“It was,” she says with a shrug. “Some people are violent, and some people are emotionally hurtful. My parents just didn’t care enough.”
“But your sister was around?” Able asks. “I know I always relied on my brothers.”
“Yeah. Suzanne’s been amazing. More of a mom than our mom ever was.”
“Well, that’s good.” Able reaches for Sandy’s hand and gives it a squeeze, then doesn’t let it go. And I thought it was me that was going to touch her first. I guess I need to give Able credit for his subtle, thoughtful moves.
“Yeah, Able is like the father I never had,” I say.
“Funny,” Able replies, shooting me a disapproving look out of the corner of his eye. I guess humor isn’t what’s required right now. But what is?
“Did you have a good time with Damien today?” I ask Sandy.
“Yeah. It was awesome. I’m still reeling at how good he is at picking clothes out for me. Like, everything looked amazing and fit perfectly.”
“That part’s because he’s been imagining your body nonstop since you arrived. I reckon we could all draw our version of you naked with our eyes closed right now.”
Sandy gawks at me, her mouth open and her eyes wide.
“Dude,” Able says disapprovingly.
“What? I’m just being honest.”
I hold my hands out, palms up, protesting my innocence, even though I know in my heart that I am deliberately trying to get a rise out of Sandy. It’s my way of covering up how I really feel because I never want anyone to know that I want or need them more than they want or need me.
I guess having a shitty start in life leaves its mark.
And for the first time in my life, I can’t see a way to making Sandy want me. Why the hell would she? She’s a fucking literature teacher, and I can’t even read.
“Excuse my brother. Sometimes he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut,” Able says.
I know when I’m not wanted. I grab the edge of the couch to pull myself up, and I’m halfway there when Sandy’s hand covers mine. “You know, Arden, you don’t have to act that way with me.”
“Act what way?” I say, pretending I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Act as though nothing can touch you,” she says. “I know what it’s like to put on a front. I had two years, after…” she pauses for a moment, her eyes drifting closed, then regroups, “…I had two years of trying to pretend that nothing touched me. I joked my way through awkward situations, and I acted like I was Teflon coated, but no one is, Arden. We’re all just muddling through.”
“Wow,” Able says. “Sandy just got you.”
“Nobody gets me,” I say. “Teflon is sticky compared to me.”
“Really?” Sandy releases Able’s hand and turns to face me. “Nothing touches you.” Her hand reaches slowly toward my face as though she’s scared that I’m going to push her away. I want to. Seeing the soft look in her pretty greeny-gold eyes is too much for me to take. I like women who don’t give a fuck. Broken women whose edges are as fractured as mine. When I rub up against them, they cut me as much as I cut them. We bleed like it’s meant to be that way. All’s fair.
But Sandy’s not like that.
“Nothing touches me,” I whisper as the warmth of her palm reaches the skin beneath my beard. My eyes drift closed on instinct.
“Nothing reaches you,” she whispers as her other hand rests on my chest, above where my heart is banging against my ribs like it wants to break free.
“Nothing reaches me,” I murmur, even though it’s patently obvious that it isn’t true. Sandy has touched me, and she has reached me more than I could have believed. Even through my flippancy, she’s seen the truth of who I am.
When her lips find mine, I have to clench my hands into fists just to feel some control in my body. I hear Able’s breath hissing from his mouth. There he was, thinking he would be the first of us to kiss her, but Sandy had other ideas.
I’m not going to complain when she feels like satin and tastes of honey, even though a part of my hollowed-out chest suspects she’s only this way with me out of pity. She’s figured out that I laugh at everything to shield my shame, and now she’s trying to prove she doesn’t think less of me.
I wish I could resent her for it, but I can’t. She feels too good, and I need this. I need her warmth and softness. I need to sink into her body and let the pleasure rock me to the core. I’ll make her feel so good that there will be no pity left, just awe.
“Sandy, baby,” I whisper when she pulls back to loosen the buckle on my belt. “Shall we go upstairs?”