Torn

My breathing speeds up as I type to her. This is like crazy fucking foreplay, and I'm hard as a rock for her. My phone is silent, but I can feel her waiting for more. Even miles away, our connection resonates between us.

I'm going to burn in hell.

Me: I'd bend you over that window sill, spread your thighs, and slide deep into you. I'd want to hear you gasp and feel your body all tight and wet around me. I'd tilt your head back and kiss you until you're delirious and can't breathe without me. I'd carry you to the bed and make love to you until you fall asleep in my arms and I'd count the minutes until I could be inside you again. I don't think I could ever get enough of you, and I'm afraid I'd love you and fuck you to the point of mental and physical exhaustion. And then I'd do it all over again until neither one of us can even consider the idea of ever not touching again.

Silence. Minutes of it.

Maybe I scared her away. Maybe she thinks I'm a pig.

I am a pig.

Kenzi: Toren. Do you mean all that?

I love when she says my name. And types it. And now I want to hear it on her lips when I'm buried inside her.

Me: Have I ever lied to you?

Kenzi: No.

Me: Sorry you asked now?

More long moments of silence torture me as I stare at the ceiling with the biggest hard-on of my life, cursing myself while I wait for the coveted sound of her text. Just hearing that small musical chime lately turns me all inside out.

Kenzi: Not at all. That was the best present ever. I'm actually shaking.

She's ruining me. I want to run my fingers over her warm quivering flesh and feel what I'm doing to her. I want it so bad I'm on the verge of jumping on my bike and riding three hours in the middle of the night just so I can do exactly that.

But I can't. Because the truth is cruel; she's still her and I'm still me, and we were never meant to be this way with each other.

Me: Ok we have to stop now. Game over.

Kenzi: :(

Me: We both know this is wrong.

Kenzi: I wish it wasn't. :(

Me: Me too, Angel. But we should go now. I have to get up early and I'm going to have a hard time falling asleep after this.

Kenzi: I will, too.

Me: Thank you for sharing your photos with me. You're beautiful. In every way.

Kenzi: Thank you for sending me yours. :-) Don't take this wrong, but you're beautiful, too. Like a dream.

Me: We'll talk again soon. I love you.

Kenzi: I love you, too. Xo

I'm pretty sure there's now a seat in hell with my name engraved on it. Sleep is impossible for me when mere inches away from my pillow is a four inch device that holds all my deepest desires, fantasies, and sins. It's way too tempting. I've tried to be strong. I've tried to keep her away and yet still hold onto our special bond, but it's all crumbling around me.

Exiling her from my life isn't an option. Not talking to her? Not seeing her? Giving up our little us-isms? No fucking way. It would be like cutting off one of my own limbs.

In the discrete darkness of my bedroom, I transfer her photos to my laptop where I can analyze every detail of her forbidden curves. Every little birthmark. Some I've actually kissed, at a time when it was simply cute and innocent between us. The playful lift of her smile and her enticing mossy-green eyes seduce me from the fifteen-inch screen. She's given me the gift of being able to ravish her with my eyes here in the privacy of my house and the chance to play out my fantasies with the help of my right hand.

Hello, Satan. I know you've been waiting patiently for me since the demise of the good and noble Uncle Tor. I have a feeling I'll be staying here a while.

19

Kenzi

Tor ~ age fifteen

Ember ~ age fourteen

Asher ~ age fifteen

Being shy sucks. It took me weeks of smiling at the new girl in our class, Ember, to work up the balls to ask her if I could walk her home after school. She's shy too, though, and now we're walking in awkward silence. I want to hold her hand, but I can't tell if she wants me to. I've got my guitar with me, slung over my back in its case since I'm playing in a school project, so I ask her if she wants to stop at the park and listen to me play. I lose myself in the music when I play, and it always calms me down, stripping me of my insecurities. One thing I know I do well is create music and write lyrics.

"Sure," she says. "I do some singing. I'm not great, but I love to do it anyway. If it makes your ears hurt, I promise I'll stop."

It turns out she does, in fact, have an amazing voice, and my shyness starts to fade as we sit at a picnic table and I play some of her favorite hit songs and she sings along. I try not to stare at her, but it's hard not to. She's one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen, and the fact that we both have a passion for music is a surprise bonus I wasn't expecting.

"I thought I heard you twanging over here, man." Asher's raspy voice breaks into my daydream of asking Ember out to a movie this weekend.

"Hey," I say as he approaches us. "Do you know Ember? She just moved here last month. Ember, this is Asher Valentine." Asher is way more outgoing than I am, so maybe he can help us break the conversation ice.

"Actually, we haven't met yet," he says, giving her his full attention. "Wow, you've got some gorgeous eyes. Shit. There goes my heart."

"Nice to meet you," she giggles and gives her dazzling smile over to him. "Are you guys brothers?" she asks.

Asher laughs. "Nah. Everyone thinks that, but we're just friends."

"You guys look a lot alike. I actually thought you were the same person when I first saw you in the halls. It took me a few days to realize you weren't."

"It's definitely not on purpose," I say. "Just a weird coincidence. Ash has a younger brother that looks like him, too. And I guess, a lot like me."

Asher flashes a grin. "God thought I was so perfect he wanted to make some backups of me," he winks at Ember. "Just in case."

She giggles again, and I can feel myself slipping into the background. "You're that perfect?" She asks.

"Yup."

Her head tilts and she can't seem to take her eyes off him, and he's staring right back at her like I wish I had the courage to before he showed up. Suddenly, it's like I'm not even here, and my daydreams wither away.

Defeated, I put my guitar back in its case and snap it shut. "I should get going."

"Oh..." Ember says, looking from me to Asher, like she's torn between us.

"I'm going to hang out here for a while and then go over to the diner for a burger," Asher says, still holding her attention. "You want to stay and talk for a while? I'll buy you dinner and walk you home."

"I'd love to," she turns to me. "You don't mind, do you Toren?"

I shake my head and force a smile. "No, not at all."

But the truth is, I did mind. I minded a lot.

Kenzi

Tor's texts have me aflutter. That's the only word I can think of to best describe this new feeling. I think my Gram would be impressed with that word. My insides are shaking, rattling and rolling all about, and I can't get my heart to settle back down into normal, calm beats. I've been lying in bed for an hour since we said good night, but I'm too afluttered to sleep.

I quietly slip into the hallway and pad down to Aunt Katherine's small kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. It's odd how at home I only drink coffee, but when I'm here I drink all sorts of assorted teas and don't go near coffee at all. I'm not sure why this is fascinating to me at one a.m., but it is. With the steaming ceramic cup in my hand, I go back to my room and close the door behind me with a soft click.

Before I made my tea, I spent a half hour re-reading the entire text conversation. Tor's reactions to my photos and then his detailed description of what he wanted to do to me was definitely a surprising eye-opener.

Tor has an erotic side.

And that just ramped up his yum factor even more.

If his words are true - and I have zero reason to doubt him - he wants to show me that side of him, even though he's struggling with it because of all the alleged wrong's involved.

I stare out the window at the moon and its neighboring stars casting a shimmering reflection on the water, contemplating as I sip my tea. Is it really wrong for us to feel this way? If we care about each other, love each other, and want each other...is that wrong? And if it is, then why? Because of our ages? Because he's my dad's best friend? Because he's taken care of me?

Do those things make it wrong...or do they actually make it more right? Why is it acceptable to get involved with a total stranger, who could do any number of things to hurt you or betray you, but not get involved with someone who has cared about you since the day you were born?

Is it all a matter of social perspective?

Is it possible that falling in love doesn't always start when we think it might, and sometimes, it starts way before we're ready, and grows slowly over time, allowing two people to truly fall in love with every aspect of each other? Rather than the more typical way of meeting a stranger, being attracted to them first, dating them, having feelings for them, and then hoping they'll like you too and not rip your heart out?

I wish I had someone to talk to about all these confusing feelings, but I'm not ready to even attempt to go down that road yet.

Grabbing my cell phone, I perch on the edge of my bed and read over the text conversation again, frowning at my own words. My replies to his photo and to his sensual admissions are disappointing. I should have come back with an equally honest admission of what I want and felt. He crept over the wall tonight, took a peek at me, and let me see a peek of him. Maybe it was wrong of me to send him the pictures to lure him out, but I wanted him to see me in a new light. As a new adult. And I was hoping to see more of him.

From the dresser I pull out the decorated box of note paper and the fountain pen that I brought with me with the intention of mailing Chloe and my Grandmother notes while I was here. Instead, I sit on the floor and hand write a note to Tor. He's the one who introduced me to calligraphy and he's always loved the handwritten notes I've given him. With the evolution of the cell phone, I've used that as my main tool of correspondence with him, but for something special like this, I know he'll appreciate it in my own writing.