Torture to Her Soul
Page 49

The metallic material covers her most intimate places—places I'd kill a man if he ever dared to look—but otherwise leaves little to the imagination. Her curves are proudly displayed, every dimple and dip, cleft and crevice, every inch of her flesh that beckons to me at night when she lays beside me in the dark.
It's sinful.
It's unbearable.
It takes every ounce of strength I have to let her walk away from me looking like that.
She strolls over toward the edge of the pool as she pulls her hair up, securing it on the top of her head in a sloppy sort of bun. I tear my eyes away from her, sighing exasperatedly as I run my hands down my sweaty face and close my eyes. When I reopen them, the first thing I see is Paul standing on the opposite side of the pool, directly across from Karissa, his eyes slinking down her body, going dangerously close to those places they ought not go.
Strike two.
My skin prickles, a coiling inside of me that I quickly try to unwind, to pull back apart before it wraps me up too tight to fight it. Karissa slips into the water, immediately disappearing beneath the surface.
Only then does the boy look away from her.
He jumps it, swimming over to his girlfriend, immediately picking Melody up and dunking her as she squeals loudly with laughter.
They joke around, playing in the water, swimming and splashing. It's strange, seeing Karissa that way, so at ease around people, so relaxed and happy, like the reality that I slapped her with two months ago faded away, taking a backseat to the life she created here. I haven't seen her smile this much since… well, since before she got hurt.
The evening starts to slip away, growing later as the sun shifts position in the sky, edging closer toward the west. Karissa eventually pulls herself out of the pool, dripping water as she strolls over to me, her arms crossing over her chest as she approaches.
She digs a towel out of her bag to dry her hair. When she realizes I'm watching, she wraps the towel around her, covering her body as she smiles sheepishly.
"Why do you do that?" I ask.
She raises an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Shield yourself from me," I say. "All those people in the pool didn't bother you, like you weren't at all uncomfortable with them looking."
"They weren't looking."
"They could've been."
"They weren't," she insists. "I mean, maybe they looked, but they didn't pay me much mind. But you…"
"But me?" I ask when she doesn't finish.
"You look at me."
"And that's a problem?"
She sighs, clutching the towel tighter around her as she turns, like she's about to walk away. I sound defensive, I know, and hell, maybe I am, but I'm not trying to frustrate her.
I can see those walls going up between us, though.
Before she can leave, I reach out and grasp her arm, stopping her. Her muscles tense as I pull her back toward the table.
"I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass," I say, tugging her down onto the chair beside me. "I'm just trying to understand."
"You know," she says, shifting her body toward me but still keeping her skin covered. "For someone who knows everything about me, you don't seem to really understand anything."
Her voice is firm, borderline antagonistic.
I got under her skin.
"Those people?" she continues, waving over toward the pool. "They can look all they want. I don't notice when they do, because I don't care what they think. Not anymore. I used to… I used to want to fit in, to be normal, and sometimes I still feel that way, like I could be that way if I tried, but I'm not. I know I'm not. My parents are murderers and liars, and you…" She laughs dryly. "You are what you are. So yeah, those people can look if they want, but they don't see me, and I don't care what they think they see. But you look at me. You look at me hard. And I know you see me. And maybe, Naz… maybe I care what you think."
The others are out of the pool, making their way toward us before I can respond. I let go of Karissa, and she stands back up, dropping her towel only long enough to slip her shorts back on and pull on her top.
"I need a drink," she mutters, just loud enough for Melody to hear.
"Hell yeah!" she says, throwing her arm over Karissa's shoulder. "That's the spirit. Let's fill up my cup and get fucked up!"
We make our way toward the front of the park, to the grassy area around the first pier. The area's busy, but they find a vacant spot in the middle of the gathering crowd. They spread out blankets, making themselves at home, as I take a seat along the edge of one alone.
They drink some more.
I mull over Karissa's words in silence.
They joke around, laughing and playing, acting like the teenagers they are.
I get lost in my own head.
By the time the sun finally sets, darkness creeping over the area, Karissa is wasted. Between the heat and her empty stomach, she never stood a chance. I'm gazing across the river at the Manhattan skyline in the night, admiring the lights in a city that never sleeps, keeping an eye on Karissa the best I can. She eventually breaks away from her friends and strolls over to where I'm sitting, pausing right in front of me. "What are you doing over here?"
My eyes shift to her, scanning her in the darkness. "I'm admiring the view."
"Oh." She glances behind her. "Am I blocking it?"
"No," I say. "You are it."