BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 20 ||

Counting one sheep, two sheep, three could possibly knock me out and stopping my brain from wandering. As my eyelids sealed shut, the darkness engulfed me into the nightfall. I pretended the sleeping tactic was progressively working. My thoughts buzzed in my mind on "what could've been said's" or "what I'll never say anyways" until it was too late. I tripped on counting the days until the summer ended, the days I was supposed to go to Cali, the days my dance teacher would call to ask me to come back, seeing Beau days, back to school days, and seeing Mom days.

How long I'd be here ones too.

It always helps when I'm not tired.

My phone shook the blanket and I immediately ignored it.

The vibration occurred again and I resisted the urge of checking and caring for the matter but I couldn't help it. I did anyway.

The phone lights glaring could've blinded me as an email notification form spasm mail decided to clog my mailbox.

The second came from him.

I sat up straighter to read what the message was about with stiff limbs and a heavy heart.

I'm outside. Can you unlock the door?

I probably read the text a million times because I didn't reply so suddenly. I couldn't move but I did. Beau's car wasn't anywhere outside and it never muffled its engine to wake everyone else up. The porch lights dimmed down on the front extended staircase touching the edge of the driveway. No car in plain sight was in fact visible, but one Beau.

Creeping down the stairs , I toe-heeled footsteps I was taught in ballet which always made my steps whispers. The bottom and top locks quietly revealed Beau but I rather talk upstairs so he trailed behind me. His shoes made low thumps and silent movements like his arm rubbing against his jacket as we headed to his room.

My back faced him and I pulled a thread of hair confused where my hands should go as he let the door close. He was here, he was in this room and I had so much to say but nothing came out.

My brain once full, emptied.

So I spun around to see your back pressed the bedroom door close with a sluggish posture and I fumbled with my words in dead air and sleeps.

Uh—m. . ." I mumbled, Beau decided to take charge and instead came to me with a thought of his own. He snatched the fabric of my thick ragged tee and pulled me in. Our chest hit at a violent impact and I crashed my palms into his chest.

My hands connected to his neck to allow him to mold our lips together and deepen it, making me miss how much they tasted.

We played rough tonight. I jumped up to wrap my dancer legs around his slim torso. He gripped my lower thighs to catch them. Beau shoved me back against the dainty dresser and the big mirror wobbled but we didn't care because physical contact only mattered. The cosmetic brushes and matte lipsticks dug into my skin where my hands placed. The items scattered away. Some falling off the shelf. But the painful sensation didn't compare to us.

My butt rested on the counter, our breathing so uncontrollable, Jewelz might hear. I mentioned Jewelz might find out in his earlobe. Hear us. Beau whispered against my neck that he didn't want to stop. I told him I didn't want to either.