Nineteen Letters, page 25
“I heard Samantha tell some girls at school that she was going to have sex with you after the formal.”
“What?” That was so ridiculous I almost laughed. I hadn’t even planned on kissing her.
Before you had time to say anything else, Samantha appeared at my side. “Braxton,” she said, linking her arm with mine, “are you coming back in?”
My attention was still focused on you, but yours was now on her. The look you were giving her confused me. Was it possible you were jealous?
“I shouldn’t have come,” you said as your eyes flickered back to me. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Samantha tugged on my arm, but I gently shrugged her away. There was no way I was going to let you get back on a bus alone at night.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Samantha. “I need to go after her.” She looked sad as she turned and walked back inside. I felt bad that I had ruined her night, but my priority was, and always will be, you.
“Jemma, wait.” I needed to know why you were so upset about this. I grabbed hold of your arm, pulling you to a stop. When you swung around to face me, I was shocked to see you were crying. “Hey.”
You recoiled from my touch. “Leave me alone.”
“No, I want to know why you’re so upset about what you heard.”
“Because …”
“Because why?”
“Because I don’t want you to have sex with her.” You reached out, pushing me in the chest.
“Enough,” I said, grabbing hold of both of your wrists. “Talk to me, Jem. Help me understand because I have no idea what is going on here.”
There was a pained look on your face when you finally confessed.
“I thought I was okay with you bringing a date tonight … turns out I’m not. I don’t want to lose you to her … to anybody.”
“You’re never going to lose me. Never. You’ll always be my best friend.”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be just friends anymore, Brax,” you whispered, dipping your face. “I want to be the person you dance with, the one you kiss … the one you have sex with.”
I could only stare at you, not quite believing your words. You were everything I had ever wanted, and all I could manage was: “What?”
“I’m in love with you, Braxton. Not just friend love. Love, love. I think I have been for years, I just didn’t know it. When I heard Samantha say she was going to have sex with you, I honestly felt like I couldn’t breathe. A huge part of me wanted to scratch her eyes out. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being with anyone in that way.”
I stood there shell-shocked for the longest time. I desperately wanted it to be true but I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing.
“Say something,” you pleaded as your eyes scanned my face.
But suddenly everything clicked into place. I knew that this was no time for words, it was time for action. I was about to do something I’d wanted to do for years.
I cupped your face in my hands and tilted your head back slightly, placing my lips against yours. I can’t tell you how many times I’d stared at your mouth over the years and wondered what they would taste like.
They tasted sweet, like honey, just like I knew they would.
I finally drew back, resting my forehead against yours. “Wow,” I heard you whisper, and even though I think I was still in shock that we’d just kissed, a huge smile exploded onto my face—and I saw it reflected in yours.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I asked.
“What about the formal?”
“I didn’t want to come anyway, remember? You made me.”
My hands were still cupping your face, and yours were resting on my hips. “Next time I try to make you do something you don’t want to do, ignore me.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
You linked your arm through mine and rested your head on my shoulder as we walked towards my father’s car. I’ll admit that there was a small part of me that was worried this was going to ruin our friendship, but I was willing to take a chance on love because you were all I had ever wanted.
“I’m not ready to go home yet,” you said as we pulled out of the car park. “Can we just drive around for a while?”
We ended up heading to the lookout. As kids, we’d ride our bikes up there, but it was the first time we’d ever been there at night.
You sat forward in your seat and gazed out the front window when I put the car into park. “Wow, the city looks so beautiful all lit up,” you said.
“It does.” But all I could think was that it didn’t look half as beautiful as you.
I reached across the centre console for your hand, lacing our fingers together. “Are you sure this is what you want, Jem?”
“A hundred per cent,” you answered. “And you?”
“A hundred and fifty per cent.”
You were smiling as your body gravitated towards mine. “Kiss me again.”
You didn’t need to ask me twice.
When we finally came up for air, I reached over, flicking through the radio stations.
“Oh, this one, leave this on,” you said. “Love song dedications.”
“What?”
“It is what this program is called. People ring up on a Friday or Saturday night and dedicate a song to the person they love. I listen to it all the time.” You slapped my arm when I laughed at you. “It’s really sweet.”
I opened my door and climbed out of the car.
“Where are you going?” you asked.
I didn’t reply.
Walking around the front of the vehicle, I moved towards your side. I opened the door and extended my hand to you. “Dance with me.” You looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “You said you wanted to be the one I danced with, so let’s dance.”
I slid my arms around your waist, and you wrapped yours around my neck. The song that was playing soon came to an end, but neither of us let go.
“I want to dedicate this next song to the love of my life,” a man’s voice said over the radio. “I have known her for most of my life … we grew up in the same street. In a few short weeks, she’ll become my wife. I know she’s listening tonight, and I just want to say, I love you, Boo-Boo.”
“This could be our song too,” you said. “Apart from the getting married part … and the pet name, they sound exactly like us.”
“I need to hear the words first,” I replied.
The song was called, ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’. And you were right, it was the perfect song for us.
I drop my arms, resting the letter in my lap. I can’t believe that was the same song we danced to last night. It touched something deep inside me when I heard it, and now I know why.
Your body moved slowly against mine as our lips connected. When I started to get a sensation down below, I clenched my eyes shut. I knew what was about to happen, but no matter how hard I tried to stop my body from reacting to you, there was no use.
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole, and I prayed you wouldn’t notice. But even I knew that was impossible; our bodies were pressed tightly against each other.
A few seconds later you pulled out of the kiss and gazed up at me. I knew my face was as red as a beetroot.
“Is that a dagger in your pocket, Mr Spencer?” You were suppressing a smile as you spoke. “Or are you just pleased to see me?”
I buried my face into the crook of your neck as humiliation consumed me. “No, it’s a torch.” It was the first thing that came to mind. “You never know when you’re going to need one. I learned to always be prepared when I was a Boy Scout.”
You tossed your head back and laughed. “You were never a boy scout.”
I pulled away from you, mortified. I’d experienced nothing like this before—you were the first person I’d ever held like that … the first person I’d ever kissed.
“It’s getting late, I should get you home.”
“Braxton.” You reached for me when I turned and started heading back to the car. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“Just drop it, Jem.”
“Please.” You slid your arms around my waist from behind, halting me. I let out a sigh when you rested the side of your face against my back. “It’s a natural reaction. I’m sorry for laughing. I like that it was me who did that to you.” I inhaled a sharp breath when your hand moved down below my waist.
I liked this brazen side of you. “You do?” I asked, turning in your arms to face you.
“Yes. You make me feel like that too, but unlike you, I don’t have a torch to prove it. They don’t teach you those kinds of things in the Girl Guides.”
This time I laughed. Leaning forward, I planted a soft kiss on your nose. You always knew the right thing to say to make me feel better.
“This is a learning curve for us both, but you’re the only person I want to experience this with, Jem.”
You smiled, and suddenly everything was perfect again. “Great, now that we’ve got that sorted, we need to finish our dance. Our song isn’t over yet.”
And that’s exactly what we did. A few minutes later the heavens opened up, but even that wasn’t enough to pull us apart. We were just content being in each other’s arms even though we were getting soaked.
When your body began to shiver, I bundled you into the car.
“I need to get you home and into some dry clothes. I can’t have my girlfriend getting sick.” I winked at you as I closed the passenger door before running around to the driver’s side.
We were both drenched, but I was more concerned about you than me. Grabbing my suit jacket off the back of my seat, I draped it over you, before cranking the heater up to high.
You placed your hand on my leg, which made me smile. I still couldn’t believe this was happening. Yesterday we were best friends, but now we were so much more.
“Am I really your girlfriend now?” You were beaming as you spoke.
“I hope so. I let you feel my torch, remember? I don’t let just anyone feel my torch.”
You pushed your head back into the seat and giggled. “That’s right, you did. And I sincerely hope that you don’t go around letting just anyone feel your torch, especially now that you’re my boyfriend.”
I cleared my throat before reaching over to turn the radio up. All this talk about torches was dangerous.
I held your hand all the way home and kissed you goodnight when I walked you to your door.
“Sweet dreams, Jem,” I said, brushing my lips against yours one more time. I could have stood there and kissed you until the sun came up, but you were cold and wet, so I let you go.
“I’ll dream of you, Braxton Spencer,” you whispered.
That night had started out pretty crappy for me, but it ended up being one of the best nights of my life.
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
These letters tell me so much about myself, but they also let me get to know Braxton. I’ve learned just as much about him from reading these—things I’m sure the old me didn’t even know.
Placing the letter down beside me, I search in the bottom of the envelope for my charm. I find a small piece of paper instead.
I didn’t have time to buy the charms to go with this letter, because I wrote it last night after dropping you off. I’ll give them to you when I see you tomorrow morning at breakfast. x
Chapter 28
Braxton
I’m pacing back and forth on the deck as I anxiously wait for a glimpse of Jemma. Christine told me she was still asleep when I dropped the letter off yesterday morning, but I can’t help but wonder. Was she sleeping? Or was she hiding in her room to avoid me? Did I overstep the mark by kissing her?
She said yes when I asked for permission, and she kissed me back, but still …
I run my hands through my hair as uncertainty clouds my mind. Things were never this difficult before. I always knew where I stood with her.
I went into a panic yesterday when I woke and saw it was almost nine. I thought I’d missed her … that she’d come for breakfast only to find me not there.
I couldn’t sleep after dropping her off the night before. After tossing and turning for a few hours, I eventually got up and wrote her another letter. It was some ungodly hour by the time I finally crawled back into bed and hugged her pillow, just like I’ve done every night since the accident. I’ve washed and changed the sheets numerous times since then, but not her pillowcase. It still smells of her. It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.
When I jumped out of bed yesterday, I threw on a T-shirt and a pair of sweats before walking the length of the beach with Bella-Rose. Jemma was nowhere to be seen. I ran back to the house and showered and changed in record time, before rushing to Christine’s.
That kiss … even today, it’s still in the forefront of my mind. She kissed me just like she used to. It’s been two days, and I’m still smiling about it.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when I hear someone speak. “Good morning.”
I swing around and relief washes over me when I see Jemma standing on the sand at the bottom of the steps.
She came.
“Morning.” I walk towards the edge of the deck. She’s not dressed in her running gear today. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it yesterday morning, I slept in.”
“Me too.”
I must remember to give her the charms before she leaves. I bought a boy and girl kissing, and a tiny umbrella to symbolise the rain. I even considered buying a torch charm as a joke, but that’s a moment I’m okay with her not remembering.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, reaching for her hand.
“Starved.”
I don’t know what to do. Do I kiss her? The morning after our very first kiss, there was no confusion about how to act, but things are different now. Back then I knew she was mine, but now I’m not so sure.
In that split second, I decide not to. Although I want to kiss her so badly I ache inside, I don’t want to push her. Our kiss the other night propelled our somewhat strained relationship to a whole other level, and I’m not about to do anything to jeopardise that.
I do, however, keep her hand clasped in mine as I lead her towards the table on the deck. “Sit,” I instruct, letting go of her hand and pulling her chair out. “I’ll make us a coffee.”
“Thank you,” she replies, smiling up at me.
We fall into easy conversation as we eat. She listens as I talk about my work, the small everyday things that make up my life. It’s just the type of easy breakfast chat we used to have.
“Speaking of work, I better clean up this mess so we can get going.”
I would much rather spend my day out here with her curled up on the bench seat like we used to do on weekends, but I force myself to stand and collect the dishes.
“Let me help you,” she says.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
I stand to the side so she can enter the house first, and I smile when she does exactly that. She pauses just inside the doorway as she takes in the large space before her. This house was once so alive with laughter and happiness, now it just seems far too big and quiet.
When we designed the interior, we wanted plenty of room, not only for our friends to stay over, but for the family we planned to have in the future—but I push those thoughts out of my mind. I’m just happy she has finally found the courage to come into the house.
“Wow,” she says softly. “It’s so beautiful in here.”
The windows that run along the back of the house let in an abundance of natural light, which makes the room appear larger and illuminates the interior, increasing the overall beauty of the space. Working together on the plans for this place is one of my most precious memories of us.
I unload the dishes onto the breakfast bar and join Jemma. “Let me take those,” I say, reaching out for the coffee mugs she’s holding. “Have a look around if you’d like.”
She keeps hold of the mugs. “Let me help you with the dishes.”
I think that’s her polite way of saying thanks-but-no-thanks, and I’m okay with that. Baby steps.
“You can rinse.”
“Okay.”
I can tell she’s a little overwhelmed by all this, but she’s smiling. Smiling is good.
We set to work, and I can’t help but watch her as she stops intermittently to gaze out the window. Seeing her like this—relaxed, rinsing breakfast dishes at the sink—is such a familiar sight and something I once took for granted. But not anymore.
“The view from here is breathtaking. I’d be happy to wash dishes every day if I could do it from here.”
I pack the dishwasher as she rinses, and we have it done in no time.
“I’ll just run upstairs and grab my keys, and we’ll be off,” I say.
“Could I use the bathroom before we go?”
“Of course.”
I lead her across the living room, and again I see her eyes everywhere, taking it all in. Then she spots Samson.
“Is this the bird you mentioned? The one that belonged to your father?”
“Yes. Samson.”
“Come say hello. He misses his pretty girl.”
“His what?”
“That’s what he calls you, Pretty Girl.”
“He does not,” she says with a small laugh.
“Come see.”
As soon as he sees us, he flies towards the front of the cage, latching his clawed feet around the wire. His beady eyes are firmly fixed on Jemma, and he starts to bounce up and down as we get closer. “Squawk … Pretty Girl.”
“See, I told you.”
“Pretty Girl … Pretty Girl … who’s my Pretty Girl … squawk.”
“Oh my god,” she says, covering her mouth and giggling.
“Yes, your Pretty Girl is here,” I tell to Samson, sliding my finger in between the bars of the cage and scratching his neck.
“I can’t believe he calls me that.”
“I might have taught him to say it.”
