Take Me in the Dark Read Free

intimacy. No matter how much I get of him, I’m never sated. It doesn’t matter how close we get. I’m never complete.
    I raise my hand. He tilts his head, watching it, but he doesn’t stop me from reaching for his cheek.
    He flinches when I touch his mask. He probably thinks I’m going to try to remove it again. For a moment I think I might too, but I don’t.
    “I wasn’t thinking of him.”
    He stops petting my cheek. “What?”
    “When I sang, I wasn’t thinking of David.”
    He doesn’t respond for a long time, as if he’s imagining every single thing in the world I might have been thinking of. “Who was it?” he finally asks.
    I raise a brow and bite my lower lip. How long can I draw this out? Why does he even want to know so bad? “I often don’t think of people when I play music,” I begin. “Usually, I try to think of something calming, like the forest I lived next to when I was a kid, or the sound of water.”
    “Is that what you were thinking of tonight?”
    It would be so easy to lie to him—so easy to protect myself and whatever shred of dignity I still possessed. But instead I say, “No.”
    “What were you thinking of?”
    “That’s none of your—”
    “Please.” He lowers his head until it rests on my shoulder.
    I look up at the ceiling. If I knew his name I’d say it right now. I’d start by saying it. It would be a kind of plea. That’s often how people use names, right? To soften the impact of what they’re about to say, or to personalize it. But I don’t know his. That hurts more now than I ever thought it would.
    “You,” I answer.
    He kneels on the floor in between the bench and the piano. One of his shoes hits the pedals. Strangely, I don’t feel any more powerful looking down at him.
    “Why would you think of me?” he asks.
    I almost laugh at his disbelief—as if I would do this with just anybody. He isn’t looking at me when he asks, and I think it’s because he isn’t looking that I can be honest. “I love you,” I whisper. “And I don’t want to anymore.”
    His grip tightens on my leg. For a second I think he’s going to pull me down next to him. For a second, I want him to. Cover my body with yours until I forget what it is I’m about to say, what it is I feel. So I can once again live in that release that only you can give me.
    But he doesn’t do those things, so I continue, “I don’t want to think of your letters. I don’t want to wait for you at night, wondering if you’ll come, if I’ll ever see you again. No, not see you again —I can’t wish for that because I’ve never actually seen you, and the one time I tried you really did leave.”
    “Laura, you wouldn’t love me if—”
    “Don’t even say it,” I interrupt. “I don’t give a fuck what you look like. And by the way, if you really believe that’s true, then I can’t believe how selfish you are. Though I guess that really shouldn’t surprise me. I mean, you came back to me tonight because you don’t like someone else touching your things.”
    “That’s not even close to the truth.”
    “Even if you’ve discarded those things,” I continue. “Even if they mean nothing to you.”
    He stands, chest heaving. My heartbeat races as he grabs my shoulders, pinning me to the piano. “You think you mean nothing to me?”
    “What did you expect me to think after leaving me like that?”
    His grip on me falters. “I don’t know.”
    “And what am I supposed to think now? I was happy with him. It wasn’t like how it is with you—I don’t expect anything to be like that—but it was simple and sweet and now it’s ruined. Not that I blame you for that. I was the one who ruined it. You’d think that after everything that’s happened I’d be able to say no to you, but I still can’t. You touch me and I forget why I even wanted to say no in the first place. While we’re together I escape, and after…” I draw my legs together. My knees slide across his thighs,