No, Im good.
Chloe knew her sister well enough to know not to press it.
So, what the hell is a block party, anyway? Danielle asked.
Chloe laughed; she had nearly forgotten Danielles ability to drop a subject and start another one with all the grace of an elephant in a china shop. And just like that, the subject was changed. Chloe watched her sister to see if she ever looked back to the door with that bit of fear in her eyes, but it never happened again.
Still, Chloe felt that there was something there. Maybe after some time together, Danielle would fess up.
But to what? Chloe wondered, casting a glance at the front door herself.
And it was then that she realized that she really didnt know her sister at all. There were parts of her that seemed very much like the gothed-out seventeen-year-old shed last known so well. But there was something new to Danielle nowsomething darker. Something that needed meds to control her moods, to help her sleep and function.
It occurred to Chloe in that moment that she was scared for her sister and she wanted to help in any way she could.
Even if it meant digging into the past.
But not now. Maybe after the wedding. God only knew what sort of arguments and mood swings talking about the death of their mother and incarceration of their father would bring up. Still, Chloe felt the ghosts of her past stronger than ever while sitting there with Danielle and it made her wonder just how haunted Danielle had been by it all.
What kind of ghosts lurked around in Danielles head? And what, exactly, were they telling her?
She sensed, the way she did a coming storm, that whatever Danielle was suppressing, it would all eventually involve her. Her new life. Her new fiancé, her new house. Her new life.
And it would all lead to nothing good.
Chapter Five
Danielle sat on her couch, reclining back against Martin, her leg draped over his, and she was very aware that she was not wearing underwear beneath her pajama shorts. Not that it would matter; somehow, he had refused her last night, despite no bra and the skimpy little panties. It seemed Martin was taking this whole taking-things-slow thing seriously.
She was also beginning to think that he was either just being a gentleman or was not sexually attracted to her. The latter was hard to believe, though, because shed literally felt the proof of his attraction grinding against her legs and hips on the multiple occasions theyd made out.
She tried not to let it bother her. While she was indeed sexually frustrated, there was something to be said about finally finding a man who wanted more than just sex.
Tonight was a great example. Theyd chosen to remain low-key, just sitting around her apartment and watching a movie. Beforehand, they had discussed Martins day. Yet as an assistant manager at a print shop, there were only so many details to discuss. It was like listening to someone explain how paint dried. As for Danielle, she hated talking about her day. As a bartender at a local restaurant, her days were boring. She sat around and read most of the time. The nights were filled with stories to share but by the time she managed to get some sleep and woke up around one in the afternoon, she never wanted to go over them.
Once the niceties were over, they had kissed a bit, but it was all very PG. Again, Danielle found that she had no problem with that. Besides, ever since Chloes visit, she had been bummed out. The mood stabilizers likely wouldnt even kick in until she took her second pill right before bedtime.
Thanks to Chloes visit, Danielle had been thinking about her mother, her father, and the childhood that had passed her by like a warped flicker of film. Really, all she wanted was to be held by Martinsomething it pained her to admit to herself.
Theyd settled on one of her DVDs, popping in The Shawshank Redemption and curling up together on the couch like a couple of nervous and inexperienced middle school kids. On a few occasions, his hand would slip a little lower than her shoulder and she wondered if he was trying to make a move. But he remained respectable, which was both refreshing and infuriating all at once.
She also noticed that on a few occasions, his phone would ding. It was sitting on her coffee table right in front of them but he elected not to check it. At first, she assumed he was just being polite and not infringing on their date time. But after a whilewhat Danielle assumed had been at least seven or eight little dingsit started to get obnoxious.
Just as Tim Robbins locked himself in the wardens office and played some opera music over the PA for the prisoners of Shawshank Prison, it dinged one more time. Danielle looked to the phone and then to Martin.
Are you going to check on that? she asked. Someone must really need you for something.
Nah, itll be okay, he said. He pulled her closer and stretched out. They were lying side by side. If she wanted, she could easily kiss his neck. She looked at the exposed space there and thought about it. She wondered how he might react if she kissed him there, maybe softly ran her tongue along the side of his neck.
The phone dinged again. Danielle let out a little chuckle and, without any kind of warning, sprang across Martins chest. She grabbed the phone and pulled it to her chest. Stalled at his lock screen, she said, Whats your pass
Martin violently yanked the phone away from her. He looked more surprised than furious. What was that about? he asked.
Nothing, she said. Just playing around. You can check your phone while youre with me. I dont mind. If its another girlfriend or something, though, I might have to go bitch-mode on her.
I dont need you to oversee my phone usage, he snapped.
Um, hold on. Theres no need to get crazy about it. I was just playing around.
He sneered at her and shoved the phone in his pocket. He sighed and sat up, apparently no longer interested in cuddling with her.
Ah, youre one of those guys, then, she said, still trying to find the line between joking around and being a little persistent. Guard your phone like it was your dick or something.
Leave it alone, he said. Dont be weird about it.
Me? Martin, I thought you were going to break my wrists getting it out of my hands.
Well, its not your phone now, is it? Dont you trust me?
I dont know, she said, raising her voice. We havent been going out all that long. God, theres no need to get so fucking defensive.
He rolled his eyes at her and looked at the TV. It was a dismissive gesture, one that pissed her off. She shook her head and, doing her best to keep her playful façade front and center, she quickly straddled him. She reached down as if going for his zipper but then angled for the pocket he had put the phone in. With her other hand, she started to tickle his right side.
He was taken aback, clearly unsure how to respond. Yet the moment her fingers found the edge of his phone, he seemed to flip a switch somewhere. He grabbed her arm and pulled it up in a vise-like grip. He then shoved her down on the couch, not yet letting go of her arm. It hurt like hell but she was not about to let him hear her scream out in pain. The speed and strength he showed reminded her that he had once trained to be an amateur boxer.
Whoa, let go of my fucking arm!
He did, looking down at her in surprise. The look on his face made her think he had not intended to get that rough with her. He had surprised even himself. But he was also angry; the furrowed brow and trembling shoulders were evidence of that.