The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(57)
I take hold of the bottom of his t-shirt, not knowing what the fuck to do—if I want to tear through the thin material or just have done with it and rip the damn thing over his head. “Do it,” I pant. “It’ll be okay. I think…I think I’ll be okay.”
A brief, flicker of hesitation flashes in his eyes, but it's gone before it even really forms. Gritting his teeth, a guttural, pained sound works free from the back of his throat. “No.” He shoves away from me, throwing himself back toward the other end of the couch, then he groans again, running his hands through his hair, tugging on it hard. “We should be smart. We should wait,” he says breathlessly.
Oh, my fucking god. Silver Parisi, what the fuck is wrong with you? I am the one who was assaulted, beaten and humiliated, and yet it’s me trying to rush into things now? “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m…fuck. I’m really sorry, Alex.”
He sits there with his hands still buried in his hair. Then he falls slack, sinking back against the couch. His hands drop to his sides, then he glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”
“But you’re a guy,” I say, wincing. “That kind of shit really is torture for you. Doesn’t it cause serious internal damage or something? If you get turned on and then you can’t do anything about it?”
Alex doesn’t react to this statement the way I expect him to. He twists around quickly, facing me, grabbing hold of my hand. “You know what that is, Silver?” he growls. “That is a lie told by pieces of shit who’ll say anything to get what they want. A fucking lie. There wouldn’t be a man left alive if that were true. I’m pretty sure every single adolescent guy in the world gets a boner on the bus on the way to fucking school each morning. We’re not out there, yelling at the driver, calling them a prick tease ’cause the vibrations from their fucking bus made our dicks hard. We’re not being carted off to hospital because we couldn’t have a moment to stroke our dicks and our balls fucking exploded. It’s part of being a fucking guy. We get turned on. Nothing comes of it. We all move on. End of story. Any guy who tells you otherwise is probably gonna end up using that bullshit as an excuse for raping someone down the line.”
“Oh.”
“Did he say that to you?” Alex snarls. “Is that the fucking line he pulled?”
“No.” My chest is so tight, it hurts. That night in Leon’s bathroom tries to rear its ugly head. The ugly memories try to surface, to command my attention, to take control and hurt me. I don’t want to remember, though. I am so sick of fucking remembering. I’m done with being held prisoner by that night. All I want to do is be here with Alex. To feel like I felt a moment ago, when I had my legs wrapped around him, and I felt like I was in charge of my own actions. I cover my eyes, forcing the images and that all-too-familiar fear back down into the basement of my soul.
“Sorry,” Alex says softly. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“It’s okay. I just…I…” I can’t find a way to tell him how I’m feeling right now. Or what I want. Frustration wells up inside me, tightening like a collar around my neck, suffocating me, and I know I’m on the verge of snapping. Normally, I’d retreat into myself at this point. Shut down and hide. I don’t want to be that version of myself anymore, though. If I ever want to overcome this instead of it overcoming me all the time, then I have to change the way I’ve been doing things, because obviously the old way hasn’t been working.
I’m shaking, nervous as hell as I get up off the couch. Alex frowns. He cracks his thumb knuckle, his jaw working, like he’s angry at himself. “You want me to leave?” he asks quietly.
“No. Just…stay right where you are.” I feel ridiculous and inexperienced as I take my shirt by the hem and slowly pull it over my head. I stand there for a second, stiff, the shirt dangling from my hand, watching Alex, trying to gauge his reaction. A fierce, tight look forms on his face. His posture’s rigid, awkward, his torso twisted a little from where he was turning to look at me a second ago, but he doesn’t move an inch. It’s as if he physically can’t move.
Dropping my shirt, I move onto my jeans, unfastening them and slowly, carefully sliding them down my legs. God, I want to be better at this for him. Confident and sure of myself. Kacey used to put on a show in her bedroom all the time, demonstrating the provocative strip tease she’d performed for Leon the night before, and this, what I’m doing right now? This is nothing like that. This is a simple, careful, shy undressing, and I feel like a fucking fool…
“Silver.” Alex’s voice is a coarse, uneven whisper. “What are you doing?”
I step out of my jeans, rolling back my shoulders, convincing myself to stand tall, even though I’m wearing nothing but my underwear. If I were Kacey, I would have been sporting a skimpy matching lingerie set. I wasn’t exactly planning this, though. My bra is white and lacy, my panties a pale baby pink, plain and simple. The garments are pretty, and I feel good in them, but they’re definitely not doing anything to make me look less innocent. “I want this,” I say softly. “I want you to see me.”
“Silver, we have so much time. There’s no need—”
I reach around my back, unhooking the catch on my bra strap. I’m a ball of insecurity as I slowly slip the straps over my shoulders, letting them fall down my arms. Do it, Silver. Just fucking do it. I need a few deep breaths before I lower my arms, allowing the front of the bra to fall away to the floor. My chest bare, breasts exposed, I stand, letting myself get used to the idea that I’m nearly naked. Alex’s eyes don’t waver from my face. Not even for a split second. I wait for his gaze to dip, to look down, but they don’t.