘right’ time for a rape joke, especially one that’s so deeply rooted in my own tragedy. But to throw out the truth so blatantly, and when the man I’m lusting after is undressing his friend… I’m clearly more fucked up than I’ve let myself believe.
There’s nothing sexual about what Jesse is doing. I should be finding it endearing how he looks after those close to him. Yet all I see are my own clothes being torn from my body. I can feel the dirt in my face and hear the hate-filled words coming from every direction.
I’m frozen, hands in fists by my side. My attention is divided between the door and Romeo because… What if he wakes up? What if he’s too drunk to realize it’s Jesse? He might just see long hair and his pants off and jump to drunken conclusions.
Jesse lifts Romeo’s feet and drags them to the end of the bed. Pillow under his head, he disappears into the bathroom and I feel like the room is collapsing around me. I can hear the tap running, but I still can’t tear my eyes away from the bed until Jesse has placed the glass of water on the nightstand and is in front of me again.
“Is everything okay?” he asks gently as his fingers brush the back of my hand.
“You’re a good friend, Jess.” My words tremble out as I look to the hallway.
Determined, Jesse flicks off the light and pulls me out of Romeo’s room. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I don’t think I’d ever trust myself around anyone if I got that drunk.”
“That’s what friends are for,” he says with a shrug, like it’s what everyone does.
“And Saxon?” I cross my arms in a way that looks dominant but is secretly self-soothing, and walk back to the elevator.
“He’s not the guy you think he is. He’s rescued me more times than I can count.”
With enough distance between me and Romeo’s room, I smirk and revert to what I know best because I’m a deplorable piece of shit. “I’m not surprised. A sweet thing like you being passed out could be dangerous.”
Confusion is written all over Jesse’s face, but I don’t acknowledge it. Talking about my problems is not something I do. Ignoring them. Pushing them as deep down as they can go and brushing aside the people who see my cracks— that’s what I do.
But now that thought makes me sick.
I don’t want to force Jesse away, but he can’t know what’s wrong with me, either.
With an irked huff, Jesse presses for the elevator because I’ve been standing here in front of it with my arms crossed, too consumed with making myself seem tough to even realize nothing is happening.
In the dented and tarnished elevator door, I watch his reflection as he swipes his fingers back through his hair several times before tying it up. I love it like that. Off his face so I can see his jaw and neck.
I might have been able to tell him if I wasn’t such a coward caught up in his past.
Maybe I’d have gotten a compliment in return if I wasn’t so fucking terrified of dragging him into my misery.
Everything had gone so well.
He was in the palm of my hand, but I had to let myself feel for him.
Worry about him.
Fall for him.
Every brick in my wall is rubble at my feet and I’m bare, exposed, and completely defenseless, bar the whip of my tongue. And when I’ve lost my wits, my body only knows one function because my mind is too busy regressing to be alert. To watch everything. To protect.
Inside the elevator, the air is stifling, and even though I’m sure it’s imagined, it seems Jesse can feel it too.
“You haven’t asked me a question yet,” I say brashly as he removes his coat and drapes it over his arm. “Though I wouldn’t be opposed to you getting naked without the need to chat.”
“It’s past eleven and you know we have an early morning.” His head remains forward. “Besides, why can’t we just talk? Like during work tomorrow. Why does it have to involve stripping?”
Because sex is the only thing I know that makes me feel good.
It’s my freedom and the prison I spend every day locked inside of.
Good or bad, it’s all I know.
It’s all I’m good at.
All I cared about until his freckles destroyed me.
“Look,” Jesse continues. “I wanna get to know you. For years I did the ‘fuck first and ask questions later’ bullshit… I mean… Not that we’re. I dunno… You know what I mean.”
He’s spiraling, but I’m too in my own head to even revel in his adorable misery.
“Here we are,” I mumble as the elevator door rattles open. Stepping out first, I look back at him and wait. “I’m not that interesting, you know.”
“I don’t believe it for a second.”
Exhaling sharply through my nose, I pass off his comment as trivial. “I’m sure you’re much more fascinating than I am.”
“How will I know unless you tell me?”
Stopping in the middle of the hallway—equal distance between our doors—I look at Jesse and into his innocent green eyes. “It’s better this way.”
“Kai—”
“No, don’t!” I snap before catching myself. “Don’t ruin it.”
Jesse steps in front of me. “Ruin what? I thought we had a great night.”
His hand wraps around my wrist, and I tense.
His brow creases, begging me for an answer.
Looking down, I see my tattoo-covered skin encased in pure, unblemished, creamy white. Closing my eyes, I imagine myself without my tattoos. Unmarked and untainted. Clean and righteous and worthy of his attention. But no amount of wishing can add luster to the steaming pile of shit that I am.
“That’s the problem.” I turn away, but he pulls me back. “Jesse, please.”
“No! After all the shit you’ve put me through the past few days, you don’t get to just walk away…”
He tugs me harder and I battle with my impulses because I know he isn’t trying to hurt me, but my subconscious wants me to fight for my life.
“...Now man up and fucking tell me what the issue is all of a sudden.”
With my body turned away, I yank my arm from his clutches and bring my fist to my chest.
“Fuck you!” Jesse yells, pushing me and sending me face first into my door.
I’m completely powerless. My back is exposed and I feel like all the life is draining from inside me. But remaining still, with my head leaning against the door and my hands pressed flat against it, I accept my beating.
“You’re a real cunt, you know that? I should have trusted my common sense and not listened to the shit you spouted. You like me. How could I be so fucking na?ve?”
Silence.
He wants a response.
He deserves one.
But the moments tick by.
Metal clatters against metal as he slides his key into its lock. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Alma tomorrow and see if I can get my shift changed.”
“Please don’t.” Possessed, I’m pushing back off my door and grasping at straws because it can’t end like this.
“Don’t what?” Jesse barks, ready to fight, only to be met by my face inches from his.
“Just…”
I can’t finish the thought.
He’s so close.
So perfect.
I want my arms around him.
His head on my chest.
I creep forward. My forehead presses against his and we move together until his back is flush against his door and my hands are up by his shoulders.
“You scare me,” I whisper.
“How?”
“I don’t know… You… I lose control around you.”
“I…”
My right hand leaves the door and grazes his shoulder before my fingers rake through the loose hair by his ear—our breaths shared. And it all feels too good to be true. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Why would you hurt me?”
“Bad shit tends to happen when I’m not in control.”
“Like wha—”
“Just trust me, okay?”
“What if I don’t give a shit?” Jesse’s tone is defiant, and his eyes finally rise to meet mine.
“That’s why you scare me so much.”
“You scare me too.”
“Not in the same way, I bet.”
“I don’t mind being scared…”
Jesse’s chin moves.
His shoulders lift from the door.
His barely parted lips press against mine.
It’s feather-light, but I kiss him back.
My hand moves from his hair to cup the back of his head.
His lips are softer than I imagined, but perfect all the same.
Innocent.
Full of naivete, and that’s the problem.
I release his head and trace my fingers down his neck and to his chest. “I guess you lost the game.”
“I don’t mind losing sometimes,” he smiles.
“Fuck.” I push my forehead into his shoulder. “I wanna come in so badly.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t do sleepovers, remember?”
“You don’t have to stay.”
I step back, and my body is instantly cold. I run my hands through my hair in frustration because my heart is overpowering my dick for the first time in my life. “But I’ll want to. And I know you’ll just look at me with those sexy fucking eyes and I’ll regret it forever.”
“You’ll regret it if we hook up?”
“Fuck no!” I’ll regret dulling your spirit. “Look, I’m sorry, Jesse. It doesn’t matter how much I wanna be in your room. In your bed.” I step backward until my heels hit my door. “I don’t think I could handle it if you—”
“If I what?” He takes a step towards me.
“Please don’t. If you come any closer, I’ll wanna kiss you again.”
“So you don’t actually like me?” His face tells me all the pain his words can’t express.
“No. I really fucking do. That’s why—”
“That’s good. Isn’t it? I like you too. If you don’t wanna come to my room, we can talk in yours.”
Fear drenches me like a bucket of pig’s blood, and everything bad I know that’s happened in those walls flashes before my eyes. Things he can’t know. Things he can’t see. I’d rather him hate me than know the truth. Or worse—wake up with his own bruises.
“Goodnight, Jesse,” my voice shakes as I reach for the doorknob. “Sleep well.”