Page 113 of I Blame the Rival

“I want to do all those things with you too.” I falter, feeling the honest truth press against my tongue, “But if we rush into things I could hurt you. And if that happens I would never forgive myself.”

The thought of making Lacey cry, or worse, making her recovery process painful has resentment rippling through me. Shoving myself off the bed, I walk over to my desk and grab a fresh sheet of paper.

My fingers are shaking when I press the tip of my pencil down.

“You aren’t going to hurt me, Skylar. Do you know why?”

The lines I’m leaving behind are sharp and merciless, the cruel twist of my pencil tarnishing the white sheet in front of me.

“Because I trust you. I trust that you will do whatever it takes to make sure I’m comfortable, and I trust that if I told you to stop, that’s what you would do.”

My pencil slows to a stop, the harsh beat of my heart pounding in my ears.

“That’s the bare minimum a person should do for their partner, Flower.”

“Then you should have no problem surpassing my expectations.”

She’s smiling. I can hear it in her voice and picture it in my head. She’s smiling and here I am, destroying an innocent piece of paper because I’m terrified I won’t be strong enough to help her.

Fuck. I’m such a mess.

Crumpling the piece of paper in front of me, I blow out a breath and start afresh. I sketch the outline of Lacey’s smile, the untamed curls flowing over her shoulder and down her back. Colouring in the freckles and birth marks I’ve been able to find, I slowly create a silhouette of her body.

“Anyways, I should let you go. Nico will be back soon but I just wanted to get that off my chest.”

“I’m glad you called.” I hesitate, staring at the partial sketch in front of me, “About what we talked about earlier… don’t feel like you have to do something you aren’t comfortable with, Flower. Not for me.”

Silence falls on the other end.

Chewing my lip, I pass time by shading in the edges of her collarbone, carefully leaving space for the splatter of freckles that sits at the base of her throat.

“There’s no one else I would rather be uncomfortable for. Have a good night, Skylar.”

I blow out a breath, “Goodnight, Flower.”

Our call ends but my pencil doesn’t stop moving.

Losing myself in the piece before me, I sharpen the crease of her smile, brighten the colour of her eyes, and shade in the juts of her elbows and knees. Outlining the shape of her breasts, I leave her body bare except for the thin edge of her panties hugging the curve of her waist. I colour in the flowers lining the band of the panties I remember taking off, the delicate petals bringing a smile to my face.

That was a good day.

By the time I resurface, it’s long past midnight and my hand feels like it’s about to fall off. Flexing my fingers against the ache, I stare at the drawing, noting the intricate dance of her freckles. They creep along her body like landmarks, disappearing only in the places I haven’t explored yet.

Pushing back from my desk, I’m still thinking about those freckles when I notice the light shining under Vector’s bedroom door. I pause my trek to the bathroom, remembering the demons Lacey has had to face these last few days.

She’s so strong. So determined not to let the past drag her down. And here I am, hiding from the demons living in my own house.

Blowing out a breath, I turn and push open my brother’s door. He’s shirtless, lying on his bed with a textbook of some sort. I stare at the hard cut muscles running along his torso, the obnoxious six-pack rippling with every inhale and exhale.

“I know you’re still taking the steroids.”

I wait for the crash of anger to fill my system, but it never does. The only thing I feel is sorrow for the relationship we lost and regret for the boy who was forced to become a man.

Vector doesn’t look away from his textbook, “Let’s not do this tonight, Sky.”

“You broke your promise.”

“No. I didn’t.”

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