Page 57 of Off Script
Not my monkey, not my circus. Not anymore, anyway.
Soon enough, Kelsey, Cole, and Duke leave to return to their own home. Not long afterwards, my mom and Carlisle finish their wine. We gather the glasses and plates, depositing them in the sink to deal with tomorrow, and then we all retire separately to our bedrooms.
Trudging up the stairs, I open the door to my childhood bedroom. It's bizarre being an adult and staying in my childhood room when I visit. When I moved to California, my mom kept my room preserved like a shrine. It’s still decorated with sports trophies, a framed football jersey, and movie posters from over a decade ago.
Pondering the past, I sit down in my desk chair and look at the corkboard hanging on the wall above my desk. It’s littered with high school memories, many of which prominently feature my younger brother. With only fifteen months between us, we’d grown up as both brothers and best friends.
Wherever I went, he went. Whatever I did, he did.
Until Cole took that one step too far.
God, I wish things could be different betweenus.
But our lives diverged as soon as he took my girlfriend into his bed. I was hurt and humiliated by Kelsey’s deceit, but Cole’s betrayal broke me.
Until today, the primary emotions that I felt towards my brother have been rage and resentment, but right now all I feel towards Cole is sympathy. I escaped Kelsey’s toxicity, but he never will. Because of Duke, Cole’s trapped in a relationship with Kelsey for the rest of his life. Even if they split up, they’ll forever be bonded as Duke’s parents. In one capacity or another, Cole will always have to deal with Kelsey.
I feel guilty as hell when I think about how relieved I am that Duke isn’t my kid, and that I have the luxury of walking away from Kelsey.
My depressing stroll down memory lane is interrupted by a soft knock on my door. I hop up from the desk to swing open the door. Timidly, Carlisle stands in my doorway. Her face is scrubbed free of make-up, her hair is pulled back into a messy bun perched high atop her head, and she’s only wearing an old t-shirt that reaches midway down her thighs.
I shove open the door wider and she slips under my arm and into the room.
As she did when she first entered my house in LA, she slowly spins in a circle, taking in the space that represents my childhood. She walks along the perimeter of the room, her fingertips brushing the sports medals and trophies. Moving towards my bedside table, I cringe knowing exactly what has drawn her attention. Picking up the picture frame, she grins as she studies it.
“I vaguely remember you mentioning once that you were a theater geek before getting into sports.”
“Somebody had to play the Tin Man inThe Wizard of Oz, so it may as well have been me,” I shrug casually, trying to downplay how dorky I look in that photo. It was taken during my freshman year of highschool, and I was in the midst of puberty. Tall, gangly, and awkward… and I was wearing a costume made entirely of aluminum foil. It wasn’t a good look for anyone.
Closing the distance between us, I come up behind her and loosely wrap my arms around her, pulling her back into the front of my body. She nestles her head into the crook of my shoulder, and melts against me.
“Enough snooping around my old room, let’s go to the guest room. We can’t sleep together in this twin bed.” I coax Carlisle towards the door, as she hesitates.
“What? Your parents are literally sleeping like twenty feet away from here,” she hisses, her azure eyes growing wide. “We can’t stay together!”
“Carlisle,” I say patiently. “I’m 30-years-old. If I want to sleep in the same bed as you, I think my parents will survive. Besides, I slept here last night, and my feet hang off the end of the mattress. I’m not doing that again tonight.”
She chews her bottom lip, toiling with her indecision, until she relents. “Okay, fine, but you have to sneak back in here early tomorrow morning, so your parents don’t know that we slept together.”
Smirking, I love how she blushes when she realizes what her word choice implies. “I can do both of those things—sneak back here tomorrow and sleep with you.”
“Shut up,” she huffs demurely.
When we hit the hallway, I nudge her to follow me and lift my finger to my lips. After sneaking out all during high school, I know exactly which floorboards squeak and which don’t. Once we make it to the safety of the guest room, I grab Carlisle’s hand and pull her towards me. I need her in my arms again, feeling her heart beating next to mine. I've hated not being able to touch her freely.
Cupping the back of her neck, I tilt her head upwards and train my eyes upon hers. “Thank you for being here and for being you.” Christ, I don’t deserve the goodness and grace that Carlisle has shown me during this trip. I dumped her in the deep end of my family drama, and she hung with me without complaint. “I’m not sure I would’ve stayed sane without you here.”
“I’ve loved spending time with you and your parents.” The corners of her mouth wiggle as she fights a losing battle to suppress a grin. “Was it awkward AF at times? Yeah, but it was also wonderful AF at other times.”
The stress that has been coiled inside of me the last few days loosens its grip, and I take a slow, deep breath. I bury my head into Carlisle’s hair, inhaling the now familiar scent, feeling really grateful. I gently knead the muscles of her neck and shoulders, and she groans in response to my touch.
“God, that feels good. Please don’t stop.”
Whispering in her ear, I reply, “I won’t stop unless you want me to.” She shivers against me, and my dick springs to life.
I trail my hands down to the curve where her waist meets her hips, slipping one hand under her shirt so that I can touch her satiny soft skin. She splays her fingers over my chest, feeling the planes of my muscles and making my heart thump erratically under her electric touch.
Gazing up at me, I see the churning storm of desire in her eyes that mirrors my own. I return her stare, drinking in her beauty like a man who’s been marooned in the desert.
