The curse between us

Bronwen

I sit in the back yard of our dilapidated house, staring at the chipping paint and sagging porch. The house had the bones to be beautiful, a real classic like all the other Victorian-style homes lining the streets. But what those pretty houses had that this one lacked, was someone to put in the effort to maintain its charm. All this house had was a mean drunk who would rather punch holes in the wall than reinforce the warped floorboards.

The wind blows hard, rattling the small structure that I am hiding in. This is what is left of an old treehouse my dad built for us years ago, back when he actually gave a damn about me and my brother. I was five and this place made me feel like a queen holding court in her castle. Now that it is just weathered wood that has seen better days, the magic is gone from it. Now I only come here to hide out when Samuel is on a rampage.

The breeze sends a chill down my spine and I pull the old, tattered jacket I am wearing tighter around me, hoping in vain for just an ounce of warmth. Fall in Massachusetts can get pretty chilly. This year we are having a colder fall than we usually do. Today is one of the colder days, being just a few degrees above freezing. I heard talk at the store yesterday that we might get snow. I surely hope not, if I have to spend the night in here. I would most definitely die of exposure or hypothermia.

“Bronwen!”

I hear my name being called, but I just hunker down in the corner of the old structure, turning off the flashlight in my hand. Hopefully, he will be too drunk to remember that I come here.

“Bronwen!” I hear the call come again and I smile to myself. That's not Samuel. It's my brother Alec. He's finally home.

I am startled when a blonde head suddenly pokes through the small window. “She's in here.” He calls back. He turns to me with a grin. “You can come out of hiding now.”

I grab my book and flashlight, crawling on my hands and knees through the door. The cold from the ground chills me and my pants are wet from sitting on the muddy patch of grass inside the shelter. I know my face is red and puffy from the cold. I lost feeling in my nose and ears, hours ago. My fingers are so affected by the cold that they are stiff and swollen, letting me barely be able to bend them. It's a struggle just to hold on to my book.

“How long?” Alec asks, coming towards me, nudging his best friend Noah to the side.

“A few hours. Where is he at now?” I ask.

“He went to the bar, as usual. He said that he won't be home tonight. He is staying at Myrna's tonight.” Myrna was the girl he screwed around with. They were a truly toxic combination. She gets high and he gets drunk, then they brawl in the street, resulting in arrests and more ammunition for gossip at school on Monday. God, the kids love to torture me with the shit that Samuel does.

“Good,” I say.

“Let's get you inside, Wen. You're freezing.” Alec says, throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me towards the house. The warmth coming from his arm around my shoulders is so wonderful, it makes me realize just how cold I actually am.

I let him lead me towards the house, but my eyes stray to Noah. My brother's best friend for as long as I can remember. Our mothers became fast friends when I was a baby and we moved to this town. Apparently, they thought the boys, being the same age and all, would get along great. They scheduled play dates to try to foster a friendship between them.

Now, here they are so many years later, practically inseparable. Not that either of their mothers are still around to see it. My mom is dead and buried. Noah's mom ran away with his little league football coach when he was seven. He has not spoken to her since. But he has a stepmom that is pretty wonderful and his Dad is amazing, so he is lucky on that front. Mine and Alec's dad? Not so much.

“Go take a hot shower and put on some warm clothes, then come back down here. I'll make you a mug of hot tea.” Alec tells me, shoving me towards the bathroom. I nod, doing as I'm told. I usually always do what he tells me. He's taken care of me for so long, protecting me from our father's temper, that I never doubt that he knows what is best for me.

I go upstairs to my room, grabbing some fuzzy sleep pants and a t-shirt. I don't have many clothes that fit me anymore. Around the time of my sixteenth birthday, I filled out. My chest quickly expanded from an A cup to a D cup, seemingly overnight. My hips widened and my thighs grew softer with the womanly shape taking over my body. So the hand-me-down boy t-shirts and the three pairs of jeans that I owned barely cut it anymore.

I take off my dirty clothes, leaving them on my floor. I put on an old terry cloth robe that used to belong to my mom. She was a smaller woman than me and it's a size too small, barely tying closed around my soft tummy and large chest area. The neckline gaps open but my curves don't spill out thankfully, so I grab the clean clothes and head to the bathroom.

I am so lost in my thoughts, not paying any attention to what is in front of me. So when I run into the solid object in my path, the only thing that saves me from falling onto my ass is two hands gripping my upper arms tightly. “Woah.”

I look up into Noah's eyes. “I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.” I pull back from him and his hands drop from my arms. Being this close to him makes me nervous. I have been in love with him since my eleventh birthday, when I looked at him one day, playing basketball shirtless with Alec, and was overcome with a rush of hormones. As I got older and hit puberty, my crush turned into attraction. Now when I am near him, my body reacts to him on a primal level. One he notices and is not above teasing me over.

His eyes drop to my chest, where I am dangerously close to spilling out of the robe. His eyes widen. I quickly grip the folds, pulling them tight in my clenched fist. “Excuse me,” I say in an oddly formal, moving over to walk around him.

I am not sure why I sound so stiff all of a sudden, but if I had to guess I would say that it is a lethal combination of excitement at having his eyes on my body and nerves, for the same reason. He seems to finally be noticing me, which I have wanted for longer than forever, but now that the moment has come, I am not at all sure what to do except to flee.

“Hey,” Noah says, his hand coming out to stop me.

“What?” I ask him, looking up at him. Oh, his eyes are so pretty, I could look at him all day and not get tired.

“What's the rush?” He asks. “You can talk for a minute. The shower isn't going anywhere.”

I am acutely aware of the fact that I am naked under this robe. Completely nude. Standing here talking to my crush, who is looking at me in a way that he never has before. “What do- What is it that you want to talk about?” I ask Noah nervously.

“Nothing in particular.” He replies. His eyes are still drawn to the front of my robe. I can't seem to remove his gaze from the deep swell of my cleavage and I'm beginning to feel odd beneath his gaze. I am ready to move into the privacy of the bathroom, to get my heartbeat under control. He is affecting me, having his eyes roam my body. It is getting to me.

“Okay. Well, we can talk when I come downstairs.” I say. This time when I go to pass him, he steps in my way, stopping my body with his. I can't avoid colliding with him. I stand there for a moment, confused. My chest is pressed to his and I let my breath escape my lips in a hiss. “What are you doing?” I ask him.

His hand is on my hip, moving up my side. His other hand goes to the back of my neck. His face draws closer to mine until his lips brush my lips lightly. “Kissing you.” He tells me as if that is not obvious when he presses his lips fully to mine, his tongue brushing at the soft flesh. It is the 'why' of the situation that I was referencing with my question. As in, why the hell is he kissing me? Especially now, after all these years of me longing for it, only to be rejected by him?

Now, when he has this perfect girlfriend, the most popular girl in school. A senior like me, Maci is the head bitch at school. Emphasis on the word 'bitch'! Noah has had many an opportunity over the years to kiss me. Like when I was thirteen and I practically begged him to be my first kiss. His words of rejection still ring in my ears.

“Bronwen, you're okay and all, but um, it's not happening. I mean, yeah, you would be kinda cute if you lost a little weight, but I'm too old for you. This is a cute crush and all, but, well, I guess I'm trying to tell you no thanks.”

I know he probably thought he was letting me down easy, but it broke my heart at the time. Not enough to kill my crush on him. Nope. Just my confidence. I knew then that I would not be any guy's idea of a girl worth dating. I am the nerdy bookish type, with coppery red hair, grass-green eyes, and fat thighs. Instead of the flat abs that men want in girls, I have a soft tummy. Don't even get me started on my overly endowed 'bosom'. I always hear about these guys who love girls with a big rack, but where the hell are they? I've not met one yet. All I get from these big things are a backache. No man in sight. Well, except the one kissing me but I am not really sure this counts because I have no idea what is even happening at the moment.

Noah's tongue pushes through my closed lips, his tongue brushing over mine. His mouth tastes like the green teas that he always carries with him. I am shocked that he is actually kissing me, but that is nothing compared to when he walks me backward into the bathroom, without ever breaking the kiss.

He pushes the door closed behind him with his foot. Then he is turning me towards the door until my back is against the hard wood. His hand is toying with the belt of the robe, tugging at it. I move my hands up to catch the knot between my nervous fingers. I won't let him open it.

“Take it off.” He pulls back enough to say against my parted lips.

I mutely shake my head. Not happening. I am not showing my body to the boy who has made multiple remarks over the years about my weight. Whether he meant them to be malicious or not, they left a scar on my self-confidence that hasn't healed.

My refusal doesn't seem to faze him; instead, he just slides his hand into the opening, his soft palm rubbing against my bare skin. I go still, this being a completely new experience for me. He wasn't my first kiss, that honor goes to Hollis Crawford, the cutest guy in my freshman class. I found out afterward that it was a dare from his friends. I was devastated and embarrassed.

Ever since then, I have not let anyone close to me. Any guy that talked to me, I assumed was dared by his friends, just like before. I was not about to let history repeat itself. I had learned my lesson when it came to the kids at school and how they saw me. I was a joke waiting to happen, a punchline or someone to mock and tease. They were never going to try to get to know the real me, so I quit trying to fit in. Now, I embrace the loner status. It's much easier to fly under the radar when you are always alone.

When Noah's lips leave my mouth to go to my neck, I force myself to relax and try to enjoy the sensations he is arousing, but all too soon his hands are tugging at my robe. I am looking at the wall over his shoulder as he kisses me, noticing inanely that there is a chip in the paint. I see Noah move face move down from my neck and over my collar bone. I know where his lips are headed I fear what's coming next. I close my robe abruptly and move away from him.

“What?” Noah asks.

“I'm not sure-” I begin.

“Bronwen, it's just a part of it,” Noah tells me.

It? As in, hooking up? Does he think that I am going to do that with him, here in the bathroom while my brother is just down the stairs waiting for me? My stomach pitches at the thought. Ew. I fight back a wave of nausea. Yeah, that is not going to happen.

Noah moves over to me once more. His blonde hair is tousled and his brown eyes are warm. I want to kiss him again. I always want to kiss him. I just, I'm not sure I am ready for more than kissing. This is the first time he has ever kissed me and I feel like I need to adjust to the newness of it. To build up to the idea of things going that far between us. Mentally prepare, if you will. Hell, not only that.. I need to physically prepare as well. I haven't shaved my legs in over two weeks.

“Bronwen, I'll make you feel good,” Noah tells me. Ew.. That line just sounds smarmy coming from him and I try not to cringe. 

“Now isn't a good time,” I tell him. Maybe.. “Maybe we can hang out one night soon and we can-” I stop as Noah shakes his head, cutting off my words.

“I spend all of my time with Maci. Or Alec. That won't work.” Hearing Maci's name is like a bucket of ice water being thrown on me. “Next time I'm over, maybe we can find a few minutes to sneak away.”

Noah puts his hand on my thigh, under the robe, and slides it up to my hip. “Then, maybe it will be a better time.” He squeezes my ass cheek firmly before he lets himself out of the room. I stand there long after he is gone, dazed and confused.

What just happened?