Beast (10 page)

My apartment is silent and lonely.

But I’m used to lonely, I guess.

I drag the chair across the cheap linoleum tiles from the tiny kitchen to the tiny living room.

I push the chair into my open closet and climb on top of it. I rummage around under the neatly folded bath towels and sheets until I feel the cold plastic sticking to my fingers.

I don’t know why I do this. Every year on my birthday, I pull out this old family album. And it never makes things any better. It never makes me feel any sort of relief. I guess I do it in quiet homage to the things I’ve lost.

I climb off of the chair and sink to the low pile carpet at the foot of my bed.

I flip open to the first page and emotion knocks into me like a tidal wave. I stare at the photo of two baby girls dressed in identical pink dresses. One smiles at the camera while the other looks to her older sister for direction. Lily always did look up to me even though I was only six minutes older than her.

I turn the page – a snap of us at the park eating ice cream cones with our Abuela. In the next picture, Lily and I are at our first communion, dressed in matching frilly white dresses.

The tears sprint down my face and I groan, so much agony gripping my heart. I shut the album and squeeze it tight to my chest.

Nothing compares to the pain of losing your twin sister.

But I can’t keep reliving this each and every year. It breaks me apart birthday after birthday. I can’t sit here with this pain tonight. I feel like the walls are closing in on me and it’s getting harder to breathe.

I need to call Nadia. Go out for a drink, maybe. Or call Ruthie.

I get up off of the floor and wander over to the kitchen table where my phone sits connected to the charger in the wall. I swipe my finger across the scream and scroll through my contacts in search of Nadia’s name.

When I get to ‘L’, my trembling finger hovers over the screen.

Don’t you dare, Jasmine
, I chide myself.

But it’s like my finger has a mind of its own. It punches at the screen, dialing Liam Cartwright’s phone number.

He answers on the first ring, his voice low and gruff. “Jasmine?”

He insists that we should be friends. It’s time to put his theory to the test.

I sniffle as I swipe at the tear rolling down my cheek. “I need to get out of here.”

My mouth goes dry as I watch her push through the front door of her apartment building.

Fuck – I’ve never seen someone so beautiful in a simple pink knitted sweater, plain blue jeans and sneakers.

“Hey,” I say flipping up my visor as she approaches.

She brushes a strand of dark hair away from her eyes. “Hey.”

We just watch each other for a long while. I take in her long, silky hair, her smooth skin, the curves cloaked in her loose clothing. I’m gripping the handlebars so hard that I’m scared that they’ll melt off.

I clear my throat. “Where are we going?”

She shakes her head brusquely, seeming to snap out of a daze. “This was a bad idea.” She takes a step back. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.” She turns back towards her building.

I call out her name. “Jasmine.” She spins slowly to look at me. There’s so much hesitancy in her eyes. “You didn’t disturb me.”

I kick down the brake pedal and swing my leg over the side of the bike. I take long strides over to where she’s standing. I don’t want her to leave. When she called tonight, my heart leapt into my throat. She was the last person I ever expected to call me, but the only person I really want to talk to. I can’t go back to lonely tonight, especially if there’s a chance that she might be lonely too.

“Where do you want to go?” I ask, leaning down to look into her eyes.

She just shrugs and purses her lips. She seems to be fighting back tears.

I don’t know what happened to her tonight but I can tell that she doesn’t want to be alone. Good thing I have no intention of letting her go.

I stretch my hand out to her. “Come. I know someplace you’d like.”

We move towards my motorcycle and I hand her a helmet. She fits it over her head before climbing onto the bike behind me. I peel away from the curb, weaving between cars and trucks travelling towards downtown under the city lights. Her arms are around my waist and her body is warm against mine. Her cheek is pressed to my shoulder as I pilot the motorcycle through traffic.

And fuck, this feels good. It feels right. Jasmine clinging to my body as we roam free in the night.

She touches me and I feel like a
man
again.

We don’t speak. I just absorb the sensation of having her so close to me and I commit it to memory. I want to remember every second of this.

I slow the bike to a stop in the massive yard of the renovated warehouse where my loft is located. “We’re here.”

Jasmine descends slowly, tentatively, removing her helmet and surveying the yard cautiously. “Um… what is this place?” she asks hesitantly.

I chuckle deep in my chest as I dismount the bike and pull off my helmet. “You’ll see,” I say as I take the helmet from her and store it, along with mine, in the storage compartment. “Come on,” I say as I walk towards the river.

She hesitates for a moment but when I start to get too far out, she sprints nervously to catch up with me. I understand her discomfort. This looks like the kind of place where the city’s unsavory types would lurk around. When I lead her into a thick brush of bushes, I can almost see the warning lights flashing in her eyes. But once we burst through to the other side and the Hudson comes into view, the look of apprehension in her eyes is replaced by awe.

“Liam…” she gasps, her fingers covering her luscious lips.

God – I wish
I
could touch them, kiss them, bury them under my mouth.

Instead, I smile at her as I take a seat on my rock and pat the space beside me, inviting her to sit. “This is where I come to think.”

She moves in next to me, bringing her flowery scent along with her. I feel warmth filling the pit of my stomach and radiating outwards. “It’s mellow here…tranquil.” Her voice is soft as she stares out over the water and at the city lights beyond.

We’re quiet together in this tiny corner of New York City, tucked away from the noise and the bustle. Just two restless souls seeking refuge in the eye of the storm.

There’s so much I want to ask her, so many questions that I want answered.

Why is she so upset tonight on her birthday?

Did someone hurt her?

Why is she here with me instead of with the Pretty Boy Politician?

But I choose to remain silent because sometimes the silence tells secrets that words can’t even begin to formulate.

Jasmine pushes a heavy sigh. “It’s my birthday…” she says, her eyes never leaving the river.

I already know this, but still I say “Happy birthday…” My gaze lingers on the side of her face as I try to gauge what she’s feeling.

“How did you know?” she asks softly, still staring straight ahead.

I shrug not wanting to tell her that I saw it stamped across the balloon that Pretty Boy brought her earlier today.

She doesn’t pry for an answer. Instead, she smiles bitterly. “I don’t really celebrate my birthday…It’s too painful. Too much shit attached to it.”

She reaches out and grabs a blade of the tall, green grass. She focuses distractedly on it, twizzling it between her thumb and forefinger. A million questions sit on the tip of my tongue but I wait patiently. She’ll tell me what she wants to tell me when she’s ready to tell me.

After a long stretch of silence, she looks at me and says, “I had a twin sister – Lily. She died. On our 16
th
birthday.”

A low, stunned “holy fuck” slips past my lips before my good sense kicks in, reminding me to sensor myself. “I’m sorry,” I mutter quietly, my eyes peeled to Jasmine’s face.

She drops the blade of grass and folds her hands on her knees. “There’s no lonelier feeling, knowing that my twin sister is gone, that she’s never coming back and that it’s all my fault.” She wipes her tears away with her fist.

I reach for her hand and it’s like grabbing hold of a livewire. Electricity shoots through my being. I ignore the overwhelming sensation and pull her hand onto my lap. I stroke my thumb across her knuckles.

Now, tears are rolling down her face. “We stole the car and went on a joyride the night of our 16
th
birthday,” Jasmine hiccups. “I was driving. We were goofing around with the radio. I wasn’t paying attention to the road. I ran a red light. A semi truck slammed into the passenger’s side. I was barely scratched. But Lily…” Her words trail off. I don’t need her to finish the story in order to figure out how it ends.

My heart clenches tight in my chest as she speaks the words, as she pours her soul out to me. I’m not one to enjoy physical closeness to other people. I cringe at bodily contact. But, with Jasmine, I crave the feel of her skin against mine. So, I tighten my grip on her fingers and pull her head against my chest so that she knows she’s not alone.

I wake up in a bed that’s not my own.

The dark cotton sheets smell of bland laundry detergent, spicy cologne and man. No curtains on the large, steel-framed windows, sunlight flows through uninhibited. No art or photographs on the unpolished concrete walls.

“Liam…”

My feet hit the cold floor as my eyes dart around the room, trying to piece together the happenings of last night. The shock of it all has me unsteady on my feet.

We had sat by the water for a long time, talking. Actually, I had been the one talking…and crying. Liam had sat there in silence, listening intently. When it got too cold, he’d draped his leather jacket around my shoulders but I shivered anyway. So, we had walked back to where his motorcycle was parked.

But instead of climbing back onto the bike and taking me home, he’d led the way to the warehouse door. “Come inside,” he had said. It was more of a command than a request.

A mixture of excitement and panic had zipped through my chest as he ushered me past the heavy metal door on the ground floor and onto the gated freight elevator, up to his loft.

I remember asking myself what the hell I was doing going to his man’s house all alone in the middle of the night. I’ve gotten myself in trouble every time I’ve been alone with him. Could I really trust myself around him tonight, especially since I was already so vulnerable? Then, I had managed to convince myself that Liam and I are friends. Friends hang out at each others’ houses; it’s no big deal.

Still, in the back of my mind, I knew that if he made a move on me, I’d probably be helpless to resist him.

But he didn’t make a pass at me this time.

Instead, he’d handed me a glass of water and offered to order a pizza in case I was hungry. I’d declined. We’d each taken a seat at opposite ends of his enormous bed and I’d continued pouring my heart out. As I grew tired, I leaned back on his mattress, still talking. Eventually, I had fallen asleep.

I glance at the time on the bedside clock. It’s almost 7:00 a.m. I need to go home and get ready for work. I hear water in the bathroom and I imagine Liam naked in the shower, the spray beating against his steely body. I feel an eager flutter between my thighs.

I shouldn’t be here.

I grab my sneakers and the tiny purse I came with last night and hurry across the expansive loft. The door creaks loudly as I drag it open. I hear the shower turn off, but I don’t slow my pace.

Before I face Liam again, I need time to process what happened here last night.