Leading You Home

Sixteenth

Bradley is unlocking the front door when I pull into the driveway. Turning off my car, I grab my keys and shove them into my shoulder bag. Bradley glances at me from over his shoulder as I'm walking up the front steps. His expression is tired and irritated.

"You might want to park your car in the garage tonight," he tells me as he pushes the door open. "There's going to be a pretty rough storm and I know how you feel about that thing."

"Oh," I say, surprised by the offer. "Thanks."

I quickly do what he said because, even though I won't admit it, I do feel very strongly about my Beetle. It's my baby.

"Have fun with Mister Track Star?" Bradley quips as soon as I walk through the door. He has his back to me but I can practically hear his eyes rolling

"Not as much fun as you had with Avery...." I mutter, shutting the door.

Bradley tosses his jacket on the arm of the couch. "Clark didn't make it to second base?"

"No," I snap, crossing my arms. "He didn't try."

Bradley, who had disappeared into the kitchen, pops his head out from around the corner. "He didn't even try? Are you sure he's not gay?"

"Just because that's not all he thinks about doesn't means he's gay," I tell him, my anger rising. He smirks at my reaction, and I scold myself for falling for his tricks. "This really has to stop, Bradley." He doesn't reply, just disappears into the kitchen again. I sigh heavily and continue. "All this fighting and angry is driving me crazy. It's pointless and doesn't have to be this way. For a while there, we were starting to become friends."

A cabinet opens and shuts and then I hear the water running. I sigh, annoyed that he's not bothering to reply. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Uh huh," he mumbles, coming around the corner chugging a glass of water.

"You win," I tell him. "Seeing you with Avery made me jealous and I went to the football game with Clark to make you jealous back."

He sets his empty glass on the table and looks up at me. "You wanted to make me jealous?"

"Don't act surprised," I mutter, glancing away as my face heats up in embarrassment.

"I broke up with Avery," he announces. "She didn't take it well....but I couldn't string her along like that. So, I guess I have soul after all."

I laugh lightly. "I told Clark the truth. Well, most of it."

The room goes silent. We stand there unsure what else to say. When the awkwardness becomes too much, I stick my hand out. "Friends?"

Bradley hesitates before taking my hand. I can tell by his glum expression that being friends is the last thing he wants, and when he takes my hand, and the warmth of it engulfs mine, I realize that the feeling is mutual.

I pull my hand back, prepared to enforce the whole 'being friends' idea. Clearing my throat, I turn toward the stacks of movies lined up by the TV. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Uh, sure. You can pick." He turns away and takes his empty cup back into the kitchen. From there, he says, "We just got the new Agent 47 film. It's supposed to have some awesome action scenes."

"How about this?" I ask when he returns, holding up a movie called Secret Window staring Jonny Depp.

"Huh," he mutters, taking the movie from me. His fingers brush against mine and I look up at him. He stares down at the movie, but I can't help but feel like he noticed too. "I forgot we had this."

"I've never seen it, only read the book about a thousand times."

Bradley's face wrinkles. "It's a book?"

"By Stephen King...." I tell him, nodding. He just shakes his head, clueless as to what I'm talking about. I roll my eyes.

"Whatever," he sighs, opening the DVD and putting it into the player. After running upstairs and tossing my shoulder bag into Bradley's bedroom, I make myself comfortable on the couch in front of the TV and hope that this won't be too awkward.

Rather than sitting on the opposite side of the couch like I expect him too, Bradley sits right in the middle, causing his cushion to sag in my direction. I don't say anything about it because if it was Carrie, my friend, I wouldn't have a problem with the closeness. If Bradley and I are going to be friends, I have start treating him like one.

After skipping through the previews and clicking play, the movies starts. I watch Jonny Depp portray Mort Rainey as he tries to prove himself innocent of stealing John Shooters story. I try to focus, compare the movie to the book, but it's hard to concentrate when Bradley's thigh is pressed against mine. I shift a little, pull my knees up to my chest, to create some space between us.

About fifteen minutes into the movie, I surprise myself by jumping when Mort finds his dog murdered. Without warning, Bradley lifts his arm and puts it on the couch behind my head. I give him a look.

"Just getting comfortable," he tells me. Although I'm growing skeptical of his intentions, I don't move a muscle.

The movie is even more difficult to concentrate on now. Bradley's closeness is a lot more distracting than I'd like to admit and my thoughts are getting jumbled. Why haven't I moved away? Why did I suggest watching this stupid movie anyway? Where is my self-direction? That iron will my Mom always said I have?

The movie reaches the climax. Mort begins to talk to himself and, after finally discovering the horrifying truth about himself, decides to kill his ex-wife.

Although the movie is interesting, I find my attention-and my eyes-wandering elsewhere. Away from the TV to Bradley's shirt, up to this chin, his lips, his eyes. Feeling my gaze, he looks over at me. The same look of passion and longing that I imagine in my eyes stares back at me. In a second, I forget what I decided earlier about Clark and secrets and friendship and returning to who I once was. It's way too late for that. None of that could possibly feel as good as it does to dive into this desire, this longing, this love, as our lips collide.

It's too late to go back now. And as the kiss begins to deepen, the more I don't want to go back. It was stupid of me to believe that after everything, Bradley and I could be just friends. We can never go back. Not after experiencing what we've experienced, not after we've spent so much time together and come to understand each other the way we do. Things will always be different between us, no matter where fate takes us.

Somewhere in the background, as the movie comes to an end, I can hear Jonny Depp say, "The only thing that matters is the ending. It's the most important part of the story. And this one, is very good. This one is perfect."

Bradley hooks his arm under my knees and pulls me onto his lap. I reach up and run my fingers through his blond hair. Before I know what's happening, he's lifting me into the air and carrying me over to the stairs bridal style. His lips never leave mine as he takes us up the stairs, and turns into his bedroom. Using his foot, he shuts the door behind us, and won't open it again until morning.

We can never go back.