All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) (11 page)

All of it felt so nice, but …

“I …”  I what? I wanted him to stop?

His movement slowed and he rolled to his side, pulling me so
we were facing. He kissed my hair and held me close, not speaking. All of it
surprised me, that he was such a good kisser and that he knew what he was
doing. He was certainly old enough to know what he was doing … it was just that
he was so shy.

Even while Marcus fought for control, my body begged for
more. Unfortunately, Nash felt my stiffness and stilled. He held me for so long
that I thought we weren’t going to talk about it. Then he said, startling me,
“Did I freak you out?”

 My first instinct was to say no, of course not.

Or you could be truthful.

“I’m not freaked out,” I told Nash. “But … I don’t know how
to explain it.”

“It’s okay.” He rubbed my back and pulled me so I was lying
on his chest. It felt so nice to nestle into him, listen to his heart beating
and feel his arms around me.

“It just reminded me of something.” Those words came out of
my mouth but I hadn’t planned to say them. What was I talking about? Nash
shifted under me, raising his head. “With Kyle,” I added. No, it wasn’t me
talking.
MARCUS, KNOCK IT OFF!

“What?”

“He was pushy. I guess he didn’t feel like waiting for me.”
I could not believe Marcus just said that. With my mouth. To Nash.

Nash was silent for a minute.

What a huge mistake.

Then, “Wow … I’m so sorry. I halfway liked him, too. I mean,
we’ve been talking. Hanging out.” He stopped, searching my face in the soft
lighting. “That’s why? That’s what has been bothering you?”

Marcus didn’t answer him but now it was all out there. So I
said, “I freeze up. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry … Avery, I have to ask you, did he
rape you?”

“No.” God, Marcus had gotten me in a shit hole here. “No, I
told him no and he got mad. We didn’t speak to each other after that.” I couldn’t
handle the eye contact and nestled up against him, feeling like rockets were
exploding inside of me.

Nash squeezed me tight and held me like that for a long
time. Angry tears threatened, but I mostly held them off. Just one made it out
of the corner of my eye, and I don’t think he noticed.

I would kill Marcus over this.

Don’t you feel better?

You had no right! You were just being a selfish ass,
doing that just to stop us—and you didn’t think about the consequences, did
you? Nash still has to be around Kyle.

“Are you okay?” Nash whispered. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah,” I whispered back, a little squeak that embarrassed
me. “Are you? Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He rubbed circles on my back and pressed a
kiss into my hair. Closing my eyes, I exhaled, trying to relax. I wanted to
scream at Marcus but couldn’t—how do you beat the shit out of someone inside
your head? I worked on pushing him out and building a wall. There had to be a
way to lock him out.

Nash and I lay tangled up together for a long time when he
moved.

“I better get back to my place.” As he pulled away and stood
up, I felt a chill. “I didn’t mean to stay so late. I mean, I’m glad I did. I’m
glad we talked, too.”

He pulled on his jacket as I watched from the bed. Then I
didn’t want to look too stunned about it, so I got up too. Was he leaving
because I shared that—because Marcus shared that?

“Thanks for taking me out to dinner,” I said, afraid to ask.

We looked at each other in the flickering candle light. One
of the candles had burned out and the other was going crazy. He took my hand
and kissed it before we walked to the front door. The TV was on. Kyle and
Kristina were curled up together, and she shifted to lean up and grin at me.

At the door, Nash turned and leaned down to kiss me on the
mouth. He looked into my eyes for a second, then said quietly, “Thank you for
telling me.” His gaze went past me, toward Kyle.

I watched Nash walk to his car before shutting the door.

I don’t like you kissing him.

Marcus growled the words, giving me goosebumps on my neck.

I don’t like you in my head!

Marcus

Hell yes! She was mad as all get out, but we were out
running in the dark and sprinkling rain. For the moment, I didn’t care that she
wasn’t talking to me.

The cold night air whipped over us and through her hair. She
hadn’t pulled it back. Avery had been so mad she yanked on a pair of running
shorts, shoes, and took off running. I loved it.

So I kept quiet. No way would I ruin this by letting her
know how much I enjoyed it. I’d been trying to help. Things weren’t going well
with Nash. Now I fixed them.

“Yeah, right, Marcus. You don’t want Nash and I
together—admit it!”

Fine, I don’t want any other guy touching you. Is that what you
want to hear? I want to touch you. I want to dance with you and feel my hands
all over you. I want us all tangled up together. I want to hear you whisper my name.

My words turned to pictures and sensations. I couldn’t help
it. I could see her lying on a pillow, looking up at me, her hair fanned out
and damp, her face flushed, her lips red and swollen from wanting me.

Avery ran faster. 

Even in this in-between place, I could feel my entire body
tighten. I wanted her. She knew it, too, and maybe she wanted me.

I’ve seen your dreams, babe. I’ve seen you imagining how it’d
be with me. You’ve been trying to picture my face, what I’d look like if I
could look into your eyes and whisper to you in French. You’ve been picturing a
lot more than that.

I wasn’t doing either of us any favors. Damn. If we could
touch each other … I couldn’t let myself think about it anymore. I wanted her
too bad.

She ran a good five miles and returned to the house soaking
wet, shivering, and numb to reality and the storm we were both feeling. I felt
somewhat under control again. The run had cleared my head. The rest … well, I
was learning to live in this state of deprived wanting.

She took a hot shower and I tried to back out of her mind. I
made it to the far corner, where she seemed to think I’d left, but I could get
a sense of what was going on. I needed her in a deep-down, painful way, like I
might wither up without her touch. As she washed, I closed my eyes and
pretended I was touching her. If she noticed, she didn’t scream at me this
time.

By the time she’d pulled on a shirt to sleep in, she was
physically and mentally exhausted, her mind spinning in circles. I pushed my
way in, and she either didn’t care or couldn’t do anything about it. That made
me hesitate, but I needed to get a few things down on paper. Too bad she only
had lined paper, but that would have to do for now.

I grabbed her notebook and turned to a clean sheet. We’d
both been picturing me. More and more images had been slipping through my mind
from my life, and she was getting flashes of me when I talked to her. It might
be enough to sketch out a likeness. Using the mental images, I made some rough
drawings to look at, then tried to make a composite that was more polished.

Then I got off on another idea and sketched out logos … but
I wasn’t sure what they went to. I had some shapes and an idea of what the
letters were supposed to look like, but not the actual words. These could be
just doodles, or maybe I was a graphic artist. Maybe I was involved in a
company. Why didn’t anything feel right?

I turned to a clean sheet and let myself go, sketching an
image that came as I moved the pencil. It was a girl … the one I’d seen in
flashes with blond hair, the sparkling blue eyes. She was a happy person, and
someone important to me I think, but I really didn’t feel like she could be my
girlfriend.

Avery had checked out like she was sleeping and given me
control. This was a little weird. Suddenly I realized the possibilities …
except she’d been so pissed. She’d really go off the deep end, wouldn’t she? I
reached up and ran her hand though her hair. No reaction. I touched her face
and traced a finger along her lips.

She really wasn’t here right now. It made sense. She hadn’t
commented or reacted when I drew myself or that girl. An itch started somewhere
low in my body and worked its way up until I felt ready to crawl out of my
skin. I wanted to touch her all over, but it took all the fun out of it if she
didn’t respond. Well, it’d take half the fun out of it.

I slapped the notebook down and paced. There wasn’t much
room in here. So I gave up on that and did a hundred pushups. Dang. I was going
to make her eat more protein.

Then, even though I didn’t feel great about it, I pawed
through her things. She had some damn hot panties, little pink and red lacy
things … which was kinda funny, since she didn’t seem to let guys see them. Not
that I wanted any other male seeing her panties, or her in them.

Next I looked at the photo of her mom. They looked alike.
There were a few other ones with a little Avery and her parents. Something was
wrong or missing in all that, but I hadn’t been able to put all the pieces
together yet. I just knew the parents were out of the picture, and she didn’t
let herself think about her dad.

I looked at the photos for a few more minutes and then went
back to drawing in the notebook.

***

 “Marcus!”

Huh? She was waking me up for a change?

“Marcus!” she hissed.

Morning to you too, beautiful.

Then I remembered she was flaming mad at me. I came around
and saw she was holding the notebook up in front of her.

“Who is this?”

That’s me in one of them.

“I got that. What about this one?”

You’re not excited that we have a picture of me now?

She growled. Wow, jealous! I didn’t stop my chuckle in time,
ticking her off even more.

I don’t have any romantic feelings for whoever she is.

Then why are you drawing her?

Avery, all I can think about is how I want to kiss you.

“That’s not an answer. Who is she? What is her name? How do
you know her?”

I don’t know her name or anything else, just that she must be
someone important to me.

I realized I didn’t have anything but brotherly feelings for
the girl I’d drawn, which might mean she was literally my sister. Easy answer.
I could have shared that with Avery, but I liked that she was jealous. It’d
been me this whole time, dealing with all the guys drooling over her.

Avery seethed about it but bit her tongue, not wanting to
let me see how much she cared. I felt it all anyway.  

She turned back to the drawing of me, taking in each
feature, then holding the paper farther back. Her gaze rested on my mouth. She
pictured us stepping closer, our arms embracing, our lips touching.

I expected one of those slow, tender, high-school-movie kisses,
but she fantasized something rougher, needier.

She fantasized that I pulled her back, raking my fingers
into her hair, parting her lips with my kiss—

She looked at the clock and cursed.

“You made me late, and I have to ride my bike today.”

Yeah, well, have fun sitting next to Nash in class today.

Avery

I didn’t go to class. After everything, I really didn’t feel
like it, and I didn’t want to pedal there with my bag full of books, since my
car was still in the shop. Instead I ambled through the house, half thinking
I’d run into Kris or Jazz and we could talk. The living room and kitchen were
empty, the house quiet. With a sigh, I stretched out on the couch with my
phone.

Nash had texted,
Are we ok after last night? Don’t want
you to feel weird.

The truth was I felt weird after Marcus had revealed so
much, but I didn’t want to put that on Nash. I texted back saying we were
good.  I figured he was in class but he texted back anyway, saying he didn’t
know how to act around Kyle now. So we got into a long texting conversation,
which was even longer with Nash because he doesn’t, on principle, abbreviate in
texts. I liked that before, a lot actually, but now I didn’t want to look
stupid, so I had to type everything out.

Marcus was trying so hard not to laugh about that part.

“Marcus, can I have a few minutes by myself?”

Ahhhh … all right.

Big sigh as he left. I was getting better at telling when he
was out of the picture—out of my brain, to be exact—and it felt like I had the
place to myself for the time being. I couldn’t be sure though … how could I be?

I just wanted a few minutes to think about him and Nash,
which is so messed up. Here I am, trying to decide between an imaginary voice
in my head and a real, live guy who is super smart, reliable, and likes me.
Except there was no
deciding between
because Marcus wasn’t real, at
least not in a physical sense where I could touch him. Who knew how real he was
in any other sense. The bigger question might have been, who knew what I wanted
anymore? I sure as hell didn’t. What if I didn’t want Marcus out of my head?

Something big had changed. And if this was all in my head, I
liked the crazy part.

Of course I couldn’t admit that. I spent the day texting
with Nash while he was in class and then talking on the phone, juggling my
conversations with Nash and Marcus, which completely wore me down. Ever since
this started, I’ve been wanting to get away from real people more and more, so
I could talk to Marcus. Or at least just have one conversation at a time.

Not sure if I should get mad over that or say thanks.

Yeah, let me know when you figure it out!

But at least I’d talked Nash down. Thanks to Marcus, he’d
been upset about Kyle, and for a while I thought he might do something about
it. I wasn’t even sure what time it was when I crawled into bed, but I felt
myself slipping off to sleep instantly.

***

I felt like I was coming out of a pleasant sleep as I
watched my hand sketching on a blank page. I was drawing myself again.
He
was drawing me, starting with my eyes, somehow capturing a hopeful expression
on the flat medium. He worked in my other features: a slight line for my nose,
some shading, my lips, my eyebrows …

That’s when I noticed it wasn’t really my hand. It was
bigger, with long fingers. Manlier.
His
hand. The very way the hand
moved wasn’t mine; it was sure and quick. His hand paused.

I watched, holding my breath, waiting for the rest of my
face to fill in. I was mostly there, but something seemed missing.

Hmmm.

That was Marcus … but his voice came from behind me, not in
my head. I wanted to turn but I was lying down and couldn’t. His breath lightly
warmed my neck and ear. I thought I heard him chuckle, and then his fingertips
touched my shoulder, followed by a quick kiss, and then his hand feathered down
my arm and onto my hip.

“Marcus?”

He spoke quiet and low in French, saying things I couldn’t
understand. His legs curled up against mine so his body touched me all the way
down. His mouth touched my back, sending goosebumps down my spine. I arched
back toward him before I could stop. A second later, his lips teased a line
from my shoulder blade up to my neck.

I gasped awake.

It was dark. Middle of the night still.

I’d been dreaming … dreaming like I was Marcus in a way, but
feeling the sensations as myself. Had we been dreaming together?

Okay,
not
cool. We would have to talk about
boundaries.

Listen, babe, I can’t help what I dream about, and I’m around
this totally hot babe all day long now, and …

And?

And you’re smart too. You don’t spend all your time trying to
impress me or look pretty.

I punched the pillow hard and flopped down with a huff.
Marcus actually listened and left me alone. My body felt wired. I  wasn’t sure
if I liked the odd sensation—actually, it was the fact that I was so wound up
now and couldn’t do anything about.

You could actually …

GO AWAY!

I covered my face, even though it was dark, and even though
Marcus couldn’t see me.

***

First thing when I woke back up, I sat on my computer chair,
turned on my laptop and opened my file on this problem.
And yes, Marcus,
this is a problem. YOU are a problem.

And YOU keep on telling me that. I’ll submit a report.

I still had all the possible causes listed, but I wasn’t any
closer to a solution, let alone understanding what was going on.

Yes, you do. Said it yourself. You couldn’t have drawn that
picture, or played my song, or told off that ass on the street, and you didn’t
just decide to start running all of sudden.

“So I’m possessed.” I leaned back in the chair, making it
squeak. “Great. Freaking great.”

Let’s call it improved.

He grinned. I could tell. And strangely, I got the slightest
impression of his smile. Full lips. White teeth. Then it was gone.

“Marcus, are you picturing yourself?”

Wha … why?

“I thought I almost saw you smile.”

Maybe it’s time for that bike ride. Clear your head. Clear my
head. Get some exercise.

I groaned.

You promised.

The real hurt in his voice pushed me into action. I dug out
my cycling pants and a fitted cycling jacket. Before leaving, I made a quick
trip to the kitchen to fill my water bottle, then walked my bike to the street
and took off, feeling the bite of the cold breeze at first, but I knew I’d warm
up soon. It wasn’t raining, but there were still giant puffy clouds that
blocked the sun at times, so I went from chilly shade to bright sun and back to
shade again.

Ashland is small enough that you can pedal out of it in just
a few minutes, and then you have lots of space without the cross walks and
traffic.

“So, Marcus, maybe you could try to picture yourself. Maybe
we’re making progress.”

Maybe.

I’d forgotten how great this felt, pedaling away from my
problems. Back in the beginning of college, I rode twenty miles a day, several
times a week.

Seriously?

“Why’s that so unbelievable? Back then, I had a lot going
on, and needed to clear my head.”

Was that related to your mom, and why you won’t talk about your
dad?

“Yeah.”

Had I really just answered him about that? My boundaries
were fading.  I reminded him we were out here to clear our heads and get some
air, not dredge up the past.

But suddenly, the past was right here again—the long, lonely
days when my parents were gone. Living in a new house with a different family,
going to a different school. I shivered, shuddered really, and snapped back to
the present and scenery around me.

Avery, listen to me. I’m the one person you can talk to that
will never tell anyone else.

“Until we figure out who you are and where you belong.”

Even then.

Was there a “then?” Would we ever fix this? I reached the
top of a small hill and coasted down, the wind blasting me, reminding me I was
still alive. Flying down the hill loosened something in me, like I could really
take flight. And I let Marcus see:

How crazy fun my dad was. The dancing and twirling. The off-key
songs and smiles. Pancakes every Saturday with my name in syrup. How he scared
off the monsters under my bed. How he called me Sweet pea. How he romanced my
mom. He was our sun, our center, our everything. He was more fun than anyone
I’ve never met. My dad was all adventure, charm and happiness … until he pushed
it too far. Dad couldn’t say no to any fun or challenge or dare, or a drink, or
a bet. As I got older, I started to see the dark side of the moon where he
crashed and grew angry. But he always bounced right back up. Mom would ask me
to give him a day to right himself, and he always did.

I was never angry with my dad, not even once. It all changed
one rainy night. My mom said dad couldn’t make it home for dinner, but he
called while we were eating homemade tacos. He needed a ride.

Later I would find out that Dad had insisted on driving
back, even though his blood alcohol was .16, double the legal limit to drive.

Avery, I’m so sorry.

Now he knew. He knew why I didn’t have my parents and spent
high school in foster care. Why I wanted to stay away from those loud, fun
types. I should have stayed away from Kyle, but instead I broke my rule and, of
course, it ended badly.

Marcus started to say something and wisely decided to keep
his mouth shut. I was done talking about it, especially when I realized there
were tears tracing back on my cheeks, whisking away in the breeze.

I rode another five miles and pulled over for a quick break
and a drink from my water bottle. My legs felt shaky because it’d been a while
since I rode, but talking and exercising had worn me out in a good way.

I’ve done this before, but I think I went mountain biking. I
can feel the trail dropping down a hill full of boulders and fallen logs. Lots
of giant trees and ferns all over.

“So one more outdoor thing you’ve done. But that still
doesn’t tell us about your job, family or life. Wait! Who did you ride with?”

Ah … not sure. I can see some other guys but not their faces.

“Hmm. Well, this is helping. Just let your mind wander
again.”

I turned around and headed back to town, enjoying the half
awareness that comes while cycling. I keep an eye out for traffic and other
dangers, but I’m able to see the big picture of life and think about things.
It’s that nice kind of daydreaming you can do on a trip, when you don’t have to
worry about the little details.

***

When I got back, I found a message on my phone from the car
shop. My car was fixed and ready for pick up! And cost four hundred bucks.

Ouch.

“Well, I need a running car.” Summer was right around the
corner, and I could probably find a part-time job if I needed. My trust fund
had paid for my car, college and some life expenses while still leaving some to
help after college. I’d rather have my parents. They would have helped me with
all this too, more than money would, but the money did get me by.

I stripped out of my clothes, staring at the ceiling like
I’d been doing, but I wasn’t so worried about it anymore. I felt him come with
me into the shower and didn’t even yell at him.

That’s why you didn’t want to talk to me about your money
before—you got an insurance payout after your parents died?

“Yeah, I got life insurance money, social security as an
orphan, and their savings. The house sold two years later and I got another
lump sum. All of it went into my trust fund until I turned eighteen. That’s
when I kissed my old life goodbye.”

He was quiet for a long minute.

“Did I offend you somehow?”

No. I was thinking, I guess. Getting lost a bit. I just can’t
imagine how hard it was … and going through high school.

“Thanks.” I stepped out of the shower and dried off. As I
got dressed again, I said, “The thrill must have worn off.”

Thrill?

“You don’t go nuts trying to see me naked anymore.” I blushed.

It’s bittersweet.

I paused in my doorway, puzzled, and unsure if I wanted to
ask for an explanation. I heard a car outside and headed down the hallway. The
front door shut and Kris saw me.

“Hey, you.” She dropped her bag on the counter, where she usually
claimed two thirds of the space. She’d pulled her curly hair back into a loose
ponytail, making her look like a cheerleader.

“Hey … want to drive me to Medford to get my car?”

“Sure.” She picked her bag back up. “I was just going to
watch TV anyway.”

We jumped in Kyle’s car—they shared it most of the time
because she hadn’t bought her own car since coming to SOU. The music came on
loud until she turned it down.

“Where were you today?” she asked as we reached the freeway
onramp—only a few minutes from our house. It seemed like an innocent question,
but it didn’t feel that way.

“Just riding my bike. I took ninety-nine up a ways.”

Kris did a double take. “Are you mad about the ski trip
still?” she asked, throwing me for a loop.

“No, not at all. Seriously, I wasn’t upset to begin with.”

“Really? You haven’t been hanging out with me since then.
Like today. You were gone for hours. You’ve been staying in your room a lot
more too. I miss you.”

“Oh.” I leaned over to give her a one-armed hug. “I’ve just
been … things picked up with Nash.” I totally fumbled that, but she broke into
a pretty smile.

“Okay, I want details. What’s going on with you? He’s so
hard to read.”

I laughed because I knew exactly what she meant. “He’s my
Mr. Mysterious.” I let myself get into it, giggling and talking about Nash, until
I felt Marcus brooding.
Listen, dude, it’s our cover.

“So, we have to get lunch while we’re up here,” Kristina
said as she took an exit into Medford. “You don’t have to go straight to the
mechanic’s, right?”