Accidentally on Purpose 6 Book Box Set

by L. D. Davis

  “Know what?” I asked, willing to risk Amy’s head.

  She moved closer to me and began to whisper. “Aaron had a few of his friends over last night while my parents were out. I caught Emmet and Stella screwing in the basement.”

  I literally felt as if she had just punched me in the chest, but I swallowed away the sudden pain and gave her a look of doubt.

  “You did not,” I said.

  I didn’t feel so doubtful, though. Why would she make it up? Was she just kidding? If she was, it wasn’t funny at all.

  “I did too,” she said, looking at me seriously. “I went down there to do my laundry for school, and they were standing in front of our old couch trying to put their clothes back on in a hurry.”

  I gave her another doubtful look, but she just shrugged. “Look at them. They look like they’re sharing a big secret.”

  I did look at them again, and they did look like they were sharing a big secret, with secret smiles and whispering. Emmet looked up from adorable Stella with a stupid smile on his face, but it faded away when he saw me watching. His eyes flicked over to Amy, and she inhaled sharply.

  “Stop looking at them!” she hissed. “He probably knows I told you!”

  I stopped looking. I didn’t want to look anymore. I turned back around to concentrate on packing up my homework.

  “If he asks you if I told you, don’t rat me out,” Amy whispered harshly and then she hurried away because Emmet was standing at my back. I could feel him there. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my body tingled. Yeah, Emmet was there.

  “Hey,” he said to the back of my head.

  “Hey,” I threw over my shoulder. “I don’t need a ride today. I have some things to do in the art room.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “How will you get home?”

  “The same way I used to get home before you started driving me,” I answered, forcing a smile. “I’ll walk.”

  “It’s pouring and cold,” he objected.

  “I have a coat and an umbrella,” I said, turning around. I showed him the umbrella. “See? I’ll be fine.”

  He studied me carefully. “What were you and Amy talking about?”

  I closed my locker and looked at the wall over his shoulder. “Nothing really.”

  “Nothing really?” he parroted.

  I nodded.

  “If it was nothing then why won’t you look at me?” He had spoken quietly, but I could feel his frustration and his unease.

  Slowly, my eyes moved to his and I saw the truth of what Amy had said there. I exhaled and then swung my bag over my shoulder.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said and started to move away.

  “Wait, Donya.” Emmet went to take my arm but remembered we were surrounded by people and stopped short.

  “Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” I forced another smile. “I’ll see you later.”

  I hurried down the hall, ignoring his eyes burning holes into my back.

  *~*~*

  I had the art room all to myself. It was a Friday afternoon, and there weren’t many kids that would want to hang out after school on a Friday if they weren’t forced to, even for art.

  I immersed myself in my project. It was almost Valentine’s Day, and we had to do a Valentines theme. It could be anything we wanted, as long as the focus was on love, as if any fifteen-year-old kid understood anything about love.

  I became lost in my project. I watched the paint appear on the canvas with the same serenity I felt when I skateboarded. The sound of the brush as it connected with the surface was soothing. I took pleasure in the careful lines and smooth curves that had to have been created with meticulous precision. The smell of paint settled my mind and feeling the colorful liquid between my fingers settled my nerves.

  Hours passed. Occasionally, a rare teacher would check in on me but say nothing. Mr. Boggs, the maintenance manager, told me earlier before I got started that I could stay until nine and then he’d have to kick me out. I used every minute, every second, and put my heart into my project. Originally, I was going to do a simple, cheesy project. It was going to be your typical hearts and flowers and candy type of picture, only a few steps above what a kindergartener may create, but after I had seen the truth about Emmet and Stella in Emmet’s eyes, my creative process changed. It exploded into my fingertips, and I had no control over it.

  I took a step back and exhaled slowly as I looked at my work. I guess I did know something about love.

  The invisible tether slackened. My back was to the door, but I knew he was there watching me just as surely as I knew my own name. I glanced up at the clock over the teacher’s desk. I had roughly twenty minutes to clean up and get out, but I couldn’t stop staring at my creation. I never considered myself to be talented, but even I could not deny how incredible it looked.

  I heard Emmet’s footsteps as he approached me. He stood behind me, looking over my shoulder at my project. I heard him exhale miserably. I didn’t mean to make him miserable, but I took a little solace in knowing that he may have been a bit unhappy. Misery does love company.

  “Do you forgive me?” he asked as he moved in closer to me.

  “Nothing to forgive,” I said, but I didn’t turn around to look at him. “Why are you here?”

  “It’s late. I didn’t want you walking home.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said.

  “You’ll be fine now because I’m going to drive you home.”

  His arm circled my waist. I should have pulled away, but my body had different ideas. It melted back into Emmet, and my head tilted back against his chest.

  “Where did you get your inspiration for this painting?” he asked in my ear.

  I didn’t answer him because I knew that he knew. And I knew that he knew that I knew that he knew.

  The woman in the painting was bleeding from the gaping, ragged hole in her chest. In her hand was a bleeding heart. Dark blood covered her fingers and dripped down into the green grass below, staining it red. It was an offering to the man before her who had his hand extended as if to receive the heart. Their fingers touched and some of the blood dripped onto his extended fingers. The man offered in his other hand dying roses and a box of chocolates with tiny spiders crawling out of the heart shaped package.

  Maybe my teacher didn’t intend for us to create anything as macabre as that, but to me that was the reality of Valentine’s Day. The girls I knew had big floaty ideas about February 14th. They got some stale chocolates and roses that died within hours and thought that it was true love. It’s wasn’t.

  The painting wasn’t just about the fake holiday either. Even though I knew better, I had been having silly ideas about love and relationships. I told Emmet I wasn’t ready, and I probably still wasn’t, but I secretly wished that he would try again. I secretly wished that he would wait for me. I fantasized about the day I would tell him I was ready and how he would kiss me and tell me he waited for me because he knew I was special. He had said so himself once, and I believed it. I fantasized that I would go away, and he would find me because he could always find me, and he would kiss me and bring me back. I dreamed up our lives through his college years, and I dreamed that when I finished high school he would propose, and we would get married before I finished college. I thought about our quaint wedding in Louisiana and the children that would follow.

  I had secretly hoped that he would come to me on that stupid fake day with candy and flowers and a kiss.

  My fantasies were shut down with a bang when I realized he had banged Stella. Me and my stupid childhood fantasies.

  I stepped away from Emmet and started to clean up my mess. After another moment of staring at the painting Emmet helped. We cleaned up quickly and left the dark painting where it needed to be, in the dark.

  After we had got into the car, Emmet started the engine but he didn’t drive. He sat there staring at the cold rain pouring onto the glass. We were the only car left in the dimly lit park
ing lot. We were completely alone, and I hated it. I wanted to go home. I wanted to get away from him so that I would stop having the constant reminder about my stupid fantasies.

  “I’m sorry, Donya,” he said, his voice soft as a feather.

  “I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” I said quickly. I reached over and turned on the radio. “I’m starving. Are you going to drive or are we going to sit here?”

  Emmet growled with annoyance and turned the radio off. “Stop avoiding this.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, so whatever it is you think you need to apologize for obviously isn’t a big deal.”

  “Are you going to make me say it?” he asked as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

  “Say what? Do you have anything to eat in here?” I asked, popping open the glove compartment.

  “Don’t open that!” Emmet shouted as he reached to close it, but he was too late. The compartment door flung open, and a condom dropped onto my lap.

  “That’s not food,” I said delicately as I picked up the foil packet. I stared at it in the palm of my hand for a few seconds, and then I put it back in the glove box and closed it. The clicking sound it made seemed to ricochet throughout the car.

  The silence that followed was crushing. Emmet stared straight ahead again, but his hands gripped the steering wheel even tighter than before, turning his knuckles white.

  I knew he wasn’t a virgin, but I didn’t want to know that he was actively screwing girls. What if that was all he wanted from me? What if that was his game all along? What if he was just priming me so he could fuck me?

  I hated the way my body reacted to the thought; the way heat pooled in places there shouldn’t be heat at fifteen years old. I hated the images of being under him, of him rolling on that condom I just found.

  The crushing pressure in the car became too much. I needed air. I needed to be away from Emmet. I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw open the door. Rain pelted the right side of my body. It was so cold that it stung, but that didn’t stop me from grabbing my bag and dashing out into the terrible weather even as Emmet yelled my name.

  I only got a few yards before Emmet’s arms were around me as he tried to drag me back to the car. My backpack dropped to the ground with a splash as I struggled against him and tried to pry his arms apart, but it was pointless. He carried me kicking and screaming back to the car. As he struggled to open the door with one hand and his other arm around me, I elbowed him hard in the gut. His hold on me loosened, and I managed to make it a couple of steps before he spun me around and crushed me against the car.

  “I’m not letting you walk home tonight,” he growled in my face. “We can fight all night if you want, but I’m not letting you go.”

  I stilled under him. He was too close. Pressed up against me, and I was pressed up against the car. There was no give anywhere.

  We were both breathing heavily from the struggle. Our breaths were foggy against the rainy night. His hand was on my face. I shook my head to make him move his it, but he growled low in his throat and grabbed my head with both hands and held me still.

  “It was a mistake,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t like her like that.”

  “You liked her enough to put your dick in her,” I snarled and was surprised by my ferocious words.

  Emmet’s expression darkened. “You told me you weren’t ready.”

  “I’m obviously still not ready because I’m definitely not ready for condoms in the glove compartment and screwing on dirty couches in damp, musky basements.”

  “First of all, I would never do that to you. You deserve better than getting screwed on a dirty couch in a musky basement. Secondly, I have enough self-restraint not to try to fuck you anyway. Third, you said you weren’t ready, Donya. You don’t want to be with me, but you don’t expect me to be with anyone else.”

  “So, it’s my fault you can’t keep your dick in your pants?” I asked coolly.

  “No,” he snapped. “It’s your fault you’re hurt that I didn’t keep my dick in my pants. You made your decision. I’m beginning to believe you were right. You’re just a clueless kid. You wouldn’t know what to do with me if you had me. You’ll be better off dating someone your age, someone at your maturity level.”

  I cringed at his words. I felt my mouth hanging open. Damn that hurt. That hurt a lot. I felt like slapping him, but then…I am the one who told him I was too young and dumb. I all but proved it by running out of the car when the condom fell on my lap.

  He stretched his right arm and pulled the door open.

  “Get in the damn car.”

  I got in the car. He slammed my door, retrieved my backpack and then he got in. The pack was carelessly thrown on my lap. He gave me a dark look, threw the car into gear and sped out of the parking lot. His anger was apparently affecting his driving. I probably would have been safer walking, but I said nothing else.

  The car was still moving when I flung open the door in front of my house. I heard Emmet’s exasperation behind me as he slammed on the brakes. I slammed the car door and ran to my front my door. I had barely pushed the door open before Emmet’s tires peeled on the wet ground. I turned around just in time to watch him take off like a bat out of hell.

  Chapter Seven

  I eased into the house as quietly as possible. I quickly punched in the code for the alarm system before it woke up the whole family. When I turned around in the dark foyer, he was standing there in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that outlined is budding man muscles. I couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but I could feel his mood. He was angry, he was sad, he was regretful, and he was confused. I felt another emotion radiating off of him that I could not name then at the tender age of fifteen, but I can name it now: lust.

  I was soaked to the bone. My coat and knit hat did nothing to protect me from the cold rain. I shivered violently, and my teeth clattered together so hard it hurt my jaw.

  Without any words, Emmet took my hand and silently led me upstairs to his bedroom. Once the door closed, he flipped on a light and moved past me while peering at me intently. He quickly rooted through his drawers and produced a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and a pair of socks. He put them on the bed and passed me the towel that hung on the back of his door. His gaze moved over my body from head to toe and back up to my eyes before he slipped out of the bedroom.

  I stood there staring at the door. It was like he knew I was coming. Did he feel that slack in the tether as I hurried up the driveway? I did.

  For hours after Emmet sped away from my house, I tried to ease the ache in my chest. I didn’t like feeling like everything about us was ruined because I got jealous when I had no right to be. If he never put his lips on mine again, I could deal with that. What I could not deal with was losing him as I always had him, my friend, and my something-like-a-brother-but-not. I was the one that told him I wasn’t ready, and I really shouldn’t have expected him to hang around waiting for me. On the surface, I didn’t expect it, but I guess a part of me did, and I was rather ashamed of that part of me. It was selfish.

  When two a.m. rolled around, and I was still sitting in my room staring out at the dark and rainy street, I got up, got dressed, and snuck out into the night. I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t want to fight with Emmet.

  I took off my wet coat and hung it over the back of a chair. I put my shoes near the heater and then peeled out of my drenched clothes. I picked up his towel and pressed it to my nose. It smelled like him—clean, fresh, and his own intoxicating scent. I used the towel to dry my hair and body and hung it back up before I began to pull on the clothes he’d left for me. I was just pulling the sweatshirt down over my stomach when Emmet quietly re-entered the room. He handed me the hairbrush I kept in Emmy’s room. I knew he had to sneak in there to get it. I don’t think either of us wanted to wake her or anyone else in the house.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, taking it from him.

  I walked over to his mirror
and brushed my wet hair back and used the emergency scrunchy that I kept on the brush handle to pull my hair into a ponytail. I was going to hate my hair later in the day when it became a ball of frizz.

  I put the brush down on his bureau and turned around to face him. He had pulled back the covers on his bed while I brushed my hair. I looked at him with fear that threatened to choke me. He stood on the other side of the bed watching me.

  “Just sleep,” he said, speaking for the first time since I arrived.

  “I didn’t come here to sleep,” I said and swallowed hard. “I just…I don’t want to fight with you, Emmet.”

  “So, stop fighting with me, Donya, and get into the bed.”

  Without waiting for a response, he locked the door and turned the light off. The room was dark, but I heard the bedclothes rustling as he got into his queen size bed. I hesitated in the dark.

  I knew I should have demanded him to turn the light back on. I should have put my wet shoes and coat back on and left. I should have gone and slept in Emmy’s room.

  I ignored my objecting thoughts, and I stepped forward and slipped into Emmet’s bed, and into Emmet’s waiting, open arms.

  His body was firm against mine. His arms caged me securely as I rested my head on his chest. His skin was hot, but I was cold. I snuggled closer to him to warm my own skin with his. His scent soothed, and the sound of his heart beat was like a lullaby. The tether between us felt comfortable, not stretched or twisted.

  I slept more peacefully than I ever had before.

  *~*~*

  I felt all kinds of wrong when I woke up, cocooned in Emmet’s arms. I felt all kinds of right, too—warm and snuggly—but mostly wrong. I was only fifteen years old. I shouldn’t have been sleeping in any guy’s bed regardless of the innocent circumstances behind it. I wasn't even sure just how innocent it really was. I was fifteen, not stupid. I knew what that thing was pressing against my leg.

  Why is it so big? How is it so big?