Page 112 of Touch Me

“Like you were a Girl Scout,” Alex scoffs.

“Of course I was. Our summer camp shared a campus with the Boy Scouts,” she laughs. “I would sneak in my mom’s romance novels and let them read excerpts. Had all of them knocking on my window in the middle of the night. That, and I developed really early. By the age of fifteen I was a full C-cup.”

“You read romance novels to a bunch of horny fifteen year olds. Like any of you even knew what to do at that point,” Jen says.

“Why do you think I read them? I learned a lot and taught them a thing or two along the way.” Ashley shrugs and smirks.

“But you didn’t actually let them do stuff, right?” Alex asks.

“How do you think they would wet their fingers to turn the pages?” She throws her head back and laughs.

“Oh. My. God. I could’ve gone my whole life without ever hearing those words.” Alex throws his hands up in front of himself to halt the conversation. “I need brain bleach to get that imagery out of my head.”

“Margaritas will have to do. Let’s finish this day.”

“Agreed,” they say in unison.

I focus my attention back to my emails and click the link for the gallery opening. My vision blurs and all the noise in the room fades away. “No, no, no.”

“What? What is it?” Jen leans over and looks at my screen.

I slap my laptop shut, throw it in my bag, and stand, frantically spinning around gathering all my stuff. “I have to go.”

THIRTY-ONE

DON’T TOUCH ME

The sweat dripsoff my face and collects in droplets on the rubber mat below me. My legs are weakening, and I don’t know how many sets they have left in them. I rack the bar and pace in front of the squat rack, knowing I won’t quit, can’t quit. Not with the shitstorm brewing in my head. I’ll keep pumping and lifting until the chaos quiets, muscles be damned.

The sun was scorching hot today. In the rush to leave this morning, grabbing Cassie’s lunch, I forgot to throw a bottle of water in my bag. I stopped in a little deli to grab a drink and that’s when I saw it. A flyer hanging behind the cash register. A flyer for a gallery opening. And right there, in the bottom right corner was my collage of the sun and moon with a caption reading:

Seasons Change. Up and coming new nature photographer, Jace Lancaster, showcases his first gallery piece.

At that moment, it was like my brain immediatelyerupted and my heart imploded. I don’t remember the walk. The next minute I was home, with no memory of the trip. I stood in Cassie’s room, staring at the piece hanging above her desk, surrounded by the smell of her, engulfed and suffocating.

I came straight to the gym and haven’t left since. I should text her and tell her not to come home, but I can’t seem to drag myself away, to stop the laborous torture. The music is blaring, and yet I can’t even hear what’s playing. My brain is on a constant cycle of flashbacks, flipping like channels on a broken loop.

Kids pushing me around the locker room. Cassie splashing in the pool. My skin on fire. Dad throwing one of my books across the room. Cassie’s laugh, heard from down the hall. Drunk girls pawing at my clothes. Dad slamming the door, tires screeching on the pavement as he peels out of the driveway. Cassie’s hair fanned across my pillow. My hands shaking. My head breaking the water after a fall from my surfboard, lungs fighting for air. Dad screaming at Mom through a closed door. Cassie’s nails scoring my back. Dad. Cassie. Torture. Dad. Cassie. Torture. An endless loop.

I’m pacing the rubber floor, muscles screaming, willing oxygen into my cells so I can continue my penance. Penance for letting myself trust. Penance for believing in something that is the exact opposite of everything this world has ever shown me.

Penance for loving her.

Just when I have enough breath to pick the rack back up, the door opens and she timidly walks in. She goes over to the stereo and turns the music down, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Sorry to interrupt, you got a minute?”

“You need to go.” I turn my back on her. No eye contact, never again.

“How did you... nevermind. Jace, listen—”

“I said go.”

“Let me explain.” She takes a step further into the room. “I didn’t do it.”

“Cassie, don’t. Just go.” I retreat, like a caged animal, to the darkest corner of his cage.

“I swear, I didn’t—”

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