I disappear into the bathroom to change, pulse thrumming.
Brandon knows I’m single again. And he’s on the other side of this door,shirtless.
I need a cold shower.
But one peek inside the shower tells me there’s enough leftover hair from the last guest to form a small animal. I try not to gag.
I sigh the sigh of averysingle girl and settle on pulling my hair into a messy bun. I eye my striped crew socks I have pulled up over my calves. I’d be cooler without them on, but there’s no way on this green earth I’m taking them off. That carpet should be a federal offense.
I remove my crewneck and slip into Brandon’s tank, feeling the heat dissipate from my body. It’s long, almost stretching to the hem of my spandex shorts. The thin cotton is soft and smells like him. I let myself get lost in the sensation of it for a moment.
So many nights, I was enveloped in this scent. In his arms. The smell alone harbors a sense of safety, and for the first time in a long time, I can breathe with full capacity. I brace myself and leave the bathroom.
Brandon’s shoulders are silhouetted in shadow from the faint bedside lamp. Something about seeing a comforter draped over his bare chest again makes me go weak in the knees. I try to mask my nerves as I make my way to the very opposite side of the bed and slide under the sheets.
My back faces Brandon, but the bed shifts as he slides deeperdown to lay on his pillow. He respects my space, but the bed is so small that his heat practically tickles my bare shoulder blades.
He turns off the bedside lamp, leaving only a distant streetlamp through the threadbare curtains. I watch the scruffy fabric waft in the air from the cracked window, and I’m grateful I left it open. Although H.Y. is still out there, I assume I’m safer now that Brandon is here. Besides, this room feels like a furnace fueled by tension and bad decisions.
A hush fills the room, stills my lungs. It’s like time has stopped, here in this darkness. A blanket so thick it feels as though it could absorb anything.
Hope. Regrets. Desires.
An all encompassing barrier of blackness stands between us and the world outside. Shadows from my past dance across the ceiling, punctual as always. But tonight, the one person that can cast light across them lies beside me.
My heartbeat ticks faster, and I suddenly cannot go another second, another moment without knowing. The words fly out of me, pressing against the redeeming curtain of darkness.
“Why’d you stand me up that night?”
My words sound so small, I can’t tell if he even heard me. Seconds tick nearer to a minute before Brandon responds with a whispered question of his own.
“Why’d you run?”
Moisture stings my eyes as I stare blindly into the dark room. One question for a question. One heartache swapped for another.
“It was only a matter of time,” I whisper, thankful that my words vanish as soon as I speak them.
“Until what?”
“Until I disappointed you.” The words stick in my throat, cling to my tongue, but I force them out anyway. I’m tired of holding on to them. “Like I disappoint everyone.” Brandon’s long exhale brushes the nape of my neck. A single tear betrays me into my pillowcase.
Brandon shifts, the mattress dipping with his weight. I expect him to turn away, like my parents, like my sister, like everyone, but I realize he’s drawn closer.
“You couldn’t have known that,” he murmurs.
“I couldn’t have known otherwise.”
“Kate…” His voice is low. “You have to know that it couldn’t be farther from the truth. I could never have been,willnever be, disappointed in you.”
The darkness does its job, smothering each syllable like they never escaped in the first place. I take a deep breath, steadying my emotions before I roll over on my pillowcase to face him.
“Then where were you that night?” I ask.
“My…” The darkness whisks away Brandon’s whisper too soon.
I stay silent, praying for him to continue.
“My mom is an alcoholic.” The words vanish into the void before new ones replace them. “The night of the parade, she got into an accident.”
