Chapter 51
Warning
*Mature Content*
I had been sitting in my car outside Wayne's house for fifteen minutes. I wasn't looking at the door he pushed me up against. I wasn't looking at the window I climbed into when I was too desperate to wait to see him until the next day. I'm looking at my soft, black leggings wondering if he will reach out and touch them. I was trying to remember when the last time he held my hand was. Sixteen minutes now.
I turned my car off, stopping the air conditioning's process of not making me melt to death in the late spring weather. I should sit in the hot car and let myself sweat instead of cry. Seventeen minutes.
I know he was watching me. I don't dare look, but I know he was. Before I could help myself, I was out of the car, locking it, walking up to his black door. As my knuckles grazed the door, Wayne opened it as if he was standing there, waiting for me to knock.
His eyes were wide, but started to relax as we stared at each other. They crawled over my body as he slowly exhaled. I couldn't help but blush. His shirt was a navy blue and he paired it with grey sweatpants.
"Hi." I breathed. Wayne gently shook his head. "Are you going to let me in?"
He laughed at himself and moved to the side. As I walked passed him, I smelt his signature coffee scent. I froze in place when he closed and locked the front door behind me. I saw him stealing a glance at the back of my leggings.
"What?" I scoffed and smiled at his slack jaw. He cleared his throat and went straight for his bedroom. When he touched the handle, I took a step back.
I know my boundaries. To save myself from further pain and reflection, I cannot walk through that door. I can't see the corner that caged me in with the monster that I blamed myself for unleashing.
"I don't want to go in there." I stood my ground. Wayne nodded and went off to the living room. Relieved, I followed him.
A blanket was loosely thrown on the chaise. It was rumpled, as if he had been sleeping on his couch. I don't blame him. If something like that had happened in my bedroom, I wouldn't want to sleep in there either.
Wayne waved a hand over the spot, then scratched the back of his head. He reminded me of a child making a mess and showing their parents proudly. I let out a little giggle and took a seat on his "mess."
I rotated my phone back in a circle, switching it between my fingers. My head hung and I bit my lip. My leg tapped on the ground.
"What do you want to do?" I spoke up. My stomach growled and red traveled all over my face.
"Can I cook for you?" He said. "I have something I think you'll like."
I looked up at his hopeful eyes. How does he make me smile so easily?
I agreed and he offered me the remote. He told me to put on anything I want. I laid down under the thick throw.
I wanted to start watching Bridgerton on Netflix. A new season had come out a month ago, but I needed to finish the first one. I turned on the pilot episode.
"Aren't you going to join me?" I looked over my shoulder to see him laying out all of the ingredients for a meal I remember all too well.
"I'm watching, gorgeous." Wayne spoke casually. He moved gracefully around the kitchen, like didn't realize what he had said, and how it affected me.
I lost myself in the film. I wished I could talk like the Bridgertons. Anything I said would sound like a poem. I feel like the Penelope Featherington of my family.
The smell of a home-cooked meal made me curious. Perhaps he was trying to rehash our relationship through food. On a tray, he presented me with six street tacos, identical to the ones he had brought me when he climbed through my window. The tray acted as a table on my lap. As he placed it there, his forehead almost touched mine. Almost.
"Thank you." I took a bite, tasting nostalgia on my tongue.
"Anytime." Wayne sat down on the couch, at least a foot away from me. It felt like he was miles away.
Did I think he would sit closer? I thought he would have gotten the hint when I agreed to meet up with him that I wanted to spend more time with him. I just needed to ease my way into it. He must be restraining himself, or at least that is what I was hoping.
I scarfed the tacos down. He needs to be a chef or something.
"You really think I should?"
I turned my head slowly in his direction, swallowing my last bite. "Should what?"
"Be a chef?" He said with a sideways smile. A pause. "I don't normally cook for other people. Just myself."
I nodded, going along with my mistake of thinking out loud.
"I mean," I scrunched my nose, "you cook for me."
"Yes, but I l-like you." He stumbled on the word, like. I sat up to set my dish on the coffee table, but Wayne swooped in and rushed to the kitchen to wash it.
I was shot back on the couch. "Thank you."
"Don't worry about it." Wayne rushed back to me. He almost tried to sit further away. I thought he wanted to see me.
"Wayne?"
"Yes, my love?" Wayne quickly added, "sorry."
I wished he didn't say sorry. I want him to call me that again. That and so much more.
I met his eyes and opened the blanket I was under. He backed up the smallest bit. I sighed, disappointed in myself for thinking he would come back to me.
"I just don't want to hurt you."
"I'm okay, Wayne. I feel safe." I am trying to feel safe.
I thought about my betrayal to him as he came closer. I scoot to the back of the couch to give him enough room. Wayne crawls in the blanket with me.
He doesn't touch me under the covers. I am not sure if it is out of respect or disgust. Paranoia says the ladder.
The tv continues, as if it ignores the awkward tension in the room. Hours pass simply when I become more invested in the show. I lay one of my hands flat on the sofa. The end of my pinky finger brushed Wayne's. I hate this. I hate this so much. I want to touch more of him.
As much as I thought he would, Wayne didn't move away. His head extended backward. He exhaled through his nose.
"Can we stop doing this?" His strained words stabbed my little heart.
"Why? What did I do?" My shoulders hunched and I moved my hand away.
"I can't do this." He covered his face with his hands, digging his fingertips into his hairline. The knife inside my chest twisted.
We were done. This is over. I'm over. I'm dead. My corpse must get out of this wretched place.
I sat up, planning on driving home alone and locking myself in my room. Wayne let me do no such thing. He grabbed my elbow and made me fall back on the chaise.
"I need to feel you." He breathed. Wayne's palms slid up the side of my thighs. I bent my arms, my fists covering my rosy cheeks.
"Tell me when you want me to stop. I will stop and you can leave and we will never speak of this again. But, if you don't want me to stop, feel free to be as loud as you want."
Fucking finally. I missed his fingers wandering underneath my t-shirt. I missed the feeling of his warm breath on my ear as he nibbles at it. His moans matched mine.
Before I knew it, he was on top of me. I held his shoulders, near the curve of his neck. Wayne's skin was on fire.
His hands were on my stomach, and I instinctively sucked it in. They ran lower and lower until he cupped my pussy. The size of his hand compared to it made me whimper.
I didn't want it to stop. I didn't want to think about anything else. But, I couldn't help myself.
I thought about Ruby and Dom touching me. Their hands covered every inch of my body. But, I can barely remember them grabbing me down there. I can only remember it when I touch it. Thinking about what they did left a bad taste in my mouth.
I tapped on Wayne's shoulder. "Hold on, hold on." I said, dizzy from the overwhelming thoughts.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Wayne took his hands off of me. "You can leave if you would like. It's fine."
Before he fully got off of me, I wrapped my arms around his torso. In my mind, he was my safe place. He will always be my safe place.
His body surrounded mine. Arms cradling my head, hands rubbing my back. Our legs were intertwined. I buried myself in his scent of coffee.
"I didn't mean to... stop... you," I wheezed.
"Shhh," Wayne shushed me. "Breathe with me."
I followed the movements of his chest. I was shaky with my breaths, but I made it work. I tend to have attacks on my sanity most days of my life. I stare at the corner of a wall or the floor for an unnecessarily long time. Or, these breathless episodes would come about at random times.
Sometimes, I thought I should see somebody about it. I had never considered therapy to be a good idea for me. I didn't like the thought of word vomiting my doubts for the second-hand embarrassment of another person. On the other hand, it could be what I needed to not make those decisions again.
I loosened the strain in my muscles and closed my eyes. Wayne moved my waist closer to him to make our chests touch.
"You are so delicate, Bethany." He kissed my forehead. "Beautiful, beautiful Bethany."
~
We are almost done, my beautiful readers.
~B