The Impact of You
Page 14

She smiles with understanding. “I know. My body likes you too. A lot.”
What is she telling me? Does she want to go farther? “Avery?”
She swallows, summoning her courage. “I hate that I have to think about this. I want this. I do. I just…”
“Shh.” I silence her with a quick kiss. She’s thinking way too hard. “You had fun last night, right?”
A silly grin curves her mouth upward. “What gave you that idea?”
I kiss her again. “Hm. It might have tipped me off when you were screaming my name…”
Her cheeks flush. “Jase…”
“Yeah, baby?”
She’s stewing, working her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I wish I could just let go, be with you like I want to.”
I think I understand what she’s saying. She hates how her wounded past makes her cautious. I get it. I do. There are certain events in life that change a person. Like with my mom. I’ll probably never be that same carefree guy again. I’ll be more watchful, more aware that everything can be taken away when you least expect it. I just wish I could make things easier for her. “Let me take care of you. No thinking tonight. Be with me like you want to. Let me make you feel good.”
She nods. “Yes.”
I lean toward her and drop a soft kiss against her mouth, her throat, the curve of collarbone. Taking my time, I remove each piece of her clothing, kissing her exposed skin as I go, but leaving her panties in place. That will have to be her decision to make. I pull my shirt off over my head, needing to feel her warm skin against mine. I kiss each breast, rub against the damp barrier her panties provide until she’s moaning my name. Reading her body, I push the fabric aside and give her the contact she needs. Her knees fall apart and she whimpers loudly, rolling her hips. Watching Avery come is fucking hot. Suddenly I’m harder than I’ve ever been, but then Avery’s reaching her warm hand into my boxers and stroking me. Faster than I would have thought possible, I lose it. I curl my hand around hers to shield her from the mess that empties from me.
“Fuck, Avery.” I breathe, planting a kiss against her temple.
She smiles, content and clearly pleased with herself over making me come.
I grab some tissues from beside my bed and clean us both off, then lie back beside her. “Stay the night with me?” I ask.
“Yes.” Her eyes blaze with confidence and certainty.
I get the feeling she’s saying yes to more than just a sleepover. She’s saying yes to me, to life, and I pull her against me and hold her tight.
Chapter 20
Avery
I’m still smiling like an idiot as I make it to my dorm room. Madison’s sitting on the futon painting her nails when I arrive. She studies my wrinkled clothes and messy sleep-styled hair with a smirk. “Have fun last night?”
“Yes.” I bite my cheek to avoid squeeing. “It was fun. How was your date?”
“Dull.” She shrugs. “Oh, a package came for you.” Madison nods toward the desk where a large envelope awaits.
Wow. It’s here. A flash of warmth invades my chest.
Madison pauses, holding the bottle of polish. “Avery? What is it?”
“Hm?” I pluck the envelope. “It’s probably just nothing.” Lie. This envelope is everything: The cure to my identity crisis, a link to my past, and a possible future with my mom. Tears prick my eyes, and still clutching the envelope, I head off for the communal bathrooms, needing a moment to myself.
I pull open the curtain to the shower on the far end and sit on the cool tiled bench seat.
Then I hesitate. Maybe I shouldn’t be alone when I open it. I dial Jase’s number, but the call goes to voicemail. After waiting several minutes, I send him a text. I balance the phone on the bench seat beside me. Since he usually replies right away, I’m surprised when he doesn’t text me back.
I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and I’m unable to put it off for even another second. I tear open the envelope and slide out the inch thick stack of papers.
I know Jase said he didn’t have any plans today, so I’m wondering where he could be. That question settles like an uneasy pit in my stomach, but I push it to the back of my mind as I begin reading the opening letter, addressed to me, on the adoption agency letterhead. It acknowledges the difficult journey this process may prove to be and lists resources to help deal with birthparent searches. Awesome. Even they don’t have faith in their process.
The following pages contain boring forms and information that my dads had to complete nineteen years ago. It’s funny to see that their handwriting hasn’t changed a bit in all that time. Seeing the sheer volume of forms and information they supplied overwhelms me. They must’ve really wanted me bad. That thought makes me smile, though it’s quickly followed by a pang of guilt about doing this behind their backs.
I continue leafing through the pages, knowing the good stuff is probably at the back of the pile.
Bingo.
An old photograph of a woman that looks shockingly familiar is clipped to the back page. The same wavy auburn hair and wide-set eyes that greet me in the mirror each morning are staring back at me. I pull in a deep breath, shocked by how young she looks.
Her first name and a generic email account are supplied on the last page.
Huh.
Jessica.
My mom’s name is Jessica.
I’m strangely devoid of emotion as I learn this. Her photo is captivating, though, and I find myself staring at it, brushing it lovingly with my thumb. Tears sting my eyes, and as scary as it is, I stuff the papers back into the envelope and head back to my room to email her. Lord help me for whatever happens next.
* * *
I haven’t heard from Jase in two days. I’ve called and texted several times, and still nothing. I’m more worried than anything else, and since he didn’t show up for class today either, I head straight to his house after.
I let myself in when no one answers the front door. Geez, they should probably keep it locked. The house is empty and quiet, and although my heart is pounding at what I might find, I climb the stairs to the attic. There could be a million reasons for him not calling me back…he could have the flu, maybe something happened with his mom…or the worst – is he back with Stacia? Yet, even as I try to justify his silence, I know it can only mean one thing. I saw Marcy and Stacia talking the other night. I’m sure they saw me too. I guess I just hoped maybe Jase wouldn’t have to find out this way – and from Stacia of all people.
Steeling myself for the worst, I knock on Jase’s door. A few seconds later, I hear the floorboards creak as he crosses the room. A ragged looking Jase peers back at me. He isn’t dressed, hasn’t shaved and his hair’s a complete wreck.
“Jase?”
He doesn’t say anything for several seconds, just continues watching me with guarded eyes. The pain I see reflected back at me is too much. This is why I don’t get close to people. This look. I hate being responsible for it when they learn I’m not who they want me to be.
“Can I come in? Explain at least?” I ask.
Jase’s brow is wrinkled in confusion, but he opens the door a few more inches and saunters away. It’s not exactly a warm welcome, but he’s not shutting me out just yet, either. I step through the door and pull in a steadying breath. I’ve never wanted to explain this before. When confronted with my past, I always flee. Always. But Jase deserves more. So as much as it’s going to suck to tell him this story, I know I have to.
His room is cold and any and all warmth between us is absent too. Jase turns to face me. “Did you know about the pictures?” he asks.
I swallow the grapefruit-sized lump that’s lodged itself painfully in my throat. That’s the thing – it’d be easier to say no, that Brent had tricked me, I didn’t know I was being photographed. But I did know. Brent thought it would be fun, sexy. And I would have done just about anything to hear him say he loved me. It turns out when you have abandonment issues, you’ll do just about anything to feel loved. I needed to feel loved, to be close to someone, and I loved it when Brent held me or touched me. Whether or not it had anything to do with my adoption, I didn’t know, but I craved that affection. During those moments of feeling wanted and desired, it dampened my sense of abandonment. I know these are probably all excuses, and certainly not something Jase is likely to understand. Nor does it erase the fact I kept it from him.
I hang my head, not wanting to see his eyes when I tell him this next part. “Yeah, I knew.” I didn’t say yes to the idea right away – he wore me down over a couple of weeks. And of course what followed wasn’t heartfelt; it wasn’t filled with love at all. It was an experience that left me broken, shattered, and humiliated. “When we broke up a couple weeks later, he shared the images with his friends, which were quickly passed around our school.” I could barely get out of bed those first few days. My dads thought I had the flu.
The disappointment in Jase’s eyes is so severe, so all encompassing, I stagger a step back, struggling to remain on my feet. It’s the look I hoped I never had to see it cross his face.
Some of the photos, Brent and I had taken together, a few I took of myself and texted to him while we were dating. “I didn’t know how to bring it up,” I say.
“You have a fucking sex tape, Avery!” He throws his hands up in the air. “These are things you mention.” He punches the wall. “Goddamn it!”
His fist leaves a dent in the drywall, and I stifle the urge to go to him and inspect his hand. I figured it was only a matter of time before Jase found out, but I never imagined he’d actually see it. Of course, Marcy probably pulled it up on her phone.
My stomach cramps and I think I might actually be sick.
“Do your dads know?” Jase’s voice is low and controlled, like he’s barely holding back his anger.
“Of course not. They’d shit a brick.”
“Yeah, imagine how I feel.”
I meet his eyes. “How do you feel?” Even if his next words crush me, I need to know.
“I was falling for you, Avery.”
All the oxygen leaves the room. “Was?”
“Was. Am. Fuck I don’t know.” His voice is raspy and weak, slashing away at my heart. His hands tear angrily through his hair, leaving it standing on end.
Something vital for my survival has been ripped from my body. Something I didn’t even know I had, and now can’t fathom living without.
I tuck my chin to my chest. “It wasn’t a sex tape.”
Brent and his best friend had created a slideshow of all the images both he and I had taken. The end product looped like a video, lasting several minutes.
“Close enough. There were parts of you that I’ve never even seen exposed for the whole world to appreciate.” The vacant quality of his voice, the hurt in his eyes is so real, I feel it in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry I ever took those pictures. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…”
“Me too. You’re not who I thought you were,” he says simply.
I hate the dejected tone of his voice. Seething anger, screaming, yelling would be better than this defeated tone.
“Don’t you think I wish I could take this back? I would if I could,” I whisper.
His eyes flick up to mine, devoid of all the warmth I used to feel from those beautiful baby blues. “I wish you could, too.” He turns his back and the tension in his shoulders tells me our conversation is done. And worse. We are done too.
Chapter 21
Jase
“Stacia, quit!” I chuckle, unable to stop myself, because it turns out after about ten beers, the tight feeling in my chest becomes numb. And my equally drunk ex-girlfriend is a distraction I can’t seem to turn down. She’s on the couch next to me, trying to tickle me. I forgot how grabby she gets after a few drinks.
Stacia removes her hands from under my shirt and bites her lip. The practiced look of seduction on her face is familiar and comforting. It would be so easy to fall back into things with her, even if it’s not what I really want. But my brain is tired of trying to work through what I had with Avery, and how I feel now. I wish I could un-see those images and go back to not knowing, but that’s not possible. At first I was pissed at Stacia for thrusting that girl’s phone in my face and showing me my innocent, sweet Avery being anything but sweet, or innocent. But after I got done cursing and punched the wall a couple of times, I knew Stacia wasn’t the one I was mad at.
The party around us has died down significantly, and there are just a few of us left – the guys that live here and their hookups. I know Stacia is waiting patiently tonight to see if she’ll have a shot with me, and honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t even decided yet. Which probably means my dick will decide for me later. And since he’s easily fooled by Stacia, I have a feeling I know what’ll happen.
Avery and I were never official, and after the way her past was thrown into my face like that… I don’t owe her anything. She left the other day without saying anything else, though what could she say after I saw numerous pictures of her with another guy’s junk in her mouth? God, I hate that this side of her even existed. The urge to hit something again spikes inside me, just as Stacia leans closer.
“Take me upstairs,” she whispers.
I push the images from my head and curl my fingers around Stacia’s, needing something warm and familiar to grasp onto. “Come on.”
* * *
I lie in bed, waiting for Stacia to return from the bathroom, wondering what the fuck I’m doing. When she appears in the doorway and saunters toward my bed, I curse the lamp on my dresser currently lighting the room. This would be easier if I didn’t have to look at her, because my mind won’t stop comparing her to Avery. Avery’s soft auburn hair, those wide green eyes.