Date Me, Bryson Keller(56)

As my world burns down around me.

This, right here, is enough.





25


Morning comes without permission. The world keeps spinning. The sun will keep rising, no matter what, and a new day will begin. Always.

I sit up and blink the world into focus. Bit by bit Bryson’s bedroom comes to me. Morning sunlight streams in through the window above his desk. I reach for my phone and find numerous messages from Yazz, Priya, and Donny.

I open up Yazz’s chat first.

Kai are you ok?

Where are you?

Kai?

Tell me?

And then a series of question marks. Too many to count.

I’m fine, Yazz, I text. I just needed space. If anyone asks tell them I’m all right.

Yazz replies a minute later. Come home when you’re ready. I love you.

I love you too.

    The three musketeers group chat is filled with much the same.

I’m fine, I text them. I’m at Bryson’s now.

Yazz told us what happened. Are you okay? Priya texts back.

I’m dealing. It’s a lie. I’m simply ignoring the emptiness that I feel. Every time I close my eyes I see the look on Mom’s face.

Sorry we missed your call, Donny texts. We’re here if you need us.

Thanks. I’ll talk later.

I don’t have the energy for any more than that. I turn off my phone and throw it back onto the bedside table. The door to Bryson’s bedroom opens and he steps in. His hair is wet and he’s shirtless. There’s a towel thrown over his shoulder.

“You’re awake?” Bryson takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and his expression is serious. “What happened, Kai?”

We’ve delayed the conversation for as long as possible. Last night all I did was cry. I wasn’t able to tell him anything. Bryson comforted me and brought me here. I know that I have to explain what happened. But still, I hesitate.

“It’s okay,” Bryson says. “You don’t have to tell me right now. Whenever you’re ready to is fine.” He smiles. It’s small but no less genuine. Bryson stands and moves to hang up his towel. “And if you never want to talk about it, that’s fine, too. But just know that I’m here for you. For whatever.”

The sincerity of his words is a fist to the heart. I climb from the bed and close the space between us. I wrap my arms around him. My cheek rests against the smooth skin of his chest. I hear his heartbeat pounding. An echo of my own.

    Bryson hugs me back. Warm and solid. We stand like that in silence for a while. Then it all comes pouring out of me. I tell him everything that happened last night. By the end, I’m in tears, but it’s okay. He’s holding me tighter, if that’s at all possible.

Bryson pushes me back slightly so that he can look at my face. “First I think you need a nice long shower, and then I’ll take a look at those bruises. I’ve learned a thing or two playing sports. After that we’ll deal with whatever else.” He leans down so that our foreheads are touching. “Together.”

And then I am blinking back tears for an entirely different reason.



* * *



? ? ?

I emerge from the bathroom ten minutes later. Bryson sits on the bed waiting for me.

As I approach, Bryson holds up a tube of ointment.

“I swear by this stuff,” Bryson says. “After matches, I end up with a few bruises sometimes.”

“And who said soccer was a gentleman’s game?” I tease.

“No one,” Bryson says. “That’s cricket.”

“Oh.”

Bryson laughs as I sit down next to him. He’s still laughing as he touches his finger to the first bruise—the one under my eye. I’m relieved that it hasn’t turned black, but it’s no less painful.

I flinch.

    And then Bryson isn’t laughing anymore. Instead, he leans forward and blows on it.

I shiver. I’m not sure how or why, but it does make it feel better. He moves to use the ointment on my lip, too. Suddenly I’m aware of how intimate this is. Us, alone in his room. His finger pauses, near my lip, as though he’s asking permission. I subtly shift forward, giving it.

The ointment stings, but his touch is gentle. Bryson leans forward and, at first, I think he’s going to blow on the bruise again, but then I feel his lips on mine.

Just as quickly he pulls back.

“All done.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“I’m a what?”

Bryson tackles me on the bed. He’s careful not to hurt me.

Swiftly, he pins my hands above my head. Bryson brings his face closer and hovers there. I strain toward him, but Bryson lifts his head, making the space between us grow.

“This is teasing.”

We’re both smiling and so lost in what we’re doing that we don’t hear someone enter the room.

“Hey, Bry…,” a female voice starts, but tapers out at the sight of us. Bryson and I turn to find who I assume is Bryson’s sister standing there. “What’s going on here?” Her eyes are wide as she studies us, but then her face breaks into a grin. “Tell me everything.”

Bryson and I try to untangle ourselves as fast as we can, which only causes him to fall off the bed. I stand and Bryson quickly scampers to his feet. Belatedly, I realize that he’s still shirtless.