He sets me on the bed, turning on the bedside lamp. Our eyes catch and hold for a second before he drops his glance to the floor. His demeanor, his expression—everything about him is a KEEP OUT sign, when he’s only ever been an invitation to come inside.
He pulls the fitted t-shirt over my head, slides my bra straps off my shoulders, reaches behind my back to undo my bra. The lacy black cups fall away, baring me to him. His eyes rest on my breasts like breath, so hot my nipples peak and tighten. I want him so desperately. To take him into my body. To reclaim him and yield to him. His thumb strokes my collarbone for a moment, a muscle bundling along the sharp line of his jaw, but that’s all. He unsnaps my jeans and tugs them down my legs as efficiently and impersonally as my nurse in the hospital only a week ago.
He studies my Tuesday underwear for a moment. It’s Thursday, and I know he’s remembering our night in Berlin. The memory sizzles between us. I want to spread my legs and tempt him. See if my body still holds any sway over his, but I can’t. When he comes back to me, it can’t be for that. He peels the loose plain white t-shirt over his head, the rung of muscles in his stomach and chest chiseled and beautiful. A hint of the “v” at his hips just evident at the edge of his low-slung jeans. He pulls his t-shirt down over me, and I push my arms through until it covers all I want to offer him. Desire penetrates the fog floating around my head, his scent lingering in the shirt enveloping me. I can’t take my eyes off him. I’m panting, the ragged breaths raising and dropping my breasts under the soft cotton, still holding his warmth.
He pulls back the cover, waiting for me to lie down, and then tucking the comforter under my chin.
“You’ve got a few hours left before it’s morning,” he says, his tone flat and wooden, despite the heat brimming from his eyes. “Get some sleep.”
He reaches for the lamp switch, and I grab his arm, forcing him to look at me.
“Do you remember the first night we met?” I ask.
He nods slowly, his eyes filling with the same memory I’ll never forget.
“You glanced up from the piano in Grady’s rehearsal room and looked right through me.” A bitter-tasting laugh lingers on my lips. “Or at least that’s how it felt. Like you saw everything about me in a flash. It was like you brushed up against my soul. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it scared me half to death. ”
“And you ran.” He pulls back until my hand falls away. “I looked back and you were gone.”
“Yes, I ran.”
I grab my nerve and swallow my pride and press into the cold front he’s been giving me since I confessed about the tape.
“I felt you, Rhyson. Even when I ran and resisted and said we could only be friends, I felt you. For the first time since that day at Grady’s, I don’t feel you. Not in that way that was so deep, so fast it felt like I knew you before we ever even spoke. It’s the thought that we’ve lost that because of what I did that scares me. It’s scarier to me than that tape coming out, than not getting to perform for two years. It’s as scary to me as the day my mother died.”
I pour it all out, spilling it into this room we’ve shared. He says nothing. After all that, after I peel back my skin, my flesh, my bone and bare my heart to him, he says nothing. I can’t do this. I can’t be this close to him and feel a million miles away. He just looks back at me unblinkingly.
“Kai, it’s not gone.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, disheveling it even more. “I just . . . get some sleep.”
“Don’t leave me.” I don’t want to beg, but I’d rather sleep on the steps with his music wooing me than in this California king without him. I fold the comforter back, opening a space for him in our bed. “Could you just . . . stay?”
He closes his eyes and swallows, emotion working the muscles in his throat.
“Nah, Pep. I’m not doing that. Not tonight. Not yet.”
“Why?” My voice shakes, even though I try to steady it. “Is it because you saw the tape? And now . . . and now you see him when you look at me?”
He dips his head until our eyes are level, and I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
“I did watch that tape.”
It’s a pitchfork right though my heart, calling to mind what I know he saw on that video. Drex grinning like a salacious demon, slamming into me from behind. My breasts bobbing with every thrust. My dead eyes.
“Is that why you were breaking things?” I venture, afraid to hear his response, but waiting with bated breath. “Why you can’t look at me?”
“I can’t look at you, Kai, because you lied to me.” His words come sharp and short like wood chips flying off an axe. “When I look at you, it’s not Drex I see. I see lies.”