To the Steadfast (4 page)

I live on the outskirts
of Betty, just by the highway. It’s a nice home, filled with nice things and
void of love. He pulls up to the front gates, puts in the code as I tell it to him
and drives on.

As we get out, Mischa
races me to the door and lets out a low whistle as we enter.

“Nice place.” He runs
his finger along one of the gaudy abstract statues that line the entryway.

“It’s home. I guess.”

Sometimes I forget how
different our upbringings were. Mischa and Violet have lived in the same run-down
house their entire lives, barely making ends meet. I have lovely things,
but not so lovely parents. Besides our sporadic family dinners, they live
separate lives. My father thinks he can make up for his time away by giving me
things. My BMW for one and free access to his credit cards.

“Let’s get you cleaned
up,” he says. I point him toward the upstairs guest bathroom, where we keep a
first aid kit. I pull out the antiseptic ointments and bandages and set them on
the marble counter.

“Let me.” He takes the
gauze pads from my hand but hesitates when he sees the ten different bottles of
cleaners on the counter.

“Wash your hands
first,” I demand.

He pumps the soap in
his hands and rinses them off before holding them up for my inspection.

“Wonderful, now use the
saline solution in the squirt bottle.” I hold my hand out over the sink for
him.

“Like this?” He squirts
it over the scratches on my hand.

“Try and make sure the
gravel is gone.” He spends a few more moments cleaning my hand before looking
up at me.

“I think I got it from
here,” he says, drying my hand with some gauze. He finishes by using the liquid
bandage. “Sometimes my dad would come home all beat up after a drunken bar
fight and I’d have to clean him up so Mom didn’t find out about it.”

When I pull my hand
away, I’m not sure what to say. I knew his Dad used to get violent which makes
me happy that Mischa hardly drinks. Violet, on the other hand, won’t stay away
from the stuff.

“Thank you.”

“It was partly my fault
anyway. You were trying to get me to back down.”

I stroke his cheek with
the back of my hand. “I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

He licks his lips. “He
wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“I know, but I invited
you to have fun.”

He puts his hand on
mine and kisses the back of it. “It’s okay. I really didn’t feel like a party
anyway.”

“Miss your parents?”

He chuckles. “No, not
exactly. I’d just rather be hanging out with you, that’s all.”

“Me?” I whisper. We’re
friends, but I didn’t think I was the first person he’d choose to hang out
with.

“So don’t take this the
wrong way, but I used to think you were as fleeting and careless as Violet, but
you aren’t like her other friends. You act like you care, and when I see people
pushing you around like that damn cop yesterday. It pisses me off.”

“I seriously thought he
was going to kill me.” I mean it as a joke, but we both know it isn’t. The cop
had no right to hit me and put a gun in my face. I touch the bump on my temple,
now covered by a pound of makeup and lean forward, trying to steady my
ever-increasing breath. Panic takes over as I remember what it felt like. I
believed those were going to be my final moments.

“Calm down, Cody.” He
wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. I wince as he bumps my
bruise. “You in pain? Do your parents have any good drugs?”

 
“Um…my dad is a doctor. So probably?”

I’m lying. My mom keeps
a whole pharmacy locked in her medicine cabinet. She takes everything for
stress, nerves, anxiety. It’s no wonder she hasn’t gotten caught yet.

“Where?”

I point to the room
across the hallway, the master suite.

Mischa jumps off the
bed and heads straight for my parent’s room. He goes into the adjoining
bathroom while I sit on the flowered comforter. I hear him struggling with the
lock before he comes back with a few bottles.

“Valium.” He singsongs
the word like he’s just found candy. He opens the bottle and dumps a few blue
pills in his hand. “These will help you forget.”

“No, thanks. I draw the
line at pot.”

He places a few in my
hand and gives me a wide-toothed grin. “I’ll stay with you. Make sure nothing
happens.”

Everything that’s
happened. The drug bust, the party, my aching body, I want to forget it all. Maybe
this will help.

He counts out ten and
closes the bottle. “If you snort them, it’ll be more fun.”

“No, thank you. My Nona
made me sit through too many
Dateline
specials as a kid.”

“What are you scared
of? You drink.”

I scoff. “I drink to
loosen up.”

He sits on the bed next
to me and places five of the pills in my hand. “Get high with me. It’ll take
the pain away. I promise.”

It’s a tempting offer.
I drink to feel free, but can I take the pills to forget the things I do when I
drink?

Only once, why not?

I take a few pills and
put them in my mouth. I walk into the bathroom and put my mouth under the
faucet and swallow. When I return to the bedroom, Mischa is already crushing
the remaining pills on the dresser with a credit card. He rolls up a dollar
bill and snorts a line. When he’s finished, he hands me the dollar.

“You’ll feel it faster
this way.”

What the hell, I’ve
already gone this far. I bend down and try to mimic the moves I saw him do just
moments ago.

He moves behind me, his
hands traveling down my arms to position me in just the right way.

“Harder,” he whispers.

I try not to laugh, but
eventually I’m able to get most of the powder up my nose. I expect it to burn,
but my muscles relax as a bitter taste runs down my throat and numbs my tongue.
I lean against the wall, enjoying it.

“Do you feel it?” he
whispers in my ear. He licks his finger and picks up the rest of the powder. He
sticks his finger in my mouth, filling me with a mixture of sweetness and
bitterness.

I nod, letting my body
relax, as he slowly pulls his finger from my mouth with a pop. The pressure I
carry everyday loosens its grip on my throat, and I can breathe. I feel happy.
Unable to find the words to describe my body, I turn around and press my lips
against his. Tingling shoots through my frame at the impact. His lips are soft,
full, and exactly as I imagined. It’s gentle at first, but after the waters are
tested, it becomes frantic, needy.

He doesn’t push me
away, but grabs the back of my neck and draws me closer.

“This is so wrong,” he
groans in between kisses. I don’t reply but relish in the way he tastes, the
saltiness of his skin, the sweetness of his breath.

“I want you,” I mumble
against his skin. “I want you to be my first.”

I’m so sick of hoarding
this virginity. I just want to get it over with, and I’d always imagined it
would be with him.

He stiffens under my
touch. “I can’t.”

“Please. I want it to
be with someone I care about, and I’ve always cared about you. Don’t you care
about me?”

 We shuffle over to the
bed and he pushes me back. I wrap my legs around his hips as he takes off his
shirt. Pressing against the bulge in his jeans, I close my eyes and wait for
him. For a moment, he moves away from me. It’s followed by the sound of a
zipper and shuffling as he loses the rest of his clothes. I wiggle out of my
pants and blouse.

“Do you have
protection?” I ask, opening my eyes and admiring his tanned skin. His muscles
flex involuntarily across his smooth chest. Every inch of him is beautiful.
Every part of him is perfection.

“I do.” He fumbles with
the pocket of his jeans while I tuck his hair behind his ears. I’m vaguely
aware of the next few seconds, but the next thing I know, Mischa is on top of
me and we’re at the head of the bed. Sweat trickles down my temple as I try and
comprehend everything that’s going on. Fear, anxiety, excitement, lust.

“Is this okay?” He
kisses my collarbone and pushes against my tight entrance.

“Ow, ow.” I scoot up
the bed to stop him, suddenly scared. “Is it supposed to hurt like that?”

“We can stop. Just say
the words.”

I close my eyes and take
a deep breath, preparing myself. My muscles are relaxed, but my mind isn’t.
“Don’t stop.”

“Does this feel good?”
He follows the question up by leaning down and sucking on my right nipple. My
back arches, and I let out a loud moan. His tongue is hot against my skin. It
teases and laps against me. I melt against the bed as he lets it pop out of his
mouth.

Using my legs, I pull
his hips down against me. I need him, want him inside of me.

“Not yet, Cody. I’ve
been thinking about this moment for so long now. I want to make this last.”

“Really?” He’s never
paid me any special attention before, no more than the other girls.

“Of course. You’ve
always been beautiful.” His hand moves from my hair to my cheekbones. “Every
part of you. Inside and out. Kind, caring, and you try so hard to make others
happy.”

 His face falls like
he’s trying to talk himself out of something. “You’re sure you want to do this?
I mean, this is a big step you can’t undo. I can’t promise you anything. I fall
as hard as I try.”

I could drown in the
depths of his eyes. “I want this. I want this with you.”

He shuts me up by
pulling me into a long kiss. His hands tangle in my hair as he continues to
ravish my mouth with his tongue. Our bodies melt together in an entanglement
of hormones. The heat tingles from every part of me like an exchange of kinetic
energy between the two of us. His fingers find my bundle of nerves and
delicately stroke against me. I do the same to him, wrapping my hand around his
hardness and moving at the same rhythm as his fingers. We stay like that for
the longest time, relishing in each other’s desire.

“Ready?” he asks.

I almost nod, then
remember where we are. My parents’ bedroom, the bedroom they never sleep in,
the house they hate being at. The daughter they hate for tying them together.
He notices my distracted gaze and grabs my chin. He forces me to look at him. I
focus on the emeralds in his eyes and forget my parents.

“Do you want to go to
another room?”

I nod, and he picks me
up. I point to my room across the hallway. He sets me down on the bed and
covers me with his body. 

And for the first time
in months, I let everything else disappear except for me and him.

“Turn off the
alarm,” I
say, swiping my hand
against Mischa’s chest.

He groans. “It’s not
mine.”

When the beeping stops,
I shoot up in the bed. I know that sound. It’s the gate, someone’s at the gate.
No, someone’s turning off the home alarm. Someone’s here. Shit.

“Get up,” I hiss. I
jump out of bed and begin throwing on my clothes. Last night, we stayed up for
hours talking about everything. There was a connection there. A feeling that I
could tell him anything. Mom and Dad are supposed to be away all weekend, and
it’s not like anyone’s going to come into my room. I’m the last person they
think about when they walk through the doorway. Still, I don’t want to get
caught with a guy in my bed.

Mischa is up and
already has his pants on when there’s a knock on the door.

My heart is racing as I
motion for him to hide under the bed.

“Who is it?” I call
out. My voice takes on a high-pitched squeak as I trip over some dirty clothes
on the floor and fall flat on my face.

“It’s me.”

My pulse quickens as I
hear Violet’s voice on the other side of the door.

“What are you doing
here?” I squeak. I get up off the floor and straighten my clothes.

“Your housekeeper
showed up at the same time I did. She’s downstairs.”

“I’m not dressed. Can I
meet you downstairs?”

I turn to Mischa, who
is throwing the rest of his clothes on.

“What do we do?” I ask.

“Don’t tell her
anything. She’ll freak out, and she doesn’t need any more stress.”

Violet pounds on the
door again. “Don’t play dumb. Is Mischa in there? Open up!”

Mischa groans before
walking over and throwing the door open. He continues buckling his belt.

“What?”

“Are you two sleeping
together?” Violet whispers. I can tell nothing else matters right now. She’s in
a state of panic. Her hair is pulled back and she isn’t wearing a lick of
makeup. Us sleeping together means that everything’s changed.

“No, I just stayed
over.” Mischa finishes pulling his shirt over his head. “Why are you freaking
out?”

“Because she’s my
friend, and I don’t want you ruining everything because you can’t keep your
pants on.”

I step forward and put
a hand on Violet’s shoulder to calm her. I never thought she’d be this upset. 
“We’ve all slept in the same bed together before. Nothing happened, Violet.
Just sleeping.”

She gives a heavy sigh.
“Promise?”

“Promise.” My eyes dart
to Mischa who nods at me. It’s a nod that says we won’t ever tell her.

“Good, we gotta get
back to Aunt Claire's before she notices you never came home last night.”

Mischa slips his shoes
on. “I’ll meet you out front in a minute.”

After Violet leaves, he
turns to me. I’m not sure what to say. Things have changed for me, but I’m not
sure they have for him.  Are we still in the friend zone or is this going to
lead to something more?

“We good?” he asks,
bending down to kiss my cheek.

“We’re good.”

He leaves before I can
say anything else. I expected something else, something more, but he just
waltzes out that door like everything is normal.