Take My Hand (13 page)

Dexter

Holy
fuck. This
was a stupid plan. The second Emily stepped outside in clothes that clung so
perfectly to her tiny frame, I knew this wasn’t going to help with my aim to
just be her friend.

FRIEND.
FRIEND. FRIEND. I repeated silently in my head when it became painstakingly
obvious my eyes weren’t gonna shift from her body no matter much I told them
to.

 
She’d scraped her vivid-red hair up into
a ponytail which swished bouncily below her shoulder blades whenever she moved.
She didn’t have any make-up on. She didn’t need it. She had skin as flawless as
the chicks on the Maybelline commercials only hers was natural. She was the
most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen.

FRIEND.
FRIEND. FRIEND.

“Right,
let’s get you stretched,” I said when we’d walked a few steps along the
sidewalk. She looked at me like I’d just told her I ate dead kittens for
breakfast.

“That
sounds painful.”

“Just
do what I do,” I replied. I took extra long to complete all my moves, taking
hold of her and guiding her into position when she looked like she was
struggling. I stopped when an unfamiliar and more importantly, unsettling
feeling washed through me. I’d fucked so many girls in my life I lost count
years ago… yet nothing had ever felt as intimate as this moment with Emily.

And for
that, I felt insanely fucking guilty.

“Follow
me,” I said, trying not to let the anger I felt with myself seep into my voice.
Then I set off into a slow sprint. So slow I’d class it as fast walking, but I
wanted to ease her in gently.

A
half-mile down the road and she was showing no signs of lagging so I picked up
the pace a little. Then, as if it were a game she overtook me and now it was me
who was struggling to breathe. The blood in my veins felt warmer –
burning me from the inside out. I kept pulling my eyes away but they just kept
falling back to most pert little ass I’d ever seen in my life. After that they
trailed upwards, honing in on the delicate glisten of sweat starting to form on
her neck and all I could think about was tasting it.

“I need
a rest,” I called out to her. I couldn’t watch her run for another second if I
wanted to keep the cum in my dick.

“Seriously?
I was just getting into it!”

“You
need to take it easy your first time. You might be into it now but you’ll be
stiff as fuck in the morning.”
Pretty much like I am right now.
“Let’s
grab a drink in there and then we’ll make our way back,” I suggested, pointing
towards a rundown café across the street.

She
agreed easily, just like she always does. I hope that changes in time. It leaves
her wide open for people to let her down. People like
me
to let her
down.

We only
stopped briefly. Just long enough to down a couple of sodas and exchange some
idle chitchat. She mentioned needing to find a job and picking up an
application for Starbucks yesterday but wasn’t sure if the hours would tie in
well enough with studying. I didn’t say anything in case it failed to materialize
but we sure as hell needed someone else at the pub so I planned to ask Mick
about it tonight. The hours would fit, she’d already know people (because I
knew meeting new people was difficult for her) and I’d get extra time to spend
staring at… I mean getting to know her.

Emily
was reluctant to go home and face the house of hangover hell so we jogged back
to mine. We were nearer there anyway so it made perfect sense. I was dripping
with sweat by the time we reached my building (Em was barely glistening) so I
hopped straight in the shower to clean myself up, leaving Emily free to make
herself at home.

Once
I’d changed I found Emily flipping through the magazines under my glass coffee
table.

“Wow
you really read some rubbish don’t you?” she said as I entered the room.

“Well
I’m open to suggestions if you can recommend anything better.”

“Nah. I
doubt you’d like what I read. Unless you’re looking for a hot new guy to fall
in love with?”

“I’ll
try anything once,” I teased, shrugging. She let out my favorite sound in the
world and giggled as she rolled her eyes at me.

“I made
us some coffee. Hope you don’t mind.” I followed her gaze towards the table and
noticed two steaming white mugs sitting in the center. It felt… satisfying,
knowing she was comfortable here.

“Course
not,” I assured. “Thanks.”

I sat
down next to her and took a generous sip of coffee. It was perfect –
white with the ideal amount of sugar. How the hell did she know that?

“You
sore yet?”

“No,”
she lied. I knew she was lying because she wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“Here,
gimme your feet.” She widened those big blue eyes and weighed me up like I’d
just asked for permission to rape her or something. “Come on,” I reiterated,
patting my lap.

“I’ve
not showered,” she barely whispered, glancing at me for a fraction of a second.

“So
I’ll hold my breath.” Lucky I’ve got fast reflexes or the magazine she just
threw at me would’ve smacked me right in the mouth. “Just gimme your damn feet,
woman,” I mock scolded. Nibbling at her lip she gave in and swung her legs up
onto my knees.

“Oooh…”
she trailed off, closing her eyes when I began kneading the soles of her feet.
I wondered if she’d make noises as delicious as that in the bedroom. Then I
mentally punched myself in the balls to snap me out of it.

“Good?”
I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mmmhmm.”
Her eyes were still closed so I was free to stare at her porcelain face –
watching intently as every ounce of tension melted away from it. I rubbed a
little firmer over her heels, then softened my touch again as I smoothed my
palms over her lower leg and knotted the pads of my fingers into her calves.

I had
my MP3 player on shuffle quietly in the background and just then Cough Syrup by
Young the Giant started playing.

“Ooo I
love this song,” Emily murmured – eyes still closed and body relaxing
more by the second.

“
Really
?” I uttered in reply. I didn’t
think they were that well known – especially over here. Plus, aren’t
girls usually into One Direction and that kind of shit?

“Yeah.
They covered it on Glee once. I have it on my phone, I listen to it all the
time.” Great. She’d just ruined one of my favorite songs of all time. Freakin’
Glee. Otherwise known as the TV show that massacres brilliant songs on a weekly
basis.

I
continued to massage Emily into a blissfully relaxed puddle of mush while she
sang softly along to the lyrics. Wow. The sound made my heart sputter. She
sounded adorable – perfect. Maybe the song wasn’t ruined after all.
Actually, I’m pretty sure it was my new favorite.

“Was it
scary? In rehab I mean?” Whoa, where the hell did
that
come from? It was
weird when she asked because strangely, I didn’t try to think of a lie to spin
her.

“Not as
scary as where I was headin’,” I admitted honestly.

“You
want to talk about it?” I choked on my own breath and tried to disguise it as a
cough. No one had ever asked me that before. I’ve never
wanted
anyone to
ask me that before. But you know what? Yes. Yes I did want to talk about it.

“I’ve
done a lot of bad shit, doll. I just don’t know if you’re ready to hear it. I
don’t wanna risk what we have going on here.” What
did
we have going on
here? “This… friendship.” Yeah, that sounded convincing. Didn’t it?

“You
think that little of me?” she asked, sounding offended. I shook my head no.

“No. No
I don’t,” I answered honestly. It made absolutely no freakin’ sense to me but I
trusted this girl more than anyone.

“So?
Try me.”

Here
goes nothin’…

“I was
a mess, doll. I don’t know how I ever allowed myself to get dragged so far
under.” Christ was I really doing this? Was I really exposing myself so
brutally? “I started drinking when I was fifteen. Trying to black out some of
the shit I’d been through I guess.” As liberating as this felt, that was all
she was getting out of me regarding that part of my life.

“Didn’t
seem like a big deal at first. I’d get wasted at parties, with friends, that
kind of thing. Then before I knew it I was hiding spirits in my locker at
school, under the bed at home…” I trailed off, taking a much-needed gulp of
air. “That lasted all the way through high school but somehow it still didn’t
seem enough to me. So after dropping out of college I started working my way in
with the wrong crowd and when they offered me my first line I didn’t hesitate
to say yes.”

The
only time I had ever been this honest was with my therapist back in Ohio. It
felt exonerating, and so even though I knew Emily would either hear me out or
bolt as fast she could… I vowed to keep going.

“The
first couple of times felt amazing. I felt powerful and free. The past, the
future… they didn’t matter – I couldn’t even see them anymore. All I had
to focus on was how fucking fantastic I felt in that very moment.

“But
after that it wasn’t having the same effect so I took a little more. Few times
later a little more… then more, then… well you get the picture. You build up a
tolerance without even realizing and that’s how it gets you. It devours you
entirely… making you
need
it. Need
more
of it. I couldn’t focus
without it anymore. If I wasn’t using I couldn’t think straight. I was
confused, and shaky, and so
fucking
angry,” I growled, remembering how
intense those emotions felt as if it were just this morning.

“I
lashed out at everyone. Didn’t think twice about knocking out anyone who got in
my way.” I risked a glance into Emily’s eyes, certain there must be at least a
hint of revulsion there. So when she took hold of my hand which was settled on
her knee and squeezed it gently, I was taken aback to say the least.

This
ought to change her opinion of me…

“Eventually
I was in too deep. I needed the shit more often than I could afford so I
started stealing. I’d take from my Aunt’s purse when she wasn’t looking at
first. It helped, but she’s hardly rolling in it and I was sucked so far under
it just wasn’t enough. So I turned to stores, selling stuff on to make the cash
I needed. Then in the end… I was caught for breaking and entering.”

“Jesus.
That must have been so hard for you,” she said with genuine sincerity. It
pissed me off and unintentionally, I snapped at her.

“Are
you for fucking real right now?”

“I-I’m
sorry, Dex. I just-”

“No. No
I’m sorry,” I interjected. What the fuck was I playing at? Yelling at the only
person (apart from Aunt Sarah) who’s shown any ounce of faith in me in what
must be years. “It’s just… I don’t deserve your sympathy, doll. I screwed up a
lot of people with my actions, and there’s no one to blame but myself,” I added
gravely.

“So
what happened to make you want to change?” she asked carefully.

“I
didn’t. I fought tooth and fucking nail not to go to that damn place. I
genuinely didn’t think I had a problem. It was everyone else with their heads
up their asses, not me. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see anything that
mattered anymore. You wanna know the most fucked up part of that? Sometimes I
miss that feeling.” Now
that
little nugget of information there, I
really had never shared with a single soul. Not Aunt Sarah, not my therapist…
fuck I don’t think I’d even admitted it to myself until that moment.

Emily’s
lips parted slightly – as if she needed the extra space to draw in more
air.

“So…
what happened?” she asked nervously, gnawing her bottom lip to shreds.

“My
Aunt Sarah happened. She’d tried for months to make me see sense on her own.
She cried, she begged, she kicked me out… but I didn’t give a shit about any of
that. Didn’t give a shit about anything. So… she called the cops. Told them I’d
stolen from her. Before I knew it I was in custody. Turned out I was linked to
a heap of other shit too. I was given a suspended sentence provided I
successfully complete a three month rehabilitation program.”

I searched
her eyes again. Yep, still no judgment there. What the fuck did I do to deserve
this amazing girl in my life?

“But,
you’re here. Aren’t there rules on leaving the country when you’re under a
sentence?” she quizzed inquisitively. Probably assuming I was breaking another
law. Couldn’t really blame her if she was.

“That
was four years ago. I relapsed last fall but thankfully saw the signs in time
to sort myself out before it was too late. When I entered rehab earlier this
year, it was voluntary. That’s what I was trying to say last night. I’ll never
be free of it, doll. I’ve just gotta work damn fucking hard every single day to
keep myself in check.” Now, if that didn’t send her packing… nothing would.