Crimson Snow Page 23

  Speaking of handsome, Kevin decided to make his presence known. He moved between the coffee table and the patio sectional, grabbed the guitar from Carson’s hands, and nudged him not too nicely, to move.

  “I’ll play with Lauren. I take some credit for her song, after all.” He winked at me.

  Carson’s jaw dropped because he was apparently familiar with my lyrics and was putting things together, realizing the identity of the “green-eyed boy.” He moved away, admitting defeat, and made room for Kevin. Instead of sitting next to me, Kev pulled me out of my seat, sat down, and like the time in the library, made me sit between his open legs. The one difference was that now he held a guitar in front of me and leaned his head over my shoulder to look down at the strings. He strummed the chords like he knew the melody.

  “You know how to play the guitar?” I asked him, completely stumped by that revelation. He just chuckled in my ear.

  “I have some hidden talents, Lauren. I can still surprise you.” His voice came out low and a bit husky, like he intended the innuendo in his words. I felt a bit hot, shivers traveling over my arms.

  “So, should we sing?” Kevin asked, but all I heard was that he said: “we.”

  “You sing, too?” I was completely blown because this was heading towards the Twilight zone. It already felt like Kevin and I had so much in common, but I never thought music was something we could share. In the last month, he had listened to me, had asked me to sing for him, but had never mentioned he played an instrument or liked to sing as well.

  “God, Lauren, don’t you remember me belting Beatles from the top of my lungs?” He laughed, reminding me how many times when we were kids he serenaded me with songs in the library. Miss Jenny used to shush him to be quiet, but she also found Kevin’s antics funny, and his sentiment for me endearing, so she let him sing.

  “So, how about we sing a Beatles song, then? You probably don’t know the chords to my song.” I offered an alternative. Kevin’s friends were already looking at us strangely, and I was afraid that if I sang my original song while cuddled in his arms, I might just grab his face and start kissing him or something.

  “How about this?” He strummed the strings and started playing “Gravity.”

  At first, I wanted to laugh because I thought he was teasing me that I was so angsty that day when I sang this song to him. But then I heard his voice like a whisper in my ear. “Something always brings me back to you,” and the words felt intimate, like a confession. Kevin’s voice had a little rasp to it, but it was beautiful.

  Once Clive, the guy who gifted me my guitar, told me that the human soul was trapped inside our hearts and was looking for ways to find an outlet. For some people, it found expression in the art or other creative forms; for some, it was simply in the way they talked, but for others, the soul could only speak in melody. The guy tried to compliment me that I was one of those people, but listening to Kevin sing, I had this ethereal feeling that he was singing from his soul, not simply from his heart.

  Over the years, I had glimpses of his spirit when I looked into his eyes or when I felt his pain like my own, but for the first time, I was immersed in his joy. He was singing to me about gravity, and I felt it. That pull between us was like the force between two suns that were about to collide, and it was impossible to circumvent the explosion they would cause. When I joined him singing the lyrics, I wasn’t sure if our merger would create a supernova or a black hole. If it would bring our relationship to a new height or if it would suck us into a void. What I knew was that whatever was happening was inevitable, and you can’t defy nature.

  It's strange how it hits you. For me, the revelation that I was so deeply and madly in love with Kevin, of course, had to happen in the middle of a song. We were singing about a freaking breakup, while I was drowning in his voice and merging my soul with his. The last thing I wanted was to be free of him, more like hold on to him and love him for the rest of eternity.

  I don’t know what this meant to him or if our duet affected him in the same way as me. I was afraid to look into his eyes when we reached the end of the song, I just put my hand over his to feel through his fingers the last vibration of the chord, and my heart expanded to find space for the new feelings.

  When I looked at his friends, they were watching us wide-eyed and speechless. Monica had her phone pointed at us, recording us. She turned to her husband and kissed him on the mouth.

  “Gavin, we are playing this song to make baby #2,” she informed him.

  Briana looked between Kevin and me, and said, “You two better record this as a duet because I am totally going to buy your record. Your voices together…Phew!”

  Kevin was still behind me, not saying a word, and I didn’t even feel his breath, even though he was still resting his head over my shoulder.

  I did look up at Ayana though, only to see her eyes radiating pain mixed with rage. She knew exactly what I was feeling for Kevin and wanted to rip me out of his arms and scratch my eyes out. It all clicked for me. For the last few weeks, I doubted if my new feelings for Kevin were the fruit of pure lust or something deeper. Watching this girl, who once shared his body, and knew him intimately, was not making me hate her, but pity her. She was driven by desire for him, even at this moment, but she never loved him.

  Love doesn’t make you want to kill any woman who touches him. When you love someone unconditionally, it might break your heart, but you would set them free and want nothing but their happiness. That feeling inside my chest was not selfish or greedy – It was not going to change if Kevin didn’t return it or chose to be with someone else. It was just another level to the love I already had for him. The desire was part of it, but not the main ingredient.

  “Lauren, do you mind if we go inside for a moment?” Kevin whispered in my ear.

  “Sure,” I agreed. We did need to talk, and I had to tell him everything. I knew now that our friendship could withstand anything, including me confessing my love, and hearing him say he wanted to be just friends. Better take a leap than drown in uncertainty.

  I got up, and Kevin followed me. He handed back the guitar to Carson with a smirk. “Thanks for the guitar lessons, man! As you said to me back in high school, playing an instrument has its perks.”

  He looked at the rest of his friends, and to my surprise, made an excuse for us. “Sorry we have to deprive you of the entertainment, but it’s getting late, and Lauren and I have plans early in the morning.”

  Liam started laughing because he knew this was a total lie, but by the smirk on his lips, he was fully aware of what was going on. “Yeah, I’ll try to sleep in late, so make sure you keep it down in the morning and not wake me up.” He teased us.

  Liam was presumptuous assuming this would end in bed, but the idea that it might, give me a shiver. When Kevin touched my back to lead me inside, the desire soaked into my skin, like a living thing igniting my whole body. I felt on fire and jumping Kevin and kissing the living hell out of him was not the best way to confess my feelings. I didn’t want confusion or misunderstandings that this was simply about sex for me. He took my hand and was about to lead me upstairs to his room, which on its own suggested a lot, but I stopped him.

  “Kev, can you give me a moment to use the restroom?” I asked, needing a little time to compose myself, and figure out what to say to him.

  He nodded and went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water while I headed to the restroom.

  When I closed the door, I put my palms on the counter and leaned forward, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I was crimson red, even my arms and neck were flushed. I turned on the water and splashed some on my face to calm down. It was strange to examine my reflection and consider what Kevin saw when he looked at me. I didn’t have low self-esteem, and in fact, I liked my wavy red hair and my big smile. My face had character, and people said it was memorable. I was not stunning as Ayana, with her flawless coffee complexion, her amazing curly hair that framed her perfect face like a halo, or her model-
perfect body. I had some curves, and my legs were toned and long, but I was a head shorter than Kev, which was not bad, considering I liked cuddling to his chest.

  The truth was that I was not going to come up with some grand declaration of love in the bathroom, so I made up my mind that I’d have to improvise. The kitchen was dark, but Kevin was not alone anymore. I heard their voices before I could see them.

  “…talking about forgiveness, did you ever go see your Dad, Kevin? Did you forgive him for what he did to you?” I heard Ayana’s voice.

  I stepped into the hallway and saw her standing next to him, her hand softly rubbing his shoulder. It was not like they were in a heated embrace. Kevin was not even touching her, but her words dug deep. He had shared something with her that he had kept from me. This was more painful than if I had seen them kissing.

  Kevin turned around and saw me. His irises sparked, and he stepped away from his ex-girlfriend.

  “No worries, Kev. Finish your conversation. I’ll be going to bed anyway.” I walked past them and down the hallway to my room.

  I closed the door, afraid to breathe. I was not going to cry about this. Kevin had the right to decide who he shared his past with and who he didn’t. I didn’t press him about his father because he said it was too painful to talk about it, but apparently, he and Ayana were closer than I assumed if he opened up to her.

  I dropped on my bed and stared at the ceiling in the darkness, just trying to calm down my emotions. How was I expecting that he might love me back, and we could move forward, when even our friendship was still work in progress? Today I let out the last secret I kept from Kevin, opened up about one of the most traumatic experiences in my life and told him how I lost my friends and my freedom, but he still held back things.

  My door opened, and his tall shadow filled the frame. He walked in and closed the door behind him. I couldn’t see the expression on his face because it was hidden in the dark, only the outline of his form illuminated by the moonlight coming from my window.

  “She is in the past, Lauren.” His voice came out shaky.

  “I am not upset about Ayana, Kevin. In fact, I am not upset at all. Maybe just a little disappointed.” I told him the truth.

  He moved further into the room, and I felt my mattress sink when he lay next to me. I turned on my side, and his face came into focus, so I could see his worried expression.

  “Did I do something to disappoint you?” he said quietly, a little confused.

  “Not intentionally. No… I just heard what she said to you about forgiving your Dad…” I admitted.

  He reached for me and touched my face like he understood I needed his reassurance more than anything.

  “I never told her the whole story, Lauren. When we were dating, she saw the scar on my back and asked about it, so I just told her my father gave it to me, and I couldn’t forgive him… You saw it too, didn’t you?” he asked.

  “You don’t have to tell me, Kev. I understand it might be difficult…” I started to say, but he cut me off.

  “No, you are right. I am failing you as a friend if I am not able to talk to you about everything. And honestly, Lauren, I don’t think anyone but you would ever get it. Not just my pain but the whole story.”

  “What happened, Kevin?” I put my hand to his chest to let him know I was there to hold his heart when he opened up and shared it with me.

  He laid on his back and sighed. “When we were kids, I never spoke much about my Dad or about my home life. The truth is, on some level, I was ashamed to admit we were as poor as dirt. We lived in a shack next to the farm where Jack worked. We didn’t even have a proper bathroom, just an outdoor makeshift shower with a watering can and a barrel with a pump. Mr. Mason put one of those portable toilets for construction sites next to the shack, and maintained it in a somewhat regular schedule, so it wasn’t too filthy. We didn’t have a kitchen, Lauren, just a mini-fridge, and a small burner stove, like the ones people use for camping.”

  “Jack was not the worst dad. He fed me, bought me shoes and clothes, even gave me some pocket money for lunch or for buying ice-cream. He worked all day, came home beat, and went straight to bed. The worst were the days he got his paycheck. About twice a month, he would go to town, hit the bar, and come back completely smashed. He was a mean drunk, and I learned to stay out of his way.

  “When I was little, I would hide under my blanket, pretending I was asleep, just listening to him scream at the TV, and let out his anger on whatever was provoking it on the screen. When I was older, when he found me awake, he picked on me for no reason, and started hitting me. I would run and hide in the barn and spend the night sleeping in the hayloft. He didn’t chase me or follow me there because it was close to the farmer’s house, and I think even drunk, he understood it was wrong to hit a child.”

  Kevin paused and took a deep breath while I held mine. I knew he was bracing himself to tell me the worst part of his nightmare. My hand was still resting over his heart, but my other one, behind my back, twisted the sheets in fear of what was coming.

  “When they took you away, Lauren, the social worker placed me in a group home for a week, until they got back the results from my DNA test. There was a hospital record of my birth, and the police knew Connie was my mother, but what we didn’t know at the time was that my Dad insisted I get tested for paternity. I don’t remember much of that week. I remember snippets, like someone asking me if I wanted food, but I am not sure if I actually ate. I just remember sitting by this window, watching the cars on some busy road, crying, and wondering where they took you. Were you in one of those cars? My soul was broken, and I was losing hope…”

  “When they returned me home to Jack, he just gave me one look, slammed the front door, and left. I sat on my bed and stared at one spot for probably hours. Being back home was even harder because everything reminded me of you. The picture of our tree you drew for me was hanging over my bed. The last book we read in the library, Alice in Wonderland, was sitting on the table, and all I was thinking of was that like Alice, I might have eaten a mushroom and shrunk to the size of an ant. I was disappearing inside myself, and you were not there to pull me out.

  “Jack came back when it was already dark outside, and I’d never seen him that crazy… Once you asked me if he was the boogieman, Lauren, and at that moment, he was… He grabbed me by the shirt and tossed me on the ground, screaming that I was a fucking bastard, and the doctors lied to him that I was his. He was saying that whore Connie stuck him for ten years to take care of some of her many lovers’ son…

  I had no strength in me to fight back or to run this time… I was damaged so deeply that my soul lost its will to live…Maybe on some level, I wanted to die…

  He beat me with his belt, kicked me mercilessly until I stopped moving, and all went black…

  …I woke up in the hospital two weeks later, and the doctors told me they had to put me in a medically induced coma to prevent further swelling to my brain… I don’t know why he even called for help, but he didn’t let me die on the floor of that shack. For years Lauren, I wondered why did God save my life? … What purpose he had for me? … After I woke up, the first thought in my head was that I had to find you, and for a long time, it gave me purpose to live… Now I know why things turned out the way they did. I was not supposed to find you when I was thirteen. Then I was too young, too lost… I had to find you when I knew who I was, when I knew…”

  He paused, but I knew what he was about to say – he found me when he knew how to love me. I shook from the emotion inside my chest because my heart was ripping to pieces. It was shredding like the paper of those crimson snowflakes, fragmenting all of our memories, the ones soaked in blood and tears, and sorrow and loss, and leaving one pure shred to linger in the air above us. The one that held the word “Love.” Marina said I would know if I loved someone if I imagined what it would feel like if he died.

  The thought that Kevin almost died, and I could have lost him forever, shattered me.
This was not like the abstract idea that once plagued me when I had a traumatic episode. This was a real nightmare come to life. I clung to him, afraid to let go, wanting to protect him with my body, with my soul, and everything I had in me from anyone who might ever try and hurt him again.

  I don’t know when I pulled him to me or when my lips found his. I was just too lost to consider my actions, and it was an instinct that drove me to action.

  His lips were soft and molded over mine, like two pieces of a puzzle that clicked in place. Kevin let out a sigh into my mouth, and his air became mine. And then he was kissing me back, like something wild had unleashed inside him. It would have scared me by how desperately he grabbed me and pressed me to him if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted as well – to merge with this man and know every part of him. It was an all-consuming need, not simply a desire. I could feel his hardness between our clothes, his hands on my back, searching for skin, under the hem of my shirt. My own hand found its way under his t-shirt and roamed over the hard muscle. When my fingers grazed over the hard ridges of his scar, something like a sob escaped my lips. This was not the moment to cry, but my emotions were out of my control.

  This made Kevin stop suddenly and pull his lips from mine. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild, but something was holding him back.

  “Why are you doing this, Lauren?” He let out in a breathy exhale.

  “What?” I was confused that there were questions about my intentions in his mind. “I… I almost lost you… I can’t lose you…” I was trying to find the words to tell him exactly how much he meant to me, how much I loved him, but it was all a jumble of feelings, fragmented words, and a need to have all of him that made me choke.