Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) (26 page)

Let me get lost in you, Tweet.

I leaned in, the tip of our noses touched. The hot thick air surrounded us. I tilted my head and moved closer. Our lips almost touched when I felt the pressure on my chest.

“Noah, we can’t do this,” she said, pulling away.

I was so caught up in the moment, the pain, and in her that the words sounded like a foreign language. “What?”

“You’re hurting and I’d do anything to take the pain away from you, but not like this.”

Sitting back, I blinked away the haze of the moment.

“I’ll be right back.” Tweet must have seen the panic in my eyes, because she quickly followed up with, “Promise. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

She climbed off the bed and walked out of my room. I flopped back down, breathing out a deep sigh. As much as I wanted Tweet, she was right to stop us. I knew in my heart we’d be together some day, we had to be. But it wouldn’t be today and it couldn’t be like this.

Mom and I went to the funeral home the next morning to make the final arrangements for my dad. So many details had to be ironed out—choosing the casket and the type of lining for the inside, the suit Dad would wear, what prayers would be said during the service, the eulogy, the music. The list was endless. I sat beside Mom trying to stay strong for her and take all the information in. It was heartbreaking to see her this way. She looked dazed and you could feel the loneliness radiate off of her. Thankfully, Tweet came with us. Without her I wouldn’t have been able to handle all the decisions that Mom was incapable of making on her own.

I had this constant need to have physical contact with Tweet. Whenever she was near me I held her hand, let my arm brush against hers, or just plain hugged her. Each time my strength wavered, I reached for her. When I felt her touch and looked into her eyes it gave me the courage to move forward.

By the time we were done at the funeral home Mom and I were completely drained. We headed back to our house. Tomorrow after the funeral, people would be coming back here and all the Kellys were helping to get the house and yard ready.
Mrs. Kelly was assigning and overseeing all the activity that was taking place—friends and neighbors constantly stopping by with food and wanting to give their condolences. Mr. Kelly was outside working in our yard—cutting grass, clipping hedges, planting more flowers. He needed to keep busy, so he wouldn’t fall apart. Emily was taking care of dusting and vacuuming while Tweet was assigned laundry duty.

After making sure Mom was in the capable hands of her two sisters Marie and Carol, I headed down the hallway toward my room. I needed a few minutes to decompress from the morning. My footsteps slowed as I got closer to my dad’s home office. I hesitated briefly before stepping inside. I half thought I’d find him sitting behind his desk like I had so many times in the past. I walked over, rolled the chair away from the desk, and sat down.

Everything remained exactly the way he’d left it before he went to work. His calendar was opened to yesterday’s date,
check flights for Noah and me,
scribbled across the note section. I starred at his handwriting like it was encoded with a top secret message. His autographed Ted Williams baseball along with the 1978 Vintage Topps Sporting News Baseball Card was displayed proudly under its acrylic dome, sitting front and center on the desk, right next to the baseball card made of me when I started T-ball. His candy jar was halfway filled with Skittles. He always had candy. When Tweet and I were kids, he used it as a bribe in order to get us to play outside while he was working. The
World’s Greatest Dad
mug that I had given him when I was seven had been converted into a holder for pens and pencils. I remember how excited he acted when he opened the cheesy gift. It was as if he’d won the lottery.

I ran my palms along the armrest of the worn brown leather chair. Dad’s office chair was the most uncomfortable thing in the world, but he liked it that way. He told me one time that it kept him alert, and made him work more efficiently, so he would finish before his ass got numb. Laying my head back, I closed my eyes trying to feel his presence. I needed to experience what the world felt like with him in it one more time.

Every minute detail of yesterday morning played in my head—the playful way he looked at Mom, the way his hand felt when he patted me on the shoulder, any sign that he was sick, and the sound of his last words to me.

“Have a good day at work, buddy. I love you.”

Tears were building behind my lids.

God, how many tears can one person cry?

Opening my watery eyes, I swiveled the chair to the right and gazed over at the bookcase. In the corner of the second shelf was his stack of baseball caps, all Red Sox plus one College of Charleston. On the day I got my acceptance letter and signed to play for C of C baseball, Dad wore that cap proudly. I choked back a sob. He was such an awesome dad.

Closing my eyes again, I allowed my mind to go blank. My quiet escape was cut short with the ringing of my phone. Looking down at the screen, I cringed. It was Brooke. She’d been calling or texting practically every hour on the hour since she left yesterday. I ended up turning off my phone last night. I knew I was being a complete asshole to her. She was trying hard to be understanding and wanted to be with me. But if Brooke were here I couldn’t have Tweet, and I
needed
Tweet.

Taking in a deep breath, my finger slid across the screen, and I reluctantly raised the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey.” There was a hint of annoyance in her tone.

“I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back with you. It’s been crazy here,” I apologized.

“I wanted to come over but I didn’t know if you were back from the funeral home. You know I would have gone with you. Then I thought about just coming on over and waiting…”

“No! Don’t come over. I wouldn’t be able to spend time with you anyway.” My words came out sharp like a command.

I could hear Brooke suck in a deep breath and then slowly let it out. “The point is for me to be there for
you
. You don’t have to play host to me, Noah.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound…”

“Is
she
there?” Brooke snapped.

“I can’t do this right now.”

Ever since that night we were making out in her car and Tweet’s name slipped out, Brooke has been overly suspicious of any time I spend away from her. She’s been pushing more for me to explain my relationship with Tweet, not buying the
just best friends
line any longer.

“Well, when can you do it? She probably
is
there. In fact, I bet you were with
her
the entire night.”

“Christ, Brooke, my dad just died and my mom is a basket case.”

“Are you cheating on me with
her
?”

“I’ve told you a thousand times she’s my best friend.”

“Best friends don’t usually wrap themselves around each other in bed.”

“I know what it must have looked like, but she’s not going anywhere. She’s a huge part of my life, so you’ll have to get used to it if we’re together.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to get used to another girl crawling all over my boyfriend.”

I huffed in frustration. To say I wasn’t in the mood for this conversation would be a huge understatement. “That’s up to you. I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral.” I removed the phone from my ear and pressed End.

I couldn’t blame Brooke for being pissed. But just the thought of trying to get through this without Tweet caused my stomach to twist in knots. Brooke would just have to understand. There was no other option.

I walked out of the office and almost ran smack into Tweet. She had an armful of folded towels and an apologetic look across her face.

“I guess you heard that.” Tweet’s gaze followed the path of my hand as I mindlessly placed it on her shoulder. “You think it’s weird?”

“What?”

“That I can’t seem to go more than two seconds without touching you.”

“It’s a good weird.” She gave me a slight smile.

“I’ll quit if you want.” She shook her head and I breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s just… I feel like if I let go of you for too long, I’ll lose you.”

“I’m here as long as you need me. You don’t have to let go until you’re ready. But I don’t want to cause trouble for you with Brooke. She wasn’t happy last night when she saw us in your room.”

“She’ll be fine… eventually.” The corners of my mouth curled up slightly as I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe. “Brooke is pissed. Can you believe that? My dad just died and she’s pissed because I need you.”

“She wants to help, Noah.”

“She has to understand that what I
need
right now is you. Nobody can take your place in my life, Tweet.”

Hugging the laundry to her chest, she glanced down, a pale blush popping up across her cheeks. “I better go put this up before my boss catches me slacking off.”

She turned, taking a couple of steps away.

“Tweet.”

Looking over her shoulder, she responded, “Yeah?”

“Thank you for being in my life.”

“There’s no other life I’d rather be in.” She threw me a wink before heading down the hallway.

Ditto.

The funeral was surreal. Judging by what everyone kept saying, it was a beautiful service. I tried to pay attention, but my focus was singular. I comprehended what was happening, I just couldn’t get my head around the fact that my dad was inside that box, and I’d never see him again. Walking behind the coffin as the pallbearers carried it out of the church, my heart sank deeper and deeper. I wanted to scream and demand God to rewind the past few days. Instead, I held my tongue, linked arms with Mom, and tried to make Dad proud.

Our house overflowed with family and friends stopping by after the burial. There was a ton of food, people chatting, family members who hadn’t seen one another in years hugging. It was like a party except that the guest of honor was a no-show. Mom and I were stationed in the family room greeting people as they arrived. I had mastered the post-funeral posture—a small smile, no teeth showing, slight head tilt to the side, firm handshake for the men, and a hug for the females accompanied by two soft pats on the back between the shoulder blades.

Brooke stayed glued to my side most of the day, being very touchy-feely even for her. I wondered if somehow she could see the guilt I felt over what I had done last night. In a moment of weakness, pain, and too many beers I had crawled through Tweet’s window into her room for comfort.

Tweet followed behind as I stumbled my way over to her bed, plopped down, and immediately grabbed her hips, pulling her into a hug. Her bed sat high up, bringing her chest to my eye level as she stood in front of me, my cheek resting against her warm chest.

Wrapping her arms around my neck she pulled me close, and gently combed her fingers through my hair.

“I wish I could take your pain away,” she whispered, giving me a light kiss on the top of my head, causing my arms to tighten around her waist.

We stayed like this for a long while, then my fingers slowly moved underneath the skimpy T-shirt she wore. Since leaving the hospital, my concept of time was nonexistent. All I knew was it was late. Tweet was dressed for bed, wearing long pajama pants and a T-shirt. I turned my face toward her. I could feel the hardness of her nipples as I nuzzled deeper into her chest.

She tried to take a step back, which caused me to tighten my hold. I looked up into beautiful teal eyes and saw everything I would ever need in my life.

Our breathing became heavier. I never broke eye contact as I placed open-mouth kisses over her tits. The flimsy material became wet and transparent the longer I worked the area with my mouth. It felt incredible to run my tongue along Tweet’s body even on top of the shirt. My skin was on fire while waves of vibrations ran through me. Tweet’s fingers gripped my hair, one second trying to tug my head away and the next pushing me harder against her chest. She wanted this to happen as much as I did.