I guess I should be glad one of us is sensible, but instead it strikes me that maybe she’s not as attracted to me as I am her.
“I’ll stop making sexual comments.”
She frowns, almost like that’s not what she wants, but all she says is, “Good.”
“Can we dance again?” I offer my hand like a gentleman in a period piece. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but him,” I look pointedly at my crotch, “I can’t help.”
She giggles at that, biting her lip before she looks away. She seems to be coming to terms with something and then takes my hand.
Dancing with her is nice, more than nice, but I remind myself I can’t go there with her. I’ve managed to stay celibate this long. Less than four more months longer won’t kill me.
I think.
“Why does Cree throw these parties?” she asks, looking over at the guy who’s sitting on the couch looking bored out of his mind while a girl leans over, boobs in his face, trying to get his attention. He pointedly ignores her chest, unlike me who wouldn’t be able to not ogle a nice pair of tits.
“Beats me.” I shrug. “Because he’s off campus, I guess.”
“Maybe,” she hedges, “but he looks miserable.”
She’s not wrong. “I don’t really question other people about their motives,” I admit sheepishly. “I figure if something is my business, they’ll let me know.”
“You don’t get curious about things?”
A pit forms in my stomach. I don’t know how much I want or should share with her.
“At an early age I learned not to ask questions, or…”
“Or?” she prompts, when my gaze drifts away, my jaw clenches tight.
“It was either ask questions and get beaten or stay silent and unhurt.” Her gasp is loud enough to be heard over the music, earning us more than a few stares. Forget dancing. Gripping her hand, I lead her out of the room and back to the kitchen, where I grab my drink—I’m going to need it if we’re having this conversation—and then lead her upstairs. I check Murray’s room and find it empty, so I pull her inside and lock the door behind us. She looks around uneasily and I feel even more like shit than I did before. “I brought you in here for privacy for this conversation, not so I could fuck you.”
“Right.” She stares at the bed like maybe she is wondering what it’d be like if I did.
“Look, no one knows about my dad. No one,” I repeat, sitting down in Murray’s desk chair. The desk is piled with empty snack bags and water bottles. Dude needs to clean his room.
She looks at me in surprise. “Surely your friends—”
I shake my head and she frowns. “I’ve never told a soul. Until you.”
She walks over hesitantly, like I’m a cornered animal she’s wary of spooking. “Why not?” She sits on the floor in front of me, crisscrossing her legs. Her hand lands on my knee, her touch tentative but comforting nonetheless.
“Because it felt weak.”
“Weak?” She rears back in surprise.
“I know that sounds dumb, but it’s true. I didn’t want anyone to think I was pathetic or even worse, that I deserved it.”
Her tiny gasp sounds incredibly loud in the otherwise silent room. “Teddy,” her tone is soft, pleading with me. “No one, definitely not your friends, would ever think that. When did it start?”
“I don’t really remember.” I give a humorless laugh. “Young, I know that much. It started with spanking if I did anything remotely out of line, then moved to punches, but always in places where no one would see. Thankfully, I was away a lot at school, but summers, holidays … he always found something I did horribly wrong and needed punishing for.”
“God, Teddy.”
“Sometimes he did visit me at boarding school just to remind me of what would happen if I didn’t stay in line.”
I see the pain in her eyes, and I curse myself for letting her in on my terrible secret. I don’t want her to have to carry this burden too.
“I’m sorry,” I touch her cheek, rubbing my thumb over her smooth skin, “I shouldn’t have told you.”
Her eyes widen with surprise. “Yes, you should have. I’m glad you did. It helps me understand you better and your dynamic with your parents.” She pauses, biting her lip. “Does your mom know?”
“She has to. He’s never done it in front of her, but I think she knows.”
“And she never stopped it?” Vanessa looks horrified on my behalf. Taking my hand from her cheek, I place it on top of hers on my knee. She immediately wraps her fingers into mine and it makes me feel ridiculously centered and at peace to feel her touch.
“I’m pretty sure he hits her too. I mean, he’s an emotionally and verbally abusive asshole anyway. I don’t ever want to be like him, Van,” I admit my biggest fear. “I don’t want to be that kind of father. How could I ever hit my own kid?”
I picture my own child in the distant future and there’s no way I could ever raise a hand against them. I’d take my own life before I’d do that.
With her free hand she touches her fingertips to the line of my jaw. “You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you wouldn’t have that fear otherwise. You’re not him. You’re you. You are your own person. You define your way.”
“Fuck.” Actual tears sting my eyes. “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that.”
She gives me a watery smile, and I realize she’s nearly about to cry too. “It’s the truth.”
I bend down, my nose grazing hers. “I really want to kiss you right now,” I confess. “Not for show, not because anyone is watching. I want to kiss you for me. Because I want to.”
She surprises me by nodding eagerly like she wants this as badly as I do.
Bending down from where I sit, I cup her jaw in one hand tilting her lips up to meet mine. She makes a tiny noise the moment our lips touch. I didn’t know I could literally be brought to my knees by kissing a girl, but I find myself slipping from the chair and kneeling above her cross-legged position.
Her lips part and I use the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
She arches into me, her breasts pushing into my chest. The urge to run my hands over her body is strong, but I hold her cheeks instead, forcing myself not to take this further. Not after the talk we had earlier.
A kiss has always been a means to an end for me, to get to the fun stuff—you know, sex. But knowing that’s not where this is headed makes it all the sweeter and more intense.
This is a kiss that matters, and I feel a pull in my stomach, one that’s telling me I’m fucked when it comes to this girl.
I force myself to pull away, knowing I’ll get carried away if I don’t stop this. Her surprised blue eyes stare deep into mine as she raises trembling fingers to her kiss swollen lips.
Yeah, baby, my gaze tells her, I’m the last man you’re ever going to kiss.
12
Vanessa
The weeks pass in a blur, my time is now spent going to class, studying, working, and hanging out with Teddy. The most surprising part is how often we hang out because we want to and not because we have to.