24
Dax
Beverly was always so sincere and carefree. She carried a warmth with her that rubbed off on others. However, the version of her that stood in front of me and defended Laura’s honor would have dragged my soul from my body and set it on fire if I did anything to hurt her friend.
It took some convincing, but I lured Laura onto the sitting area on the balcony that provided as much privacy as the bedroom we shared.
“Laura,” I breathed her name like it hurt my tongue. She didn’t say a word in return, merely glanced up at me as I took a seat next to her. She sat staring at the city view, eating what I’d learned was one of her favorites: French toast with a tomato, cheese, and spinach omelet.
My smile grew at the sight of her eating the breakfast meal for early dinner, as she’d assuredly be ready to eat again in a few hours. I was drawn to her, me, a magnet, and her, a ferromagnetic material—something tough like steel.
My eyes roamed before they started to linger on the one thing I was unwisely growing an attachment to. I could watch her all day. Her sensuous lips with their moist lushness. Her hair, a glowing sandy brown with natural red hued highlights. The curly texture had a beautiful wildness about it that fit her untamed personality. A personality that had grown on me as quickly as her dominating presence.
A deep breath filled my lungs before I lifted my face to the sky. The sun hadn’t yet set, the temperature perfect with just enough breeze in the air to make you appreciate being outside.
Done with my mini-meditation, I concentrated on Laura. It bothered me I couldn’t read anything in her expression. We sat on the same cushioned bench with a small table sitting in front of us. I picked at fresh pineapples as she polished off her omelet and then started on her plate of fresh, mixed fruit.
There was enough space left between us to park a car in, the emptiness there as a result of my uncertainty about our situation. I didn’t think either of us was ready to discuss what had happened between us last night. I certainly wasn’t. My mind continued to process the emotions that had popped up and continued to spark reminders of our bond.
I eased my body close enough so that we didn’t have to yell our conversation, but far enough to preserve her comfort. Her fresh scent, merged with her personal fragrance of cotton candy, wrapped around me. The aroma caused me to fight the urge to hold her; against her will, I was sure, and pull her into my body.
My connection with Laura was on a different wavelength. I’d never experienced anything so authentic and rich with a vibrancy of life I fought to understand. No one, not even my closest brothers, had the power to drive a strong sense of purpose into my life.
Once, I believed I was meant to be the death dealer of the wealthy evildoers of this world, the ones that got away with heinous crimes because they could afford to.
Now, I thought about life and what more I wanted from it. How could I make other’s lives better without the incorporation of death? How could I help others find a purpose and make their lives matter?
My connection with Laura was as awe-inspiring as it was terrifying. Sex with her had been out of this world, but there was also an emotional connection that had been building and finally spilled over when we were together. My eyes fell closed and a deep breath caused me to take in another whiff of her smooth, intoxicating essence.
My goal was to regain control of our situation, but it was starting to feel like I’d never had any. I wanted Laura, and it frightened me that I wanted more than sex. I wanted to know the intricacies and inner workings of her mind. I wanted to know what would make her the happiest. Would she lay aside her established life as a lesbian to embrace a heterosexual relationship with me?
My mind said no. Actually, my mind screamed hell no! But, I wanted to try anyway. Our relationship was more than sex, and I wanted the opportunity to prove it. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, my breaths went shallow, and my body was overflowing with nervous tension. I desperately wanted someone I wasn’t sure I’d ever get.
Being with Laura was…
“Are you going to start this conversation you insisted we have or what?” She stopped the reel of ideas turning in my head.
“I wanted to apologize if I said or did anything you didn’t like last night.”
She lifted a hand to stop me. “I’m fine. I didn’t stop anything that happened, so you have nothing to apologize for. Besides, I know that Beverly talked to you and that calm, easy-going tone she lays on while ripping you a new one at the same time probably prompted this.”
My smile widened. “You’re right, but even if Beverly and I hadn’t talked, it doesn’t mean that we don’t need to talk. I figured you weren’t ready and I didn’t want to push.”
“Thank you,” she replied, eyeing me with suspicion, but not continuing.
My body sat in place, my gaze locked on her, unsure of how to proceed and unable to overcome the heady effect she’d cast over me. I believed I was truly falling for Laura. I reached out but stopped myself, placing my hands on the table in front of me.
“Would you be willing to tell me what happened to you? What made you so tough, brutal, and deadly?” I questioned, changing the subject to beat back the emotions that wouldn’t subside. The energy around me was so charged I was ready to talk about anything to muddle through it.
Her focused gaze was aimed at my legs while she contemplated my question. I waited as reluctance about some of the decisions I’d made last night quarreled in my brain.
“From my first memory, I was met with my mother’s neglect,” she started, her words easing my mind. “Her inability to force out an ounce of care was something I just accepted, even when I found myself hungry because there was never any food in the refrigerator or cold because she couldn’t keep the power on in the house or teased because I went to school with holes in my clothes, my hair not combed, or smelly because there wasn’t any detergent to wash our clothes.”
Instincts and observing the way she responded to certain situations hinted that she’d likely been neglected. However, she’d managed to not let it hinder the way she lavished the children at the center with care and compassion.
“By the time I was seven, I was stealing to feed and clothe myself. I was no one in a world that didn’t care. The overlooked, the left for dead, the empty space no one paid attention to. I was what people didn’t want to see and pretended wasn’t there. One day, I was so hungry I broke into the truck of the man who drove around our neighborhood selling plates from his food truck. I didn’t understand at the time the truck was also his way of selling drugs. I’d wiggled my way in and eaten all that I could stuff into my body before stuffing my pockets. I managed to squeeze back through the crack left open by the small swinging window. Unfortunately for me, I was spotted by one of the dope man’s lookouts. Shouts rang out from several directions, yelling for me to stop. The attention naturally forced me to run faster, the sound of my feet pounding the pavement was all I heard before a single gun blast rang out.”
I was horrified at the notion. My head shook at her words, not wanting them to sink in.