Come to Me Quietly

I kind of wanted to laugh because all of a sudden I was thinking about all the phrases they’d used while I was in juvie, during the sessions they’d placed me in because that’s where they sent all the junkies. I’d thought all of it bullshit because they knew nothing about me. They’d talked about the withdrawals we’d experience, but how it would be so much easier while we were on the inside and separated from all the temptations on the outside. They’d warned us that once we got out, we’d have to be careful to stay straight, to keep our noses clean and the triggers at bay.

Two weeks ago I’d made the decision to keep my trigger close. Aly was the greatest temptation I’d ever had, and I’d decided to pretend that just extracting myself from her room would be enough. As if seeing her every day wasn’t going to wear me down. I should have known I would slip.

I was assaulted by visions of Aly pinned up against the wall by my hips, the feel of her body and the taste of her skin.

I’d slipped, all right.

Fallen.

Heaving the air from my lungs, I turned away, crossed the hall, and let myself into the stillness of her room. I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking, just going in without her permission, but I felt like this good-bye had to happen here. In the place where she’d affected me so deeply. The lights were off, but her blinds were drawn, and the lights from the parking lot below spilled onto the floor.

Her bed was all tussled, the sheets twisted and tied, and I pictured her there last night, tossing as she turned, sleep evading her as she longed for me.

And I knew she did. I’d felt it in her touch. She wanted me just as intensely as I wanted her.

Those sheets looked so damned inviting. Like a creep, I had the urge to bundle them up, to press them to my nose, to breathe in all that was Aly before I walked away.

Yeah, it’d be wise to avoid her bed.

I pulled the chair out from under her dressing table and turned it around to face the room. Then I carefully sat on the hard, wooden chair. I fidgeted as I took in her space, tugging at the hem of my T-shirt. Everything here was so distinctly Aly. Comfortable. Right.

One of her sketch pads lay on the floor. God, I wanted to know what she kept inside them so badly, to get a little further inside her head, to catch a glimpse of her soul. I could so easily cross her room and look inside, but I instinctively knew whatever she had there was as personal to her as the words I wrote in my books. I was still shocked by the impulse I’d had to give her a little glimpse into mine, the words I’d left on her pillow. I wanted to show her that even though I could feel no joy, I could still see beauty. That night when I lay awake with her sleeping in my arms, it was all I could see, the beauty in this girl.

I tore my attention from the pad because there was no chance I’d disrespect her privacy like that, and I let my eyes trace her bookshelves, the pictures on her walls, memorized her space.

As if I could ever forget it.

Agitation bounced my knee, each passing second excruciating. I didn’t know what I was going to say to her, but I refused to be a coward and disappear without an explanation. Even if telling her good-bye was going to kill me.

I froze when I heard the bathroom door open across the hall.

This was it.

The knob to her room rattled as it turned, and I swallowed hard when Aly came into view. Her hand was on the doorknob as it swung open, her body in motion until she stumbled back when she saw me sitting in the shadows. Her hair was wet, and she’d obviously run a comb through it. The length of it fell in long sheets that had deepened to black, and errant strands curled where they clung to her shoulders. She was wearing those same tiny pink shorts and a matching tank, the softness of her breasts swelling at the top, the long stretch of her legs exposed.

Instantly I was hard.

My knee bounced faster as I struggled with the intense urge to run or maybe give in to a repeat of last night.

Motherfucking trigger.

I raked a shaky hand through my hair while Aly remained rooted in the doorway. I couldn’t tell if she was pissed or relieved or confused. Troubled green eyes darted across my face as if they were searching for some sort of clue, and I wondered just how badly I’d injured her when I walked away from her last night.

My jaw ticked, and she just stared.

What the fuck was I supposed to say when she was standing there looking at me like that? When her chest rose and fell in a heavy pant, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth slack with what looked like relief.

“Jared,” she finally said so quietly. She made my name sound like a statement, maybe even an answer.

She’d wondered if I would return and now I was here. And God, I didn’t want to leave.