Where The Dandelions Grow

13 - Interruptions

Echo's POV

"And what did she say after that?" Brandon asks me, sitting on my living room couch.

After my shift I called up Brandon about an hour ago because, if I'm being honest, he's the only person I talk to and I wanted to tell someone about what happened with Sara at work. He made it here at the same hour and has been sitting beside me listening to my story.

"She said sorry and just went back to working." I slam a throw pillow in my face after seeing Brandon's twisted expression. "I'm a horrible person."

Brandon laughs. "You're not horrible, Ech. You're just... a bit difficult to get close to. Tomorrow you can start over and start conversation first."

I throw my head back and look up at the ceiling. I wish I said sorry back. I didn't mean to be so rude, she seemed so nice at first and then I killed her. I full on squashed her happiness.

Brandon stands up and walks around my apartment. I managed to clean up a bit, but it's nothing compared to his mom's cabin or her house. And if I'm being honest, I don't give a shit what he thinks of this hit hole.

"Is this where you sat when you first called me?"

I sit up and point at the armchair that still smells like my dad's alcohol. "Right there. That's where I hung up on your ass." I giggle.

He smirks and shakes his head and looks around. His gaze stops at the closed bathroom door. "And I'm assuming over here is where the call was made."

He steps into the bathroom, and I don't stop him, but my smile fades just as fast as Saras did at Happies.

I already know what the bathroom looks like because it's just as I left it that day. Pills are still in the tub and on the floor. Empty bottles piled in the corners, trash and tissues scattered everywhere. Dirt and dust covered the place. The only think that isn't there are my tear stains in the sink that get washed away couple of mornings when I need to wash the parts of my body that need cleaning.

Then I watch as he quietly gets the trashcan from the kitchen and brings it to the bathroom. "Brandon, you don't have to do that."

I get up and stan din the doorway to see him on his knees, scooping up the pills and throwing them in the trash. "It's alright," he says calmly. "I got it, go sit back down."

My eyes began to water, and I charge at him, pulling the trash can away. "I don't want you to do this. I don't want you to see this."

His eyes dark to my free hand balled into a fist. He takes it in his and pulls my nails away from my wounds then pulls me down to my knees with him. Tears fall from my eyes, and I lock my gaze with his green one and watch as he brings my palm to his lips, kissing my wounds.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

"Remember what you told me?"

I shake my head no.

"Everyone needs a Brandon, right? So, I'm gonna be here for you. Punch, kick, scream, fight. I don't care. You found me, and I'm here. To stay."

I drop my head, the power of his words too intense for me to handle. They hit me like a hammer to a nail. The softest words. The softest tone. From a man with the softest smile.

I sit on the floor and watch him clean my bathroom as he tells some jokes and makes me smile. He doesn't make me feel ashamed or embarrassed. I'm sure he didn't expect to clean some chick's dirty bathroom while she sits on the floor with wet cheeks today, yet here we are.

When he's done, we find ourselves back on the couch, the tv on a game show and Brandon's head resting on my shoulder, my head resting on the top of his.

"What happened with you and your parents?" I blurb out. He sits up and I back track. "Sorry, I've just been wondering... since we came back."

"No, it's okay," he sighs and manspreads, slouching into the couch. "Years ago, when they were married, he used to hit her."

My face drops as I frown.

"I was only a kid, and my sisters weren't born yet, thank God. I would be in my room when I would hear the smacks and her screams. It was heartbreaking," His voice cracks, his eyes glued to the ceiling. "I tried to help her, but when I did, I would get hit too. So I sat back and covered my ears when it would happen.

"Then my sisters were born. He got better after they came, but still it never stopped fully stopped. Her job he hated but she needed to make money for us. Then one day, he just... left. He left and only had a request to see his daughters. Now they go to him for the summers, and I can't do anything to stop that unless my mom does."

I press my lips together. "Wow," is all I manage to think of. Because in all honesty, I'm lost of words. His life wasn't all fun and dandy either. "Brandon..."

He shakes his head and turns to face me. "I know, they're both full of shit. What's new, huh?" He gives me a soft half smile as if saying "Oh well". His eyes scale my face, low lids and yearn in his gaze. "I don't want to talk about them anymore."

I swallow, the weight of his gaze on me making my body burst into flames. I swallow the lump in my throat as I manage not to look away from his green apple-colored eyes.

"What to talk about then?" I nearly whisper.

"I don't want to talk at all. At least for the next ten seconds. If that's okay with you?" He inches closer, his hand hands away, nothing touching me. Except his eyes. They feel like they'd touch every part of me if they could.

I nod once, inching closer. "Ten seconds."

His lips brush mine and he grins against them, whispering two short words onto my tender lips. "Ten seconds."

He kisses me.

And I mean, kisses me.

The first ten second make out we had; it was sweet, simple, heartfelt. This one? We make sure to make each second worth our wild, neither of us wanting to pull away, the need to touch his face, his skin, his body so strong I moan into his mouth. He cups my cheek with his hand as his tongue plays with mine his kisses fierce while his hands stay polite. God how I wish he wasn't a gentleman. I wish I didn't make this stupid deal. I wish—I wish—

The sound of knocking makes us rip away from each other's lips, springing back to either ends of the couch. Panting, I look at the door then at Brandon with the biggest smile on his face. He pushes his fluffy strands of hair out of his face and points his thumb at the door.

"Better get that," he smirks.

I grab a throw pillow and fling it at him before getting up and jogging to the door. This better be good, whoever it is better be worth breaking the best kiss I think I'll ever have in my life.

I put the chain on the door before opening it, leaving a crack to see through.

On the other end stands James, my landlord.

My heart sinks.