Haven't really got much to say in this Author Note except thank you all so much for the amazing reviews! And to MakingMiraclesHappen, or Kayla, yes Kayla's middle name can be Marie. At first I was going to make her middle name Amy, but yours sounds better. Kayla Marie George. =-)
And please, if you have some spare time or can be bothered, read and review Iwantmyownhappyending's story 'Limits', as the story was deleted accidentally and she's lost all her reviews! =-(
Here's the next chapter, sorry it look a little longer than the last one. Please review! Xx
Jordan broods silently as I direct him in the car up to Sam's house. The silence is screaming like a child who hasn't had it's dinner. I half-want Jordan to say something productive and comforting, but I don't think he'll come up with anything. So, there's nothing I can do except tap my fingers anxiously on my knees. Later, I'll probably feel anger bubble up inside me at a completely unpredictable moment. Brady is once again taking my time with Jordan away from me. But right now, I'm as nervous as a bipolar teenager and I don't even know why.
My worry is not helped by the fact that Jordan won't speak. His elbows rest on the wheel, driving the car with his forearms. I recognize the expression on his face as concentrated anger. His impenetrable gaze stays on the road with a slight frown on his face. Not entirely the most comforting mood I need right now.
I inhale a deep, shaky breath as I turn away to look out the window into the trees. There's something about them that calms me down. Maybe it's the way that they're so free, while I feel so trapped. As they sway in the breeze, Brady's face is in my mind- gorgeous hair, big eyes and all. There's something in me that still feels the familiar tingling sensation that I used to have when I knew I was going to see him. I have no idea why I still feel this way over seeing Brady.
More than anything, I want to be able to barge in there and demand answers- why are they so determined to explain when there's nothing to talk about, why does Brady care that I live in an Orphanage, but I don't think I will. This whole situation is too close to my heart, and if it were anything else, I would go in there and give them a piece of my mind.
I think Jordan can sense that. Maybe that's why he's not talking- normally he would be telling me to calm down and not do anything rash. This is an unfamiliar situation for both of us.
When Sam's house- or rather, hut- comes into view from far away on the left side of the road, my heart beats rapidly as Jordan pauses the car. We're here. The house brings back memories like a photo does- just a few short days ago with Sam taking me to school, Emily's scarred but beautiful face smiling at me over the golden muffins we'd had for breakfast. And Brady's inside that house, waiting for you- my mind whispers theatrically.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in?" Jordan grabs my hand suddenly and tears my gaze away from the house to look at him. His expression is back to the way it was before we left the Orphanage- concerned and worried.
"I'll be fine. It's just a few minutes. Hopefully. And you'll hear my scream if I need you," I pat his hand, trying my best to look brave. I can tell just by looking at his face that I've failed miserably.
He doesn't look pleased, but narrows his eyes with some worry still inside them and leans back into his seat.
"I'll wait for you round the corner."
These words suddenly seem like a death sentence. There's no more waiting- I'm going to see Brady again. A hot flash runs through me- you know the panicked kind when you're entering an exam room. The no-time-left feeling.
My legs feel like jelly as I jump out of the car slowly. Brady's in that house, Brady's in that house, Brady's in that house...
When Jordan drives the car away, I feel like a child who's been left alone on the side of the road on their first day on school- nervous, scared, and nauseated. As I gulp down the excess saliva I've suddenly produced in the last few seconds, I watch Jordan speed away for a little bit then pull up on the side of the road.
I take another deep, shaky breath as I turn around. Walking on my jelly legs, I somehow manage to make it to the front door. I can feel the anxiety in my stomach and chest, waiting for when I stop moving to put the effects on me- ie, the dreaded butterflies.
My finger presses the tiny circle of rusty brown of a doorbell and I step back, crossing my arms nervously. Before I even get a chance to breath, the door is opened.
Thank God it's Sam. If it was Brady, I don't think my heart could take it without any warning- the shock might be too much.
He has a strange expression on his face, as if he's sorry for me and trying to look determined at the same time. Thankfully I can't see into the living room from this angle.
"I'm glad you came," is all he says, but those words say everything. The way he feels sorry for me, how much he wishes he doesn't have to do this, and how nervous he is about this situation.
I manage a tiny smile for him, and I feel immediately proud. With my heart hammering away in my chest, I was half-expecting it to fall out and splatter on the ground. Honestly, how am I still conscious?
Sam holds the door back firmly, gesturing for me to come inside. I gulp.
I don't want to look around the living room. I've stepped into it, but I don't want to look up. The atmosphere is thrumming with electricity and nerves, and somehow I know Brady is standing at the other side of the room next to the kitchen. I can hear him catch his breath, and I gulp down saliva again. Part of me wants to cry, and the other part is screaming at me to look up at Brady and get this over with. I need answers.
Sam steps past me, feeling him glance at me then Brady.
"Right. Both of you, please sit down," Sam says authoritatively.
I quickly sit down on the squashy sofa I'd slept on the night after the party. I can feel Brady sit next to me and keep his eyes on my face. I can't resist it any more for some reason. I have to look up.
The second I do I'm captivated. His eyes just hold me there, looking so sad and hopeful at the same time. I don't know how to react to that. God, he's huge, when did he get so big? Ordinarily, I'm small,, but compared to him I'm tiny. However tall and muscly he is, there's still something soft about him- in his body and chocolate brown eyes. Maybe it's his soft-looking skin... why am I thinking about that?
He's taking such deep breaths, as if I'm the most breathtaking thing in the world.
I'm so scared and alarmed by the expression on his face that I move away quickly.
Sam sits himself down opposite us both on a matching squashy armchair. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward, looking at me with a serious expression on his face. I gulp and look as far away from Brady as I can, which is across the room to my left.
"Now," Sam starts, like a teacher going to start a lesson. "Thank you for coming Kayla, I know it's... erm, awkward. I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
I look at him, my hands suddenly becoming interested in the cuffs of my long-sleeved white top I had opted for.
"But first I think Brady should tell you something."
{{{{{{{{{{{}}}}}}}}}}
If the ground is waiting for a good moment to suck me up, this would be it. As I look toward Brady again, I feel like a little child scared of a big spider. And right now the big spider is opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish while staring at me. I don't meet his eyes. I keep mine focused firmly on the old oak coffee table that's separating us from Sam- it seems to be the only un-stressed object in the room.
"I'm sorry," Brady croaks. His tone of voice shocks and scares me, and I glance up at him. For one, he's not looking at me. Instead, he's staring and blinking rapidly at a spot in the air in between Sam and the window to my left. "I'm so sorry for everything that's happened. I had no idea Chloe was your friend or that you liked me. And I'm sorry for all the mean things I've said to you before. You have no idea how sorry," he bows his head in pain, neck twisting in shame.
The shock and surprise at his expression and strength of his apology doesn't seem to hit me like you'd expect it to. I cut straight to... something- I don't think there's even a name for this emotion.
"Why?" I blurt out, suddenly feeling stronger.
Hearing my voice somehow makes him look at me, terrifying me with a look of longing and fierce awe.
"I... I can't tell you right now," he says, somewhat reluctantly. I barely have time to react to that before he continues, "but put it this way, I'm seeing you in a different light."
A much different light- I think shakily. Maybe the shock is affecting my brain so much that I can't feel it any more. Or maybe it's like when you get a cold- once you get over the infection, your body builds up an immunity.
"Why can't tell you tell me?" I say out loud, angry and confused.
"That can wait for another time," Sam interrupts, giving Brady a pointed and commanding look. It's as if me asking Brady to do something means he'll do it immediately. What are they so afraid of?
"No, it can't! I didn't come here just so both of you could talk to me in riddles!" I say defiantly, hands no longer playing with my cuff and instead sitting quietly at my sides. Hints of desperation and anger leak their way into my voice despite my determination to remain calm. I don't know where this sudden confidence is coming from, but I'm not going to complain.
Brady has this look on his face- like he desperately wants to tell me everything but there's something pulling him back. Is that something Sam? I heard the commandeering tone to his voice just a moment ago. Right now, however, I just feel exhausted with only one question in my mind- what the hell is going on? And after a moment, I decide to voice it.
"What's going on? Why are you being so secretive and deciding what I should and shouldn't know? And why do you care so much?" Once one question comes out, I can't seem to stop them.
I feel a hand on my forearm. It's warm and soft, but I barely notice that. It's the tingles I feel as it's skin connects with my own- they shock me into oblivion. For a second I can't think about anything else. Sam is speaking, but nothing registers.
The hand belongs to Brady, and somehow I know he's feeling the same things that I am, perhaps even more. It's looks like he's struggling to breathe, savoring this moment in time, as if touching me is the most wonderful thing in the world.
Dammit, I wish I would stop feeling like this! I'm angry at him. In fact, maybe I'm angry at the entire world. But Brady's hurt me, even if he didn't mean to, and he nearly slept with my best friend. I shouldn't be feeling tingly when he touches me, I should be angry and disgusted. And even though part of me is angry, I can hardly feel it. I can't ignore how it feels so right and how my heart aches.
So I pull my arm gently away. I don't know how, but I do. I'm majorly freaked out, confused, and angry. For a second his hands stays there, and after I take my arm away, his fingers drop onto my leg for a second. Oh God... thank the Heavens I'm wearing jeans.
I think Sam can tell that I didn't hear him speak. When I'm finally able to look back up at him, he glances from me to Brady, who, from the corner of my eye, looks like someone shot his puppy. I really have no idea what to do or say, so I'm really glad that Sam starts talking again.
"Everything will be explained, I promise. Brady really wanted to apologize, and I thought this way might make you more comfortable rather than appearing on your doorstep," he explains, looking down at his hands.
I don't know what to say to that. What can anybody say to that?
"I need to ask something," Brady's deep voice says. He's staring at me again, I can feel it. "Why do you live in an Orphanage?" He sounds so upset, worried and concerned. Why does he sound like that?
My head snaps round immediately to him.
"That's nobody's business but my own," I say sharply and firmly. I hate it when people ask me that. It's my business, and my life. Why can't people just understand that? "And why do you even care?"
Brady looks so hurt and worried, but the awed look in his eyes still doesn't go away. God, I'm so confused.
"It's not the right time to explain. Is it something to do with your parents?" he basically ignores my angry expression. His eyes are permanently wide, focused on me like he needs to know about me to live. Well, I'm not buying it.
"It's none of your business," I look away, not wanting to see him anymore. This is dangerous territory- what if I start crying about all of this? That's the last thing in the world that I want to happen.
"Brady," Sam warns. I think he can tell I don't want to talk about it and that I'm getting uncomfortable.
"Are you happy there?" Brady sounds desperate to know. That is enough.
"Right, I'm gonna go, sorry Sam," I stand up, turning my head to give Sam an apologetic look.
"No don't, please, I'm sorry!" Brady's voice scares me- like he can't bear to lose me. What's going on? Why are they saying right now isn't the right time to tell me why Brady suddenly cares so much about me? All this confusion and fear is making my brain hurt.
"Kayla, just a minute more, didn't you want to ask some questions?" I can hear Sam get up from his seat.
I turn around.
"I think I've heard everything. You won't tell me the reason why Brady suddenly is obsessed with me, so what's the point in being here? Besides my brother's waiting for me," I look down at the ground after my little speech, suddenly losing all the confidence I'd gained.
"You have a brother?" Brady interrogates. This is just too much. Anger suddenly fills me, and with that comes confidence. But not the kind I'm happy about...
"Yes, I have a brother, would you like to know my bra size too?" I fume. Brady blushes and I can tell that Sam wants to laugh. If I weren't so mad I would think he looks cute.
Instead of trying to persuade me to stay like I expect him to, he asks me if I can get back all right. Brady shoots him a look of anger, which we both try and ignore. I'm literally shaking in my shock and desperation to get out of here.
"You two still need to talk, but to be honest I think you should to do it alone without me," Sam says, walking toward the door to let me out.
Before I can even worry over that and be terrified at the thought of being alone with Brady, Sam opens the door and tells me to take care.
Before Brady can even protest, which I know he'll do because he moves forward toward Sam with his hands shaking, I quickly walk out the door. The door shuts behind me. The raised and heated voices coming from within can be heard even when I'm halfway back to Jordan and walking on shaky legs.