The Impact of You (15 page)

“You get to choose the movie,” I tell her, taking a step back to release her.

She nods and peruses the collection of DVDs I’ve rounded up from the guys in the house. Most are comedies with dirty humor or horror flicks, but she doesn’t complain. She selects a paranormal thriller and hands it to me.

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I love scary movies.”

“
Really?” I’m not sure why, but this surprises me. Maybe because she’s so sweet and innocent. Either way, I love that she’s into it. I’ve wanted to see this movie for a while. “Well, if you get too scared and need to sleep over, you’re welcome to.”
Smooth, Jase.

She grins crookedly. “Like a slumber party?”

“Ah no, not like a slumber party. Like me and you in my bed spooning and hopefully kissing.”

Her cheeks blush pink and she tips her head down. I can’t resist tipping her chin up with two fingers. I press a soft kiss to her mouth and then look at her to gauge her reaction. “Are you okay with what happened last night?
I mean…you liked it, right?”

“I thought that was obvious, yes.”

I dare a step closer. “So maybe this whole tutoring thing can be extended a bit…”

Avery bites her bottom lip. “Extended how?”

“Hmm…” I place a hand on her waist, drawing her closer. “Let me show you.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the movie plays on my laptop, all but forgotten, and Avery is lying in my arms, resting her head in my favorite spot – in the center of my chest. Trailing my fingers lightly across her arms, I never want her to move from this spot. She fits perfectly tucked against me and her hair smells so good.

All too soon, Avery lifts
her head to look up at me with sad eyes I wish were happy.

“Everything okay?”
I ask. “Movie’s not too scary for you, is it?”

It’s more a psychological thriller than blood-and-gore, but she looks
like something’s bothering her. I get the sense there’s something more on her mind than movies and cuddling. There’s a little crease in between her eyebrows and she drags her teeth across her bottom lip.

“It’s…never mind.”
She drops her head to my chest, nestling herself in once again.

I’m torn on whether or not to let it go, but there’s a nagging feeling inside me. I roll us over on the bed so I’m hovering over top of her. Her eyes widen in surprise as our aligned bodies command her attention.
I smooth her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears. “Hey, you know you can talk to me, right?”

She nods. “I’m not ready yet. I don’t want things to end between us.”

My thumb lingers on her cheek. I want to tell her she’s wrong, that she’s safe and this isn’t going to end, but something gives me pause and instead I nod. “Okay.” 

I lean in and kiss her, soft at first, but after a few moments our kisses turn deeper and her legs wind themselves around my back
, and I’m reminded of how long it’s been since I was with anyone. Not good. I force a deep breath into my lungs and let it out slowly, focusing on slowing our pace, even as Avery’s tongue flirts relentlessly with mine. A small frustrated groan escapes her throat as she tightens her legs around my waist, forcing her pelvis to rub against mine. I give in and grind back against her, my body reacting to the friction.
Shiiit. She feels too good.

Several minutes later
I break away, breathless with desire and her sleepy eyes meet mine at the sudden halt in action. “Avery…if you’re not sure about going further, I’m going to need to stop.” I wish I could phrase it a more graceful way, but fuck, she’s gonna make me come.

I can tell she’s conflicted – her body wants this, but her head isn’t so sure. “Hey
, it’s okay. I just…haven’t been with anyone in a while and a certain part of my body likes you rubbing against up against him.”

She s
miles with understanding. “I know. My body likes you too. A lot.”

What is she telling me? Does she want to go farther? “Avery?”

She swallows, summoning her courage. “I hate that I have to think about this. I want this. I do. I just…”

“
Shh.” I silence her with a quick kiss. She’s thinking way too hard. “You had fun last night, right?”

A silly grin curves her mouth upward. “What gave you that idea?”

I kiss her again. “Hm. It might have tipped me off when you were screaming my name…”

Her cheeks flush. “Jase…”

“Yeah, baby?”

She’s stewing, working her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I wish I could just let go, be with you like I want to.”

I think I understand what she’s saying. She hates how her wounded past makes her cautious. I get it. I do. There are certain events in life that change a person. Like with my mom. I’ll probably never be that same carefree guy again. I’ll be more watchful, more aware that everything can be taken away when you least expect it. I just wish I could make things easier for her. “Let me take care of you. No thinking tonight. Be with me like you want to. Let me make you feel good.”

She nods. “Yes.”

I lean toward her and drop a soft kiss against her mouth, her throat, the curve of collarbone. Taking my time, I remove each piece of her clothing, kissing her exposed skin as I go, but leaving her panties in place. That will have to be her decision to make. I pull my shirt off over my head, needing to feel her warm skin against mine. I kiss each breast, rub against the damp barrier her panties provide until she’s moaning my name. Reading her body, I push the fabric aside and give her the contact she needs. Her knees fall apart and she whimpers loudly, rolling her hips. Watching Avery come is fucking hot. Suddenly I’m harder than I’ve ever been, but then Avery’s reaching her warm hand into my boxers and stroking me. Faster than I would have thought possible, I lose it. I curl my hand around hers to shield her from the mess that empties from me.

“Fuck
, Avery.” I breathe, planting a kiss against her temple.

She smiles, content and clearly pleased with herself over making me
come.

I grab some tissues from beside my bed and clean us both off
, then lie back beside her. “Stay the night with me?” I ask.

“Yes.”
Her eyes blaze with confidence and certainty.

I get the feeling she’s saying yes to more than just a sleepover. She’s saying yes to me, to life, and I pull her against me and hold her tight.
  

Avery

I’m still smiling like an idiot as I make it to my dorm room. Madison’s sitting on the futon painting her nails when I arrive. She studies my wrinkled clothes and messy sleep-styled hair with a smirk. “Have fun last night?”

“Yes.” I bite my cheek to avoid
squeeing. “It was fun. How was your date?”

“Dull.” She shrugs. “Oh, a package came for you.” Madison nods toward the desk where a large envelope awaits.

Wow. It’s here.
A flash of warmth invades my chest. 

Madison pauses, holding the bottle of
polish. “Avery? What is it?”

“
Hm?” I pluck the envelope. “It’s probably just nothing.”
Lie
. This envelope is everything: The cure to my identity crisis, a link to my past, and a possible future with my mom. Tears prick my eyes, and still clutching the envelope, I head off for the communal bathrooms, needing a moment to myself.

I pull open the curtain to the shower on the far end and sit on the cool tiled
bench seat.

Then I hesitate. Maybe I shouldn’t be alone when I open it. I dial Jase’s number, but the call goes to voicemail. After waiting several minutes, I send him a text. I balance the phone on the
bench seat beside me. Since he usually replies right away, I’m surprised when he doesn’t text me back.

I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and I’m unable to put it off for even another second. I tear open the envelope and slide out the inch thick stack of papers.

I know Jase said he didn’t have any plans today, so I’m wondering where he could be. That question settles like an uneasy pit in my stomach, but I push it to the back of my mind as I begin reading the opening letter, addressed to me, on the adoption agency letterhead. It acknowledges the difficult journey this process may prove to be and lists resources to help deal with birthparent searches. Awesome. Even they don’t have faith in their process.

The following pages contain boring forms and information that
my dads had to complete nineteen years ago. It’s funny to see that their handwriting hasn’t changed a bit in all that time. Seeing the sheer volume of forms and information they supplied overwhelms me. They must’ve really wanted me bad. That thought makes me smile, though it’s quickly followed by a pang of guilt about doing this behind their backs. 

I continue leafing through the pages, knowing the good stuff is probably at the back of the pile.

Bingo.

An old photograph of a woman that looks shockingly familiar is clipped to the back page. The same wavy auburn hair and wide-set eyes that greet me in the mirror each morning are staring back at me. I pull in a deep breath, shocked by how young she looks.

Her first name and a generic email account are supplied on the last page.

Huh.

Jessica.

My mom’s name is Jessica.

I’m strangely devoid of emotion as I learn this. Her photo is captivating, though, and I find myself staring at it, brushing it lovingly with my thumb. Tears sting my eyes, and as scary as it is, I stuff the papers back into the envelope and head back to my room to email her. Lord help me for whatever happens next.

* * *

I haven’t heard from Jase in two days. I’ve called and texted several times, and still nothing. I’m more worried than anything else, and since he didn’t show up for class today either, I head straight to his house after.

I let myself in
when no one answers the front door. Geez, they should probably keep it locked. The house is empty and quiet, and although my heart is pounding at what I might find, I climb the stairs to the attic. There could be a million reasons for him not calling me back…he could have the flu, maybe something happened with his mom…or the worst – is he back with Stacia? Yet, even as I try to justify his silence, I know it can only mean one thing. I saw Marcy and Stacia talking the other night. I’m sure they saw me too. I guess I just hoped maybe Jase wouldn’t have to find out this way – and from Stacia of all people.

Steeling myself for the worst, I knock on Jase’s door. A few seconds later, I hear the floorboards creak as he crosses the room. A ragged looking Jase peers back at me. He isn’t dressed, hasn’t shaved and his hair’s a complete wreck.

“Jase?”

He doesn’t say
anything for several seconds, just continues watching me with guarded eyes. The pain I see reflected back at me is too much. This is why I don’t get close to people. This look. I hate being responsible for it when they learn I’m not who they want me to be.

“Can I come in? Explain at least?” I ask.

Jase’s brow is wrinkled in confusion, but he opens the door a few more inches and saunters away. It’s not exactly a warm welcome, but he’s not shutting me out just yet, either. I step through the door and pull in a steadying breath. I’ve never wanted to explain this before. When confronted with my past, I always flee. Always. But Jase deserves more. So as much as it’s going to suck to tell him this story, I know I have to.

His room is cold and any and all warmth between us is absent too. Jase turns to face me. “Did you know about the pictures?”
he asks.

I swallow the grapefruit-sized lump that’s lodged itself painfully in my throat. That’s the thing – it’d be easier to say no, that Brent had tricked
me, I didn’t know I was being photographed. But I did know. Brent thought it would be fun, sexy. And I would have done just about anything to hear him say he loved me. It turns out when you have abandonment issues, you’ll do just about anything to feel loved. I needed to feel loved, to be close to someone, and I loved it when Brent held me or touched me. Whether or not it had anything to do with my adoption, I didn’t know, but I craved that affection. During those moments of feeling wanted and desired, it dampened my sense of abandonment. I know these are probably all excuses, and certainly not something Jase is likely to understand. Nor does it erase the fact I kept it from him.

I hang my head, not wanting to see
his eyes when I tell him this next part. “Yeah, I knew.” I didn’t say yes to the idea right away – he wore me down over a couple of weeks. And of course what followed wasn’t heartfelt; it wasn’t filled with love at all. It was an experience that left me broken, shattered, and humiliated. “When we broke up a couple weeks later, he shared the images with his friends, which were quickly passed around our school.” I could barely get out of bed those first few days. My dads thought I had the flu.

The disappointment in Jase’s eyes is so severe, so all encompassing, I stagger a step back, struggling to remain on my feet. It’s the look I hoped I never had to see it cross his face.