Call Me Crazy by Quinn Loftis
“If I ever see you near her locker, her car, her house, or her, I’ll…,” Trey leans forward and whispers in Carters ear so softly that no one else can hear. But when all the blood drains from Carter’s face making him now resemble a corpse more than a living being, I decide that it’s a really good thing that no one heard what Trey said.
Just as Trey is letting Carter go, Amber pushes through the crowd and saunters, yes, literally saunters, up to him. I watch as she raises her hand and lays it on Trey’s chest and leans forward. I don’t have any idea what she was planning on saying because I’m across the space that was between us and standing in front of Trey faster than I knew I could move. I smack her hand away and glare at her.
“Back the hell up,” my voice is surprisingly calm considering the jealousy and anger that is pulsing through me. Amber stares at me with utter disdain and if I could even bring myself to care, I wouldn’t. I feel a strong arm come around me and pull me back against a firm stomach. I feel warm breath on my neck and nearly pass out when I feel lips just behind my ear.
“Good morning.” Trey whispers against it. “Breathe Tally,” he tells me and I realize that if I don’t do as he says, I just might pass out. The crowd clears as they realize the action is over and I’m left standing there alone, in Trey’s arms.
“What are you doing?” I whisper back.
“Saying good morning to my girl,” he responds. I pull away and he lets me go, but steps closer when I try to back away.
“I’m not,” I start to speak, but he stops me.
“Regardless of what you think, Tally, you are mine… and now they know it as well,” he motions out to the hall where people are milling about, “The quicker you come to terms with that, the easier this will be.”
“We’ve already talked about this,” I grumble at him. He wraps an arm around me and starts to pull me along beside him.
“What’s your first class? I don’t want you to be late.”
“English,” I answer automatically.
He grins down at me, “Me too.”
This is not happening, I think to myself. I am not going to let this happen. I really am trying to tell myself that, but as we walk down the hall together and people turn away instead of stare at me, I have to admit that it is so nice to feel protected and safe. And I know that with Trey I’m safe, physically, that is. But with my heart, that’s a whole different story.
We walk into English and Trey guides us to the desks on the right side of the room all the way to the back. He ushers me into the second to last desk and then takes the one behind me. The bell hasn’t rung yet, so I turn and look at him. His lips twitch as if he is trying to hold back a smile and his eyes smolder into mine. I raise my eye brows at him, “What are you doing?”
“This,” he whispers and motions between us.
“No, we are not doing this.” I tell him for what feels like the hundredth time.
He leans forward in his desk until his face is less than an inch from mine. “I asked you to give this a chance. We were in Candy’s room. You were sitting on her bed. Remember?”
I close my eyes as I see the moment he is talking about. I nod.
“You said, ‘Okay’. So yes, we are doing this.”
To my complete and utter shock he wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me towards him. He closes that half inch between us and presses his lips to mine. It was quick, but it was potent. I’m still staring at him when he lets go of my neck and leans back in his chair. The bell rings. I’m still staring. Mrs. Potts begins speaking and I am still staring at the smirking guy behind me.
“Baby, turn around,” he whispers and then winks. WINKS! I was saying we weren’t doing this. I know that’s what I was saying and now he has kissed me, is calling me baby and winking at me. What the hell?
I turn around slowly and tell myself that it is NOT because he told me to. I have no idea what is being taught in English. My neck and face, I’m sure, are stained a permanent shade of red as I feel the dark eyes on my back.
After class, I stand, and before I can grab my bag, Trey has it slung over his shoulder. I look up at him with an attempt at being stern, but based on the smile he flashes me, I don’t succeed.
“Where to next, beautiful?”
Okay, is he trying to make me cry? Does he want me to just melt to the floor? Because if he keeps saying things like that, then that is exactly what is going to happen.
I sigh deciding I will just have to argue with him later. “History,” I tell him and try not to flinch. History class and I don’t have good history together. Ha, I made a joke, lame, but a joke nonetheless.
“You okay?” he asks. Of course he does. He notices everything about me. He always did when he came to visit at Mercy, as well. He is watching me closely and at times, it un-nerves me.
“Yeah,” I tell him with a nod and small smile.
Natalie is waiting for us as we walk out of the classroom. She grins at us like an idiot when she sees Trey carrying my bag. I am shaking my head at her with narrowed eyes while she simply ignores me.
“Hey,” she says smiling, “I thought I’d walk with you to History since we have it together.”
I knew the real reason she wants to walk. She is being supportive and I really appreciate it. And I really appreciate the arm that comes around my waist as we get closer to the room. It was like Trey can sense that with every step I feel like I am getting closer to my own doom.
As we walk into the class, just like yesterday, it takes everything in me, and Nat pushing me, to not turn around and bolt. Yesterday, eyes had followed me all the way to my desk. Today, no one looks up as I walk past, my hand in Trey’s as he leads me.
By the time lunch rolls around Trey has shown me his schedule and it turns out that we have every class together except third period, which thoroughly annoys him.
“It’s one class, Trey,” I tell him as he frowns at me, “not to mention, it shouldn’t matter because we aren’t doing this.”
I start to sit down in my usual spot at lunch but he snags me around the waist and pulls me onto his lap. I shut my mouth just before a startled yelp starts to emerge. He moves me so that my back is to the room and I’m as far as I can turn without straddling him. I nearly jerk my arms away when I feel his hands on my sleeves, but when I look down I see that he is tugging them down where they had slid up, something he had done once before. My eyes dart up to his and I see such incredible compassion and understanding that I can barely swallow.
“We are so doing this,” he whispers and then turns back around and places me next to him like I weigh nothing at all.
As we’re sitting there eating lunch, Bobby, Scott, his girlfriend, Hannah, Natalie, and Jill, are all talking to Trey like he has been there forever. Trey is constantly sneaking in little touches here and there. And by the end of lunch, my nerves are humming like a low electrical current, overwhelmed by so much contact. I don’t think that I have been touched so much since I was an infant and it was required.
The bell rings and just as he has been doing all day, Trey grabs my backpack and my trash from lunch and disposes of it for me. Natalie walks over to me while we both watch Trey like some sort of groupies.
“He’s just…,” Nat begins.
“Shut it, Nat.” I snap.
She snickers, the traitor.
The rest of my day continues on just the same. Trey with me everywhere I go, carrying my bag, holding my hand, keeping me safe. How can I possibly say no to this, I question myself. How can I turn away from someone who is willing to be there for me? But what if… that’s my problem, all I can think about is the what ifs. Doctor Stacey told me a hundred times in therapy to stop thinking about the things that are out of my control, and that it could become an obsession that would keep me from having meaningful relationships. Easier said than done, doc.
At the end of the day Trey, Bobby, Nat, and I all walk out to the parking lot together.
“I’ll see you in five, chick
Trey walks me to my car and I turn to face him. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been treated with such care in my life and I’ve never felt more secure.
“Tally, look at me,” he says after I attempt to look everywhere but at him.
I relent and look up at him. His hand reaches up and he tucks my hair behind my ear. I try to suppress the urge to lean into him, to reveal to him just how much his touch, no matter how slight, affects me.
“So, how was your day?” he asks.
I grin, “You’ve been with me all day. You tell me.”
“I would say that it was awesome.”
“Oh, really?” I say as I fold my arms across my chest. “And why would you say that?”
“Because you were with me,” he says flirtatiously.
“And how was your day?” Did I just ask that in a sultry voice? No, of course not. I wouldn’t do that.
He takes a step closer to me. There is nowhere for me to go unless I want to climb over the hood of my car, which I am not ruling out as an option just yet.
“Best day I’ve had in a little over a week and a half,” he tells me.
I feel the sharp stab of guilt over leaving him high and dry the way I did, though I still think it was for the best. But then again, maybe I’m not always right―maybe.
“Have you finally resigned yourself to this?” he asks.
I decide for honesty, since that hasn’t been my usual course of action with Trey.
“I don’t know. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t want this. I won’t pretend that today wasn’t the best day that I’ve had at school in a very long time. I’m not going to say that I haven’t felt safer with you than I have ever felt before.” I can’t believe I’m spewing all of this out in the school parking lot, for crying out loud, but then Trey has always had that effect on me.
He smiles, but it isn’t an ‘I told you so’ kind of smile. It’s genuine.
“Then let me keep you safe,” his words are soft and filled with such passion that they resonate deep inside of me. “Let me in, Tally.”
I realize then that, even though he has seen the picture and knows that I was in Mercy as a patient, I have yet to tell him why. My stomach feels as though it has been filled with a thousand bees buzzing around inside, churning up the bile and stinging me up through my throat. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want to share my humiliation, my shame, and my brokenness with him. I don’t want to taint him with the stench of my soiled past. Honesty, Tally, I remind myself, you’re going for honesty.
“I don’t want to tell you,” he starts to interrupt me, but I stop him with a finger to his lips, the first touch I have initiated between us, “But I know you deserve to know.” I finish.
He takes my hand, the one that has my finger pressed to his lips, and flips it over, palm up. He kisses the center of it gently and then closes my hand around it. His eyes never leave mine as he tugs me to him, and just as he did the day before he wraps me in his strong arms. He is so much bigger than me that I feel like he engulfs me, every inch, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. In his arms I am cocooned safely away from the world, away from eyes that stare and mouths that spew ugliness. I shouldn’t allow this. I shouldn’t give in to his demands. But it’s too late, it was too late the moment I saw him as I ducked under that table.
Chapter 17
“She is mine. She always has been, but now she has admitted it. With all the darkness and ugliness in my world, all my pain, and anger, she is my sun. She shines on me and warms the coldness that has slowly seeped into my body over time. If she is my sun, then I am her storm, washing away the stains with my rain, deafening the lies with my thunder, and crushing any who would hurt her with my lightning. She is mine as she always has been.” ~Trey
Walking away from Tally in the parking lot is the hardest thing I have done all day. I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t want to give her time to think, about her choice, to reconsider it. As much as I want to be with her constantly, I can’t. I would smother her and she would grow to resent me. So, I got her number, kissed her forehead, and told her I would call her later. She had smiled at me, a real Tally smile, like she had done at MPF, and that, at least, had eased my worry.
I figured out something today. Something that will help build her confidence in me. I’ve got to pay attention to the little things; it’s the little things with Tally. The small touches, the smiles, the winks, the whispers in her ear, and the kisses on her neck or cheek. She needs reassurance that everything is okay, that we are okay. She might never admit to that, because she would see it as a weakness, but I see it as a need that I can meet. I decided another thing that I need to do, is to show her that I listen to her. Remembering things she says are important to her will go a long way in building that confidence. So, I asked Mr. Taggert tonight if he would mind if I brought my girlfriend to see his horses. He was completely okay with it and even told me we could take them out for a ride.
Now, as I sit on my bed, holding the phone in my hands, I wonder if I should tell her about it now, or wait until tomorrow when we are face to face. I glance at the clock to make sure it isn’t too late, nine o’clock. Surely, she is still up. Finding her name in my contacts, I press call and wait.
“Hello?” I hear her voice, three rings later. She sounds unsure and I imagine it’s because she doesn’t recognize my number.
“Hey,” I say.
“Trey, hi.”
“Can you talk?” I ask.
“Yeah, we just finished our homework. Nat just left.”
I can’t help but wonder if they talked about me, and then I remembered I was dealing with high school girls, of course they talked about me. I hear some shuffling on the other end of the phone and imagine she is sitting on her bed, getting comfortable and hopefully ready to share.
“How was your evening?” She asks.
“Good, I stopped in to check on my mom, then had to work, then homework, time with my grandmother, and now here I am.” I tell her, listing off my night, attempting to portray a light heartedness.
“How is your mom doing?”
“It’s been a rough few days. The medicine combination doesn’t seem to be working for her.”
I hear her let out a quivering breath, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I hear worry and apprehension in her voice and for the millionth time I wish, I knew why.
“Are you ready to talk?” I ask, gently.
“Yes and no,” she sighs, “I’d really rather do this in person.”
Her statement surprises me. I would think talking about something painful would be easier over the phone.
“Really?” I ask.
“I like to see facial expressions. I can’t see what you’re thinking if we talk over the phone.” She explains.
I don’t want to be frustrated, but I am. I don’t know when we will have the next time to be alone to talk and I feel like I need to understand her.
“Can you come over?” Her question catches me off guard. I glance at the clock and it reads 9:07. I guess that’s not too late but still I wouldn’t think her parents would be okay with a guy coming over at this time, especially on a week night.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, my parents are at some function thing and won’t be home until after midnight.”
She gives me directions to her house, which I scrawl on a piece of paper to put in my phone GPS, and I tell her I will see her in a few minutes.
I don’t have any problems finding her house, nor am I surprised to see the monstrosity especially knowing that she drives a BMW, but it’s still intimidating. The slamming of my truck door reverberates like a gong in the quiet night. As I walk towards the front door, it opens and I see a small silhouette as light illuminates from behind. She looks unsure and nervous. I am neither of those things.
??
“Hi,” she says softly as I let her go. She steps back to let me in and I try not to look astonished at the inside of her house. But honestly, it’s hard not to be. It’s huge. The foyer ceiling looms from the height of a small cliff and the staircase, on the right, winds up in an over exaggerated curve. There is a beautiful chandelier that hangs over the entry way, and from what I can tell, is the only light turned on, at least downstairs.
“Do you want anything to drink?” She asks.
I shake my head, “I’m good, thanks.”
“Follow me,” she motions and begins up the stairs. I don’t think it would have seemed like such a long trek if the stairs just went straight up, but because they curved out so wide, it seemed to take forever to reach the top. Once there, Tally turns right and walks down a hall way, and then left down another hallway. At the very end of the second hallway is a door on the right. I see light peeking out from under the door and I assume this must be her room. She opens the door and steps inside I follow, without hesitation.
Her room is simple, or at least simple for what you might think it would be in a house like this. The walls are painted pale green and a long flowing curtain drapes over the single, large window directly across from the door. There is a queen size bed against the far right wall, an amore across on the opposite wall from the bed, and a desk with bookshelves on either side on the far left of the wall. All the furniture is oak and definitely of high quality. There is a door just beside the farthest bookshelf that I presume is her closet.
I see her watching me as I scan her room, her eyes are wide, and she tugs at her sleeves nervously.
“Nice room,” I tell her with a smile.