Aubrey Brenner: Un-Sable (Un-Edited)

“My aunt told me to stay away from you,” Sable said casually one nippy afternoon, while she sat on the counter in my kitchen.

It had been three weeks since Sable broke into my life like a thief. She had spent the better part of those twenty-one days at my house or around it. I had to admit. When I’d see her walking toward my house along the beach or heard her unique knock on my door, I actually felt something warm in my gut. I enjoyed my time with her. Even if she did talk a lot and asked questions that made me squirm. And since I wasn’t a talker, she filled in the conversation most of the time. I preferred it more when she would talk about the things she liked, rather than probe me about my life.

I’d found out she was a ballet dancer. She’d been dancing since she was four. And even though she didn’t make it her profession, she hoped to teach it someday to other young girls.

Her favorite flower was the dahlia.

Her favorite animal was the peacock because she admired their unashamed beauty. She’d never thought herself very beautiful. My chest actually ached when she said it. Though she wasn’t my type, she was still a looker. She held herself in a way most girls didn’t. Her head was always held high, her back straight and long. She had a confidence in herself, even if she didn’t see it. I did.

“Why? Because boys are bad and only want one thing?” I teased her. But if it had been the case, she wouldn’t have been wrong. Men are disgusting creatures with one thing on their mind. Though, some of us manage to find restraint.

“She doesn’t want me to get too close to you.”

I stopped laughing.

“Why is that her concern?” I snapped.

I didn’t know why her straightforward statement had pissed me off. Maybe it was being told who I could and couldn’t be friends with. Maybe I took it as a personal attack. Did her aunt think I wasn’t good enough for Sable? I’d come to learn, it was all and none of those things.

“Whoa,” she said in a placating tone. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. She didn’t say we can’t be friends. We just can’t get too close is all.”

“Why does she care what her grown niece does with her time or who she does it with?”

“It isn’t you, Everett. It’s me. She’s scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’ll hurt you.”