Forgive Us Our Trespasses Page 7
Will stops, his nostrils flare, and I notice his hands shaking; for a second I’m afraid for my life. “I don’t want just some girl!” he explodes. “I want Vivian!” When he realizes what he’s confessed, he crumbles into his chair again, leaving me shocked and standing alone.
“W-what?” I stutter. “You want to date Vivian?” I don’t know how to comprehend what he’s telling me. I’ve entered a soap opera, and I’m the main character in a love triangle. I’ve seen these stories; men like me always lose to the Wills of the story. He’s the funny guy, the one that would always do the right thing, even at his own expense. I wouldn’t want to compete against someone like him. The difference between the two of us: I may have the appearances that draw the girls in, but he has the personality that keeps them coming back.
“I don’t want to date her, Brooks; I’m in love with her.” Will is hiding his face in his hands, so his words are muffled, but I can still understand every damn word and it makes my stomach hurt to the point of throwing up. I feel the bile rise, and it burns the back of my throat. What the fuck is happening?
“What do you plan to do about it?” I ask him, taking my seat once again. I grip onto the edge of my chair, partly restraining myself, and partly holding myself together. I fully expect him to say that I’m going to have to compete with him for her, and it’s a fight I’m not sure I would win.
“Nothing, Brooks. I may have those feelings for her, and if I had the chance I would worship the ground that she walks on, but she doesn’t want me. She’s in love with you.” I loosen my grip on the chair and feel the indentations on my fingers that it leaves behind. “But I need to know that I’m doing the right thing by bowing out. I want you to say that you’ll treat her right.”
I take in all that he’s expecting of me, to reflect on my feelings for Vivian. “I promise, Will. I’m not perfect, and I know that I’ll have my fuck-ups, but I promise I’ll do my best to protect her. I know it’s hard for you to believe it, but I do love her. Believe me, it surprises the hell out of me because I didn’t even think I was capable of that emotion, but I do.”
Will doesn’t respond at first; it feels like a lifetime before he finally rises and holds out his hand for me. I meet him in the middle of the room and stretch my arm to meet his hand to shake. “That’s what I needed to know,” he says, shaking my hand. Then he drops back and gives some space between the two of us. “But if you hurt her, I swear to everything that is holy, I will crush you; I don’t care who your daddy is. I will end you. Do we have an understanding?”
“Will, if I fuck this up, I would want to beat my own ass.”
Satisfied with my answer, he nods and begins to walk past me to the front door. There is still another half an hour before the dining hall opens for lunch, and I assumed before this conversation that we would have gone together. “Hey, are you still going to meet up with the girls for lunch?” I ask. He stops and stills his hand that was twisting the doorknob. “No, I don’t really feel like it,” he says, refusing to look at me. “I’m going to meet up with Seth and Aaron from the rugby team. Just tell the girls something came up, please.”
Without looking for confirmation, he opens the door, moves through it, and slams it behind him. I don’t know if I lost my friend or not, but either way, I hope I can uphold my promise. I want nothing more than to protect her.
Vivian
All four of us girls have been eating in the cafeteria for at least fifteen minutes before either of the guys shows up. When Brooks walks through the door and I see his scowl and disheveled hair, I know he is stressed or upset about something. Anytime Brooks is over thinking something, his hands automatically find his hair, and he gently tugs on it until he can calm himself. He bypasses the food line and takes a seat at our table next to me. I frown at him as he sits, but he looks at me and shakes his head, waving me off. Whatever it is, it’s not open for discussion right now.
Shifting his emotions, he flings his arm across the back of my chair and kisses the side of my head. “Sorry I’m late, Red,” he whispers.
“No worries,” I tell him, trying to ease his tension. “I thought you and Will were coming together.”
He moves his hand away at the mention of Will’s name, making the buzzers go off in my head. Something happened between the two of them. “He forgot that he was supposed to meet a few of the rugby guys, but he said he’d be around later.” I give him a look that says that I don’t buy that load of shit for one minute, but he quickly changes the subject. “So what did I miss, ladies?” he asks, and the girls jump right into our previous conversation like they never skipped a beat.
“We were just deciding who Campbell is going home with for Thanksgiving,” Jen answers. “I want her to be my buffer from my parents, but Carly thinks that it’s not okay to subject her to that and wants her to come home with her.” Campbell aged out of foster care just after she graduated from high school, and while her last foster home was actually decent to her, she doesn’t feel comfortable going to their house for the holidays. I told her that if she didn’t mind crazy, she could come home with me, but I don’t think anyone should be subjected to the guilt trips and mood swings of my mother. I don’t even want to go home, and if the dorms weren’t closing, I wouldn’t be.
Whenever I feel sorry for myself, I look at Campbell and tell myself to suck it up. How she is even functioning with the life she’s had is beyond me. Her parents died when she was little, and she had no living family members that were able to take her in. Her parents had named guardians for her in their wills, and even set up a multi-million dollar trust to care for her thinking they had all of their bases covered. But when the guardians found out that she would only inherit the money in small increments after milestones in her adult life, like high school and college graduation, with the remainder being paid out when she turns 30 or gets married, whichever comes first, they handed her over to the state. They didn’t want her unless they were going to profit from it. She has since bounced around from foster home to foster home for the last ten years. Campbell is one tough girl; I wish I were half as resilient as she is.
“Why don’t you draw straws or something; winner gets their pick of Christmas or Thanksgiving,” Brooks suggests, stealing a French fry from my plate and swirling it around in the leftover ketchup.
“You guys, seriously, I really appreciate this,” Campbell interrupts. “It feels good that you all would even invite me, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to have me. I have enough money that I could stay in a hotel and do some work with the band. I could probably even stay with them, or go over there on Thanksgiving.”
“Over my fucking dead body,” Brooks snaps. He states it so sternly and sharply that we all immediately direct our attention to him. Carly’s eyes look as though they may pop out of her head. Sometimes I wonder how she even stands being our friend. She never cusses or says anything mean about anyone, and then there is Jen, who can’t complete a sentence without an f-bomb and a crude sexual reference included in it.
“What I mean is, we are your family, and a person spends holidays with family. I don’t care who you choose to go home with–you can even come to my house–but you will NOT spend it alone. That is unacceptable.”
“Okay,” she mutters, stunned by Brooks’ outburst. “I guess I’ll go home with Carly for Thanksgiving, and Jen for Christmas; the break is longer and she might be in more of a need of a safety net.”
Brooks looks around the table for objections and finds none. He then wipes his hands on his napkin and stands to leave. “Sorry I was late, but I need to get going to my next class. I’m supposed to stop by the library first to get a book that we are supposed to have for the final.” He bends down and kisses me on the cheek, then leaves before anyone can try to convince him to stay.
“What in the hell was that?” Jen asks the group as soon as Brooks is out of earshot. “He acted weird the entire time he was here.” She was right, and I couldn’t argue otherwise, but I didn’t want
to talk about it. No one has a chance to answer though. Amber fucking Jennings and two of her little friends, more rich sorority sisters no doubt, stroll up to our table.
“Well, Jennifer, I didn’t know you were doing charity work, or are you just taking a break from money to see how the other half lives?” I look to Jen, who is wringing her napkin between her hands. I wasn’t surprised that she would have something rotten and snooty to say to us, but I am most certainly surprised that she and Jen know each other.
“You know I like you about as much as you like me, so what could you possibly want?” She doesn’t even bother to look at Amber. This is a rich girl standoff, and I have no idea how to proceed. Back home, there would have been a brief fight in a pasture, you would shake hands, and it would be done. These girls play a whole different game, and I want no part of it. It’s sneaky and conniving, where everyone pretends to be your friend, but then stabs you in the back just to elevate their social status.
“I just didn’t know you liked the company of white trash, and I thought that you would have informed Brooks that he could do so much better than this.” She points to me like I’m only an object to discuss and not a person with feelings. “We both know our parents have been planning our ending up together since we were little; I would think you would have a little more loyalty to your social ranking.”
I turn to Jen, ready to invite her old best buddy outside to settle our little disagreement country style. But she shakes her head, silencing me. I follow her instructions; she knows more about this girl than I do, and if Jen tells me to shut the fuck up, then I will.
Jen takes a deep breath, pushes back her chair, and stands to meet her nemesis head on. “The thing about trash, Amber, is that it comes in all shapes and sizes. It’s something you are, and money can’t change that. Right now, the only piece of shit I see is packaged in a Sigma shirt and heels. Now, I suggest that you get the fuck out of my face before I take you outside and show you just how loyal I am.”
“Wow, how classy; don’t you think you’ve disgraced your family enough?” Amber’s words are harsh, but they lack confidence as she takes a step back, fearful of what results they may provoke.
Jen falters a bit; whatever issue Amber is referencing, strikes a nerve with Jen. She recovers quickly though. “You want to talk about social ranking, Amber? Well, who do you think controls those city permits and tax credits for your dad’s business?”
Amber’s face loses all color and she stumbles over her words. “You wouldn’t.”
“No matter what I’ve done, it would only take one phone call, and my father could make your family’s empire crumble.”
When she fails to return a response, Jen pushes in her chair and steps around a dumbfounded Amber. “Come on, girls. It’s time for class. Amber here is going to take care of our trays.” We quickly jump out of our chairs and move to catch up to Jen as she exits the dining hall. It feels good to walk away winning the fight, but with girls like Amber, they don’t walk away and let it lie. I know she’s already plotting her revenge; I just hope I’m not part of the collateral damage.
Vivian
Today is the day I’ve been waiting most of my life for. I’m going to find out what happened to my dad. Brooks promised to drive me to the courthouse and go through everything with me, but I’m nervous. I’m worried about what we’ll find out, and that he’ll look at me differently if we find out something really bad. I’ve always worried that I would be judged for what my dad was involved in, and I don’t know if I could handle Brooks pushing me away because of it.
The light is peeking through his old dusty curtains that I’m sure had been hanging in the dorm since the school opened. I put my hand over my eyes to shield the unwanted wake up call, hoping for just a few more minutes of sleep before I have to peel myself from this delicious guy and get ready to go to Colorado Springs. He quickly reaches for my wrist and gently holds it down to the pillow behind me.
“Please don’t cover your eyes; this is my favorite part of the day.” A small smile creeps across his face, and I realize that he has been awake for a while.
Feeling a little embarrassed as to what he might have seen–who knows if I snore, or talk, or oh, God, what if I fart in my sleep? My face begins to heat up, and I try to turn my head away. He places his hand on my cheek and slowly turns me to him. “You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”
I’m no longer slightly embarrassed; I’m totally uncomfortable, shifting to try and scoot away. I have never had a guy really compliment me, and I really don’t take them well. He doesn’t let me go anywhere though, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me so close I could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. He lets out a little sigh and briefly closes his eyes.
“You don’t understand, Viv. What we have, how I feel about you, it’s like nothing I’ve ever had. You are the most beautiful thing in my world. I can tell that you don’t hear things like that often, and you know what? I’m thankful for that.”
I raise my eyebrow in confusion; I’m not quite sure if he was saying that he is glad other guys don’t find me attractive, but it sounds like one heck of a backwards compliment. His lips curl around his teeth like he’s trying his damnedest to hold in his laugh, and then he lets out the loudest chuckle. Shit, this asshole is laughing at me. I panic and try to get off the bed.
As I struggle to untangle from his arms to get away from him, the smile on his face quickly vanishes. He grabs my hands and rolls on top of me, settling his hips against mine. His eyes are searching mine, seriousness oozing from him. “This is coming out wrong. What I mean is that I’m glad that you haven’t heard a lot of those nice things from other guys…not because I don’t think that you are the most gorgeous girl that I have ever met, but because I want it to be me that you hear those things from. I want to be the only one that puts that amazing smile on your face. I want to be the one that holds you every night, to make you feel good,” he leans his head down and kisses my lips before resting his forehead against mine. “You’re my clover, Viv,” he whispers.
I relax in his grip, but the lump in my throat begins to desperately attempt to claw its way out. “Your what?” I squeak out.
“My clover,” he repeats. His eyes are closed, and I can tell he is gathering the strength to tell me whatever is rolling around in his head. He releases my hands and settles himself on his forearms, caging me in and nuzzling into my neck. I bring my arms around him, and lightly stroke his tight back muscles, urging him to talk to me or kiss me…something.
Finally, he slides off me and rolls us both so that we are lying on our sides, face-to-face. He sweeps a piece of my long chestnut hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear, before slowly moving in to kiss me in the same spot. A shiver runs down my body; the action is reminiscent of our first night in his bedroom, when we did nothing but kiss and sleep in each other’s arms. I want to pull him back on top of me and let him devour me, but instead, I let him take this where he needs it to go. He is struggling with the words that I know we both feel. Right now, I’m fine with him showing me his feelings with his body; I don’t need the words. I know that I am his–he doesn’t need to say it; I feel it. In this moment, we belong to each other.
“Do you know why mornings are my favorite time of day?” he asks, rubbing his thumb along my bottom lip. I shake my head and kiss the tip of his thumb, adding a little nibble for good measure. He lets out a deep moan, but continues.
“Your eyes are never the same color; they are usually different variations of brown. I can always tell your mood by the shade. But in the mornings, they are something completely different. When you first wake up, they are green. This vivid emerald green that is so enchanting and so stunning that they just pull me in, and I feel like I can lose myself in them. Your eyes are like four-leaf clovers, Viv, and when I wake up next to you, knowing that I’ll be the only one to get to see them like that...” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Viv, I just feel so damn lucky that it’s
just me that gets to see that piece of you.”
His words leave me speechless. What does one say to something so raw? He is showing me emotion that he has never shown anyone before, emotion that I have never even felt before. I have never said ‘I love you’ to anyone before; I know I feel it for Brooks, but God, it’s scary to admit. He has somehow possessed my soul; I have fallen so hard that my heart would shatter if he decided I wasn’t what he wanted anymore. I don’t know if I could survive him, but I want to.
I smile, but the tears that I have been struggling to hold back begin to slide down my face. He wipes them away with his thumbs and rolls on top of me, stretching his body to cover mine. He looks into my eyes and then at my lips, like he’s asking for my permission. When our eyes meet again, he crashes his mouth to mine. Our kiss is deep and urgent, like we might never get this moment back and we want to savor every second.
Brooks slows us down to catch our breath. “God, I love you, Viv,” he says against my lips with a long exhale. “Don’t ever fucking leave me, Clover; I don’t think I could live without my green mornings.”
And just like that, he calms my anxiety. He slowly lifts my shirt and begins kissing down my body, exploring every inch with his delicious lips. All I can think about is how he won’t hurt me; he is as scared as I am, but found the guts to tell me anyways. He laid it all out there for me; can I really let him think I didn’t feel the same? My brain is whispering. Yes, you can. Men leave; protect your heart. But my heart is shouting, tell him, or you will lose him! My heart wins the battle.
Pulling him up to meet my face, I kiss his swollen lips, and then push him over so that I can straddle his strong legs. He grips onto my hips and I can feel his excitement, his need for me. I grind into him, and he hisses between his gritted teeth. I lean down and place feather kisses along his cheekbones and over his eyes. Slightly pulling back, I sigh, “I love you too, Brooks, but please don’t break me.”