Get off on the Pain
Page 34

Pulling my messy hair to the side and out of my face, I quickly make my way up the stairs, but try to be quiet so that I don’t accidently wake Alex. I’ve already disturbed one brother’s sleep, obviously. I didn’t see Alex last night when I came in, so he must’ve already been in his room. I know he was here, because his truck was parked outside.
Quietly, I walk down the hall past Alex’s room—which is open—and through the living room into the kitchen. I don’t see either one of them, so I peek my head into the garage to find that they’re not in there either. It’s when I close the garage door that I hear what sounds like Memphis’ guitar coming from the back of the house.
I follow the sound toward the back porch. I stop and freeze when I see Alex leaning against the screen door, listening to Memphis play his guitar.
Alex turns to me, his face all bruised and swollen, taking me by surprise. He looks me over as if he can’t believe I’m actually here. He looks completely confused, but shit so am I. What the hell happened to him? He looks like hell. I get ready to freak out and say something, but he places his finger to his lips and shushes me. “Come here,” he says softly.
Swallowing back my shock, I walk over to stand next to him. I see a small smile cross his face as he looks out into the darkness and listens to the peaceful sound of Memphis’ guitar. There’s something about his playing that makes you feel strangely at peace.
I look through the screen door and into the darkness, but all I can make out is Memphis’ shadow. He looks so relaxed and undisturbed. The tune that he’s playing is a hauntingly beautiful sound. It’s something I’ve never heard before and it makes me wonder if he wrote it himself.
“It’s so beautiful,” I whisper to Alex. “Why is he out there playing? It’s chilly out.”
Alex turns toward me, and his eyes glass over. It almost looks as if he’s fighting back tears. “Memphis used to always play back here for our mother.” He takes in a small breath and places his hand to the glass with his head down. “At first it used to just be her that he played for, but then one night I heard him playing and I sat out next to our mother and ended up listening for hours. I was young then, but I remember the feeling as if it were yesterday. I’ve never seen anything bring a smile to my mother’s face like when Memphis played. She loved it and our father hated it. He hated the fact that she loved it so much. Then it got to the point that if I couldn’t sleep we would all end up out here on the porch, listening to him play until I could fall asleep.” He turns to me and looks me straight in the eyes. His eyes are just as breathtaking as Memphis’ except Alex’s are a silver-grayish color. These boys are definitely painfully beautiful. “He’s a good guy. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t let him tell you otherwise. Got it?”
Nodding my head, I turn back toward the door to watch Memphis play.
I feel an ache in my chest as I listen. I can feel the pain with each stroke of his fingers, as if he’s baring himself to us through his music. Everything about Memphis makes my heart ache. I can’t imagine what he’s been through, but I really want to know.
I never really got the chance to know my mother, because she ran off when I was five. I can’t imagine having her around for most of my life and then losing her when he couldn’t even stay around for her. I feel for these boys, both of them. No mother, and from what I can see no father either. Neither have any family, just each other.
I can’t help but to ask this next question. It’s eating at me. “Alex?” He turns to me with soft eyes, peeking through his swollen lids. “Where’s your–”
The music stops and I hear what sounds like Memphis setting his guitar down. For some reason my heart skips a beat when I see him stand up.
“What are you two doing awake? It’s early as shit.”
Placing his hand on the small of my back, Alex pushes the screen door open and holds it for me to walk out first. “I couldn’t sleep, and apparently neither of you two could either. You know I don’t sleep for shit.”
Memphis catches a glimpse of his shirt and looks me up and down, before he walks over to me, his jaw steeled. His eyes change, becoming heated, as if he’s ready to strip it from me and take me hard and rough again. It has my heart racing at the memory. “You should get some sleep.” He brushes my hair behind my ear and slightly tugs on the end before releasing it. It was almost a gentle gesture. “I’ll be downstairs soon. I need some fresh air.”
I let out a small breath and turn to Alex. He’s watching Memphis and I, but he looks like he’s in a lot of pain. “Do you need anything,” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. Pain doesn’t faze me one bit.” He smiles small. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” I look from Alex to Memphis and see a small smile on Memphis’ face. It’s so damn beautiful.
Both the boys watch me for a moment before I turn away and make my way back downstairs. I take a seat on the edge of Memphis’ bed and let myself get lost in thought. It hits me that I have no idea why I’m even here. I don’t really know much about Memphis, yet a part of me is extremely drawn to him, wanting him more than I should. It scares me.
As much as I want to be close to him, I feel like a fool at the same time. The truth is, he barely knows anything about me either. I just know that I feel for him, and that I want to comfort him.
Standing up, I search for my clothes and start to get dressed. I think maybe it’s best if I just go home. I have a lot of thinking to do, and I won’t be able to think clearly lying next to him in his bed. When I’m here I can’t think rationally. I don’t want to.
Memphis appears at the bottom of the steps right as I reach for my jacket and slip it on. I look up at him as he scans my body, seeing that I’m fully dressed. “I should go home.”
He reaches out and grabs my wrist as I attempt to walk past him. “I never said you had to go.”
I look into his eyes and hold his stare. He looks hurt that I’m leaving. It makes me feel guilty. “Tell me something about me, anything at all.”
His grip on my wrist tightens and his eyes stay on mine as if trying to read me. “You’re stubborn as shit and tough as all hell. Your true passion is art and photography, but you’re too damn afraid to realize it. You don’t see the beauty in what you do, because you’re afraid of it not being good enough. That’s why you’re working at that damn tattoo shop with those horny little shits that probably spend most of their time flirting with you instead of working.”