Broken Pretty Things by Amber Faye
Chapter 27
It was sohard to sleep with my cheek on Gunnar’s chest and his arms wrapped tight, possessively, around me, even in sleep. I have slept in the same room as him plenty of times, even in the same bed. After I realized I was in love with him, sometimes it would be tempting to watch him sleep for a while before sleep took me, too. This is different. We’re pressed against each other. His heavy breaths ruffle my hair, and I can run my hand up and down the tight muscles on his back. I don’t want it to end when he sobers up. I don’t want to go back to the way it was before he came into my bedroom.
At some point I must have fallen asleep, because I open my eyes and the sun has risen. And my bed is empty. It feels too self-indulgent to give into the hiccuping sobs threatening to creep up my throat, so instead I throw off my covers and treat myself to a much-needed shower, scrubbing off the stickiness and the memory of his grip.
There are faint blue bruises on my thighs from his fingertips. In the moment, I hadn’t realized how tight he was holding me, how much he was digging into my skin. I’m dotted with visual evidence that he needs me like I need him, and I wear a short skirt so that the purple flower-petal marks peek out. I can wear these bruises like armor. I don’t think he’ll be able to do anything to hurt me today.
When I’m dried, dressed, and ready for school, I feel a lot better than I have in a while. Gunnar doesn’t have any power over me anymore. He can call me as many names as he wants, but that won’t change my memory of him completely overcome by the sight of me arching my back in climax. His parted lips, wild eyes. The things he’d whispered, hoarse, intended for only me to hear. Imperfect, broken, pretty things.
The truth.
Ulla and I head to school in the back of Dimitri’s car. He’s in a strangely good mood, whistling a new Disclosure song he must have heard me playing in my room over the weekend. I’m ready, very ready for any number of things to go wrong, but he pulls into the parking lot, says, “Ladies,” and wanders away.
Nobody trips me, shoves me, pours goo over me, or yells at me. None of my stuff is ruined; there are no new rumors about me. In fact, despite the fact that I was accused of begging for my stepbrother’s cock, and the fact that I really did show my tits to the whole school, the only snatches of conversation I hear in the hallway are about upcoming exams, about the football game tonight, about normal things.
I hang out with Ulla and Hero at lunch, and Emile and Dallas even pause on their way past and join in our conversation for a few minutes. The sun is shining. Every so often I remember the boy I crushed on so hard for as long as I can remember spent last night with his head buried between my thighs, and my stomach flips. I try to will the thoughts away, but if that’s the worst thing the universe can throw at me today, I’ll take it.
Chem is my last class of the day, and the flipping of my stomach is starting to become nervous tightening. I want to see Gunnar, mostly out of curiosity, but I don’t really want to see Larissa and Logan. I definitely don’t really want to deal with the three of them together.
Not only are they all present, though, Gunnar jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Ben Chung when the kid sets his stuff down on the table beside me. Ben and Gunnar switch places, and Gunnar sits on the chair beside me. He still hasn’t looked at me. I give him a few sideways glances as the teacher takes attendance, feeling my cheeks get hotter just from being in close proximity to someone who made me come with his tongue in the dark last night. The light in here is cold and fluorescent and everything feels much more real.
When Mr Greene finishes explaining some kind of concept — I definitely wasn’t listening — Gunnar finally turns to me. And my body completely betrays me, because I’m trying to be cool, but he is the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen, and my mouth dries up. He’s still wearing the same outfit, I realize. That grey Radiohead t-shirt with orange lettering. He must have left my bed too late to change.
He’s twirling a pen in his hand, lightly chewing on his lip. “Do you know what he just said?” he asks me quietly. I shake my head. Gunnar smirks, then makes sure I can see him licking his lips slowly. I shift uncomfortably in my chair and he laughs, but it isn’t a cruel one. It’s quiet, just for me. “I can’t concentrate today.”
“Really? I’m fine,” I reply, and that makes him laugh harder. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his shoulders shake. He casts a glance at the table behind us, Larissa, Logan and Ben, and fights to regain control of himself, clearing his throat and turning away from me.
“I’ll drive you home today,” he says, quietly, turning the textbook to the right page. We have to memorize some formula and learn how to apply it. I should be stressed out about how little I know, but I can’t even concentrate on that.
“No, Dimitri can—”
“I’m driving you home today,” he says again. Again using that gently commanding tone he never used with me until recently. The tone that brought other girls to their knees, which used to make me helpless with laughter. It’s not so funny now. My skin is hot, but I ignore it and we get through the exercise with as little talking as possible. Every now and again, his knee brushes against mine, or he leans in closer and I get hints of his warm, soapy scent. The only thing keeping me from going insane is the fact that I can tell he’s feeling the same way. His voice is hoarse, his eyes dark, and his gaze lingers on me whenever he thinks I’m not looking.
“Is this a part of some plan?” I ask when the bell rings and he picks up his books.
“No,” he says, studying me with a small smile, “but, you know, you should really get your own car so—”
“Gunnar,” I hear Logan call from the doorway. “Get away from the skank before you start to smell like it.”
Gunnar runs his hand over his mouth, and doesn’t respond. “Meet me at my car,” he says quietly. Then he heads out with Larissa and Logan, smiling that bright, fake smile. I follow, leaving a few people between us. I don’t know if I’m going to go willingly with Gunnar, even after last night, but I can’t deny that I’m curious.
“Mint’s? I need a strawberry milkshake,” Larissa is saying.
“Hell yeah,” Logan says, pausing to high five someone in the hallway. “Rayne?”
I watch the back of his head. “I have plans,” he says.
“What could possibly be more important than a milkshake?” Larissa asks.
“My brother has to do a project we had last year, and I promised I’d help out. His grades are slipping, and Dad is hard enough on him already.” The lie is so effortless. They lay off him, and drift towards the door, talking about something else.
Then, “Aura!” Larissa cries, and the girls dramatically embrace like it’s been more than an hour since they were apart. When Aurelia breaks away from the hug, she steps towards Gunnar and throws her arms around his neck. He hugs her back. I can see his head dip, leaning into it for a moment, and I feel physically sick and stop walking. Then they too break apart, but Aurelia intertwines her fingers with his, a loose hold as they keep walking.
I go the long way around to the parking lot, and I head to Dimitri’s car rather than Gunnar’s. “There you are, sis,” Dimitri says, coming up behind me. “Waiting on Ulla?”
“She’s thinking about joining the pottery club after school,” I say. “She’ll be there for an hour, then Mom will get her.”
He looks thoughtful. “You should join some kind of club, or get a hobby, right? Your college applications can’t be looking too great.”
He’s totally right, but that’s not what I want to talk about or think about right now. I’m trying not to, but I am still craning my neck and trying to locate Gunnar’s BMW in the lot. “What about you? You don’t seem to do anything but smoke weed in your father’s guesthouse.”
“Yeah. Making money supercedes the fuckin’ chess club, or whatever, for now.”
Making money? I wonder what he means — is he dealing? But I don’t care that much, and also I finally locate the BMW. Gunnar straightens up, turns around and catches my eye just as I find him. He gives me an expectant wave, glancing around, and a small head shake, as if to say, “What are you doing?”
I open the door and slide into Dimitri’s car, sinking down in the leather seat. Dimitri is still talking about college as if the two of us are friends. “What are you majoring in, even?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, even though that’s only partly true. I know I want to study dance, but I don’t know yet if that’s the best idea for my future. I blow a lock of hair away from my eyes and strap myself in. “Can we go?”
He’s checking himself out, his faintly bruised eye, in the mirror. When I snap at him, he narrows his eyes over at me. “The fuck is your problem today? Pretty sure nothing happened.”
“Maybe I’m still pissed about the stuff that happened before today,” I say.
He clicks his tongue and shrugs. “Well, that just sounds like a recipe for misery, sis.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” I tell him, and hug myself, but he just laughs. I keep thinking about the stuff he said as we drive home. “You’re saying you really don’t let anything affect you if it happened before today?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Gotta try. Otherwise every day has the potential to be as bad as the worst day of your life. Right?” I don’t answer, because I can’t figure out if that’s smart or stupid. I settle on stupid, because I’m in a bad mood, and stare out the window.
My phone pings and I fish it out of my pocket.
Gunnar: How are we going to do our assignment?
I puff out my cheeks and then turn off my phone screen again. “You gotta let shit go, is all I’m saying,” Dimitri says.
“You mean specifically the shit you did, right?”
He doesn’t answer, but then he shrugs a shoulder.
“You just don’t want to feel like an asshole anymore,” I tell him. “But you’re gonna feel bad about the stuff you did whether or not I still do, so there’s no reason for you to keep talking to me about it.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Maybe I do feel bad,” he says, which surprises me so much I turn to look at him. “They told me all this shit about you, and I’ll be honest … fucking with someone like you? It sounded fun. Then I met you, and yeah, you seemed like just another stuck-up bitch. But, I dunno, Andie.”
I snort. “You dunno what?”
“I heard some stuff.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Made me wonder if everything I thought before is true.”
“You heard what stuff?” I ask quickly, straightening. My phone pings again.
Gunnar: Come on… I get why you don’t want to get in my car, but don’t ignore me
I ignore it.
“Nah, nothing really,” he says, dismissing me and rounding the final corner into our driveway. “Just some stuff that made me wonder. It doesn’t matter.” He unclips his seatbelt and turns to me, leaning his head back on the headrest. “Anyway, I’m starting to think it might be a lot more fun to be on the same side as you than to be enemies.” He shoots me a smile, and climbs out of the car. I do the same thing, shaking my head. Asshole.
Gunnar: I’m not used to being ignored... I’m not really sure what to do, here.
Gunnar: Do I just turn up at your fucking door again?
Gunnar: Christ.
I head up to my room, hoping equally that he does and doesn’t decide to just show up at my door again.
And, as Dimitri pulls out a cheap, crappy cellphone from his pocket and heads to the back of his house, I watch him for a second. That definitely isn’t his usual phone. My stepbrother might very well be a low-level drug dealer — in fact, that could be how he became friends with Logan; I know he’s always looking — and I don’t know if I should keep my mouth shut if he is.
* * *
It takesme a long time to fall asleep. Even though I’m ignoring Gunnar, I have my phone face-up and within arm’s length. It doesn’t ping again. I keep slipping away, almost, into sleep and then waking up with a jump.
Pietro took my mom out on a date tonight and I’m pretty sure they still aren’t back. Dimitri seemed to capitalize on it, because I could hear people coming and going from the guesthouse on and off as I did my homework. No voices I recognized.
Then, at almost one in the morning, I hear soft footsteps in the hallway. I wouldn’t pay too much attention, but they pause right outside my door. The handle turns, and the door groans as it opens inwards, spilling a little dim light into my room. I sit up and rub my eyes.
The dark figure stands in my doorway, hood up, and I can’t make anything out other than broad shoulders. “Hello?” I say finally. The figure blocking the door doesn’t move. “Gunnar?” I squint, trying to adjust my eyes. “Dimitri…?”
Something about the way they stand in the doorway, tall and hunched and statue-still, makes my stomach drop like a stone.
Then, whoever it is, they step forward with purpose and I suck in a breath. Now that they aren’t obscuring the doorway, more light from the hall spills inside and glints off something long gripped in his hand. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m screaming.
Footsteps pound in the hall. “Andie?” I hear Ulla yell. “Are you OK? Did you fall?”
Like a shadow, or a ghost, whoever was in my room slips out before she rounds the corner and sticks her head in.
It takes me a second to convey to her what just happened, because I’m not completely sure, but she looks frightened. “I will sleep on the floor,” she says firmly, and no amount of protesting seems to dissuade her. "Those fuckers are messing with your head." She takes a couple of trips to bring every blanket and pillow she can find, and makes a comfy little nest on my floor. We turn on the TV, low, and eventually, somehow, we both fall asleep.