Page 33 of Rectify

My heart hammers inside my ribcage as I open the door, unsure of what to expect. The little voice inside my head tells me I’m going to regret this. Going to regret opening pandora’s box.

My breath hitches at the sight of him. He’s leaning on the wrought iron railing that wraps around my patio, legs crossed at his ankles, arms raised as he lights up a cigarette. He lifts his eyes to meet mine as he drops the one hand holding the lighter. The street light offers a soft glow overhead, showing off his predatory gaze. His posture is relaxed, while his eyes are an emotional storm.

With the cigarette sitting between his thumb and forefinger, I watch his chest rise as he takes the first drag. Exhaling, the plume of smoke travels between us, beckoning me to come closer. The button-up and dress pants from this morning are no longer pressed and sitting perfectly on his body. Rather his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, while the black shirt sits untucked over his pants.

He’s a mess.

A fucking beautiful, intoxicating mess.

9

Jay

It feels surreal to be standing in front of Sasha’s house, with the freedom to take her in, to talk to her. To be in her presence because she wants me here sends bolts of electricity running through me.

On a day where half of me died, and the other is numb, I can’t help but welcome the ripple of warmth flowing through me from being so close to her.

She has no idea she’s offering me the distraction I’m so desperately seeking. The ability to stop time, and let the rest of the world cease to exist. She was always good at it, she just had no idea how much it meant to me. Then, or now.

I straighten my stance and continue to smoke my cigarette. I know I’m a sight for sore eyes, but the way she drinks me in, makes me feel on top of the fucking world. She’s all hungry, and curious, and I want nothing more than to give myself up to her and feed her inquisitive appetite.

I tip my chin up at her. “Can I come in?”

In three steps she’s all up in my space, watching me like it’s the first time she’s really seeing me. Two delicate fingers pluck the stick from my mouth, only to put it between her wet, nude coloured lips.

She inhales.

Blowing the smoke in my face with matured seduction, the ragged coughs of the girl who tried her first cigarette with me nowhere to be found. “I invited you over, didn’t I?”

“You also had a bit of time to come to your senses.”

“Don’t act like you know me,” she quips, defensively.

I hold back my smirk, knowing I hit a nerve, because I do know her, and watch her take another drag. She purses her lips around the butt, and I imagine yanking it out of her hand and covering her mouth with mine. Skillfully inhaling her exhale. Instead I keep my gaze trained on her, my attention and focus undivided.

The mood shifts as she flicks the butt past me, and on to the front yard. Her eyes return to mine; soft and sympathetic. “Are you okay?”

Her question wraps around me like a blanket, offering me a haven. A place I can let myself feel.

“I can’t believe Leroy’s dead,” I whisper, my shoulders dropping in defeat.

She reaches for my face, her hands on either side of my cheeks. Just like her, they’re soft and warm, and my eyes close at the contact.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers back.

I force myself to keep the tears I refuse to cry at bay, before meeting her gaze. “Not your fault, Pretty Girl.”

Her eyes are the colour of diluted whiskey; glassy and compassionate. So much more than I deserve.

“We haven’t been close in years,” I confess, guiltily. “But it still hurts like a motherfucker.” I was used to not being around him every day, but after seeing him, day in and day out, even if he wasn’t conscious, everything feels altered. I don’t know what it will feel like when my mind and heart process that he isn’t part of my daily routine anymore. That he’s no longer breathing. Living. Existing.

“What?” She shakes her head in confusion. “You used to be inseparable.”

Memories of Leroy and I, and our ruckus of a childhood slice through me. “Some things can’t survive change.”

She runs her thumb across my bottom lip, staring at my mouth. “What changed?”

I hold her stare, and soak in her touch. “I did.”

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