“It’s hard,” He admitted. “I’m not used of talking much especially after sex with you. I don’t know how to decompress little owl. I’ve never done that.” He shifted his body until he was facing me.
His hand moved slowly, it landed on the inside of my thigh. I don’t know what heated me up the most. His nickname that I tried to convince myself that I hated, or his calloused hand resting on the inside of my thigh. It was both a hard battle with my mind and body.
“I want you to try, because whatever that was during so-called dinner wasn’t just sex…and if you act like it was?—”
“It didn’t feel like sex to me either,” he said, voice going lower than I expected. His fingers dug into my thigh; I could tell that it wasn’t to hurt me, but for me to feel him.
“It felt like something I wasn’t supposed to have.” His raspy voice vibrated between the both of us.
“I don’t know what I expected with being intimate with you Kenric.” I admitted.
“I mean yes, you kidnapped me then I found myself attracted to not only your looks but also your madness. I find myself wanting to know more about you. We share some things in common, we both experienced trauma at the ages of thirteen. When I look you in your eyes, I see pain and suffering first then you mask it with strength and power. I battle with myself because I dislike you then feel for you. I make excuses for your impulsive behavior like having me kidnapped all because you found peace in the way I play a violin. Then you fucked me, and it messed things up further. I didn’t expect to feel…seen. Even with all the pain that I witness for brief moments in your eyes…you looked at me like I was something sacred.” A tear escaped my eye before I could stop it.
“You are,” he said instantly. “You feel sacred, your aura brings light into my darkness. But I don’t want to just worship you, Mira…I want to keep you.” He shut his eyes tightly then flicked his finger over his nose in frustration.
“Does that scare you?” I asked timidly.
“It does…because although I can keep you, a part of me discovered that I don’t want to force you although I know I can. I saw you smile, I know what it feels like for you to make me laugh. It felt good. All of it. You make me feel, Mira. I don’t feel much but pain, I buried the pain down every day before I laid eyes on you. The right thing would be for me to let you go and give you the right to decide if you want to…” He bit into his bottom lip.
For a fleeting moment, I was overwhelmed by the urge to reach for him, to pull him into my arms and let the silence between us dissolve into the warmth of a shared embrace. The ache in his voice echoed something raw inside of me, an ache I recognized all too well. I wanted to comfort him, to let our bodies press together again in a way that had nothing to do with lust, but with solace. If I could just hold him, maybe my touch wouldsoothe the shadows swirling in his eyes, even if it was for a little while.
The veins by his temples popped out as he dropped his head in defeat. Wow, he really didn’t want to let me go, and I felt for him. I wanted to help him and hoped that he helped me. We both were consumed with never ending pain that somehow felt suffocating.
“How about you open up a little to me, then I open up to you. We can lay here together, facing one another and just talk until we fall asleep. I’ll stop thinking about escaping for a couple of days so we can build some form of trust within each other then we go from there…does that sound okay to you?” I asked, hoping that he’d say yes.
“Okay.”
A gentle wave of relief swept through me, warm and unexpected, as his agreement lingered in the air. My lips parted in a soft smile, a real smile, fragile yet full. Kenric slipped quietly into the bed beside me. I turned to face him, our knees touched as I pulled the comforter over our bodies. Carefully, with trembling fingers, I reached out, tracing the smooth line of his chocolate skin, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath my touch. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting my hand linger, then opened them again, his gaze darker than midnight, swirling with questions and memories yet unspoken.
“Where should we start?” he asked, his voice a whisper that wrapped itself around my heart. I swallowed, holding his stare, and answered,
“Let’s start from our childhood. From the beginning.”
UNEXPECTED TURN
For a moment,neither of us spoke, I looked into Kenric’s dark eyes and found myself getting lost inside of them. My mind wandered to the years I had tucked away, the childhood memories both sweet and splintered. I searched his face, wondering what stories lay behind his eyes, what secrets, what scars, what dreams whispered to him in the dark.
The room felt safer than it had minutes before, the black walls no longer closing in but holding us gently and securely to express ourselves. Kenric’s breathing slowed, and I could feel the weight of anticipation mingling with hope. I began, voice tentative but growing steadier with each word.
“My earliest memory is of a summer storm,” I whispered in disbelief, the saying that it never rains in Southern California was never true. In fact, our weather was very unpredictable.
“I was five,” I licked my dry lips.
“The thunder was so loud, it rattled the windows, and I hid under the kitchen table. My mom found me there, curled up with a stuffed dirty teddy bear. She told me the thunder was just angels dancing, and that there was nothing to fear. I think I believed her for years, I wish that I could still believe that because now, thunder scares the shit out of me.” I smiled.
Kenric’s lips curved into a wistful half-smile.
“I used to pretend the rain was music,” he murmured. “My momma would hum along with the sound of it. Before we moved out of the hood, she’d take me out onto the porch and sway beside me, telling me that every drop carried a story from the sky, secrets only we could hear.” He talked lowly.
I let that image settle between us, the smallness of our beginnings, it was our mother’s that brought comfort to moments that we probably felt unsettled in.
“I didn’t like the rain at all Mira, the way the gloominess took away the beautiful blue sky didn’t settle right inside of me. Momma made it better though, her voice singing and the way she seemed to always relax in the rain made me accept it though.” He continued.
“Did you have anyone you could talk to, back then, besides your mom?” I asked, my voice gentle, not wanting to press too hard.
He thought for a moment, eyes tracing the opened roof as if searching for an answer written in the stars.
“No. I kept things inside. I figured keeping quiet was easier than creating more problems between moms and Pops.”
