Charade

              Colt and I slide in the back and them in the front. They try for small talk with Colt—asking about college, how we met, how long we’ve dated and thanking him for coming. He speaks as little as possible. He’s not one of those boys who’s good with someone’s parents, or in my case, my aunt and uncle.

***

For some reason, the house feels like there are more people here than there were at the service. Fu

              “Show me your room,” comes from behind me in that husky, cocky voice I recognize as Colt’s.

              Thank God.

              People talk and walk paying no attention to the only daughter of the dead woman. Maybe it’s because she’s been dead for ten years and other people saw this coming even though I didn’t.

              Once we’re up the stairs I keep my finger hooked with his and lead him into my room.

              “Holy shit. It’s…happy in here.” I hear the laugh in his voice.

              “What’s wrong with wanting happy?” I ask, looking around the room. Flowers are painted on the walls at the top. Each of the four walls a different color. Dance trophies and pictures of my dance team are everywhere. It’s perfect, like I always wanted.

Colt looks at the bed. “It’s white.” He grins.

“I guess that means you have good taste.”

He goes from one wall to the next, looking—dissecting. I can’t stop myself from wondering how it looks through his eyes. If the room feels like me or if he thinks it’s a lie.

“You must be good, huh?” He touches one of the trophies.

“Of course.”

              He shakes his head. “Of course.”

              And then he steps up to me. His mouth finds mine. It’s a gentle kiss, slow and smooth as his tongue slides between my lips. I let him lead and I follow because right now it’s easier than thinking about anything.

              Colt doesn’t stop kissing me. Our tongues tangle and take turns, but he doesn’t take it any further. When he pulls away I’m panting. My heart races. Every time he touches me I want him more.

              “You don’t cry, Tiny Dancer.” His chin rests on the top of my head as we hold each other.

              “Not if I can stop it.”

              “It’s okay, you know.”

              “Wow. Is the hard-ass going to give me a pep talk?” I feel like a bitch the second the words come out, but he doesn’t call me on it.

              “I don’t know if pep is the right word.” Then he leans closer. “Just know that you can. I won’t tell. I might not be able to do much for you, but I’ll hold your secrets.”

              My breath catches. It’s the most amazing thing he’s said to me. Maybe that anyone has ever said to me. Still, it means so much more coming from him.

              “I—”

              “—Chey?” The door pushes open and Gregory’s there.

              Colt tenses against me.

              “Is there a reason you’re coming into my bedroom?” I ask Gregory.

              He’s not looking at me though. His eyes are hard on Colt. “This is her mom’s service, if you didn’t notice. You could wait to take advantage of her until later, don’t you think?”

              I swear I feel Colt’s body overheat. “Jealous I can take care of her better than you? It’s okay, Pretty Boy, I’ve kicked your ass more than once, it’s only natural I steal your girl too.”

              Colt’s words feel like a slap across my face. I know they’re just to piss Gregory off, but they hit every button inside me that I don’t like pressed.

              “Fuck you.” Gregory steps into the room and Colt moves toward him.

              “Excuse me? You didn’t steal me from anyone.” I’m shaking now. Colt doesn’t turn around to look at me. Gregory pretends I’m not there too.

              “Why don’t you get out of here so we can finish where we left off?” Colt says. “I don’t feel like fucking with you today.”

              There’s a fist around my throat, tightening and tightening. I don’t know why I’m freaking out, but I hate the things Colt is saying, hate that Gregory is here and then the coffin—that big black box her bones are probably lost in flashes through my head.

              I gasp. Colt and Gregory are muffled voices in the background. I turn away from them, not wanting to let myself lose it. Why am I losing it? My vision blurs. I can’t catch my breath. Bones. Coffin.

              My feet tangle and then arms are there. The door slams and I’m on the floor in someone’s lap.

              “Shh. It’s okay. Relax. You’re good. We’re good.”

              A hand runs through my hair. Lips press to my forehead.

              “You’re good. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have done that shit today. Take a deep breath.”

              I fight through the panic, following Colt’s voice.

              I find his blue eyes. His sad lips. Gregory.

              I struggle to get out of Colt’s hold.

              “He’s gone. I locked the door. It’s okay.”

              Now I’m back to me and the spell is broken. I get out of his lap and stand up. I open my mouth to tell him not to treat me like a game of tug-o-war, but he stops me. “I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t do this stuff. I react and that’s what I did. It was the wrong thing to do.”

              I can’t say anything to his apology, because I know this isn’t what he signed up for but he’s here and he’s doing it and it’s not like I’m perfect either.

              “It’s not even him as much as what you said. Don’t do it again.” I straighten my clothes and finger comb my hair. “We better go downstairs.”

              Colt stops me before I can walk away. “Do you take anything? For the panic attacks?”

              I shake my head. Not anymore. “I don’t need medication. I’ve handled them for years. I’d be fine if everyone would just leave me the hell alone.”

              But I’m not fine. He’s not fine either.

              We make it through the rest of the day. Colt is always there, but we don’t touch. It’s not the same as it was before the freak out.

              When I pull up in front of his house, I sit there, not sure what to do.

              “Come in with me,” he says. He didn’t ask and I’m grateful for it.

              I turn off the car and go inside. We head straight for Colt’s room.

              “I hate this dress,” I say when we get to his room. He opens his drawer and tosses a t-shirt at me. I’m so shocked I almost miss it.

              Colt starts to undress first. He lies his slacks on a chair and then his shirt. I figure I need to start doing the same thing so I take my dress off, pantyhose and then slip on his shirt.

              What are we doing? Usually he’s undressing me, not giving me clothes to wear.

              “Hit the light, would ya?” he says before climbing into bed in camo boxer-briefs.

              “You’re camouflaged. How will I find you?” I tease and he cracks a smile.

              “I don’t think you can miss me.”

              I turn off the light and get into bed wearing my panties and Colt’s t-shirt. I wait for him to kiss me. Or to lick or bite my neck. He likes using his tongue and teeth.

              Instead he pulls me to him, my back to his chest. His arm goes around my waist and it fits so perfectly there.

              “I fucked up,” he says again. “That shouldn’t have gone down earlier.”

              His words aren’t expected, but somehow they’re what I need. “I know. It’s okay.” Pause, and then, “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

              Colt squeezes me tighter. Kisses my hair. “It’s easier to hide in the dark…but easier to let go too.”