Fear of Falling

  He picked up a paper crane, one of the many pieces of origami that littered my room. “You made this?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Picked it up when I was a kid. Keeps my fingers busy.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it aided in keeping my panic attacks at bay. The distraction helped me to put each worry in its own little cubby. Each fear had its place. And when life became too complicated and the fear took over, origami helped me focus them, tucking them away in the forbidden corners of my mind.

  Blaine set down the crane and picked up another piece on pastel colored paper. “Thought origami was from Japan.”

  “Do you have to be Japanese to eat sushi?” I asked with a raised brow.

  “Right,” he remarked, embarrassment painting his face.

  I walked over to the steaming mug on my dresser when I noticed the door. It was closed. I was in my room, alone with a man, and the door was closed. NoNoNoNo.

  As casually as I could, my trembling hand threatening to spill the hot tea, I walked over and opened it, keeping it cracked just enough for me to know that it was open. If Blaine noticed, he didn’t say anything.

  “Hey, what’s this?” he asked, holding up a glass jar filled with tiny paper stars.

  “Just some stars I’ve been collecting.”

  He shook it then set it down. “Looks like a lot of them.”

  “253,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

  “Huh?”

  I took a sip of the tea to give my mouth something to do before it betrayed me further. “Two hundred and fifty-three. That’s how many stars are in the jar.”

  I should have been adding lucky number 254 to that jar after what happened tonight. Hell, to be honest, my freak out at the bar warranted a star. But Blaine was here, and the impulse to record those fears was stifled for the time being.

  His eyes continued to survey my space, his fingers grazing everything as if he were reading Braille. He was taking it all in, taking me all in. Blaine was absorbing his surroundings in hopes of getting to know me.

  He made his way to the acoustic guitar in the corner of my bedroom. “You play?”

  “A little,” I shrugged.

  He gently ran his fingers over the strings before looking at me with wary eyes, searching my expression for signs of distress. “How are you feeling?”

  I tried to give him a smile, but it felt forced. I settled for a nod. “I’m ok. I’m not even really sure what happened.”

  Blaine approached me in three easy strides and eased the mug of tea from my hands, before ushering me to the bed. We sat side by side, our knees and shoulders touching, as he gathered his thoughts.

  “I came out to try to stop you from leaving. To talk to you. I was locking up when I heard you cry. That sonofabitch had his hands on you,” he said through tightly clenched teeth, his fists balled on his thighs. “I don’t really know what happened after that. I snapped. All I saw was red. He was touching you, and I wanted to kill him.”

  Blaine turned to look at me, his jaw ticking violently with contempt. “I shouldn’t have let you walk away. I should have seen you to your car, and for that, I am truly sorry. I just keep thinking what would’ve happened if I was two minutes later. I can’t get the image of you standing there, frozen with terror, out of my damn head. God, Kami… I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

  “What happened wasn’t your fault.” The words fell from my lips unconsciously. I had been told the same countless times. I figured it was the go-to phrase for times like these. “I’m ok, I swear. Go on home. You can even take my car if you want.”

  Instinctively, I reached out and placed my hand on his, causing him to release the strain on his knuckles. I didn’t know why I did it; there was just an impulse to touch him, to comfort him. I knew what it felt like to be absolutely stripped of control. Our reactions may have differed but the fear, the anger, was the same.

  Blaine turned his palm and laced his fingers with mine, his fingertips massaging the back of my hand gently. “Kami…” He exhaled a breath, then his brown eyes were locked with mine. Being that we were so close, our arms, legs and thighs nearly fused together, the moment felt too intimate. I felt exposed, naked and vulnerable under his gaze, but the feel of his skin was a soothing balm to my soul. I could feel my body growing warm and damp, and this time it had nothing to do with a panic attack.

  “Blaine?” I whispered. I don’t know why, but just saying his name made that warmth spread. I imagined saying it over and over.

  Screaming it. Crying it.

  He licked his lips before rolling his tongue, coaxing the metal barbell while he contemplated his next words. “I know you say that you’re ok. But shit, I don’t think I’m ok. I have no right to ask this, but…can I stay here with you tonight?”

  At the sight of my widening eyes, he quickly continued. “I don’t mean like that. It’s just…I know what happened to you was traumatizing. And seeing you react the way you did, seeing how afraid you were, I know that’s not the first time you’ve been in that situation. You don’t have to tell me anything; you don’t have to explain yourself to me. But right now, I need to be near you. I need to see you. And if you let me, I need to hold you.”

  Words failed me. They were literally ripped from my brain and replaced with all things Blaine. He encompassed every one of my senses. I couldn’t see beyond this moment with him.

  Long seconds ticked by before a simple nod took him out of his misery, causing him to sigh with relief. I didn’t know what had come over me. Was I really about to let him spend the night? In my bedroom? In my bed? But after what had happened, and Dom being M.I.A., I couldn’t think of a good reason not to let him stay. I wanted him there. I wanted to let him hold me and chase away the nightmares I knew would visit me the moment I closed my eyes.

  “Thank you,” he muttered, bringing his other hand up to stroke my cheek. “Seriously, I think I would’ve gone crazy worrying about you if I went home. I feel horrible about what happened.”

  And there it was. His guilt. Blaine wasn’t staying because he wanted me or was hoping something more would transpire between us. He felt guilty for letting me walk out to my car by myself. The Dive employees were religious about never walking out to the parking lot alone after closing. Dive wasn’t in the best neighborhood, and drunken homeless men were known to litter the streets late at night. Maybe he thought I’d badmouth him to the rest of the staff and try to get him trouble. Or maybe he was just riddled with guilt and felt like staying would somehow make amends. Whatever the reason, it made the warmth of his touch feel like a lie.

  “You don’t have to. I don’t blame you for what happened,” I said, pulling my hand away. I stood and started rummaging through my drawers in search of pajamas. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t let him see the pain that clearly painted my face.

  “But I want to,” I heard him say behind me. “Hey.”

  His hand was around my elbow, stopping me in my mad pursuit to find the ugliest, thickest pajamas I owned.

  “Kami, I want to be here. For you. Like I said, I won’t ask you about what happened. I won’t ask you to tell me about your past. But I sincerely hope that one day, you will tell me. That you’ll trust me enough to open up and let me in.”

  I spun around to face him, a generic smile spread across my lips. “There’s nothing to tell, Blaine. Absolutely nothing.”

  I excused myself to the bathroom to change into lounge pants and a tank, surrendering my pursuit of granny PJs. When I returned, Blaine was standing at my dresser, inspecting the origami that I had accumulated over the years.

  “You’re really good,” he remarked, picking up a green paper frog.

  “You think so? Feel free to take one. They just collect dust.”

  I began to awkwardly fluff pillows, not really sure where to go from here. The silence stretched on until, luckily, Blaine dipped into my bathroom in search of a shower. I quickly flicked on my television and tried to distract my mind from what was on th
e other side of the door: Blaine, dripping wet and naked.

  When he emerged, he was barefoot and shirtless, dressed only in his jeans. His hair was damp, and tiny droplets of water rested on his shoulders. Now I had a full view of the ink that adorned his skin. Vibrant, detailed art roped around his arms and extended up his chiseled shoulders. There were a few pieces that had the privilege of kissing his cut torso, and the carved V that was fully exposed in his low-slung jeans. As if that weren’t enough to turn my belly inside out, I caught the glimmer of something silver gracing his left nipple.

  Holy. Shit. His nipple was pierced.

  I tried to take it all in without staring but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. He was frighteningly beautiful; a rare work of art that needed to be admired and thoroughly explored.

  “Sorry, my shirt kinda got blood on it,” he mumbled, placing it with his shoes on the ground. “And I, uh, don’t…um. I don’t wear underwear.”

  I swallowed just to give my mouth something to do, because if I didn’t, a whimper was sure to escape.

  “That’s ok,” I squeaked as I climbed into bed. “But I have some Hello Kitty boxer shorts if you think you’d be more comfortable.”

  Blaine shook his head, a visible blush on his cheeks. He hit the light switch and advanced to the other side of the bed tentatively, his eyes trained on me the entire time.

  “I’m sorry, but…is this alright? You’re ok with this, right? I swear, I won’t try anything.”

  I nodded, because oddly, I was alright with it. “Yeah, Blaine, hop on in and make yourself comfortable.”

  As Blaine slid between my sheets, a million fantasies played through my head of him sliding between…other places. Even over the fragrance of my body wash, I could smell his natural scent that somehow seemed concentrated in the close proximity. It made me so much more aware of every one of his breaths and sighs as he settled beside me. I lied stiff as a board, wondering what to do next.

  “Come here,” he demanded gently, pulling my body into his.

  He placed my head on his chest, his strong arms wrapping around me tightly. I could feel his cheek against the top of my head. It was heaven. I felt like I had died and gone to paradise as my body melded with his. The feel of his skin, his scent, his arms holding me protectively as if I might be snatched away from him…it was incredible. And confusing. And tempting.

  “Kami,” he whispered, just as I had let my eyes close.

  “Yeah?”

  “I want you to know that nothing is going on with me and Wendy. She and I haven’t been like that for several years. And I sent her home tonight. There was no way I was going anywhere with her.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Blaine. That’s none of my business.” But I so wanted Blaine to be my business.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he retorted. “As the one that I actually want to spend my time with, it is your business. You were way off earlier. I don’t want some skanky-dressed chick. I don’t want a woman that feels like she has to dumb herself down to be around me. And I don’t someone so easy that it makes me feel violated.”

  I chewed my lip, suddenly aware of how close my mouth was to his nipple ring. “So what do you want?”

  “I think you know that already, Kami.”

  I exhaled, and let myself settle against his body, the sound of my name wrapped around his tongue replaying in my head. And for the first time in years, I didn’t need to count each fear in the jar in my windowsill. I hadn’t even thought about it. With Blaine’s arms wrapped around me, his fingers tracing circles on the bare skin of my arm, I drifted into sleep easily. And when my subconscious took the reins, there were no monsters. There was no fear. It was the scary-beautiful man beside me who starred in my dreams.

  I tried to stay awake for as long as possible. I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to miss a single second of feeling Kami in my arms. I didn’t want to forget her scent of vanilla and orchids, filling my senses as I breathed her in. I didn’t want to let go of the overwhelming urge to run my hands over every inch of her petite body until she shook with need. Need for me.

  But after working all day, then beating the shit out of that drunken asshole, I had to finally give in. I let my eyes close and tried to hang onto the edges of my reality, refusing to dream. Because my dream was right beside me, curled against my body.

  Some time during the night, I felt her jerk awake and gasp. I wanted to ask her if she was ok and soothe her if she had a nightmare. But before I could, I swear I heard her moan and nuzzle into my chest like a cat finding that sweet spot on the couch. She felt incredible in my arms, but more than that, it felt like she was comfortable there. Like she was made to be there. And that made me feel 10 fucking feet tall.

  I kept my breathing level and my eyes closed as I felt the very tips of her fingers brush against my arm. At first, it was just a simple touch. I almost thought she had fallen back to sleep and was unaware of what she was doing to me. Then after a few seconds ticked by, she started touching me again with the most feather-light strokes of her fingertips. There was a pattern in her touches. She wasn’t trying to drive me insane, causing a deep throb inside my jeans. She was tracing my tattoos.

  Her fingers outlined every curve and line with light, leisurely strokes. She worked her way up from the back of my hand to my shoulder, those delicate digits beginning their trek down to my chest. Softly, she brushed the ink next to my heart, letting her fingernails graze the ring through my nipple. I damn near bit my own tongue to keep from groaning.

  After she had finished her thorough examination of the words that housed my pectoral, her fingers continued their dance down to my abs, taking the time to caress every ripple of my midsection. Her touch ignited a fire inside me, and I prayed that she couldn’t see the bulge in my pants in the dark. And if she did…well, shit, there was nothing I could really do about it. She had to have known the effect she had on my body. She was sexy as hell; I’d have to be dead not to be aroused.

  Just as I was about to pretend to stir awake so I could cover the massive erection that was aching to be touched, I felt it. Her lips on my chest, so soft, warm and utterly perfect. It was just the slightest brush of her mouth, but it was enough to have my heart hammering double time and my cock throbbing. Shit. There was no way she couldn’t know what she was doing to me. And there was no way I could restrain myself much longer.

  I heard Kami sigh, then she placed her head on the spot she just kissed. I couldn’t be sure, but what sounded like a sob broke free from her chest. I could almost feel the ache in her throat as she tried to muffle it, but once I felt the warm moisture of tears against my skin, I knew she was crying.

  As much as it made me feel like an insensitive asshole, I let her cry in private. Only a few tears slid onto my chest, so I knew that she was somewhat ok. At least, that’s what I hoped. I just didn’t understand how she could go from caressing the length of my torso and kissing me, to crying. Had I done something? Was some hidden pain inside her triggered by my presence? Whatever the reason was, it tore me in two. She was too beautiful to cry. I wanted to kiss those tears away and make it so she never had a reason to cry again. Unless it was from the overwhelming waves of pleasure that I ached to give her. Those tears were absolutely acceptable.

  The telltale signs of deep breathing told me she had fallen back to sleep. As carefully as I could without waking her, I wrapped my arms back around her and held her tight. This girl had gotten to me. She was making herself as permanent as the ink already embedded in my skin. Kami had branded me with those tears.

  The bright sun filtering through the curtains stirred us from our slumber hours later. I didn’t know what time it was, but judging by how tired I still felt, I knew it was early.

  “Good morning,” Kami whispered, her head still on my chest.

  “Morning,” I replied in a gruff voice, kissing her hair. It was a reflex. I don’t know if she felt it but if she did, she didn’t react.

  A
fter a few beats, she sat up and stretched her arms above her head. My eyes, still lazy with sleep, were fixed on the patch of exposed skin from her tank top riding up. Her skin looked so soft and delicate. I imagined licking every inch of it. Every. Single. Inch. My mouth watered.

  She looked back at me, catching my appraising gaze. “Oh God. It’s true. Dammit,” she mumbled.

  I frowned, my eyes narrowing with confusion. Was she regretting letting me stay? I sat up next to her, still reclining back on my elbows. If she wanted me gone, she was going to have to say it. And judging by the way she was touching me last night, she had no regrets then.

  “You’re one of them,” she muttered shaking her head.

  “Them?”

  “Yeah, them,” she sighed. Her eyes met mine, the rosy flush of her cheeks giving away her reticence. “One of those guys who have freakishly amazing hair first thing in the morning. Those guys that don’t even have to style it. Just run their fingers through it a few times, and it’s magically perfect and gorgeous. Them.”

  I chuckled to mask my relieved breath. “Them. I wasn’t aware there was a club. Do I get a membership card?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I’ve never seen one in the flesh. I’ve never woken up beside a guy. Other than Dom, but of course, he doesn’t count.”

  Again, my eyes widened, and my playful smile faded. Was she trying to tell me she was a… “Oh. Oh. That’s ok, I mean, uh…”

  “Oh no!” she giggled shaking her head. “I mean I’ve slept with a guy…like…you know. Slept with-slept with. But I’ve never slept with one for the sole purpose of sleeping.”

  “Never?” I asked, my brow cocked with skepticism.