Bleed Like Me (10 page)

“E?”

He nodded and popped one into his mouth, chewing slowly.

I inched back, shaking my head. “Pass.”

He grabbed my hand and pressed the pill into it. “You won't regret it,” he whispered.

“I'm not having sex with you tonight.”

He looked me over and nodded. “Okay. But still take it. I don't want to be the only one.”

“You should have asked me.”

His hand dropped to my thigh and he squeezed. “Sorry. But I promise it'll be fun.”

I gnawed at my lip. “I've never done it before.”

“You'll like it. Probably too much. But I'll keep an eye on you.”

“I don't know about this. E isn't exactly the most consistent drug, you know? Ali's taken it a bunch of times and it's never really the same. Plus, I've told you, drugs aren't my thing.”

He moved his fingers up and tugged at a bleached section of my hair. “I know. You said. But you'll like this one. I promise.”

It was seven million kinds of stupid. Only somehow, being with Brooks, I didn't care. I didn't trust him, but I didn't care what happened because it would be okay. Not perfect, not legal, but okay. I popped the pill in my mouth and leaned my head back against the headrest of my seat as I chewed away at the bitterness.

Twenty minutes later I hopped out of the car and wrapped my arms around Brooks's neck. I frickin' loved ecstasy. Brooks twirled me in a circle and guided me into the party, bellowing a greeting as soon as we walked in.

The living room was massive. Painted butter-yellow walls covered by funky art pieces. It'd been cleared of most of the furniture except a makeshift platform for the band and a few chairs on the edges of the room. Everything seemed to hum and wiggle under my gaze. Like there was really life in inanimate objects, but we couldn't see it most of the time. The band stood to the side, surrounded by groupies. There were too many people in the center of the room, waiting for the music to start. I wanted to talk to all of them. They sparkled, and the sway of the collective group made me want to join the mass
and dance until my feet hurt. And the smell—sweat, perfume, deodorant, pot, cologne, cigarettes—it was delicious. Ricardo was in the corner, playing a guitar. I beelined toward him and nearly jumped in his lap.

“I can't believe you're here. It's so cool that you're here.” I smiled at him and he looked at me funny.

“Thanks.”

Brooks slid in next to me and I introduced him to Ricardo.

“He's like the coolest guy. Well, you both are. But Ricardo is this amazing worker and he's so patient with Dennis. And he's pretty good with tools. He's going to college for architecture or something.” Bubbles popped inside me and I grinned.

“Do I need to be jealous?” Brooks said, and laughed. I turned and planted a full-mouth kiss on him.

“Jesus,” Ricardo said, holding up his hand. “There are children present. Spare me the tonsil hockey.”

I giggled and Ricardo rolled his eyes. He shifted his gaze to Brooks. “You gave her something?”

Brooks smiled and shrugged.

I grabbed Ricardo's hands and squeezed. They were so smooth and strong. “Yes. E. It's amazing. Seriously. Amazing.”

Ricardo disentangled his hands from mine and pulled himself off the chair before mumbling “This should be interesting” and then walking away with his guitar tucked beneath his arm.

Brooks dropped into the chair and tugged me onto his
lap. I could feel every part of his body pressing against mine. I looked at him and tried to keep my face serious, but it was no use. I grinned.

“I'm still not having sex with you.”

“So you said.” He put his hand over his heart. “I promise, I won't make unwanted advances toward you.”

He was so adorable I wanted to devour him. It was the drugs, but I didn't care. It didn't change anything about how I felt. I straddled a leg on either side of his hips and stared at him. He gripped my thighs and I winced when he grazed the tender cut on my inner thigh. His fingers traced the path of it and he shook his head.

“You were supposed to be done with this,” he said.

I bit my lip. “You were at AA.”

He lifted me out of the chair and dragged me into a small, dark room filled with coats piled on a couch. “Gannon,” he said between little kisses, “repeat after me. I will not cut when Brooks isn't around.”

“I will not cut when Brooks isn't around,” I whispered.

He kissed me fully then. Hard. And I got too swept up in it. My shirts were off before I knew it. His too. He laid me down on two scratchy coats he pulled from the couch and explored all the parts of me he could reach. My skin tingled everywhere. His fingers were like a trail of liquid fire all over my body. Then I flipped him and did the same to him. I was pressed against
him, sucking on his nipple ring, when I heard someone come in the room. Brooks's hand shooed our guest away, and because of the ecstasy I wasn't even bothered by the fact that someone had just seen me with no top, scars, cuts, and all.

•  •  •

Ali took me home. After the marathon make-out session Brooks drank too much and I left him with his head in the toilet and his keys in my pocket. I begged Ricardo to drive him home and then trailed out the door behind Ali, the effects of E finally subsiding. She eyed me for too long without saying a word. I finally turned on her.

“Say it. Whatever you're thinking. Just frickin' say it.”

She grinned. “I didn't think you had it in you. I'm sort of proud of you.”

I gaped at her. This was my big lecture about hanging around with the wrong guy and doing E? My best friend was kind of worthless.

“I did E.”

She giggled. “Yeah. I know. So does everyone. It wasn't hard to figure out. You went from being Eeyore to Tigger in one party. That shit doesn't happen without some serious drugs.”

“Someone walked in on me making out with Brooks.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Like six different people did. You guys were loud.”

I didn't say anything. She stared at me and then returned
her gaze to the road. “Do you wanna tell me about your stomach?”

I swallowed. “Not really.”

She maneuvered her car into my driveway. “Well, I think that sucks. Best friends are supposed to tell each other stuff. I told you about Skeevy Dave. What the hell is going on?”

I shook my head. It was one thing to tell Brooks, but I didn't think I could explain it to Ali. Her life was possibly shittier than mine, and she didn't feel the need to carve herself up every time she got overwhelmed. What was I supposed to say?

“Will you at least tell me about Brooks?”

“What do you want to know?” I gave her a tiny smile.

“Have you slept with him?”

“No,” I said, and stared at the door of my too-quiet house. My stomach clenched. Something felt wrong.

“Will you tell me when you do?”

I nodded, still watching the house.

“I'm not against it or anything. I'm just not sure you have all the information on him.” Her hands skimmed over her holey jeans, scratching the fabric with her chipped nails.

I shook my head. I didn't want to get into a Brooks discussion with Ali, especially since her taste in guys didn't exactly recommend her as the best person to give advice. “Thanks for the ride. I gotta go. I'll talk to you on Monday.”

I stepped out of her car and walked too fast to the front
door. It was late, but my house was never this dark. Mom always left the light on for me when I was out. And sometimes Dad stayed up late watching ESPN in the living room. It was the only time he ever got to watch the big TV.

My key shook in my hand as I pressed it into the lock. I stumbled inside and found Mom curled in a heap on the couch under an afghan my grandma had knitted her for her anniversary. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she stared at me hopefully for a second before turning away and wrapping the afghan tighter around herself.

“What's wrong?”

“They've run away.”

“What?” I closed the distance to the couch. “When?”

“A few hours ago. After the movie. We told them to get ready for bed. Dad and I were doing the dishes, and when we went to tuck them in, we couldn't find them.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

“Because it's not your problem, Amelia. They shouldn't always be your problem.”

She looked old and tired. A part of me ached for her. “Did you call the police?”

She nodded. “Dad's out looking with them now.”

I sat down and leaned against her, our shoulders touching. I wrapped my arm around her awkwardly. We hadn't touched in forever. The two of us sat on the couch in silence,
waiting. I stared at the clock on the cable box and thought about calling Brooks and telling him to come help us look for the boys. But then I remembered he was too wasted to drive, and a big part of me didn't want him to be any more involved in
my
crap salad.

Twenty minutes later Dad walked in with the boys. Alex was asleep on his shoulder. Mom shot from the couch and crowded them, her arms enveloping them, words of worry and gratitude and love spilling from her mouth.

The boys' wide eyes blinked. They didn't explain, just accepted Mom's hugs and stayed huddled together in the front hallway. I rose from the couch and saw a strange look cross Luis's face. He gave me a tiny smile and nod. Oh God. He was a master manipulator. He knew exactly what he was doing. My stomach turned inside out. Without a word I passed them and walked up the steps to my room.

I said less than a dozen words during the entire breakfast at the House of Pancakes the next morning. Mom did most of the talking, reminding the boys over and over how she couldn't lose them, they could never run away again. I could barely touch my waffles and had probably had five cups of coffee by the time it was over.

The ecstasy had left me thirsty, but after chugging two full water bottles in the middle of the night, I felt relatively normal.

“So where'd you guys go last night?” I finally asked, because I couldn't stand all Mom's talking anymore.

Luis smiled at me, but before he could say anything, Dad interrupted, “I found them at the park. Can you believe it? They were on the swings.” He laughed, but it was nervous and wrong.

I opened my mouth to lay into them about how worried
Mom had been, but I closed it when I saw her face. She knew they'd staged the whole thing. Ran away and returned like prodigal sons. Everyone at the table knew.
Sometimes lying is really the kindest option.

“I'm going over to Brooks's today.” The minute it slipped out of my mouth, I felt the rightness of it. “We're going to watch a movie.” He owed me
Fright Night
even if he was hungover.

Mom gave me a genuine smile. “Okay. That sounds like fun. But be home early. School night.”

The tiny frown on Dad's forehead disappeared as soon as I turned my attention fully to him. “Yeah. Home before ten.” He ruffled my striped hair but pulled his hand away as soon as he realized it was stiff and caked in gel.

I grinned at him and for half a second pretended it was just the three of us at the table. That Dad might invite Brooks over to our house to watch the movie all together. That Mom would cook us butternut squash soup and make me leave the door to my room open when I brought Brooks upstairs. For half a second I pretended they cared.

Then Luis spilled his water and Alex started screaming because his pants got wet and Miguel added salt to Dad's coffee without him noticing. And we were us again. I flipped my phone open in the midst of the chaos and texted Brooks. I hoped he was up and had retrieved his car so that he could come get me.

•  •  •

An hour and a half later Brooks picked me up from my house and tucked me into his car after a quick handshake introduction with Dad and a few words of bullshit chitchat with Mom. A cigarette was in my mouth before we'd even turned the corner on my block.

“My brothers ran away last night,” I said, blowing a ring of smoke out the window.

Brooks laughed. “Clever bastards.”

I scoffed.

“Oh, come on, Gannon. Admit it. They're messed up, but it's fun to watch them.”

“No. Not when you're in it.”

Brooks reached over and pulled on a piece of my hair. “Poor baby.”

“Fuck off.”

“Yes, please. When?”

The air in the car shifted. My fingernails pressed into my palms, and the silence wrapped around me like tentacles of an octopus. Parts of my body still tingled from Brooks's hands the night before, but the other part got all knotted up at the idea of sleeping with him.

“I've only known you three weeks,” I finally said.

He shrugged. “And?”

I stubbed my cigarette out and lit another before answering. “I'm a virgin.”

“So?”

“So.” I took a long drag. “It's a big deal.”

“Aw, Christ, you're not one of those girls, are you?”

“What girls?”

“The ones saving themselves.”

I shook my head. “It's not that.”

Brooks pulled to the side of the road and scooped me closer to him. “I'm not worthy, then?” He grinned, but I saw a flash of something sad in his eyes.

My free hand slid over his chest and I felt his nipple ring through his shirt. “You might be,” I said, and grinned back at him. “Too soon to tell.”

I thought he'd accept my brush-off, but suddenly his hand gripped my inner thigh. The cuts flared, scraping against the seam of my pants. A line of blood seeped through the denim. “Is it because of this?”

His hand eased up and I shifted away, stubbing out my cigarette and tucking it back into the box.

“I don't know.”

He released a frustrated breath and pulled the car back on to the street. He wanted an answer I couldn't give him. When we were together, my body reacted to him like he was part of my own skin. But it wasn't enough. Something stopped me from letting go with him. Even on E I'd held part of myself back.