When he’s gone, though, I can still smell him on my sheets. The bowls that we ate out of are in the dish drainer. There’s a dent on my couch where his ass was. Even though he’s no longer here, I can still feel him. I sigh and roll over, smelling his scent on my pillows. There’s a black hair on one of them. Figures.
If it wasn’t the middle of the night, I might have gotten up and washed the sheets, or at least changed them. Too tired and worn out to do that.
Rhett has snuck into my life and I just let it happen, but at least it’s happening on my terms. I made the rules for hanging and banging, and I can change them whenever I want. If I told him tomorrow that we weren’t doing it anymore, he would accept that. At least I know that if I say no to something, Rhett will respect that. Gives me a get out of jail free card. I’m not trapped in a relationship with definitions and expectations and all that shit. I wonder why more people don’t try hanging and banging.
I turn back over onto my side, so my back faces where Rhett was lying.
* * *
With everything going on with Rhett, I’d completely forgotten about the voicemail my parents left me. Every time I do remember, I decide to ignore it because I don’t want to deal with it. Finally the little red notification is too much and I listen to it.
Basically, my parents are selling their house, getting out of Texas, and retiring to Florida. As soon as possible. They want me to come home to get my stuff or else they’re going to toss everything. Guess now that they’ve absolved themselves of financial responsibility, they don’t care about my things, either. I expected as much, but it’s still a knife in the gut that they have so much disregard for the few things that are still left there. Childhood memories, more pictures of me and Mia, old cheer jackets and uniforms, books and toys. All the detritus that you accumulate over a life. And they don’t even care.
At first, I’m numb. The anger sets in after a few minutes and I have to force myself not to call them back and ream them out. Instead I send a text to Melissa and tell her what’s going on. She calls me back immediately and says that she will go over to the house and take anything I want and store it in their garage for me. I almost have a breakdown but take a deep breath and calm down. I give Melissa a list of the things I want her to get, and she says that she’ll take pictures of everything and send them to me so I can make sure she’s taking the right stuff. I ask her how she’s going to get into the house, but she tells me to leave that to her. Melissa and my parents have had plenty of run-ins over the years, and she always seems to come out on top.
I don’t give a shit what my parents think, as long as they don’t try to have her arrested, which wouldn’t surprise me at all. It also wouldn’t shock me if they moved and didn’t give me their new address. Just disappear and pretend they never had a daughter at all.
I would say that it hurts, but I think I’m so used to it, so numb that I don’t care. They’ve never cared, so why should I?
After I get off the phone with Melissa, I have another breakdown, so I go to the bathroom, fill the bathtub, and grab the bath bomb I’ve been saving for a bad day. This is a bad day.
The last of my tears drop into the water and mix with everything as I lie back and close my eyes. My mind is so frenetic that I can’t soak for too long. I can’t be still.
So I get out of the tub and wrap myself in a towel. I need to talk to someone, but I have no one. I’m sure Mia already knows what’s going on because her mom called her, but I just . . . I can’t talk to someone from Texas.
That leaves Tobi or Carrie or Willow or one of the other cheer girls, and I can’t talk to them without telling them everything. That leaves one person, and there is no fucking way that I’m spilling my guts to Rhett Miller.
Guess I’m shit out of luck. So I just pace my apartment and eat a pint of ice cream and then hate myself and then go to bed and spend the rest of the night watching movies.
Rhett
She’s determined not to call what we’re doing a relationship, but I’m not sure what else it is. We don’t go out a whole lot, which means I get to see her naked a whole lot and that’s pretty damn great on its own. I still want more, but I can wait.
If I thought Freya was gorgeous with clothes on, it’s nothing compared to seeing her without them. So many inches of clear skin, crisscrossed with veins that almost give her a slightly blue tint in certain areas.
And when she comes? She just completely lets go and it’s incredible. My new goal in life is to make that happen as many times as I can. She appears to like what I’m doing so far, which is good. And her bedroom skills are off the charts. Holy shit. I swear, she liquefies my spine every time.
I know that I’m falling harder and harder for her, but there’s seriously nothing I can do about it. Can’t undo it once it’s started. And I was doomed the second I saw her in the bar.
Jem thinks the whole thing is hilarious. He figured out what was happening when I sort of went MIA and had a dopey smile on my face all the time. Granted, I wasn’t hiding it all that well anyway.
“So you’re having a no-strings relationship with a girl you’re totally in love with?” I tell him that I’m not in love with her. Yet. But if I let myself go? I would be there in a heartbeat.
“It’s on her terms. I don’t care. Any way I can have her, I’ll take it. She’s that important.” Sure, getting kicked out of her bed or having her leave mine is complete shit, but I don’t see a way around it at this point. I’ve tried to get her to stay, and I’m not going to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to. I want her to want to stay. And she doesn’t right now, so that’s that.
Jem shakes his head slowly.
“I don’t know. It sounds like a shitty arrangement. For you. I’d take it for me, but I’m an asshole.” He grins and I roll my eyes. Jem doesn’t really like to keep the same bed partner for more than a few times. By the time he graduates, he’ll probably make it through half the female population of MSU.
“It’s working,” I growl because I’m tired of trying to justify myself to him. I wish he’d mind his own damn business. I don’t criticize his activities, even though I think he’s doing it to avoid any sort of romantic connection that might tie him down or trap him. But that’s his to deal with. Not mine. Someday he’ll figure it out. I hope. Maybe not. Maybe he’ll be in his 80s and hitting on all the women in the nursing home and taking a different one to his Posturepedic bed every night.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says with a smirk. “Seems like I touched a little bit of a nerve there.” I can’t put up with his bullshit right now. We’re at my place since Freya has a big test this week and said she didn’t need any distractions. I’m missing her, but I get it.
I haven’t seen Jem in a while, mostly because Freya has taken up the time I would normally spend with him. I do miss him, even though he can be a pain in my ass. He’s my friend and he has my back no matter what. In addition to bailing me out financially, he’s picked my ass up when I’ve been drunk and brought me home, and helped me get a good deal on my truck. I wouldn’t be where I am without him. He can be an ass, but he’s my friend.
“Can you just not be a dick about this? Please?” I ask. I hate the whine in my voice, but I seriously need him to cut me some slack right now.
Jem puts his hands up.
“Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone. But I still think that you should lock that shit down. That’s all I’m going to say. Hey, did I tell you about the girl I hooked up with the other night?” He didn’t, and he proceeds to tell me that she’s on the gymnastics team and apparently quite flexible. I get a graphic play by play. Typical Jem.
“So, are you going to call her again?” He gives me a look as if I’ve suggested he chop off his own head.
“Hell no. One and done, man. One and done.”
“One of these days you’re gonna run out of girls,” I say and he chuckles.
“Never. There are always transfer students or freshmen.”
“You’re a
n asshole,” I say and he grins at me.
“Yup. And don’t you forget it.”
I change the subject and we talk about the current political mess and natural disasters and global warming and all that shit. Despite seeming like he doesn’t care about anything but himself, Jem does actually care. He’s an environmental science major and would love to work for a solar or wind power farm, or have his own. I tease him about being a tree hugger all the time.
“Someone’s got to save this fucking planet. Might as well be me,” he says.
He tries to steer things back to Freya again, but I block him.
“I feel like you’ve been hibernating with her. Why don’t you bring her out?” I sigh.
“Because we’re doing what we’re doing and I don’t need any comments from someone who has no experience even getting a girlfriend. I’m doing fine, Jem. Drop it.” He presses his lips together and does. Finally. His fixation on my life always seems extreme, but I know it’s because he doesn’t want to talk about his own. I’ve known him long enough to figure that out.
I honestly know next to nothing about Jem’s life. He lives in a sweet complex and never seems to be hurting for cash. He refuses to talk about his family, his childhood, or anything he did before he came to MSU. I don’t think he has a whole lot of friends, other than me. Tons of acquaintances, but not friends. He’s an odd one and he seems to come from a charmed background, but I don’t know where that money comes from, or how he gets it. My suspicion is a trust fund and he doesn’t want people to think he’s a spoiled rich boy. Understandable. Since I’m not too keen on sharing my own past, our friendship works. Still, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to tell someone my whole story.
Growing up essentially homeless, being passed around like a hot potato in different foster homes. I finally ended up, at age sixteen, at a group home and stayed until I aged out and then I was out on my ass. I’ve struggled and worked for every fucking thing I have, and I’m proud of that, but it wasn’t easy. I believe that kids in the system should have more than they get. They need guidance and life skills and help. Just help. If I can give at least one kid what I didn’t get, then all of this shit will be worth it.
“You there?” Jem says, waving his hand in front of my face. “Or are you off thinking about your girl’s tits?” I glare at him.
“Don’t be crude.”
“Why not?”
* * *
We’re well into the football season and the weather has taken an abrupt turn into cold as fuck. The sidewalks are icy in the mornings and getting to and from class and work turns into an extreme sport. The kids at the day care whine when I tell them it’s time to go outside, but I just say that the cold is good for them. Builds character.
“What’s char-ac-ter?” Joey, one of the most precocious of the three-year-olds, says.
I laugh.
“It means it makes you into a better person.” His little brows furrow as the thinks about that.
“But why?” I groan. The “why” stage is one of the cutest, but most frustrating. No matter how many different ways I can explain something, there is always another inquiry. And since I don’t know everything, sometimes I just tell them it’s because of magic. Kids are usually cool with things being explained by magic.
“Because of magic,” I say, wiggling my fingers. He frowns even more.
“But why?”
I groan again and pick him up and hold him upside down until he shrieks at me to put him down. The kids often use me as a jungle gym, and I have no problem with it. I’m used to coming home from work with goldfish crackers in my pockets and random bits of snot on my shirt because some kid used me as a human tissue. Kids are messy. Kids are loud. Kids are chaos, but it gives you a whole new perspective on life. They get stoked about a rain puddle. Or a flower. That kind of enthusiasm is always contagious, and I find myself stopping and thinking about all the good things in the world, in spite of the bad.
More jaded people should hang out with small children. Might change their outlook.
Heather and I have outside duty today, so it’s our job to wrangle ten children into their coats and mittens and hats to go outside so they can burn off some of their energy. It’s an experience every time and usually at least one kid ends up in tears.
“Finally,” I say to Heather as we herd the kids outside and onto the small fenced-in playground.
“I’m exhausted and it’s not even noon,” she says, leaning against the fence and closing her eyes briefly. Heather’s a junior and on track to become a special ed teacher. For someone who works with kids, she has a cynical and dry sense of humor, but it totally works for her.
“So, what’s up with you?” she asks as we scan the playground and make sure none of the kids are eating rocks or trying to fly off the swings.
“Not a whole lot,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning on the fence next to her.
“Bummer,” she says.
“Not really. Just . . . busy. Too busy to sit down and breathe.” Midterms are coming up and soon I’m going to be begging for a caffeine IV just so I can get through my regular day.
“Tell me about it. I was up until five studying and then had class at eight. But I figure we’re young now and we won’t be able to stay up all night forever, so might as well do it now. You can sleep when you’re dead, right?” I give her a rueful smile.
“Right.”
I have to run to break up a toddler fight, which ends up in three kids being sent to timeout inside. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that they did it on purpose so they could go back inside. That’s probably what I would have done.
“Rhett,” a familiar voice says, and I find myself looking through the slats of the fence at Freya when I get back outside.
“Hey, what are you doing on this side of campus?” I move closer to the fence so I can see her better. She’s got her hair twisted up in a messy bun and hasn’t bothered with makeup. She looks amazing. I almost want to reach through the fence so I can touch her cheek.
I’m a goner. Completely lost.
“Just had a meeting with my advisor and I heard the kids yelling. So this is where you work?” she asks, looking up at the cheerful brick building that houses the day care.
“Yeah,” I say and have to turn away from her so I can keep watching the kids. Joey sees Freya and makes a beeline for us.
“Who are you?” he asks. The kid is nothing if not blunt.
Freya looks at him and then at me.
“You don’t have to tell him. Joey, what have we talked about when meeting new people?” I say, crouching down so I’m closer to his level.
He sighs heavily, as if he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“That you introduce yourself and say ‘Nice to meet you,’” he recites. We’ve gone over this one a lot.
“So you want to try that again?” He heaves another sigh, and I glance up at Freya, who is trying to hide a smile.
“Hello, I’m Joey. It’s nice to meet you,” he says and then turns to me. “How was that?”
I chuckle.
“Good, but you need to wait for her to answer.”
Joey turns back to Freya and crosses his arms. This kid.
Freya also crouches down and sticks her hand through the slats.
“Well, Joey, I’m Freya. It’s nice to meet you too.” Joey stares at her hand and then shakes it with his like a little gentleman. He’s making progress.
“Good job, bud,” I say, holding my hand up for a high five. He grins and slaps my hand as hard as he can.
“Bye bye, Freya!” he calls and runs away, making dinosaur noises.
“Cute,” she says as we both stand.
“He’s okay. Most of the time.” She smiles at me, and I think she has something else on her mind than just stopping by to say hello.
“You want to come over tonight?” she asks, curling her fingers around the edges of the fence slats. She could have asked me to impale myself on this fenc
e in that voice and I would have done it.
“Yeah, after practice?” She nods.
“Yeah.”
Her voice is soft and there’s a sadness that hangs above her head like a cloud. I’m so used to her being a storm that this more gentle side of her is something new.
“You okay?” I ask. She swallows and then nods once.
“Yeah. I went grocery shopping so there’s food in the house. I got a ton of stuff, so you can probably make whatever.” Her eyes keep darting away from me, and there is something definitely up with her. I’m sure that she won’t tell me anything, but still. If I can help in any way, I’ll do it. Even if that means just getting her off half a dozen times. It’s no hardship on my part. I’ve never loved going down on a girl as much as I love doing it with Freya.
“Sounds good. I’ll see you at practice?” I say. She bites her lip and nods again.
“Yeah. Sounds good. Bye.” She waves and starts to walk away. I almost call after her, but I don’t. Instead I watch her walk away. I’ll see her later. No big deal.
12
Freya
After my photography class, I cross campus to where the day care is located. I kind of hate that I know what hours he works and what hours he has class. That’s too much intimate information. That’s girlfriend kind of information. I’m not a girlfriend, but I know his schedule anyway. Can’t seem to forget it.
He’s outside with the kids, and I watch him for a few minutes before approaching. There’s a rumble, and he breaks it up. It’s amusing to see this huge guy pulling these little people off each other and then sending them inside for punishment.
I finally approach him and we talk. He’s too perceptive not to notice that I’m in a mood, but I’m not telling him what it’s about. Not even if he begs. Although, Rhett begging me is definitely something I would like to see at some point. Hmm, maybe that’s something I can arrange for our next hang and bang session.
Into Your Arms Page 15