Don't Wait 11
Stephanie looked out the window, her vision sweeping the street, seeking. A movement caught her eye, and a dark silhouette separated itself from the tree that sheltered it.
In a trance, she turned and walked out the bedroom door, her bare feet silent as she passed Mary Lou sleeping on the pull-out couch. The deadbolt gave a well-oiled, almost inaudible click as she turned it, and she wrapped her hand around the chain to keep it from rattling when she removed it.
Slipping out the apartment door, she pulled it shut behind her without a thought of keys or how she would get back in. Floating down the stairs and out the front door, leaving it ajar, she met him on the sidewalk and his arms around her both relieved and intensified the passion burning in her belly.
"Babe," he whispered. And then his mouth covered hers, and the fire surrounded them.
"Am I dreaming?" Stephanie murmured, dizzy with need, her lips scorched from the heat of his.
"Babe," Carlos answered, his voice rusty. "Walk with me?" he asked, and at her nod he took her hand and they set off down the street, both barefoot and in their night clothes. They were a study in contrasts, Carlos with his dark skin dressed in black boxers and t-shirt, and Stephanie, milky white and wearing a white lace camisole and matching boy shorts.
There was a small park in the next block, just an empty lot with trees, grass, and some rusty playground equipment. Carlos led Stephanie to a bench and they sat, pressed together from knee to hip, his arm around her holding her tight to his side. She put her head on his shoulder and relaxed, her eyes closed.
When Carlos spoke, she felt the rumble of his voice under her cheek. "I misled you tonight, and I need to tell you the truth. I didn't want to wait."
"I had a funny feeling when you brought me my wallet, like there was something off," she answered. "But I thought maybe I was imagining it."
"It's my brother," Carlos began. "He's the one who took your wallet. He's a meth addict."
As he told Stephanie about Julio, the defensive shield Carlos held tight to protect him from the rough Newark world fell away and he opened up to Stephanie as he'd never done to anyone before. He was a man of few words, and he kept it succinct, but he let her into his heart, allowed his feelings to show, his love for his brother and his own guilt.
She stretched her arm across his chest as far around him as she could reach, trying to absorb his hurt, drawing the pain from him the way you lance a boil so it can heal.
"So he's not physically addicted," Carlos concluded, "but the pull of the drug is so strong that he can't be happy without it. I hope after a few weeks he won't be so desperate for that high, but I'll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, I don't dare let him out of my sight."
"You're a good brother," Stephanie said.
"I owe it to him," Carlos said. "I haven't set a good example. It's probably my fault he started."
"What do you mean?" Stephanie pulled her head back to look at his face, but the shadows cast by the nearby streetlight turned his eyes to black holes and painted cruel slashes across his sharp-edged cheeks. She couldn't suppress a tremor of fear, wondering what she was doing out here in the middle of the night with this stranger.
"Are you cold, Babe?" Carlos asked, releasing her and yanking off his t-shirt with one hand at the back of the neck. "Here, put this on."
As he turned toward her the light changed on his face and she saw his eyes, deep brown and expressive, concern and caring foremost. And when he helped her slip the shirt over her head, every sense was filled to overflowing with him. The distinctive scent that mingled soap and male in an irresistible fusion; the softness of the cotton tee caressing her skin; the taste of his kiss still on her lips; the sleepy twittering of birds and the muted rush of waves on the distant shore; the ridges and valleys of his well muscled torso and the indescribable beauty that was his face—the combination sent her system careening out of control, scaring her even more with emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
But despite her physical reaction to him, the faint fear was still with her. "What do you mean, your fault?" she repeated.
"I got in with… the wrong crowd when I was younger, and I've done some pretty… wild things, been in quite a bit of trouble. I'll tell you about my past sometime if you really want to know. But that's all behind me. I'm starting over and doing things right this time."
Judge by his actions, Stephanie told herself, not his words. And his actions so far had shown nothing but honor. So she relaxed back against him, her cheek resting on the smooth, warm skin in the concave dip between his shoulder and his pectoral muscle and her arm draped around his waist. Her mind stopped, and she allowed herself to drift in the sensation of security that was her instinctive impression of Carlos. He felt safe, like he would protect her.
"Don't go to sleep, Babe." Carlos's deep gentle voice brought her out of her trance. "I think it's time to get you home."
They walked hand in hand back to Stephanie's apartment through the cool night air of the coast, both silent, immersed in their own thoughts.
"Oh, shit," Stephanie said when they reached the sidewalk in front of the big white house. "I'm locked out. I forgot my keys."
Carlos raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
She worried her bottom lip with her upper teeth. "I could wake up Mary Lou to let me in, but then there will be a big inquisition about where I was."
Thoughts flashed through Carlos's mind and he made a snap decision. "If you want I could open the door for you. But it would involve a little breaking and entering."
"Oh, could you?" Stephanie's gusty sigh evinced her relief. "I'd really appreciate it. And it's not breaking and entering if I tell you it's okay."
"Meet me at your apartment door," Carlos said.
Stephanie watched as he scaled the corner of the house in complete silence, crossed the porch roof, eased the screen off and disappeared through her open bedroom window. A small fist of fear punched her stomach at the thought that Tina or Mary Lou might wake up as Carlos passed by, and she hurried through the unlatched front door and up the stairs.
He was waiting for her in the dim hall, his bare foot in the apartment door to keep it open. He reached out to cup Stephanie's chin, his faint smile evoking her own evanescent one in response.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You saved me again. That's twice in one day."
"De nada, Babe. Sweet dreams."
"Wait. Let me give you back your shirt." She grabbed the hem to pull it off.
He stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "Keep it, Babe. It will make me happy to think of you wearing it."
He gently brushed his lips over hers, soft and sweet, and then watched the door close behind her.
TBC in Part 2—Reason to Believe