Remember Me This Way Page 10

  I lost pieces of myself that night in my trailer, and I’ve been searching for them ever since.

  14

  Now

  I've never heard the kind of quiet that's in this room right now. But it's a heavy kind of quiet. A heaviness bred from sorrow and guilt.

  I hate it.

  This is why I never wanted to tell them about what happened to me. This is why I pushed them away, why I wanted them to forget that I ever existed. Jesse, Jensen, and Tanner always looked at me like I was something. They didn't see the trailer, the faded clothes, the abuse. They saw me. They needed me. They loved me.

  Gene always used to tell me that the shame I felt about what happened to me wasn't right. That I needed to do everything I could to get rid of it.

  But I never did.

  And now, standing in this room with this silence so thick with pity and shame that I could puke...It's almost more than I can take.

  “Say something," I spit out, the words coming out as more of a snarl than anything else.

  The glass that Tanner was holding shatters in his hand, spraying the white carpet of the room with a sea of glass and amber liquid.

  Jesse sinks into a crouch. He's rocking back and forth, his whole body shaking as great wracking sobs sound out of him.

  Jensen's just standing there, staring at me. I can see that his hands are trembling.

  "SAY SOMETHING," I scream, and in a mad rage, I rip a picture off the wall and throw it to the ground.

  I start crying then, tears that are long overdue. This shouldn't have come as a huge shock to them. I mean, why else do young girls end up scared and alone on exam tables with people taking fucking pictures of them?

  I take a vase off a shelf and throw that next, shattering what is most likely a priceless work of art, judging by the rest of the place.

  "Baby," Jensen says, and he's there, taking me into his arms, stopping me before I destroy anything else. I beat on his chest. I'm furious at all of them, and I don't know why.

  "You're mad because we weren't there, and yet we thought we deserved to know what happened," he says, and his voice is maddeningly calm.

  Before Jensen can say anything else, Tanner stalks closer. "Why didn't you fucking say anything to us? Why did you push us away? We could have been there for you." He's crying as he spits his anguish at me.

  It only makes me angry, because how dare he ask me those questions, how dare he look at me like this?

  I push away from Jensen and walk away, unable to be in the room with them any longer. I stop at the threshold of the door before turning back to look at Tanner. I had one last thing I wanted to say, and then I never wanted to talk about this again.

  "After I met you, I would fantasize every night before I went to sleep. We were all in LA. You were big rockstars...I was singing, and people actually wanted to hear it. The images were so clear in my mind that I could see every detail about where we lived, what we sang, how we looked. You know what I fantasized about after that happened?"

  Tanner's eyes bored into mine with a deep intensity, but he remained silent.

  "Nothing. And that is why I pushed you away. Because the dead didn't belong with the living, and there was nothing alive about me back then.

  I'm awake in bed, unable to sleep as I stare at the ceiling. Soft light filters into the room from outside, defining the raised textured pattern around my bedroom’s light fixture. I turn my head to see my phone, the numbers 2:36 am shining back at me. I silently pray for sleep to overtake Gentry before he comes in here. I had left him in the living room after he'd beat me again.

  It was later than usual, surely that was a good sign.

  I tug the comforter up higher over my pajamas, dread anchoring my chest.

  Had I even fallen asleep? I wasn’t sure.

  This is becoming a nightly ritual. Get the shit beat out of me, and then lie in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, too afraid to allow myself to be pulled into dreams. Sleep was a friend I rarely visited.

  The sound of the television clicking off in the living room should have been hard to hear, but I'm as attuned to it as the sound of my own heartbeat, the latter of which starts increasing its boom-boom-boom in dreaded anticipation. My eyes move to the light that frames my closed door in the doorway, and I stare as that light grows dimmer with each flick of a light switch, from the kitchen, to the office, to the hallway. Each click of the light brings the shadows across the floor closer to the bedroom door. Shadows block out light in two spots under the door before I hear the click sound of the light switch just outside. The door to the room is completely shadowed now.

  My heart beats twice, fast in my chest. I swear I can hear his breathing just outside my door, and I pray that he will continue walking on to the guest bedroom and somehow decide that tonight was the night he would spare me.

  My hopes are dashed a moment later when I hear him humming right against the door. It's the only sound besides the now rapid beat of my heart.

  No, no, no, no, I plead uselessly, my fingernails digging into my palms, making fists. The door opens with a creak. The door stops after a few inches, as if he knows I'm awake and is just trying to torture me, even though it's no surprise that he's here. Then the door swings open fully, his face exposed by the light coming through my window.

  I sit up in bed, the scream dying in my throat.

  In a span of two seconds, a pair of arms are around me, holding me close while telling me that everything will be alright.

  It has been a while since I’ve had a nightmare about Gentry. My brain must have decided to bring them back after the events of the night.

  Shakily, I pull myself from the arms that I now recognize as Jensen's, and lift the sheets off my sweat-soaked body and stand up, padding across the floor to my bathroom. I look in the mirror and barely recognize myself. I blow out a tense breath and brush the hair away that clings to my forehead.

  The clock on the shelf reads 2:30 AM. Of course.

  Taking a deep breath I splash cold water on my face and then go back into the bedroom where Jensen has somehow found his way into my bed, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure that I locked the door before I went to sleep.

  Jensen

  It’s easy for Ariana to get buried in details and overthink until the facts become muddled—lost in her mind and the past. She’s survived too much, and now an added tragedy I want to erase. If I went to her right now where she’s standing and begged for her to talk to me she would. If I kissed her she would respond. I could strip her bare and murmur my apologies into her ravaged skin, and she would let me, but this is a hard gamble.

  What if I push too hard? Yet if I don’t . . .

  Maybe my impulse to move her beyond this is because I’m desperate to see forgiveness in her eyes and feel it in the touch of her hand. It’s years past us now, but I can’t help but feel that I’ve let her down. I could have tried harder, tracked her down and made her give me answers face to face before letting her go. Instead, I took her deadbeat mother’s word like a coward and left her alone. Ariana would never have been able to hide from me what happened back then.

  She's strong. Stronger than I ever imagined. And her standing there in front of us tonight, a defiant tilt to her chin, just solidified it for me. There's no one like Ariana Kent.

  My life is a series of befores and afters: before my mother’s death and after my mother’s death. Before I discovered music and after I discovered music. Before I moved to LA and after I moved to LA.

  But the before and after that was the most vivid in my mind was before I met Ariana, and after I met Ariana. And I needed her to know that, even if she didn’t know anything else right now.

  “I love you,” I whisper suddenly, desperate for her to know the truth of that statement in her heart.

  “I know,” she responds, taking a step closer, and then another step, and then another.

  When she finally gets close enough for me to touch her, the only thing I can do is to kiss her. Kis
s away history and the uncertainty surrounding the present. Her tongue sweeps into my mouth with the same urgency, until it’s not enough, and I want more. More Ariana. Forever and ever.

  I just hope that my kiss says everything that my words cannot. I’m sorry. I’m here for you. You’ll never be alone again.

  I hope she feels the promise in my kiss. Because it’s a promise that I won’t ever break again.

  Ariana

  I wake up an hour after I’ve finally fallen asleep. And this time, it’s not because I had a nightmare, this time it’s because I need him. I can feel the heat of his chest at my back, and my pulse races. His breathing is shallow, and I’m sure he’s just as awake as I am right now.

  That’s confirmed when I’m suddenly flipped around, and I’m in his arms. My gasp is muffled by his lips, and I want him with an instant urgency. My hands are nestled in his hair, and I cling to him, feet barely skimming the floor. Jensen’s touch is tempting, seductive as he removes everything between us—nothing separates him from me, and we come together, skin against skin.

  Enfolding me in his arms, he worships my mouth with his; my body heats under his touch as he caresses every whispered shadow. He captures my groan, taking it in to mix with his. I whimper as he kisses across my cheek to my ear and down my neck, nibbling at the hollow above my collarbone. My hands move; they’re everywhere, his shoulders, arms, running over the hard lines of his back. Everything he does taunts the wicked pulse between my thighs. Without warning, he pushes me from my side to my back, but he doesn’t follow. His breath falters as he gazes. Slow and deliberate, his inspection is thorough, and his voice rough. “I want you. I’ll always want you.”

  I can’t help but stare at the glorious specimen in front of me. “Seeing you like this, it doesn’t seem real. I used to dream about what it would be like to be with you this way. What it would be like for you to want me as much as I want you. It’s almost too much,” he whispers, and his eyes change. The passionate need is replaced with veneration, a worshiping glint as he drinks me in. “Ariana,” he breathes into the silence, my name a prayer on his lips. Slowly, he lies with me, bringing a hand up to cup the full weight of my breast. Closing his eyes, he leans in so his mouth hovers over mine, not touching, just taking. It’s so intimate, but I want to kiss him.

  “Jensen,” I whisper, and the word breaks the spell. When his eyes open, a devilish gleam replaces the adoration. He pinches the tip of my breast, pulling it until I moan. The sweet sensation drives straight down to my groin, a sharp, inescapable fluttering. He smiles, a slow, beguiling grin as I writhe beneath his dark stare and the attention of his fingers.

  “I’m going to taste you, baby. Lick and bite you until you scream my name.”

  My mouth forms a perfect O, but I say nothing, paralyzed with anticipation. I watch as he dips down, taking me into his mouth, worshipping my skin with his tongue before teasing it between his teeth. I lean back into the bed, reeling from the pleasure his mouth brings. He plays with me until I’m wet and hungry for him.

  “Please,” I beg for I don’t know what. For him to continue, for him to touch me, for him to bring an end to the burning need building between my thighs. Slowly, he moves, his nose trailing along my skin, teasing a path that threatens to drive me crazy. Eyes trained on mine, he pushes my thighs apart.

  “You’re intoxicating.” His voice is hot, his breath hotter as he blows against me.

  Looking up through his lashes, he asks, “Do you want this, baby? Tell me you need this as much as I do.”

  I’m speechless, so he blows against me again.

  “Say it; I need to hear you.”

  “Yes,” I barely breathe out before his head dips, the tip of his tongue swirling around me in that perfect spot. My body arches off the bed at the sweet carnal sensation, and I moan loudly.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on him, and the tormenting flicks of his tongue. Wrapping his arms under my hips, he becomes impassioned, groaning as he lifts me to his mouth. I can’t move, my only outlet the incoherent words falling almost soundlessly into the still air. Clenching my hands into the sheets, I surrender to the beautiful intensity, panting.

  “Jensen,” I cry. His lips close around me even more. I arch and instinctively move with him, a wicked, slow dance. The music is his mouth, playing artfully, and all I can do is wait, longing for the crescendo. Releasing my death grip on the sheets, I grab the soft silk of his hair. He looks up, eyes scorching and perfect, his tongue insistent and hot, teasing but not taking me over the edge.

  “Please,” I whisper, begging for the push from the burning plateau. His answer is to slide a finger inside my welcoming body. I groan again. The longing and desire build, the friction of his finger along with his mouth take me higher, faster than I thought possible. I writhe against him, the dance becoming feverish. I need; I want. “Don’t stop.”

  Two fingers plunge into me once, twice, his tongue flicks and rolls again and again, and he launches me beyond the brink. I explode, screaming out in awe as the crescendo hits violently. Waves of pleasure crash through my entire body, and I bow into him once more. His mouth and fingers continue moving on me, in me, pushing my orgasm on and on. When I can stand it no more, I tug his hair, pulling him up to me. Diving into his mouth, I taste myself on his tongue, relishing the feel of his lips stroking over mine. Without thought, I grab his bottom lip between my teeth, sucking on it, mimicking what he just did to me. Drinking in his low moan, I spur him on for more.

  “What do you want, baby?”

  “I want you.”

  “What do you need?” he taunts me again.

  “You, always you—now,” I say, pulling him to me.

  In one swift move he enters me, and I cry out as my body acclimates to the invasion. Before I can form a coherent thought, Jensen rolls so I’m on top, straddling his hips. He’s now reaching inside of me in a new way, a full tormenting stretch. We groan together when I rotate my hips, deepening the feeling. Our eyes lock, the intensity staggering. Leaning down, I place my hands on either side of his face, cradling him tenderly. My mouth hovers over his, not touching, just taking. Taking him into me every way I know how. His breath, his body, we become one, and I begin to make love with Jensen Reid—sweet, beautiful, passionate love. I feel it all. I feel all of him. My hips move, rounding gently at first, pulling him in and out at a taunting, tortuous pace. Our breathes mingle together, held tight against us as our bodies join, again and again, over and over. In time, I push up, sitting on him fully so he sinks in farther, a new humbling depth that has us both groaning again in unison. Our rhythm changes, needing, wanting, an inexplicable desire to come together as we move passionately. The joy in this moment, in us, is achingly sweet.

  “Jensen,” I whisper as our eyes meet, his a burning green, mine bewildered by the staggering emotion I feel toward this man. This man who has always been there for me, no matter what he thinks. My thoughts scatter, frayed with unbridled tension, and I dissolve around him, mind and body surrendering to the mystifying connection. I cry out as his hips push me higher, rocketing with him, trusting in wherever he takes me, and I come. I erupt around him, vaguely hearing his cry as he joins me. We are one; we are us. My breath shattered, I fall, splayed out on his chest. His hands wrap into my hair, holding me tight as our bodies calm. Eventually, he pulls my lips to his, kissing me gently. We breathe into each other, sated.

  I won’t let my past take this away from me.

  I can’t survive without it.

  15

  Then

  We’re at the beach house again. The guys are surfing, and I’m sitting by the fire they made, laughing and cheering them on. Ever since that first day they brought me here, it’s become one of my favorite places. Just sitting here, doing nothing in particular, eating snacks and lazing around...it can’t really be beat. Today though, my mind isn’t as carefree. Today I’m thinking about the scars all over Tanner's back.

  “Ariana?” I'm startled out of my thoughts by T
anner’s voice. I shake my head, clearing away my thoughts.

  “Hey.” I take a drink of my Diet Coke and look up, losing my breath for a second at the image of Tanner, wet, his golden skin glistening in the sun.

  “You looked pretty serious over here, you missed Jensen’s epic crash,” he tells me with a smirk, settling down in the seat across from me and watching me with those silver eyes.

  I shrink under his gaze, sure he can see all the way inside of me right now.

  He finally looks away, looking back towards the sea where Jensen and Jesse are still surfing. We sit there quietly for at least half an hour.

  “Tell me something no one else knows about you,” he asks suddenly, turning his eyes back to me.

  I look at everything but him as I try to think of what to say.

  The silence stretches awkwardly between us, and before I finally speak, he interrupts. “We don’t have to play this game. It was stupid to ask in the first place.”

  This is my out. I want to take it, but I feel guilty. I’ve seen pieces of him that I’m pretty sure no one else has. And besides, it’s just a game. Why am I even acting like this?

  “I can’t imagine being happier than this.” A truth.

  “I don’t believe that,” he replies. I can’t help the bubble of laughter. He doesn’t believe this one thing, because I haven’t been truthful about anything else about my life. He looks at me quizzically at my outburst. “There isn’t anything out there in the whole world that you think would make you happier?”

  “Tell me something that no one else knows about you,” I respond, avoiding the question because how do you tell a boy you’ve only known for a short blip in time that you think you’ll love him and his friends forever? Or that they’ve given you the only happiness you’ve ever really experienced, so you can’t even comprehend anything better?