Broken Pretty Things by Amber Faye

Chapter 51

The playlist movesfrom Vivaldi to Thom Yorke to Jeff Buckley to Kurt Cobain, but none of them compare to the sweet, melodic perfection that is Andie Palmer crying my name as she comes.

She tightens in my grip, every muscle coiled, and then she releases the tension with a shudder, chasing the aftershocks by grinding her tight pussy against me. I hold her, my head buried in her neck, panting in the scent of her peachy conditioner. I have never come this hard in my life. Every single time we’re together it’s better than the last.

“Fuck,” I rasp when I remember how to talk. “You’re incredible.” Her head is arched back, the waves of her hair cascading down past her shoulders. Every time she lets me lose myself inside of her is a fucking miracle. A dream. I don’t deserve it, deserve her, but nobody ever could. She’s perfection.

These last few days have been the most intense of my life. I went for months without really feeling anything but this swirling black cloud, and now that it’s lifted, every sensation is multiplied by a hundred. She’s like a drug. When she shifts and her skin stops touching mine, it almost hurts. I would say that I’m trying to go easy, go slow, but I don’t think I can even remember how to control myself.

Flushed pink, she pulls her shirt back over her chest again, her skirt back down her thighs. “I really have to get home.”

“Let’s watch scary movies all night,” I say, twisting my fingers in her hair and bringing her mouth closer to mine.

“I can’t, I really have to study or I won’t even get into community college,” she laughs. I tuck her hair behind her ear, and then pull my pants back on and button them back up.

“OK, then we’ll study.” I close my mouth over hers and she touches her fingers to my cheek and pulls away.

I really can’t stand the thought of her being away from me for even a second. Someone broke into her room. A part of her thinks it was me, an abandoned plan; I know she does. JJ isn’t the only person who wanted to scare her, and I have no idea who this second guy could be. She’s just not taking it seriously enough.

“I’m serious,” she says softly. “I need to concentrate on something other than you for a night.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I take her hand and show her I’m already hard again. Or still. I can’t even tell anymore. “Get your books out and study. I’ll study you.” I flick my tongue over her lips and she smiles up at me. “If you leave, I’ll follow you,” I warn.

Though she rolls her eyes, she still falls into me, her hand on my chest and her tongue on mine. I twist my hands in the fabric of her shirt and draw her closer to me until there’s no more air between us. “I love you,” I say into her mouth. “Move in with me.”

She laughs, pushing playfully on my shoulders. “I have to go.”

I’m trying to make it seem like I’m kidding around, but seriously. Physical pain. Maybe this was what I was so afraid of all those years, deep down. When you finally let somebody in, especially if they’ve always been this relentless inevitability, everything inside you has to undergo a grinding, shifting change to accommodate them. I like control.

But I like her more.

“I’m going to fully fail English if I don’t do this essay, and your cousin will wring my neck.”

“I’ll do all your homework from now on, what about that?”

She snorts. “You’re such an asshole. How are you still on top of all of your assignments?” I’m not really sure. Time management comes easy to me, and so does studying. I’ve never really had to, well, try very hard at stuff. “And what kind of a loser gets her boyfriend to do all her homework so she can keep making out with him instead?”

Her pretty blue eyes widen slightly. Close up they’re flecked with gold. I nuzzle her peach and cinnamon hair again, heart thudding, not sure if I should point out what just happened.

“I just called you my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you fucking weirdo,” I joke. She squirms away and bites her lip, looking at me. “I thought we were just friends who hook up every day. Exclusively.” I dip my head to kiss her neck. “Say it again,” I say, hearing the change in my voice from light to dark.

“Say what?” she asks, because she never makes anything easy.

“Actually, I don’t know,” I say, leaning back into the couch cushions. “If you call me your boyfriend I might have to fuck you again.” I buck my hips against hers and she gives me a sleepy smile. She hasn’t ever said anything like that before. That or that she loves me. I am certain she feels the same way I do, but if she isn’t ready to say it, I get that. The part that hurts is that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t trust me yet. She’s still waiting for the curtains to part and a jeering audience to be on the other side. This isn’t a trick, or a plot, or a plan.

And that’s terrifying.

It’s just me, the real me, and the girl I’ve loved since I knew how to feel. When I’m with her, I can turn off that part of my brain that needs to dominate every situation, and just exist.

I just need to remember how to control myself, stay calm, and go slow.

“What if, instead of going home, you married me?” I ask, catching her fingers between mine as she moves.

It’s a process.

“Calm down, Gunnar,” she tuts, and kisses me twice on the lips before getting up from the couch and stretching. “You see me every day at school.”

It’s not enough.

“And pretty much every day after school.” She’s putting on her shoes. The worst parts of my brain kick into gear. I could distract her, hide some of her shit. Make her stay longer.

“Stay, please,” I say instead. “I’ll help you with your essay. Or I’ll call Spence to give you an extension.” She leans against the far wall, folding her arms and jutting her jaw in thought. I swing my legs down so I’m sitting on the couch, resting my elbows on my knees. “I told my dad I’m going to Borneo this morning.”

That makes her pause. She stands up straight. “Shit, really? What did he say?”

“He said …” I rub my face hard. I want her to know that I’m going, but I didn’t want to talk about this. But I’d say anything to get her to stay — even the truth. “He said he didn’t want the same thing to happen to me as it did to Cole.” It’s hard to get out. The cops have been probing even further into Cole’s death at the insistence of everybody in school, but they’ve hit back harder, sticking with the line that they already did a full investigation and found nothing untoward.

“Heavy,” she says. I nod.

“So he’s going to let me ‘get this environmental phase out of my system.’ His words.”

“That’s really good news.”

I tilt my head. “Come with me.” She laughs, but her pretty eyes narrow a little.

“I can’t. I didn’t sign myself up.”

“I’ll figure something out.” I straighten myself up, smiling wide, at the same time as she looks like she’s getting smaller. She’s never really liked it when I remind her how much power my father has. I didn’t really like the thought of it either, before, but things change.

“I need to start thinking about my own future,” she mumbles. “I think I want to …” I nod, hoping I know what she’s going to say next. “Would it be really stupid if I majored in Dance here?”

“No, not at all,” I say in a rush. I get up and cross the room to feel her against me again. She looks up at me with sexy, heavy-lidded eyes. “Is that what you want to do? You’re a natural. You’re amazing.” I’m peppering her with kisses now and she laughs.

“You have got to calm down, Gunnar,” she says, taking my face in her hands. “Do you think you’re like this because I haven’t said, you know, the L word yet?”

I think about it, rather than dismissing it offhand. “Maybe.” I take her hand and put it on my hammering heart. “I’m scared you’re going to leave me, and we’re not even admitting we’re together yet.” Her face softens.

“I love you a lot,” she says. My entire body reacts, head to toe. Electricity sparks across my skin as I press myself against her. “I’m just not ready to say it yet.”

My mouth falls open, my brows knotting, but she presses her finger to my lips. “For once, Gunnar, don’t say anything.” Then she chases her finger with her lips, kissing me with a smile. “Let me go do my homework. And don’t follow me home.” Something passes behind her eyes. “Or break into my house.”

The sudden shift in her body language has me wrapping my fingers around her wrists to stop her again. “OK,” I say. “I mean, I didn’t break in to your house. I used the key.”

“What?”

“When I came into your room after the hospital,” I say. She rubs at the goosebumps on her arms and turns to leave. “That was the only time, Andie,” I call after her. Fuck. You can’t force somebody to believe you.

If you could, I would know how to do it.

* * *

Sophomore year

“That would be my superpower,” she says, biting down hard on the slice of pizza. “I want to be invisible.”

“Super strength,” JJ pipes up.

“Mind reading,” Ransom says. “No. Moving shit with your mind.” He picks the mushrooms off his pizza and I swipe them from his plate.

I don’t know what to say. Because I already have my superpower. If I talk for long enough, I can get anybody to believe anything. I wouldn’t risk changing it.

“You’re all wrong,” Cole laughs. “The right answer is to be able to stop time.” He hooks one arm around Andie’s shoulder, the other around mine. “Everyone wants more time. To read, to write.” He nods at me. “You could sit and play music and nobody would ever tell you to shut up again.” That makes me laugh.

“That does sound good,” I say. Andie leans into him, smiling when he engulfs her fully with his arms.

Maybe stopping time isn’t a bad pick after all, I think, looking at my best friends; our brothers. One day we could all grow up and grow apart. That thought fucking sucks.

If I could stop time, maybe I could stop this. Andie and Cole getting closer. Me drifting further and further apart from both of them. Ransom and JJ growing up, liking their big brothers less.

Maybe right now is the best life will ever be, and I won’t know it until it’s over.

But, then, maybe it’s not. Maybe there’s something even better out there, waiting. I’m impatient, and I hate surprises, but I’m curious. I watch Andie lick sauce off the tip of her finger, tip back her head and laugh at something. There’s no way of knowing what could happen.