happen again.
I picked myself up off the floor and climbed back into the shower, rinsing my mouth of the sour taste of vomit. This time when I closed my eyes, Major filled my mind. The concern in his eyes when he touched my lip, the gentleness in that touch. I never would have thought him capable of that level of tenderness. But maybe that was a stereotype on my part, a way of thinking that shouldn’t be as automatic as it was. Maybe there was more to him than his macho, blue collar appearance.
I was grateful for his help, and so grateful for the fact that he agreed to stay. I wasn’t quite ready to be alone again, and I really didn’t want to call anyone. The only person I could call was Kyle and he would lecture me just as intently as my mom would. I wasn’t ready for that yet.
I scrub my skin, washed away every touch, ever look, Ryan left behind on my flesh, then washed some more. My skin was raw when I was done, sore. But I finally felt clean.
I dressed in a pair of sweats and a heavy, oversized t-shirt I stole from my dad’s house. I wasn’t even sure it was his, but it was comfortable and it made me think of him when I wore it. I wondered what my dad would do if he were the one who came to my rescue instead of Major. Would he have acted as definitively? Would he have beat Ryan the way I imagined Major had?
I wanted to believe he would have. But I had my doubts. And that made me sad.
When I stepped out of the bedroom, I was so relieved to see Major still there that I had to blink away a few tears. He’d gotten a heavy bottle of booze from somewhere and poured two glasses into my mom’s old mason jar glasses. I smiled gratefully when he handed me one.
“Bourbon,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He’d cleaned up the mess on the floor, and it was like nothing had ever happened. And that was a little unsettling somehow.
I don’t know.
I sat back on the couch and pulled my legs up against my chest. I sipped at the bourbon. I don’t normally drink anything that strong, but the burn felt kind of nice. And the blossoming heat in my belly was good. Comforting in a weird sort of way.
Major stayed by the kitchen bar like he was afraid to sit to close to me. We just kind of sat there like that for a while, neither of us speaking, just sipping at the bourbon and pretending like we hadn’t openly hated each other just a couple of hours ago. And then we both spoke at once.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Have you always lived in Houston?”
I giggled a little when I realized what we had done. He smiled too, turning his head slightly like he was a little embarrassed to let me see his smile. He had a dimple, too, not unlike Ryan’s. But it looked a lot better on him.
“You can come sit over here,” I said. “I won’t bite.”
“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You’re making me uncomfortable standing over there like that.”
He nodded as he pushed away from the bar. He grabbed the bottle and came over, setting it on the coffee table before he settled on the couch about as far from me as he could get. I watched him, admired the way his body moved. The man seemed to have muscles on his muscles. And when he moved, everything seemed to flex. And big…he was so big that my couch that always seemed so roomy and comfortable was suddenly tiny and compact.
I felt safe next to him. I should have been afraid, especially after what just happened to me. I should have been thinking about how vulnerable I was sitting there alone with him. But I didn’t feel vulnerable. I felt protected. I felt like if any more trouble came my way that night, he would make it disappear without having to lift a single finger.
I knew nothing about him except that he probably keyed my car. But I didn’t care.
“Yes,” I said, dropping my gaze to my drink, “I’ve lived in Houston all my life.”
“Yeah?”
“Went to high school over in Katy. And I attended the University of Texas at Houston. Never
I picked myself up off the floor and climbed back into the shower, rinsing my mouth of the sour taste of vomit. This time when I closed my eyes, Major filled my mind. The concern in his eyes when he touched my lip, the gentleness in that touch. I never would have thought him capable of that level of tenderness. But maybe that was a stereotype on my part, a way of thinking that shouldn’t be as automatic as it was. Maybe there was more to him than his macho, blue collar appearance.
I was grateful for his help, and so grateful for the fact that he agreed to stay. I wasn’t quite ready to be alone again, and I really didn’t want to call anyone. The only person I could call was Kyle and he would lecture me just as intently as my mom would. I wasn’t ready for that yet.
I scrub my skin, washed away every touch, ever look, Ryan left behind on my flesh, then washed some more. My skin was raw when I was done, sore. But I finally felt clean.
I dressed in a pair of sweats and a heavy, oversized t-shirt I stole from my dad’s house. I wasn’t even sure it was his, but it was comfortable and it made me think of him when I wore it. I wondered what my dad would do if he were the one who came to my rescue instead of Major. Would he have acted as definitively? Would he have beat Ryan the way I imagined Major had?
I wanted to believe he would have. But I had my doubts. And that made me sad.
When I stepped out of the bedroom, I was so relieved to see Major still there that I had to blink away a few tears. He’d gotten a heavy bottle of booze from somewhere and poured two glasses into my mom’s old mason jar glasses. I smiled gratefully when he handed me one.
“Bourbon,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He’d cleaned up the mess on the floor, and it was like nothing had ever happened. And that was a little unsettling somehow.
I don’t know.
I sat back on the couch and pulled my legs up against my chest. I sipped at the bourbon. I don’t normally drink anything that strong, but the burn felt kind of nice. And the blossoming heat in my belly was good. Comforting in a weird sort of way.
Major stayed by the kitchen bar like he was afraid to sit to close to me. We just kind of sat there like that for a while, neither of us speaking, just sipping at the bourbon and pretending like we hadn’t openly hated each other just a couple of hours ago. And then we both spoke at once.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Have you always lived in Houston?”
I giggled a little when I realized what we had done. He smiled too, turning his head slightly like he was a little embarrassed to let me see his smile. He had a dimple, too, not unlike Ryan’s. But it looked a lot better on him.
“You can come sit over here,” I said. “I won’t bite.”
“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You’re making me uncomfortable standing over there like that.”
He nodded as he pushed away from the bar. He grabbed the bottle and came over, setting it on the coffee table before he settled on the couch about as far from me as he could get. I watched him, admired the way his body moved. The man seemed to have muscles on his muscles. And when he moved, everything seemed to flex. And big…he was so big that my couch that always seemed so roomy and comfortable was suddenly tiny and compact.
I felt safe next to him. I should have been afraid, especially after what just happened to me. I should have been thinking about how vulnerable I was sitting there alone with him. But I didn’t feel vulnerable. I felt protected. I felt like if any more trouble came my way that night, he would make it disappear without having to lift a single finger.
I knew nothing about him except that he probably keyed my car. But I didn’t care.
“Yes,” I said, dropping my gaze to my drink, “I’ve lived in Houston all my life.”
“Yeah?”
“Went to high school over in Katy. And I attended the University of Texas at Houston. Never
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