Chapter 16
Sixteen
Deja
“You two don’t look like you’re up for church today,” my mother says, sipping her green juice. Devin smiles knowingly, hugging her from behind. We regard them with matching expressions of “screw you.” My head is pounding, and all I want to do is crawl back into bed.
“I could use a few more hours,” I say, propping my head on my hand. “Of sleep, I mean. Sleep.”
Devin should be tired too, but he looks as fresh as a daisy. He was up when I got home at 2:00 am and hung out with me and Jayden for half an hour before we all went to bed. Jayden’s still asleep in the basement guest room, insulated from the noise of my parents stomping all over the second floor.
“How was the dance?” my mother asks.
“Good,” I say, my head lowered over a cup of herbal tea. The warm steam is soothing to my oversensitive skin. “We had a lot of fun.”
“And you, Brandon?”
“It was fine.” His voice sounds gravelly.
“I didn’t see you at the dance,” I say, stifling a yawn. He got home a few minutes after me last night, mumbled something unintelligible at Devin, and went straight upstairs.
“I couldn’t miss you, Homecoming Queen,” he says, derisively. “Saw you bumping and grinding all over Jayden.” I meet his eyes, and they’re full of challenge. Why is he bringing this up now? If he wants to throw down, I’ll throw down.
Forgetting that my parents are there, I sing back at him: “I don’t see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind.”
“You would quote a pedo,” Brandon says, and my face goes hot.
I catch Devin’s expression, which is kind of suspicious. But suspicious of what? Hopefully, it’s the bump and grind comment. My mother is doing that thing where she tries to have no expression. She always ends up looking constipated instead.
I fail to stifle a yawn. Brandon, who was looking at me, yawns too.
“Can I go back to bed?” he asks. “I’m just going to fall asleep in church if you make us go.”
Devin accedes with a sharp nod. I slide off my stool and pick up my cup. I’m climbing the stairs before I realize I have company. My mother stops at the door to my bedroom, and I turn to see what she wants.
“Do we need to have a conversation?” she asks.
“About what?” She raises her eyebrows, and I get it. That kind of conversation. “No. Emphatically no.”
The questioning look does not go away. She throws in the flat-lipped “don’t bullshit me” expression, too.
“We’ve had the sex talk, Mom,” I point out, wearily.
“This would be the safe sex talk,” she says.
“They teach us sex ed at school, and I can always go on the internet.” This does not seem to have mollified her.
“If I have any questions or something changes, or I need something, I will ask you, okay? Brandon and I were just giving each other a hard time because we can’t stand each other.
All Jayden and I did last night was dance. ”
This seems to do the job. She sniffs and gives me a little nod. Finally, I can go back to sleep.
I wiggle deeper into the cottony warmth of my bed.
I’m halfway between sleep and wakefulness, the remnants of a dream still floating inside my brain.
My speaker is on in the background playing champagne problems by Taylor Swift.
It may be on repeat or perhaps my perception of time is distorted so that seconds stretch on forever.
There’s a velvety octopus’s arm wrapped around my waist, hugging me tightly against the six-foot tall stuffed green dinosaur that I lost when I was five.
“Wake up, baby,” the dinosaur whispers against the back of my head.
I moan in denial. I don’t want to wake up; I am feeling too content to wake up.
The dinosaur rubs my tummy with a large paw.
Don’t dinosaurs have really tiny hands? Relatively small hands?
These hands are warm, and shouldn’t the body be softer?
“What is it?” I ask, only half awake. The dinosaur smells really good, like citrus and something herbal.
His large hand moves up to lightly collar my throat and I jolt awake, my heart pounding.
I don’t have to turn my head to know who’s in bed with me.
There’s only one person who would hold me like this.
“Brandon. What are you doing?”
“Just want to talk,” he breathes into the nape of my neck. His breath is warm and mint scented. My skin heats. I’m starting to love the feel of his hand on my neck.
“You were being such a dick this morning.”
“Don’t want them to think we like each other, do we?”
“Do we like each other?” I tease.
He chuckles, honest to goodness. Can’t remember hearing that sound before. Most of the time he’s either grim or angry. It’s a welcome change.
I sit upright, dislodging his hand, and make a dash towards the edge of the bed.
He jumps for me. It’s really awkward because we’re both tangled in the covers, but I’m no match for him physically.
He throws himself on top of me, heavy thighs weighing down my legs.
I struggle, trying to throw him off, but I have no luck.
The only effect is the shifting of our positions until I’m on my back and he’s smiling down at me.
He looks like a wolf who’s cornered a lamb.
Are you still prey if you want to be caught?
“Get off me, you jackass.” He’s got me pinned to the bed, his features sharp and feral. I push against him, and he flexes his muscles, showing his strength.
“Seriously,” I hiss, “get off me. I don’t want to get caught.”
“Chill,” he says. “I just want to talk.”
“That makes even less sense with you on top of me.”
His focus shifts to my lips, his eyes growing heavy-lidded. His head lowers, his mouth getting closer and closer to mine. I hold my breath, my lips parting in anticipation of his touch.
But then he laughs and levers himself up. The blue, agate marbles beneath his brows mock me. I regard him warily as I sit up, easing away from him. I don’t get too far before he grabs my ankle.
I plop on my butt, now truly confused. What is he doing?
He’s sitting cross-legged, holding me by the foot. We square off as much as you can square off in your pajamas among mounds of fluffy white bedding.
“I found something downstairs I want to show you.”
He produces a messenger bag and pulls out a photo album.
It smells a little musty, which isn’t surprising if it’s been in the basement for a while.
It’s a wedding album with the words Lindsey and Sean on the front.
Inside are photos of a white couple in their twenties.
They both have dark hair—hers brown and his black like Brandon’s.
I can see both their features in Brandon.
He’s tall like his father and has the same general build, but the unblemished skin and striking features are all mom.
“They look so happy,” I say, then I realize how that must sound since Brandon’s dad left them.
“I think they were,” Brandon says, “at least back then. I like to imagine this is the real them, loving each other. They had me out of love.”
“Of course they did,” I say because I know that’s what he needs to hear. It must be a terrible feeling to wonder whether you were loved and wanted by both your parents.
“I don’t remember them being together. I was so young when he left. But look how he’s looking at her. It’s like he thinks she hung the moon. I just don’t understand what could have happened to make him leave.”
“Whatever it was, it wasn’t your fault.” I squeeze his hand to comfort him, and he squeezes back.
“After my dad left, we moved in here.”
“I didn’t know that. How’d that happen?”
“My mom was working for Devin and when she couldn’t afford to keep her place, he told her she could take the servant’s quarters.”
“That little room?”
“It was free, and housekeepers don’t really get paid very much. Devin was actually cool. He taught me how to read, played ball with me. I don’t mean he was like a surrogate dad or anything, but he paid more attention to me than my real dad.”
“So what happened? You don’t seem to like him now.”
“He fired my mom, that’s what happened. I woke up one morning and went into her room and she was slurring her words and stuff.
I asked him to take her to the doctor and he said she’d be fine in a bit.
And she was later in the day, but the problem kept coming back.
She broke some household items, and he fired her.
After ten years, she’s out on her ass. We ended up in a homeless shelter. ”
I can’t believe that’s the whole story.
“But he did become your guardian, though. That has to count for something.”
“That didn’t mean he helped us out. If I’d wanted his help I’d have had to stay here without my mom. Fat chance.”
I feel like there’s subtext here that I’m missing, especially since Brandon is now doing exactly what he said he wasn’t going to do—living under Devin’s roof without his mom. Big difference between eight and eighteen, but still, you’d think he wouldn’t be so pissed off.
“What are you going to do with the album?” I ask, changing the subject back.
“I figure I can get some pictures of her and her friends and put them in frames as gifts.
“I think she’ll like that.”
“Cool.” He bites his lip.
That’s all the warning I get before he’s on top of me again. When I struggle, he grabs my wrists, holding them above my head in a tight grip. His face is inches from mine.
“Brandon, you’re hurting me,” I say, trying to pull away. But he’s too strong, too determined. He leans in, his face inches from mine, his breath hot and heavy.
“But you like it when I hurt you, don’t you?
” he says, and I have to look away, because he’s right.
I can feel the hard line of his body pressed against mine, his weight pressing me down into the bed, and it’s delicious.
He leans closer, his lips brushing against my ear.
“You know what turns me on, Deja? The way you gasp when I hurt you. The way you can’t hide liking it. ”
My heart races as he trails kisses down my neck. I try to push him away, but it only makes him press harder against me. He’s enjoying this, I realize with a weird feeling in my stomach, and so am I.
I feel his hand slip under my pajama top, his fingers pinching my nipple. My back arches, seeking more of his touch.
“Brandon, stop,” I say, my voice weak. “What if somebody catches us?”
As if I never spoke, his lips crash down on mine, sending shivers down my spine.
He kisses me deeply, his hands tangling in my braids as he moves against me.
His lips move against mine with a passion that shuts off my brain.
My resistance melts away as Brandon deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth like it was made for him.
My thoughts are all jumbled together, my heart thundering in my ears.
Suddenly, we are interrupted by a voice coming from the doorway. “Well, well, well…what do we have here?”
We both freeze as Jayden steps into the room. His gaze roams over our intertwined bodies before he smirks.
“I didn’t know you two were so close!” he says, sardonically.
I push on Brandon’s shoulders and this time he lets me up, pushing his hands through his hair.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I blurt, my voice high-pitched and shaky. Jayden’s right eyebrow goes up as if to say, “Bullshit.”
“I can see nothing’s happening here,” Jayden says, dryly. “Just like you weren’t grinding on me last night.”
I’m flushed with embarrassment. I dirty danced with Jayden last night, but it didn’t mean anything. Bringing it up feels like shit stirring. It certainly didn’t turn me on. Not like what Brandon and I were just doing.
“I wouldn’t talk to Deja like that,” Brandon says, his tone dark. He’s staring at Jayden with an expression that’s the polar opposite of Jayden’s breezy smirk.
“Calm down, bruh,” Jayden replies, “She wasn’t even into it and now I get why.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, getting off the bed. Brandon stands up too, on the other side. We exchange wary looks. Brandon looks like he’s ready to leap across the room and deck my ex-boyfriend.
I can see the anger rolling off Brandon while Jayden stands there coolly, like he isn’t afraid of anything.
I have no idea how a fight between these two would go down, but both of them are big, buff dudes.
Jayden probably has an advantage as far as upper body strength, but Brandon is a rage monster.
“Calm down,” Jayden says, chuckling. “I just came to get you for lunch. Your mom picked up soup and sandwiches.”
Shit! Imagine if my mom or Devin had come to get us for lunch?
I didn’t realize it was so late; I thought Devin and my mom were still at church.
I shudder at the thought of either of them walking in on me and Brandon kissing, and take a deep breath to steady my nerves.
I can only imagine the look of shock and disappointment on my mom’s face.
I glance at Brandon, who is still standing awkwardly on the other side of the bed.
“Why don’t you guys go ahead,” I say. “I need to change.” Brandon leaves the room with a tight nod in my direction. Jayden winks at me and closes the door on his way out.