Page 32 of Tiny Fractures

“Wanna talk about it?” Shane asks out of the blue, eyeing me when I turn my head to face him.

I’m in the passenger seat of Shane’s Jeep Wrangler while Shane makes his way to my house to drop me off. I woke up maybe an hour ago—the house quiet, Cat no longer next to me. Shane informed me when I made my way into the kitchen that Cat had left with Vada and my brother. I just nodded without comment. What was there to say?

Last night did not turn out the way I had planned or expected. Things took a complete turn when I spotted Cat sitting by the small bar, looking decidedly out of it while some dude I had never seen before had her arm slung around his shoulder, trying to hoist her up. I instantly knew something wasn’t right and got confirmation pretty quickly that this lowlife had slipped a roofie into Cat’s drink. It doesn’t take a genius to know what this prick’s intentions were with Cat, and if Cat hadn’t passed out exactly when she did—slumping off the high barstool like a rag doll—I’m not sure I wouldn’t have lost my absolute shit on this Corbin kid right then and there. But instinct took over and my body moved seemingly on its own, rushing toward a falling Cat and catching her just before her head would have hit the gray wood tile.

I let my brother and best friend handle Corbin while I cradled Cat in my arms, her body soft and warm against me, and carried her into one of the guest bedrooms, laid her down, then covered her with the blanket. I left her to sleep, locking the door on my way out to make sure she was safe.

It’s weird how something so dramatic can take place, yet only a handful of people are aware of what went down. The party continued for several more hours, the vast majority of people blissfully unaware of the bullshit that took place inside the house.

It was maybe two-thirty in the morning when things finally quieted down. Zack left with Summer, my brother and Vada retreated into Shane’s sister’s usual bedroom, and Tori turned in for the night, leaving only Shane and me on the deck, recapping the night. That was until Cat emerged from the small bedroom and made her way out to us.

I couldn’t help but smile at her spacey expression and the way her wavy hair was slightly disheveled. It was obvious she was still completely out of it, her speech gravelly, slightly slower, a mixture of sleep and the lingering effects of the Rohypnol affecting her physical and mental state.

“Hi,” I said when her eyes found me. God, even in her impaired state, her grogginess and heavy eyelids on full display, she was still perfect. “You okay?” I got up from my spot next to Shane on the sofa while Shane stayed silent, keeping a watchful eye on Cat as she swayed slightly.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Cat said, her gaze not moving from mine.

“Uh, do you… Do you want me to stay with you?” I asked. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and I knew I was going against my resolve to stay away from Cat. Though I felt a weird sort of elation expand in my chest when Cat—without even the slightest pause—said, “Yes,” then took my hand into hers and led me into the house.

I can’t even explain the battle raging inside me when Cat made herself comfortable on the sofa instead of going back to the bedroom—which would have afforded us much more space and distance than the couch—and waited for me to lie down next to her. Against my better judgment, I obliged, trying my hardest to maintain some physical separation from her. That went out the window when Cat cuddled up against me, rested her head on my chest, and fell asleep within seconds.

I tried to figure out what to do with my hands, where to put them. I ended up just shoving my right hand underneath me and allowed my left to rest on Cat’s shoulder as she slept pressed against me. I just lay there, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of her rib cage—forcing my thoughts away from the sensation of Cat’s small, round breasts pushed against me. I focused instead on my breathing, inhaling her delicate scent—rosewater and lavender. The warmth of her body seeped into my pores and the strangest thing happened: I felt myself relax. The stress of the last few days and the tension in my body melted away, and only minutes later I passed out, too.

I woke up only once, feeling too hot. I took off my flannel and dropped it to the floor, then carefully lay back again. Cat shifted in her deep sleep, and my breathing picked up slightly when she hitched her left leg over mine while gliding her hand underneath my shirt to rest it on my bare chest. Part of me knew I should retrieve her hand, but I admittedly enjoyed her touch, the softness of her fingers on my skin. I fell asleep again before I mustered up the energy—or the willpower—to do anything about Cat’s subconscious caress.

I know I’m in trouble. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on Cat, knew it this morning when I woke up without Cat next to me and felt disappointed—and simultaneously relieved—that she had left with Vada and my brother.

What am I going to do?

“Talk about what?” I ask Shane, feigning ignorance.

“Whatever it is that’s got you stuck in your head right now,” he says matter-of-factly, his eyes moving between me and the road ahead of him. “I’ve known you pretty much all my life, Ran. I can tell when something is off, even though you never want to talk about it.”

I turn my head away from him to look out the passenger window, watching the cityscape fly by. Shane’s right; I’m in my head. I’m in my head a lot, but today is different. I’m in my head about Cat. Of course it’s about her. I know I should stay away from her. No, not should—have to, for her sake. But god, I’m drawn to her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And we did have a talk that one time,” I say, referencing the time Shane figured out what was going on in my house, with my mom. Kind of.

Shane shoves his hand against my shoulder, getting me to look back at him. I frown at the unnecessary force. “You gotta stop bottling everything up, Ran,” he says, both anger and concern in his eyes. “And we didn’t really talk then; you never gave me the chance!”

I cock my head to the right. Here goes nothing. “I think…” I start but trail off. I’m scared to say the words out loud; that might make them real.

“You think?” Shane’s eyebrows rise expectantly.

I take a deep breath and let the words fall out of my mouth. “I think I may be falling for Cat,” I say, the weight of the confession slumping into the pit of my stomach like I just swallowed a rock.

Shane looks taken aback, but a smile forms on his lips. “Okay, well that’s not what I thought you’d say. Not really that surprising, but still not what I thought you’d say. But I mean, you falling for Cat is good, isn’t it?”

I look at him, confounded and exhausted. “No, it’s not!”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t, Shay.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t be with her. She deserves… someone… not so fucked up. Someone who doesn’t get his ass whipped by his mother. Someone … better… I don’t know.” I let my head fall back against the headrest.

Shane stays silent for a long moment, looking ahead of him, but there’s pity in his eyes. I hate pity.

“She’s still hitting you, huh? Your mom?” he asks with a glance at me. I don’t answer his question. I don’t want to get into it; there’s no fucking point. “Ran, I…” he starts, but I hold up my hand, cutting him off before he can give me a lecture about how I need to tell someone or whatever.

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