Crave: Part One

  I take a moment before I speak. “Today when you left school in a hurry . . . you told me why, but . . .” I pause in the awkwardness, not used to talking about something as sensitive as this.

  “But what?”

  Tucking my chin down slightly to avoid eye contact, I admit, “It made me feel like you didn’t want me.”

  He releases a pained breath at the same time he pulls me into his arms.

  “I don’t want to make a big deal about it. I just don’t understand why you couldn’t come to me.”

  He leans back with burdened eyes when he confesses, “Because I never want to use you like that.”

  “You’re not using me, Kason. I love you. And if it’s something you need, I want to be the one you come to.”

  I run my hand along his jaw to find it’s clenched down, and when it eventually relaxes under my touch, his voice breaks. “It’s not that easy for me. I’ve always been alone in this.”

  I press my lips to his in a gentle kiss. “But you’re not alone anymore.”

  His expression bears an unspoken need for security, and I give it to him willingly, asserting, “I love you. Every piece of you. Even the ones you hate.” I kiss him again. “I don’t ever want you to feel alone. But I don’t want to feel alone, either. I want you to want me.”

  “God, babe, I do. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you when I should have today, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.” He takes in an uneven breath. “It’s hard not to want to hide this from you because it’s embarrassing. It makes me feel really weak.”

  “If you’re worried about that, don’t be. That isn’t how I see you at all.”

  Taking my face in his hands, emotion ridden and fervent, he kisses me. It’s open and deep as he spills his love into my mouth, allowing me to taste his vulnerability. We continue to move, hands exploring intimately as we silently plead for closeness. But it’s far beyond my skin that I need him to touch. It’s what lies beneath. It’s the part of me that only he can reach. And when our hands find their way down each other’s pants, my breath catches, and I swear it’s my soul he’s touching.

  It’s the middle of March. Adaline called me as soon as she woke this morning to tell me that this day a year ago was the day we first bumped into each other at school. I can still remember it clearly, how quickly the new girl crept under my skin. In many ways, I used to be scared of Adaline, but more than anything, it was my own insecurities that I was afraid of. She’s so far from the girl I initially perceived her to be, though. She’s accepting beyond limits, never once looking down on me or treating me as a charity case. And above all, she accepts me at my worst.

  It’s been hard to give her the openness she demands from me, but I understand why she needs it so badly. I destroyed her trust. Never did I expect her to forgive me, but she has, and in return, I hand over whatever it is she needs to help her heal.

  Slowly, brick by brick, I’ve been tearing down the walls I spent years building around myself. Walls I had gotten so used to hiding behind. Walls that kept me safe from judgment and persecution. Confessing to Adaline how badly my body aches killed me, but she took my words into her hands and has been nurturing them ever since, never once using them against me even when they inflict bruises on her insecurities.

  She threw me the biggest lifeline when she opened her heart back up to me, and I swore to her that I would be the man that she needed me to be before. The man I was too scared to be. But it hasn’t been easy because it forces me to show her sides of me I don’t want her to see. She told me a while ago how much it upset her that I wouldn’t turn to her to fulfill my sexual cravings. It trampled on her self-confidence and made her believe I didn’t desire her. So now, as weak as it makes me, I turn to her, all the while, feeling like shit for using her. She swears it isn’t like that, but I taste the bile of truth every time I turn to her for a hand job or a blow job.

  There’s no denying it—I’m using her—no matter how much she tries to convince me otherwise.

  And then there are the times when she can’t help me. The days my mind plays tricks on me, and I can’t get hard. Those are the days I’m forced to leave her and go home so I can get myself off. She does her best to assure me everything’s okay and that she isn’t upset. She fights herself to hide it—to hide the fact that loving a guy like me isn’t easy. But I hear the pain in her breath. I see it in the red in her eyes. And for that, I vow to love her even harder.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I look over to where she lies on her stomach, not realizing how lost I was in my thoughts. Since her head is down at the other end of the mattress and her small feet are resting on the pillow next to me, she’s in the perfect position for me to reach over and playfully squeeze her butt. She giggles, biting the pen that’s tucked between her fingers.

  “What did your mom say when you told her?”

  “Knowing I’d still be under your good influence, she was thrilled.”

  I’ve been nervous about her mother’s reaction when she found out that Adaline had decided to stay here and go to college. I didn’t want her to think her daughter was holding herself back for me, even though I know that’s exactly what she’s doing. But Adaline is strong-willed about her choice and there’s no convincing her otherwise.

  “I don’t even understand what half these courses are all about,” she mumbles as she flips through the USF course catalog. “I mean, Human Geography?” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Do you have any clue what that is? And what about this?” she adds, stabbing her pen against the page. “There’s a class called The Enlightenment. No joke! It’s seriously called that.”

  I laugh at her annoyed frustration. “You need to put that catalog away.”

  Slinging it to the floor, she flings her pen too before turning around on the bed and curling up next to me.

  “I seriously feel like I’m going to be wasting my time going to college.”

  “You’re not wasting your time,” I try to assure her. “Not everyone goes in their freshman year knowing what they want to do.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m one person, Adaline. I’m sure there are thousands that are as unsure as you are. Just look at Trent.”

  She cranes her head back and glares at me. “I can’t believe you just compared me to Trent of all people.”

  “You’re so testy today.”

  I flip her onto her back, and her lips curve into temptation when she teases, “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  Her fingers drag along my neck and into my hair, and when I resist her tug to pull me closer, she lifts up to me. Her lips are soft against mine, tasting sweet like candy from the gloss she wears. She drops her head back to the pillow as I lean into her, and when I pull her bottom lip between my teeth and take a soft nibble, she’s nothing but breathless giggles.

  I drop kisses from behind her ear and down her neck until I find the spot where her heart beats against my lips. While I linger there for a moment and relish her life source as it pulses into my kiss, she gathers the hem of my shirt in her hands. I reach over my head and pull it off, and when I come back down to her, she blushes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Bashful, she pauses before lifting her eyes that are so damn innocent when she asks, “Do you think we can try again?”

  Apprehension surfaces, and I want to tell her no for fear that I’ll fuck this up all over again. But she has her fears, too, and rejection is a big one, especially after I broke her trust. She has a hard time understanding that she’s the one I’ve been the most intimate with, and that those other girls, even though I had sex with them, were nothing meaningful to me.

  When I see her sinking into herself, I gently push her cheek so she looks up at me. Swallowing my pride, I give her my truth and confess my uncertainty. “What if I can’t?”

  It’s like a switchblade to my heart when I see her eyes fall. “Will you try?”

  Before I give her another reason to do
ubt herself, I tug the strap of her top down and spill my lips along her collarbone. As we move, the voices in my head become louder, telling me I won’t be able to get hard and that I’ll only disappoint again.

  She sits up, and I peel off her top and unhook her bra. When I lower myself back on top of her, I take her in my mouth, sucking gently as my unbounding nerves cause me to break out in a cold sweat. Her hands grip my shoulders as I move to her other breast, but my body is already failing me.

  My mind should be on her, on us, but instead, it’s only on myself as I try to temper the irritation that’s starting to brew.

  Adaline turns to her side, and when she crawls on top of me, I close my eyes and will myself to relax. She unfastens my shorts and tugs them down, and I want to die of embarrassment because I’m not the least bit hard. I can’t even fucking look at her, and mortification takes an ax to my ego when she puts my limp dick into her mouth.

  I’m such a fucking loser, completely worthless to this girl who deserves so much more than this shit.

  “Adaline, stop.” I push her shoulders away, and I hate the pitiful look in her eyes when she sits up between my legs. “Just fucking stop.”

  The moment I see her chin tremble, I want to run out on her because I’m so damn pissed off at myself. But I did that once, and I swore I’d never do it again. I don’t know how to deal with feeling this useless to someone else.

  She grabs the comforter, pulling it over us, and when she lies down next to me, I can’t even face her. I turn away, giving her my back. It’s not as bad as running out the door, but still a dick move, and I feel like an ass when she selflessly lays her hand on my back with a whispered, “It’s fine.”

  But it isn’t fine. None of this is.

  “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

  “Nothing is wrong with you, Kason.”

  We both know that’s a lie. If there were nothing wrong with me, we’d be having sex right now.

  With both of us unsure of what to say, we abandon words. Adaline wraps her arms around me from behind and presses her cheek against my back, dropping kisses on my shoulder blades every now and then. I can’t look at her, so I remain quiet as anger festers.

  Tension doesn’t lift easily, and before I know it, the room darkens as the sun sets and Adaline’s breathing deepens and steadies. I finally turn around to find she’s asleep, which gives me the strength to gather her in my arms and give her my cowardly, “I’m sorry.”

  Emotions begin swarming, and without thought, my arms fasten around her more tightly until the pressure becomes too much and wakes her. She stares into my eyes and silently begs to understand, and I can’t deny her when I’ve already let her down in so many other ways. I give her the best I can offer in my own confused state of mind when I say, “Maybe it’s because I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”

  “That isn’t possible.”

  “I don’t even know what’s possible anymore.”

  She nestles herself deeper into my hold, pressing the side of her face against my chest and over my solemn heart. “We’ll keep trying,” she says, and fuck if that doesn’t make me fall even harder for her. Her understanding is far beyond what I ever could have imagined.

  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. I just don’t know how to bring it up.”

  Fully aware of her need for peace and honesty, I grow wary but encourage her regardless. “You know you can ask me anything.”

  “It feels invasive, but . . .”

  Her words drift as she second-guesses herself, and now my curiosity is piqued. “Don’t leave me hanging, babe.”

  “I was wondering how old you were when you first . . . you know . . . the first time you had sex.”

  She’s asked me this once before when she found out about Katy, but the question was easier to dodge back then. Half-truths and misdirections are no longer an option.

  “I was young.” I stall because I’m worried about her reaction as I think back to the girl who used to sneak off with me after school. She lived in the same complex as me, and we’d hide behind a bunch of tall bamboo that lined against one of the apartment buildings. It started out with innocent kisses, but she eventually started letting me touch her boobs. I can still remember the excitement I felt when she asked to see my dick. Soon those kisses turned into touching, until one day she asked me to put it inside her.

  “How young?”

  “Twelve,” I tell her and then flinch, realizing my lie when my mind flashes back farther than what I intended it to.

  She catches my knee-jerk reaction. “What?”

  My gut knots as a wave of nausea crashes over me, and I shake my head.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  Suddenly, a handful of memories fire off inside me, memories I long ago buried. Ribs constrict around my lungs when I push against the questioning look she wears so boldly. Needing space to breathe, I drop my arms from around her and sit up, resting my back against the wall. She pushes herself so she’s next to me, and the blanket falls from her naked breasts, but she doesn’t move to cover herself.

  There’s caution in her pause before she asks, “Did something happen before then?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Her eyes widen in worry at the sternness in my tone, and she knows. Somehow, she just knows. There’s a hint of horror that reveals itself against the tense lines of her face.

  I can’t look at her like this.

  Throwing the sheet over my lap, I pull my knees up and drop my head.

  “Kason?”

  I tense under her touch when it lands softly on my shoulder and shake my head, wishing for the strength my walls used to provide me, the walls I tore down for her. And when she says my name again, my chest heaves as I fight against the visions that play behind my closed lids. Adaline sees right through me. She knows when I shut down. I also know that she isn’t going to let me hide from her.

  “Will you tell me what happened.”

  How do I say what I’ve never said before?

  “There’s so much about me that’s messed up.” My voice is weakened in misery.

  There’s monumental fear within the silence between us, but it’s when she finally asks the burdening question, “Did someone hurt you?” that I crack.

  With no more fight in me, I give her the darkest and ugliest parts of me when I nod. Her arms lock around me as fast as mine grab ahold of her. Shame and disgust stain me from the inside out, and it takes every ounce of energy I have to keep myself from breaking down. I know I’m holding her too tightly, but I’m on the verge of slipping off the edge. I have no other choice but to cling on as hard as I can, especially when she asks, “How old were you?”

  “Eight.”

  She shudders in my arms as a tear falls onto my shoulder and drips down my back. I pull her into my lap, and my own eyes well up when the memories become too unbearable.

  “Who was it?”

  I drop my head, unable to look at her when I respond. “A babysitter.”

  I remember the woman. She was an older lady my mom hired after Shannon went off to college. She used to watch me when I took showers. She’d wash me and touch me . . . put her mouth around me. A heavy breath cracks loudly out of my lungs when I think about the times she’d grab my wrist and force me to touch her between her legs. As time passed, the abuse only got worse. She babysat me for years until she moved away. By then, there wasn’t a part of me that woman hadn’t violated.

  But these are my demons to bear, and I refuse to unleash them on Adaline. She doesn’t need to know the sick details of my depravity. I can’t stand the thought of her knowing how bad things were for me. She’s already crying in my arms right now from what little she’s piecing together. My pain shouldn’t be her pain.

  “Don’t cry for me.”

  “You can’t tell me that,” she weeps. “You can’t tell me not to love you this much, that I shouldn’t hurt when you hurt.”
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  She runs her fingers across my damp cheeks and then touches her lips to mine, drinking all of my secrets until I’m empty, until there’s nothing left between us. In a single kiss, she strips me bare.

  How is it this tiny person can render me naked down to my soul?

  I don’t know, but she does.

  I doubt I’ll ever be strong enough to carry the weight of the both of us, but there’s no doubt she can. So, with my vile everythings out there, she has me wholly as we kiss through the aching pain of my reality, coming up for air only when absolutely necessary.

  “Promise me you two will be safe.”

  “We’ll be safe,” I assure my mom from the back seat as she drives Kason and me to the Tampa airport.

  “And make sure you call me every day.”

  “I will.”

  “And night.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kason tells her. “We’ll check in twice a day.”

  I lean forward between the front seats and ask, “If you’re so worried, why did you buy us this trip?”

  “You’re my only child. I’m always going to worry.”

  “I’m eighteen now, remember?”

  Kason tilts his head toward me. “I don’t think that’s helping, babe.”

  “Seriously, Mom. Everything will be fine.”

  For my birthday last month, my mother surprised me with two tickets to go on the senior trip—one for me and one for Kason. It wasn’t an easy gesture for Kason to accept, but she insisted, knowing I wouldn’t have gone without him anyway. I was shocked that she was okay sending the two of us away together for spring break, but with graduation only a month away and the two of us being eighteen, she figured she’d let us go. Plus, she trusts Kason more than anyone else alive with my safety. There is no way she’d be okay sending me off to stay with someone she barely knows, or even by myself. And she isn’t living under a rock. With the amount of alone time we have here at home, there isn’t much we could do in the Bahamas that we aren’t already doing now.

  Which still isn’t much.

  After Kason told me about what happened to him as a kid, I haven’t pushed the sex issue. We’ve tried only a couple more times, but he’s quick to shut down and push me away. Yes, it upsets me, but I try my best to hide it from him. I know he loves me, and I know this hurts him as much as it does me.