The Game Series (30 page)

“What?” He kicks his shoes off and sits in front of me.

I look at the window and back to him, pointing between them both in confusion. “Did you actually just climb up a tree and through my window?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

Aston puts his hands flat either side of me and leans forward, the tip of his nose barely touching mine. “Because I wanted to come see you.”

I raise an eyebrow, not moving. “Mhmm.”

“So since this whole thing is secret I thought I’d pull some ninja moves. I always wanted to be a
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle
, y’know.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine, and I smile at his touch.

“Who were you?”

“Who was I?”

“Which turtle were you? Don’t you know you were defined by your choice of turtle?”

He sits back a little, his head tilted to the side. “Really?”

I nod. “Oh, yeah. You had to be the right turtle, or you weren’t cool at all. Who were you?”

His brows draw together slightly as he frowns. “Donnatello.”

“You were cool.” I press my hand to his cheek and smooth out the wrinkle in his forehead. “Why did you frown?”

“I don’t remem … I was thinking.” He shakes his head a little and takes my hand from his face, linking his fingers through mine. He looks at our clasped hands for a second, turning them slightly. His palm is rough and his hand is a lot bigger, almost encompassing mine completely.

Silence stretches between us for a second, and I flick my eyes up to his. He’s frowning again, his light gray eyes darker. His lips are pursed and his grip on my hand tightens, making me flex my fingers.

“Aston?” I ask softly, my free hand hovering between us, unsure of whether or not to touch him. I want to. A part of him looks vacant, so incredibly lost it’s not even there, and I want to grab him and keep him in together.

He loosens his grip on my hand and focuses his eyes on mine. “Sorry … I just … Thought of something. It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you okay?” I shuffle a little closer to him, my hand deciding to rest against his neck.

He nods. “I’m … Fine.”

I pull his face down to mine and touch my mouth to his softly. His hand snakes to my back, pulling me against him, and I find my body flush against his. He leans me back, slowly lowering my body against my bed, and lies over me. I run my foot along his leg as he runs his tongue through my mouth, kissing me the same way he did last night.

Deeply. Desperately.

And he pulls away, resting his forehead against my shoulder briefly, and he takes his hands from mine. He shoves himself up and walks across the room without a word.

What? What just happened?

I sit up, my confused eyes on him as he presses his hands against his forehead and takes a few deep breaths. “Aston?”

“I won’t do it,” he mutters, digging his hands into his forehead. “I won’t do it.”

So many things are going around my mind I don’t even know if I can put them into words. I’m staring at him and his hunched shoulders, his tensed muscles, and I have no idea what he means.

“Do what?” I ask quietly.

“I won’t … Use you. Not like that. Not. That. Way. Not anymore.” He drops his hands and exhales raggedly. “Not you.” His hands are shaking by his sides, and as if he knows I can see it he clenches his fists.

I stand and quietly move across the room, stopping just behind him. I wrap my hand around one of his clenched fists and lean my cheek against his shoulder, my other hand wrapping around his front. I splay my fingers against his stomach, feeling his whole body heave as he takes deep breaths. He drops his head back against my shoulder, turning his face into my hair, and shudders.

This is a side I’ve never seen. Granted, I’ve never seen the side of Aston that climbs through a window, either, but this … This feels like a stranger. This feels like an Aston that should only exist in a parallel universe. This feels like nothing I ever imagined he could be.

Only I don’t know what he is. I thought he was a “get what you see and see what you get” kinda guy. Now I think I was wrong. Now I think – no, I know – there’s a side to him he’s never shown anyone, that he keeps buried deep inside. Judging by the tightness of his body, the pounding of his heart, and his slightly erratic breathing, it’s a side he doesn’t want shown.

But it’s a side I want to see. A side I want to know. A side a part of me wants to fix, because something tells me it’s a side that’s a little bit broken.

You’re worth nothing. You’re no better than your whore of a mother.

Her body against mine. Hand on hand. Skin on skin.

You think anyone will ever want you, you brat? They won’t.

The softness of her hand against mine.

You are nothing.

The gentle aroma of vanilla that’s settling on her hair.

No one will want you. Megan. You’re no better than her. I’m not there. Little rat. I’m here. With Megan.

Megan.

The warmth of her body against my back grounds me, holding me in the now when all my mind wants to do is give in and go back. Give in and go back to the time of my life I don’t want anyone exposed to. The time I don’t want Megan exposed to.

I know I need to leave. Now. I need to push her window open and climb down that fucking tree.

Instead I turn and hold her to me.

My hands splay across her back, my fingertips digging into her skin, and she wraps her arms around my waist. Her face presses into my neck and she brushes her lips across my collarbone, a feather light touch. My grip tightens on her and I push my face into her hair again, the ends tickling my nose. I shake my head slightly, holding her ever tighter.

Sex. Sex doesn’t hurt – it can’t hurt anyone.
It’s all you’ll be good for.
My fall back and way of coping.
Just like her.
The thing that keeps the demons at bay and stops them clawing at the corners of my mind.

This weekend, thirteen years since Mom died, the demons are stronger than ever. The memories of that weekend flood my mind and there isn’t anything I can do to stop them.

Except hold Megan.

I have no idea what it is about her, but I know that I need her. And I know that for all my forgetting over the years, she makes me remember. For that, I should push her away. I should run away screaming.

But the pain from remembering is nothing compared to the softness of her touch when she takes that pain away.

And that’s why I won’t use her, not in the way I’ve become so accustomed to.

I breathe in deeply and turn my face toward Megan’s, nuzzling the side of her head with my nose. “Lila will be at the house tonight?”

She nods against me. “Always on a weekend.” Her hands rub along my back in a soothing motion, slipping under my shirt, her hands like silk against my skin. Her fingers probe gently, coaxing my clenched muscles into relaxation.

“I want to stay,” I whisper. “Let me stay.”

She pulls back, taking one hand from my back and running it around my body. It climbs up my stomach and chest, finally resting against the side of my face. I open my eyes to meet her wide blue ones, the soft safety of them drawing me in.

“Of course,” she replies quietly. “Whatever you need.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I just need to be with you.”

Megan reaches up on tiptoes and kisses me softly. “All night?”

I can’t miss the wariness of her tone, two simple words riddled with uncertainty. My hands frame her face and I rest my forehead against hers.

“All night.”

Just Megan.

We move back to her bed and climb under the covers. Her body tucks into mine perfectly, my arms circle her like they were made to, and my heart pounds to a beat only she can hear.

My fucked up coping mechanisms are trying to take over and it’s hard not to give in. Hell, I want to watch her give herself over to me. I want to watch her body arch and feel her muscles tighten as she lets go. I want to see the sparkle in her eye, hear the cry leave her body, feel her nails in my back.

But I have to remember it’s Megan. She’s more than any other girl. She’s something I don’t deserve yet, something I can’t give up.

I pull her tighter to me and bury my face in her hair. The soft strands tickle my face and I breathe in deeply. She stretches an arm over my stomach and threads her legs through mine, tangling us together, and leans her head back to kiss my neck softly.

In this moment she is mine. She might not be tomorrow, next week, next month, but right now … She’s fucking mine.

So I let myself hold her, wondering if there’s a chance she’ll ever know the peace she brings me.

~

Megan eyes me speculatively. “I have a question.”

“It’s never good when you have a question.” I grin.

“It’s not that bad!”

“Oh, yeah? Like that time in English when you promised it wasn’t a big question and kept the prof talking for half the class?”

She shrugs a shoulder, smiling a little. “Hey, it made for an easy class!”

I lean forward, putting my face to hers. “And a fuck off essay after.”

“Um, yeah.” She smiles cutely, wrinkling her nose. “Anyway …”

“Go on, then.” I hope to shit she doesn’t ask–

“Yesterday, when I asked which turtle you were.” Shit. “You … You seemed to go somewhere else. Like … You had no idea what I was talking about.”

I sit back, words and excuses swirling in my mind. “I was home-schooled,” I answer tentatively. “So I never really knew all that stuff. My Gramps taught me.”

“Your Gramps? Why not your mom? Or dad?”

Of all the days she asks me today. She asks me on the one day I can’t talk about it.

“I can’t …” I get up. “I can’t have this conversation today, Megs. Any day but today.”

“He’s in here somewhere.”

I had moved further into the corner of my bedroom, hugging my blanket tighter. Mommy still wasn’t home. I was still waiting, and now some funny lady was in my house talking about “he”. Was she here for me?

No. I didn’t want to leave Mommy. They always said it would happen, the big men. They always said that one day they would take me from my mommy.

I covered my face with my hands so they couldn’t hear me breathing and slipped under my bed. I moved back to the darkest corner, shaking and trying not to cry.

I don’t want to leave my mommy. I don’t want them to take me away.

My bedroom door opened, and I shook harder. No. Don’t let them find me. Please. The light flicked on, and I could hear their footsteps across my bare wooden floor. I could see the shadows as they walked further.

“Have you checked under the bed?” one woman asked.

“No. I’ll do that.”

Nonononono. Don’t find me. Please don’t find me
.

A kind face appeared and morphed into a gentle, coaxing smile. The woman held out her hand. “Come on now, honey. Let’s get you out of here.”

I shook my head, shrinking back further. “I want Mommy,” I whispered.

“I don’t have her, sweetheart, but I can help you. You’re shaking, are you cold?”

I nodded.

“I have a nice thick blanket here for you. And some cookies – you like cookies?”

“Cookies?” I frowned.

“Yes. They’re really yummy and these ones have chocolate chips. Would you like to try one?”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I was hungry. I scooted forwards a little bit. “A cookie?”

“Yes. Come out from under your bed, we’ll get you warm and you can have a cookie. Okay, Aston?”

“You know my name?” I bit my lip, my eyes wide, and moved back a little.

“Yes, I’m here to help you. I won’t hurt you, I promise. We can be friends, yeah, buddy?” she asked softly.

She wasn’t a man. She didn’t look horrible. I couldn’t see any pictures on her skin and she didn’t smell like the men.

I shuffled across the floor and out from under the bed. Another woman was standing there and I flinched away as she moved closer.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m giving you this blanket to keep you warm.” She smiled encouragingly, and I took the blanket, not wanting her to touch me.

The other woman bent down and looked me in the eye. I clutched Bunny tighter to me.

“How about that cookie?”

I nodded, climbing onto my bed. She reached into her purse and pulled out a red shiny packet. She opened it and pulled out a round, light brown circle with dark spots on. I took it from her tentatively, still scared of her. My eyes were flicking between the two women in front of me, being nicer to me than anyone ever had before.

“Try it,” the first woman coaxed. “Just a little bite?”

I brought it to my mouth and nibbled at a dark spot. The sweet flavor exploded in my mouth and I gasped, biting into the cookie. My stomach rumbled as the crumbs flooded my mouth. I’d never tasted anything like it. It was the best thing ever.

“My God,” the second woman breathed. “The neighbors were right. The system has failed this kid. He’s never even eaten a cookie at six years old.”

The first woman looked at me. “Is this the first time you’ve had a cookie, Aston?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I like it. It’s yummy.”

“How about another one?”

I nodded, staring into the face of the woman who was my childhood savior.

“Just, not today.” I repeat, breathing deeply as I let the memory go. Thirteen years, and the main marker I have of this day is the first cookie I ever ate. “I need to go. I have to go see my Gramps.”

Megan looks at me worriedly, sadness in her eyes, and I cross the room to her. I cup her face in my hands, rest my forehead against hers, and exhale.

“It’s not you, Megs. There’s a lot about me you don’t know – a lot I don’t want you to know. It’s not nice stuff, it’s not good, okay? Today isn’t a day to talk about it. Maybe there won’t ever be a day. I don’t know.”

“I want to know,” she whispers, resting her hands on my arms.

“I don’t want you to know.” I kiss her and quickly move away. I push open her window, make sure it’s clear, and jump out onto the tree branch.

“Then whenever you’re ready,” she whispers. “I’ll be here. Waiting.”

I glance over my shoulder, and she’s watching me go. I make eye contact with her for a second. Set on seeing Gramps, I jump down the tree.

~

“Didn’t think I’d see you today.” Gramps’ voice grumbles through the house.

“It’s Sunday,” I reply simply, crossing the front room and sinking into my usual seat opposite him.

“Ain’t just any Sunday.” He twists his lit cigar between his weathered fingers, staring at the smoke rising from it.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna see you.” I watch the twirling smoke.

“Thought you didn’t wanna know today.”

“I don’t, but I’m still gonna come see you. You need me.”

“I need to look at your face and know you look exactly like her?” He puffs on his cigar, the end of it glowing bright orange. “You do, you know. You look exactly like her.”

“I …” I drag my eyes to his and see the pain there. “I know.”

“You’re smart, too. Just like she was. I could tell that when I started teachin’ ya. Picked up your numbers like Einstein. Of course, she was good with numbers in a different way.”

The numbers of the street.

“I hate that so much of me reminds you of her.”

“Why? ‘Cause you hate the memories? Your memories and mine, they’re different, boy. If you’d let me share mine you’d see a different side to your mom than the one you know. You’d see that she ain’t all bad. She just jumped on the wrong train and couldn’t get back off.”

“And that’s what she turned our life into. A damn train wreck. Everything …”

“And today is a day to remember it, however you want to.”

“You think I don’t, Gramps? You think I’m not haunted by the memories of the past every day? You think I don’t remember? I don’t want to remember it. Not at all. But I do.”

“It’s good to remember,” he pushes on, twisting his cigar in the ashtray. “You gotta remember where you’ve been to see how far you’ve come.”