CHAPTER SEVEN
"I have to go to church."
I was on my back, entangled with bed sheets as Brady collapsed beside me. I stared at the ceiling, felt the breeze from my open window, and all I could think was—"I have to go to church and pray."
Brady snorted and rolled his head into his elbow. He burrowed into my side, but didn't say a word.
Not me. I continued, but only after I had panted for a few sweat-slicked moments. "And I'm going to sing loud. I'm going to kneel when the pastor says 'bow your heads.' I'm going to do the whole thing. I'm going to kneel, fold my hands how the Catholics do, and I'll bow my head so far that my shoulders are going to hurt. I don't care if Viola looks at me weird. Neil won't care. He'll be proud."
I caught short at those words. He'll be proud. No he wouldn't, not in the slightest.
"And if Pastor Radlinson asks for a volunteer for anything, I'll do it. I'll bake twenty dozen cookies. I'll read stories at church. I'll even…" I gulped. "I'll even sing in the choir."
"You need to shut up," Brady growled with his nose tucked into my shoulder.
His breath tickled me, but I ignored him. "I should go to confession. I should be a Catholic tomorrow—today. I'll go to confession and confess my soul, because…oh God…I have a lot to confess."
Brady lifted his head and glared at me. "Shut up, Ray."
I met his gaze. "I'll pray for you too, Brady. You need prayer more than me."
"Oh, my God." He flipped to his back. I ignored how his thigh slid against mine or how his hand fell on my exposed thigh.
I gulped. "I need to tell my grandmother."
"No, you don't!" Brady sat up. He didn't care that he was naked. He looked relaxed, well—he looked annoyed with me, but he was relaxed too. He was always like that. I blinked as he glowered at me and then my fingers slid through his soft hair.
Brady closed his eyes and moaned.
It was the moaning. My eyes snapped back to reality and my hand retracted itself, like it'd been burned.
I needed to be burned, scalded, something. I couldn't control my hand.
"Why do you do that?" Brady shifted on the bed again, but he moved closer and rested his forehead against mine. As he breathed in and out, I stared straight ahead. I was not affected…
"Ezekiel 33:10 says that our sins weigh us down and we will waste away our lives because of them."
He pulled away and ran his hands through his hair—my hand started to rise of its own volition. Brady slapped it away and grunted when he shifted against the bed's headboard. He folded his arms, which bunched his muscles together.
I swallowed.
"It's just sex. That's all."
"It's a sin. Twice. We sinned twice."
"And you totally took that verse out of context."
"I don't care." I pulled the bed sheets tighter around me and then I looked at the door. I waited until I heard my grandparent's snores. They were like vampires when they slept, completely out of it, but I was still paranoid. It'd be my luck that they'd wake up and decide to check on me the one time I had sex in my room.
"You should care." Brady brought me back to our reality. He added as he yawned, "I think it's a sin to take a Bible verse out of context. It's like you're twisting the message."
"Shut up!"
Brady grinned at me as he skimmed a finger down my back. He swept it up to brush against the side of my breast.
"Stop that." I twisted away from his touch.
He rolled his eyes and collapsed against the headboard.
"Stop that, too."
That got a chuckle from him. I couldn't believe it. While I was mortified, already planning how to repent for my actions, he laughed.
"Look at you." His shoulders shook from laughter. "You're so mad at me right now. Anyone else, Rayna, anyone else, and I wouldn't put up with it, but you—you're mad at me and I just think how hot you look."
I flushed and looked down at my lap. Warmth flared in me, but…anyone else…there'd been lots of other girls, and there'd still be lots of girls, but for now—no! I was not going to go there. I tightened my resolve. "You shouldn't say things like that to me. It's not right."
"Why?"
He knew. The bastard knew darn well what I meant.
"You know what I mean."
"No. I don't." He wrapped a hand around a corner of the bed sheet and tugged it backwards. It tightened around me and I was pulled against his chest. He wrapped both of his arms around my waist, held me captive and propped his chin on my shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my neck.
"Don't."
Brady grinned against my skin and then shifted so I ended in his lap. "Brady," I tried to chastise, but his fingers distracted me. They slid underneath the sheet and started to massage my stomach. When they slipped lower, I gasped.
Brady chuckled into my ear. "You only live once, Ray. Even Viola agrees with that."
"That doesn't mean…" I was having a hard time remembering my argument. His fingers now rested on the inside of my thigh. The lower they went, the foggier my thoughts became.
Brady kissed the corner of my jaw and caressed my back with his free hand. His hand was cool against my skin. And I was burning up. I was going to burst into flame, literally.
Then my phone rang. Again.
Brady cursed into my neck, but I collapsed in relief. His fingers left when he answered the phone. When I heard Clarissa's voice on the other end, I jolted upright and grabbed a pile of clothes left on the floor before I ran to the bathroom.
Déjà vu.
I hurled into the shower, blasted the water, and slid to the floor as I wrapped my arms around my knees. Yes, the world wasn't ending, but mine was. Everything was different. Me and Brady…we weren't me and Brady anymore. I couldn't deny that anymore. My arms trembled, but I pressed my forehead into my knees. As the water beat down on me, I gasped and took a deep breath. I needed to take a breath, just one. Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't get so screwed up. Maybe I could go back in there and Brady would be dressed, ready to go party and I could stay home like normal.
When I tiptoed back into the bedroom I saw that Brady hadn't dressed. He sat on the end of the bed with the sheets pooled around his waist. His chest was in shadow while the moonlight beat down on his broad, muscular shoulders.
"I'm not going with you!" I blurted out before I found myself noting how sexy he looked with those broad…shoulders…
"What?" He stared at me, distracted.
"What?" Shoulders.
He shook his head and focused on me now.
"What—you…what?"
"What are you talking about?" Brady clipped out.
"That was Clarissa, right? She called about the party…and I'm telling you that I'm not going."
"Oh." Comprehension flashed across his eyes. "No. I wasn't going to ask about that."
"Oh."
"No, I mean—" Cursing, Brady stood up.
My eyes widened and I squeaked, but the sheets fell to reveal white and blue striped boxers.
"I meant that I'm not going to the party either. So…that's why I wasn't going to ask if you wanted to go."
"Oh…okay." I bit my lip and looked out the window. Brady watched me as I watched the window. Neither of us spoke until I swung my gaze back. His eyes had a gleam in them.
"What are you wearing?"
"What?"
He gestured to my clothes. "You look like a wet clown who's going out clubbing. You look ridiculous."
I didn't think about it, my fist jerked out and I watched in sick fascination as I punched him in the eye. I saw it all in slow motion. His eyes widened when he realized what I was doing and then I saw the jerk of his head as my fist made contact. When he fell back on the bed, it was over so fast that I stood there, shocked.
Not Brady. Brady raised his eyes and saw my shock. He reacted quickly, tucked his shoulder, and rolled off the bed. He picked me up and threw me on the bed and landed on top before I had time to scream. His hand slammed d
own over my mouth before it ripped from my throat.
"You punched me!" Brady accused me as his eyes danced.
I shoved him back—I tried to shove him back. He held firm and tucked my arms above my head. I was trapped as he stared down at me.
"What?" I huffed, out of breath.
"You punched me. Why'd you punch me?"
"Because."
Brady dissolved in laughter. He tucked his forehead into the crook of my shoulder and stayed there with my hands trapped in his above my head. I was hyper aware of every miniscule of his body that was on top of mine.
He settled so he was more comfortable. "Only you. Only you, Rayray."
"Uh…" My hands were still captive underneath his, but his thumbs softened and caressed my wrists. Then he lifted his head and stared down at me. He was searching for something inside of me, something that I couldn't tell him.
"What?" My voice was husky now.
He shook his head, his eyes were sober.
"What?"
"I…" He held back. He had never held back before.
I gritted my teeth. "What?"
Startled, he released my hands, but he rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed with his elbows braced on his knees. I moved with him and sat with one leg tucked behind him. I wanted to rest my cheek against his back, I wanted so badly, but I held back. I needed to know what was going on inside of him first.
"What is it?"
Brady shrugged his tight shoulders.
That's when I placed a hand on his back and felt his muscles jerk in response. "What is it? Tell me."
Brady shook his head.
"Brady." I needed him and I needed him to tell me what was going on.
"I…—don't know what to do, okay?"
My heart pounded in my chest. My lungs constricted my air, but it didn't matter. There was no going back now. I rested my cheek against his back. "What do you mean?"
Brady stiffened, but he didn't move away. "I—you and me. Sex. I don't know what to do."
I wrapped my arms around him and after a moment, Brady tucked them tighter. He entwined his fingers with mine. "I want to know what to do, but I don't. I just know that I can't lose you."
I closed my eyes. I couldn't lose him either. "You won't."
"Promise?"
I felt a tear at the corner of my eye. "Promise."
Brady relaxed, but we hadn't settled anything. We were best friends. We couldn't replace the other. That was all that'd been settled.
"You know—" Brady cut himself off and stood.
I caught myself before I fell behind him.
"I—" He stopped again, ran a hand through his hair, and paced from my dresser, the bed, the window, and the closet. I moved to sit against the headboard and curled up underneath the blanket. As I watched him pace, restless, I closed my eyes for a moment, just a moment, because I could smell him on my pillowcase.
"I changed my mind." He stopped to stare at me.
My eyes snapped open and I knew that he wasn't even seeing me. He was seeing something else.
"About what?"
"I'm going to Cumberly's. You want to go?" Brady pinned me down with his eyes.
"Uh—" I froze. "I…don't know, Brady."
"Come on." He sat on the edge of my bed and caught one of my hands. His thumb rubbed the inside of my palm. "Please? You'll keep me from getting in trouble."
‘Or we’ll get in more trouble.’
"Please, please," Brady whispered and bent his forehead to rest against mine.
‘Oh no.’
I felt his breath on my cheeks and found myself weakening. "…okay…"
He flashed a smile before he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek and forehead. "Thanks, Ray." His cheek rested on my forehead for a moment, just a quick moment, before he pushed off. "I'm going to sneak home first. Meet me at the car in thirty minutes."
He threw open my window and swept out. I sat down with a thump.
We'd been in our own little conclave and the phone rang. We weren't going to the party. We were safe in our world. Now we were going. What had just happened?
I stared at my closet. I was back at square one. I had no idea what to wear.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Everyone knew where Dr. Cumberly lived. He was the one and only town's dentist. He owned the mansion that stood elegant and statuesque as it looked over Lake Parley and the Northshire Folk Golf Course. It was a ten minute drive, most of it over gravel roads, but Brady sped twenty over the speed limit. When we got closer, both sides of the road were lined with cars.
He pulled into her driveway and headed toward the opened garage where people stood with cups in their hands. Matt Krone, another football player, waved when he saw Brady at the steering wheel, and jerked his head to the sixth garage door.
Brady nodded. A moment later, the door lifted so he could pull in.
I hadn't realized that I snorted until Brady asked when he turned off the engine, "You got a problem?"
Where did I start? "You have your own parking spot?"
"What?" Brady shrugged a tight shoulder, but a smirk appeared. "Henry Cumberly likes me."
"Yeah, right. Dr. Cumberly."
"I caddied for him in eighth grade."
That's when he started caddying for the dentist's daughter, but in a whole other way.
I had hated Brady that summer. "Maybe I'll get drunk tonight,"
"You don't drink."
He turned toward me and hand could've rested on my shoulder, but he let it hang from the seat. I glanced at his fingers for a moment. They were strong, but the symbol on the inside of Brady's wrist was where my gaze lingered. It was the Hebrew symbol for faith. I hadn't been there when Brady had gotten it, but it always hurt that he wouldn't explain why he'd gotten it. Maybe there was a reason for that.
Maybe it was the same reason why I glared at him and folded my arms across my chest. "Maybe I should start."
Brady lifted an eyebrow. "We both know what happened the first and only time you've drank."
I narrowed my eyes. "That tractor was going anyway. Just because I'd had a few doesn't mean that's why it rolled."
"Rayna," Brady smirked. "...you were three sheets to the wind.