STROKED LONG Read online

  Not one thing she is saying registers in my mind because I’m only focused on the way her hand is holding on to my forearm.

  Human contact.

  I know it sounds stupid and very elementary, but I don’t get much of it, and there is something to say about another human connecting with you, especially when they are as beautiful as Ruby.

  Shit.

  I’m finally fucking admitting it. She’s beautiful. That wall has crumbled. I try not to show my emotions, let alone acknowledge them, but there is no denying Ruby’s beauty. She has a heart-shaped face with pouty lips and big chocolate eyes, eyes that have not vanished from my mind’s eye since they were circled and encrusted with glitter.

  “What do you think?” she asks, turning those coffee irises on me.

  In front of me, she’s holding out a muted blue-green plain curtain. The fabric looks like it belongs on a couch and the color is way too vibrant for me. So not my fucking style.

  “No.”

  “Really?” She raises her eyebrow at me. “It’s the color of water in a pool, I assumed that would be comforting to you.”

  “Too bright.”

  Studying me, she scans my face and I feel the heat of her gaze of her perusal. “You know, you don’t have to speak like a caveman. It’s not required around me. Full sentences work.”

  I don’t acknowledge her teasing. Instead, I fixate on the curtains, wondering if this is a good idea.

  I sound like a giant pussy, but fuck, I don’t change anything. I don’t like change. I have a routine, and I stick with it, anything outside of that routine, that norm, is not easy to adjust to. I’m out of my element, and my heart is about to explode in my chest with how rapidly it’s beating.

  “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” Her grip slips on my arm as I step away, pushing my hands in my pockets. The space between us grows as I back up, unsure of how to respond to her confused look.

  “Bodi, watch—”

  Her words are cut off as my heel connects with a solid object behind me, sending my body backward and into a shelf of curtains. Metal rods poke my back, splintering my muscles with pain as I fall on my ass. My hands search out something to grab hold of but come up short when I connect with the bottom of the shelf behind me. Thanks to my broad frame, tripped-up racks collapse around me, and packaged curtains blanket me like a downpour of rain . . . but in the fabric sense.

  “Oh my God.” With a hand to her mouth in shock, she kneels in front of me and searches my eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Fuck,” I mumble and try to get up, but I’m tangled in all the metal that’s fallen over me.

  “Let me help.”

  “I’ve got it,” I snap, more from embarrassment than anything.

  “Clearly you don’t,” Ruby says, not caught off guard by my temper. Rather, she ignores me and pulls on my arm.

  Reluctantly, I allow her to help me up. Packages of curtains tumble off me and onto the floor, as well as all the displays I ran into. It’s a lovely mixture of metal and tiled floors clashing together, ringing out, causing everyone around to stare in my direction. I’m fucking mortified.

  “Hey, you’re bleeding,” Ruby points out, looking down at my arm.

  Scanning my forearm, I see the scrape where a burning sensation started to develop the minute I crashed into the shelf—fucking idiot. “It’s nothing.”

  “You need to get it cleaned out,” she insists.

  “I’m fine. I just need to get out of here.”

  Panic rises in my chest, everything around me seems to be heightened in my senses. The lights are brighter, shoppers’ voices are louder, the smells of fresh fabric seem overwhelming. Everything is so fucking overwhelming.

  “Hey,” Ruby places her hand on my chest. She must be able to feel my rapid heartbeat. “Bodi, take a deep breath.” Concerned eyes stare at me, those big pools of chocolate catch my attention as her hand gently rubs the spot right above my heart. “Can I clean up your arm quickly before you leave? I would like to help you, if that’s okay.”

  Her voice is calm, sweet, fucking hypnotizing. Glancing around, my big disturbance doesn’t seem to be as big as it is in my head, because no one is around, it’s just the two of us.

  All she wants to do is make sure you’re okay. Give her that for not running the minute you freaked the fuck out.

  I nod, letting her lead me to her cart where she opens her purse and pulls out a first aid kit. I can’t help the smirk that graces my face. She carries around a first aid kit?

  “Do you always have that with you?”

  Looking at me, she notices my smirk, which sets off her smile like a giant bright light bulb. She is so fucking beautiful.

  “I do. You never know when you will need a Band-Aid. Target can be a hot bed for accidents.”

  “Sure,” I respond, my smile fading.

  My forearm is twisted in all different directions as she examines the abrasion. “Hmm, looks like you are going to need stitches. Is that going to affect your swimming?”

  “What?” I practically shout, turning my arm to look at it. Stitches? No fucking way.

  I’m examining the cut when Ruby starts laughing next to me, slapping her knee as if she just told the funniest joke ever. “Oh man, the look on your face was priceless.” Imitating me with a deep voice, she replays my movements and says, “What? Nooooo! Olympics!” Dramatically, she raises her fist in the air and crumbles to the floor, still holding up her arm. As if I acted like that.

  I might be a freak, but she’s fucking weird too.

  “That’s not how I reacted.”

  Using the cart to hoist herself up, she stands tall and straightens out her dress. “Pretty sure that was a very accurate reenactment. Spot on, actually.”

  “Not even close.”

  “Debatable.”

  I shake my head at her, as the tension in my body starts to dissipate. Funny how she can so easily do that to me.

  “But seriously, let me get this cleaned up. Can’t have your arm fall off from infection. Can you imagine saying you got an infection from picking out curtains? Not your best day.”

  Could be worse, I think, watching her gently clean my arm.

  ***

  “Curtains? What do you mean you got hurt picking out curtains? I didn’t think you liked that frilly stuff.”

  Why did I bring this up? I have one task at eight thirty, to check in with Eva and make sure she’s all locked up. Instead of getting off the phone after I hear her confirmation, I start to talk about my day and how I ran into Ruby. Fuck was she happy to hear that. She has too much riding on Ruby and me making a match; it’s starting to get annoying.

  “I just thought I would take a look at them.”

  “Why?” she asks, her voice completely confused.

  “Because.” I don’t want to tell her because Ruby mentioned them, she would never let me live it down.

  “Great explanation, bro.”

  “It doesn’t matter why I was looking at curtains.”

  “It does matter if you almost triggered a panic attack in the middle of Target. Were you thinking about Mom and Dad?”

  “No,” I answer promptly.

  To be honest, I haven’t come that close to having a panic attack in public for a while. It was frightening at how close I was to full-on debilitating fear. She held me while the police came into our house, looking for answers. I could barely breathe. She had held me. Cried with me. We’d been crying. So much crying. When we first lost our parents, panic attacks were an almost everyday occurrence. I could have them anywhere, and they would bring me to my knees, having no control over my breathing or the convulsions to my body. It was humiliating, causing me to hate everything about me. It took a lot of therapy to get me to the point of no longer breaking down in panic. Many, many years of therapy.

  So why the hell did the tight grasp I had on my panic slip today in Target?

  One word: Ruby.

  She does something to me. She terrifies me. I don�
�t allow anyone to see the real me. The weak me. No one has ever seen my true colors besides Eva and Lauren. No one should ever see my sick brand of fucked-up crazy. I have nothing to offer.

  “Bodi, just talk to me.” Frustration rings clear in her voice, making me feel guilty that I’ve laid this burden on her. But fuck, I needed to talk to someone.

  “I don’t know. I was trying something new, and I lost my shit. It was too much.” I rub my eye with the palm of my hand and lean back on my couch. “Shit, Eva. It was fucking curtains, and I couldn’t pull it together. I lost it in front of Ruby.”

  “Is that what you’re really worried about? Losing it in front of Ruby?”

  Yes. Desperately worried.

  “No. It’s just . . .” I pause, trying to figure things out in my head. “Will my life ever be normal?”

  She sighs, not out of frustration though. “I love you, Bodi, and I believe it can be normal for you, but you have to step outside your comfort zone to get there.”

  “Much help that did for me today,” I scoff.

  “Don’t let today deter you from trying new things. Today was a minor blip in the radar. I mean . . . what were you doing getting curtains? If you’re going to step out of your comfort zone, try doing something you’re somewhat familiar with.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Instead of going to Target to get something you’ve never even considered before, something that would change the ambiance of your sanctuary, why don’t you try changing up what time you swim with your coach, or not washing your hair three times in the shower, or swimming in a different pool? Those are all things you are familiar with, but you can change without throwing yourself into the unknown. Make sense?”

  Just the thought of changing any of those things makes my entire body itch.

  “I don’t like the idea of changing any of those.”

  “That’s what stepping out of your comfort zone is, Bodi. You’re not going to do things you like, you have to do things you normally wouldn’t do, things you don’t like to do, to experience more. If you really want to move on, you have to put yourself out there.”

  “I’m not strong enough,” I answer honestly.

  “This coming from the man who’s medaled in every Olympic race you’ve swum in. You’re strong, Bodi, you just don’t know it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say; you’re not fucked up like me.”

  “Bodi,” she replies, her voice heavy. “I was in the room next to you that night. I held you in the tub of our shower, shaking from pure fear. I’m fucked up, but I’ve chosen to live, not crawl in a hole.”

  “Yeah, but you weren’t the one who left the door unlocked.” A knot in my throat forms, tightening with every word I speak. Tears prick my eyes as memories flood my mind of that devastating and life-changing night. I can still see the blood. Hear Eva’s screams. Because of me.

  I hate remembering her face when we buried our parents, when we said out last goodbyes.

  “He would have found a way in the house no matter what. He was a psycho with a vendetta, Bodi.”

  “Yeah, but I made it easier for him.”

  “Don’t,” Eva says firmly. “Don’t fucking start with the pity party. We’ve moved past this with Dr. Auburn. We’ve made progress from the past and we’ve moved forward. Do not start blaming yourself again. Do you understand me?”

  That night will forever be branded in my brain as my fault. No matter how many times I talk about it with Dr. Auburn. I might act like it wasn’t my fault to move forward in therapy, but deep down, I harbor the feeling of failing my family, of taking responsibility for everything that happened that night.

  Without my mistake, there’s a huge chance my parents could still be alive today. No doubt in my mind.

  Chapter Five

  RUBY

  “Gah, this thing is so tight. Why do they make them so tight? I don’t understand. I don’t have any room in here.” Struggle is my middle name right about now.

  “Because it’s a bathing suit and most people like to make sure they stay on when they’re swimming around,” Lauren calls out from her stall. “And you are the only person who insists upon getting dressed in the bathroom stall.”

  “Sorry that I don’t like to have people watch me shimmy into my bathing suit. I kind of like to keep my private parts to myself.”

  “How hard is it to put a two piece on? You would think my one piece would be more difficult.” Her stall door unlocks, and her feet rest at the front of my stall. “Come on, Ruby.”

  “You’re so im . . . patient,” I grunt. “Screw you, bottoms.”

  “Why are you having such a hard time? Isn’t it just a pair of undies and bra you have to put on?”

  “It’s more than that,” I answer, a loud snap sounding in my stall. “Jeeze,” I huff, resting my hand against the wall, boobs still out and about. “I’ve worked up a sweat already.”

  “I’ve got to see this bathing suit.”

  “It’s adorable.”

  “Adorable isn’t really what is conducive to swim lessons.”

  It is when you’re taking them from Hotty McHotty Pants with the destructive blue eyes and sixteen-pack of abs. Yes, sixteen. Each individual ab has its own set of abs. He’s devastating with his shirt off.

  After speaking with Eva, since Bodi wasn’t taking my calls, I will blame his ignoring tendencies on the Target incident, I realize I know nothing about swimming and to make an impact on the foundation, I need to get to know the sport a little more. Therefore, I signed up for one of Bodi’s classes . . . swimming with a bunch of kids. Even though I will be floating around with a bunch of booger-eating earthlings, I felt it important to buy a new bathing suit.

  Am I trying to impress Bodi? Uh, yeah.

  That’s why I’m putting on my vintage-inspired, high-waist two-piece I purchased off ModCloth two days ago. That speedy shipping just about broke the bank, but it was an important investment. Too bad I didn’t try the sucker on until just now, something I probably should have done before I showed up at the pool.

  Please look cute, please look cute.

  The model in the photo couldn’t have been more adorable in the navy blue polka-dot bathing suit with matching sweetheart top and red pipe stitching. It’s so nautical and adorbs. Ahoy mateys!

  The soft fabric gathers at the back of my neck where I tie it off with a secure double knot. Just because I want to do my boobs some justice, I lift them up individually and situate them to look more perky. Smoothing my hands down my bodice, I appreciate the high waist of the bottoms that shape my curves into a Jessica Rabbit-type figure.

  I guess it’s a good thing the bottoms are tight.

  Feeling pleased, I make my debut and do a little spin for Lauren who stands to the side, hip jutted out and slow clapping for me, complete sarcasm rolling off her.

  “You done? I want to catch the end of Bodi’s practice. Come on.”

  Bodi’s practicing? Well, why didn’t she say so beforehand? That lights a fire under my ass.

  “Well then, let’s get going,” I say a little too energetically.

  The pool is closed off for Bodi; he likes to practice without people coming up to him, but Lauren is on the VIP list—she has access to the pool—and directs us through the secret hallways to the pool deck where Bodi’s coach’s voice booms through the four walls, counting off seconds. Stepping through the door, my eyes immediately fixate on Bodi’s arms propelling him through the water.

  “Three, two, one.”

  On one, Bodi’s feet hit the end of the pool to form a perfect flip turn, sending him back down the length of the pool.

  “Earth to Ruby,” Lauren calls out from a bench on the side of the pool. “Come sit down.”

  Yikes, I was totally staring. Acting casual, I traipse to the seat next to Lauren, acting as nonchalant as possible.

  “Five, four, three, two, one,” his coach yells, a stop watch in his hand and a whistle around his neck.

  Once
again, Bodi hits the wall and turns back around. I’m mesmerized.

  His broad shoulders span across the lane, his powerful arms all muscular and perfect move him forward, and his back flexes with every flutter kick. As if my body is connected to a furnace, everything heats up from my fingertips to my cheeks.

  “He’s so fast,” I whisper.

  “It’s all he’s known,” Lauren says back. “It’s all he ever does.” There is a hint of sadness to her voice, like she wishes Bodi had a life outside the pool. From the few interactions I’ve shared with Bodi, I can tell he doesn’t do much beside swim. And it all comes back to the one question that’s burning inside me. Why?

  “Kick it up, Bodi,” his coach says. “Three, two, one.” Water splashes and Bodi executes another flip turn.

  “What are they doing right now? Why is his coach counting?”

  “I think he’s doing some sort of endurance thing. Sprinting in the pool. I’ve seen him do this before. Bodi has to hit the wall before his coach finishes his count.”

  “At that pace? I would drown.”

  “Tell me about it. I barely swim as it is, so be grateful I’m here with you.”

  “I appreciate it. I think swimming by myself would have been embarrassing.”

  “Yes. Yes, it would have been.” Lauren pats my leg and then cups her mouth to project her voice. “You got this, Bodi.”

  His coach looks up and winks at Lauren, appreciating her cheer.

  “You can cheer him on?” I ask. “I would think his coach wouldn’t want any distractions.”

  “Not Coach Ed. He’s always welcomed Eva and me to his practices. His parents used to go to almost all his practices so to keep things familiar, we try to come as much as possible, shout some encouragement here and there to show our support. He doesn’t show it, but we know he appreciates it.”

  Why does that hurt my heart so much? There is something about Bodi that runs deep in my bones, that causes me to feel the pain he’s feeling, or the panic, or his awkwardness. It’s as if our bodies are spiritually connected, or at least mine is to his.