Love Survives (Love's Suicide #2)(6)
Chapter 3
On the anniversary of her parent’s death, at the age of sixteen, something broke in me. I’d been doing so well, portraying someone who pretended not to care that the other half of my heart was bedding my brother.
On this particular evening Kat was a wreck. My parents had started a tradition with making her favorite meal; one her mother used to make. Each time, since their death, it would start out nice and end up with everyone sad, reminiscing about what could have been.
When Kat headed up to bed I watched my brother giving her a look, but he didn’t follow behind her. Silently I sat there next to him, playing a video game and acting like everything was well in the world. All the while I wondered how he could be so insensitive. She clearly needed him to reassure her that everything would be okay, yet he was in his own little world, ignoring the fact that his girlfriend was falling apart.
“I think Kat’s upset.”
“She’s always upset about something,” Branch replied.
“Yeah, but tonight is the anniversary.”
“She told me she was fine, Brooks. Let it go. It’s not your problem. Honestly, I don’t know why you still care. Can’t you take a hint?”
I ignored his comment, unable to accept that Kat would ever want me to leave her alone. When we were together she was content, almost blissful. That wasn’t how someone acted when they were annoyed. This wasn’t the first time my brother had mentioned it to me, nor was it going to prevent me from being there for my best friend. Until she told me from her own mouth to steer clear, I’d be by her side, offering her anything she needed.
By the time we headed up to bed all I could think about was Kat. After the house got quiet I could hear her sobbing through the walls. Something happened that night. It was like I snapped. I couldn’t fathom being so far away from her when she needed someone to wipe away her tears and comfort her until the pain subsided. I considered waking up my brother, but refused to allow myself to let him take credit for my concerns. She needed the love that I had to give her because it was effortless.
Before I could rationalize with my teenage self, I was already opening her door. The room was silent, but I knew exactly where to walk. I crouched down on the side of her bed, following the direction of her sniffles to place exactly where she was on the mattress.
A hand reached out and touched mine, leading me closer to her. Her cries beckoned me to hold her, to take the pain away, even if only for a few moments. I could do this without getting overwhelmed. This was my Kat. I was put on this earth to take care of her. I knew it more than anything else.
Eventually, I began to relax. Being so near gave me this feeling of empowerment. As her lips narrowed toward mine I realized she thought I was Branch, but I refused to stop her. I couldn’t prevent something so tremendous and unrehearsed from happening. In that moment right from wrong didn’t exist. I had to cross the line because spending another second without her in my arms seemed unbearable.
I never intended to take it so far. From the second her lips pressed against mine I felt myself losing control. Her body was like a wonderland, welcoming me to explore. I’d dreamed of this moment, even prayed for it to happen.
This wasn’t just some girl that I was about to be intimate with. This was Kat, the girl I’d loved my whole life. She kept crying, pulling me closer. Her kisses were desperate, and I needed to save her from the pain. I wanted to be the one who could take it away, not because I wanted to, but because she desired it to be me. In my head I convinced myself that she knew the difference. I told my body to proceed.
From that first kiss, with every touch, I knew I couldn’t hold back. I’d love to be able to blame immaturity on my decision making, or perhaps my lack of control came from pent up anxiety of wanting her. Whatever the case, I couldn’t refrain.
“It hurts so much. Please just make the pain go away. Make me forget about it for just a little while. I can’t feel this way,” she continued sobbing.
I tried to talk my way out of it as a final desperate plea. “This won’t solve anything,” I whispered.
Her lips were back on mine, her tongue immediately taunting me to participate. She only pulled away to beg some more while reaching her hands up my sides underneath of my shirt. I should have pulled away, but her touch awakened parts of me that I didn’t know how to control. I became carried away, lost in the perpetual moment of having her all to myself. She hadn’t said my brother’s name, nor had she pushed me away. Denying her would be like refusing to breathe.
I took my time, kissing her soft skin, and savoring each and every kiss. I caressed her tender areas, making sure she knew I appreciated this opportunity. Her tears were silenced once our clothes were removed, and we lay there overtop of one another. Though shaky, I entered her with little effort, sending my body into an uncontrolled euphoria. I began to shake, hiding it with my movements as I set out for an unpracticed pace. Kat wasn’t just my first love, she was my first everything, and knowing that caused my senses to go awry.
When the moment was over we laid there in each other’s arms in silence. Out of breath, and still frazzled from what we’d just done, I knew I had to leave the room. It took everything in me to separate our bodies, kiss her, and then walk away.
Once I reached my room I closed the door and plopped down on my bed, first to celebrate silently to myself, but then to punish myself for the sins that I’d allowed myself to commit.