Little Battles (32 page)

“O-okay.”

“We’ll need to focus on anger management. I want you to know how hard Stephen and Mr. Young worked with the sheriff to keep the Andersons from pressing charges.” Robin leaned forward, looking me straight in the eye. “You’re very,
very
lucky to have them on your side.”

I nodded, hoping we could move onto something else.

“You have anxiety about being around other people. You have anxiety about being pushed outside your comfort zone. You need to understand that if this happens again, not just with Chris but with
anyone
, you’ll be removed from this house and placed in a rehabilitative center. I won’t be able to stop it.”

I swallowed hard and my chest tightened. I wouldn’t be able to play music or be around people who were kind to me. It would hurt to be in a place like that.

Robin’s tone was intense when she said, “
This
is your warning, Elliott. Do
not
put yourself in a position where no one can help you.”

Sophie worked until three p.m. on Saturday, and I had been more than happy to pick her up and bring her back to my house afterward. She still wasn’t speaking much, but her eyes were clear. She just looked tired. We had spent the first forty-five minutes of our time together just sitting on my couch listening to music.

Just as before, I didn’t mind the silence, especially since she was pressed close to me. She was letting me hold her hand while she rested her head against my shoulder. I thought maybe she had drifted off to sleep and was trying to figure out a calm way to react should she wake like she did last time.

Suddenly she spoke, and even though it startled me, it was more music to my ears than any song from my speakers, and what she said made me smile. “I still can’t believe you listen to country.”

I repeated what I’d said all those weeks ago. “C-C-Cash isn’t country.” I squeezed her hand just because I wanted to. “And jjjjjust so you know, anything with a b-b-banjo or a fffffiddle isn’t country either, it’s b-b-bluegrass.”

Out of the blue, she sucked on my earlobe. I was rendered speechless and frozen as sensation attacked me. It was saturating and consuming. It was intense and frightening. It felt like I had lost control of my body.

Then she started sucking on the tight cord in my neck, licking at my flesh. She put her hands on my collarbone as she got on top of me, and a groan escaped before I could stop it.

She made delicious noises that I tried not to hear for the sole reason that I was already over-stimulated.

Eventually she slipped her hands under my shirt. It wasn’t the first time she’d touched my bare stomach, but this time it wasn’t quick. The need with which she stroked and touched my body scared me the way it usually did.

I needed to think.

I couldn’t think when she was doing what she was doing.

I needed to end this soon before it went on too long and became too much. “W-w-w-we d-don’t t-t-t-t-t…” I tried to say, but was failing miserably, “ask qu-questions an-n-n-nymore.”

Sophie licked at the hollow behind my ear and I automatically tightened my hands on her.

“That’s because you haven’t returned my e-mail.”

She was keeping track, and she knew that I was the one who was stalling. Continuing to move very seductively against me, she said, “But ask away.”

I struggled to come up with something. Although she felt wonderful, it was difficult for me to concentrate with her this close to me. “W-w-who’s your fffffavorite m-m-mm-mmusician.”

“You,” she whispered, her voice nothing but breath in my ear.

“W-w-w-what’s your…uh…your…uh…” not being able to think or breathe properly impeded my ability to speak even more than usual, “…fffffavorite song?”

“Whichever song you like to play the most,” she answered, mumbling against my skin.

“Hhhhhave you thought ab-b-b-bout…” I wanted to ask her if she’d given any thought to going to culinary school, but couldn’t go on when she trailed her hands over my sides and tried to snake them around to my back.

I grabbed her wrists a little too roughly.

She pulled back, taking her arms and hands away from me. “What? Why can’t we…” she began, but then sighed. “Shit,” she hissed, getting off of me completely and running her hands through her hair as she stood. “Why don’t you want me like that?”

Even though I expected her to react as she normally did, I was still shocked by what she said. “I-I-I-I d-d-d-do.” How could I convince her of this?

“How can you
fuck
Megan Simons, but barely kiss me?”

My chest tightened, and I was sure that my face conveyed my rising panic as she brought that incident up again. “SSSSoph-phie,” I choked.

“I’m going.”

“No!” I stood and held onto her index finger. “Ssssshe w-was a m-m-mmmistake. P-p-p-please d-don’t g-g-g-gggo.”

She didn’t move more than an inch but it was toward me, not away. I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Maybe she wouldn’t leave after all.

“I don’t get it.”

I would have to tell her because I hated that she felt I was rejecting her. She didn’t understand that the thing with Megan wasn’t like this. It wasn’t even in the same realm as what I felt with Sophie. What I felt
for
Sophie. I took a deep breath and tried to relax.

“I-I-I d-didn’t want to go t-to the b-bonfire, b-b-but J-J-Jane and David sssaid it would hhhelp. I-I-I wanted to be
d-d-different
in hhhhigh ssschool. And with M-M-MM-MMMegan…I jjjjust…I n-needed to ssssee if I was n-normal, and I c-c-clearly wasn’t.” I felt foolish and defective. “It was a m-m-mmmistake.” I tried to grasp her entire hand, and not just her finger. “I’m sssssorry.”

“I’m not mad that you had sex with her. That’s…I mean, I wish you’d picked someone less vapid, but…I mean, you’re free to…I just wish you’d do that with me.”

I knew that was what she wanted, and I tried to fight back the dread that she wouldn’t want me if she knew how defective I was. I couldn’t give her what she wanted, and I didn’t want her to think that it was because of her. If I could take back what happened with Megan, I would have gladly done so because the only thing I got out of it was feeling like I was even more flawed than I had originally thought.

“I c-c-can’t. It’s not…”

“You can’t?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. “That’s not what Megan Simons says.”

If possible, my chest seized even tighter. “Sh-sh-sssshe t-t-t-tells p-p-people ab-b-bout it?”

“Oh yeah,” Sophie confirmed, looking directly into my eyes, “and she sounds quite proud of herself for nailing you.” I had hoped she was finished talking about Megan Simons, because I hated even the memory of it all, but she kept on. “Yeah, apparently you’re incredibly skilled at going down on girls and can screw for hours. Not that
I
would have
any
idea about that.”

My breathing was heavy. “W-w-w-w-wh-wh-wha…?”

“Why does talking about sex make you so uncomfortable?”

I closed my eyes, hoping that it would help me form words that I could actually say. “W-w-why is ssssex ssssuch a c-c-comfortable topic for you?”

But just like I hadn’t answered her question, she didn’t answer mine. “Don’t change the subject.”

“W-w-what’s the subject?”

“The Great Simons/Dalton Bang, Elliott.”

I was genuinely confused. “W-w-why would she b-be p-p-proud of that?”

“Seriously?”

I nodded, taken aback. “Elliott, you’re hot.”

It felt like my eyes were too big and my face was too hot. “N-n-no, I’m n-not.”

She smiled and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “Why would I say it if it wasn’t true? You’re cute when you blush. You spend too much time staring at the ground and not enough gazing in the mirror. If you’d look up at school once in a while, you’d see all the girls checking out your ass all day.”

I couldn’t help it, my eyes bugged out. “Th-th-th…y-y-you’re m-making that up.”

She smiled even more, and it was obvious that she was enjoying this. “Am not. You’re
fine
and the fact that you don’t know it makes me flat-out sad. Now that you’ve stopped taking shit from little pricks like Anderson, you could own that school.”

“N-n-not with m-m-my st-stutter.”

Sophie’s smile faltered a bit as she rolled her eyes. “Give that shit a rest, okay? No one besides you and dicks like Anderson give a shit about your stutter. Now that you messed that kid up, he won’t do that stuff anymore.” She sighed. “If only your confidence was as hot as your looks, maybe you’d be able to see that most people don’t define you by your stutter. It’s only one small part of you.”

I worked on digesting everything she’d just said, and after a moment all I came up with to ask was, “Y-y-you think I’m hhhhot?”

She smiled again and rolled her eyes dramatically. “You want me to say it again?” I nodded and she sighed exaggeratedly. “You’re
so fucking
hot, Elliott. I thought so the very first time I saw you.”

I was beaming. I’d thought she was beautiful the second I looked up after knocking into her that first day, and it was almost too much to process that she liked me then too.

Sophie laughed as she squeezed my hand. “Don’t let that go to your head.”

“You’re hhhot t-too.”

“I know.” She pressed against me. Had we been sitting, I knew she would have been straddling me again. It seemed that I was her favorite chair. “I’m hot
for
you too, so drop your puritanical ideals and let’s be hot together.”

What she said bothered me, even though I was happy to have her so close again. “I’m n-n-not p-p-puritanical.”

We were still for a moment and then Sophie took both of my hands and guided me over to my bed, sitting down and tugging me until we were both lying down, me on top of her. Once again, my breathing sped up and I thought my chest would break open with the force of my heart.

She put her hands in my hair, and instead of just soothing, she brought my head down until I was kissing her again.

Her legs moved beneath me and suddenly my hips were nestled between her thighs. The sensation was too much; her heat was too much. I propelled myself up and off of her, stumbling backward from the bed, trying to regain control over myself.

Sophie got into a sitting position, her knees together as she looked at me with sober, innocent eyes. They spoke of her curiosity. “Elliott?”

All I could do was shake my head as I struggled for breath. Fear and panic gripped me.

“Is this because your father was a Jesus-freak? Because I swear Jesus
loves
sex.”

Although I recognized her attempt at humor, the weight in my chest was much too heavy to laugh or smile.

She studied me. The way she looked at my face and then down to my hands put me even more on edge. “Why did you need to see if you were ‘normal’?”

I literally gulped and once again fought back the urge to double over in an attempt to gain enough oxygen to fuel my brain and body. I didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t want her to know there had been so much self-doubt then, even more than now. I didn’t want to tell her that I had used Megan that night for a couple of reasons, but mainly because I was confused.

I didn’t know anything about my own sexuality at the time, and found it difficult then, as well as now, for me to explore. At the time I hadn’t known if I was gay, straight, asexual, or something in-between.

If I told her, there would be more questions, like why I thought I might’ve been anything but heterosexual, and why I hadn’t known if I could
physically
do it. Although I didn’t think I’d given Megan one, I
knew
I’d never actually had an orgasm myself. My body had shut down and I had done everything I could to keep that fact from her without hyperventilating myself into a panic attack.

I had quite a lot of awful memories, but that night is within my top ten, based on the fact that I felt completely alone and sinful. I felt undeserving and had forced myself to step out of my comfort zone only to find out that there was no benefit to doing so at all. I hadn’t enjoyed Megan Simons, and none of my questions had been answered.