by K Larsen
I stab a finger into his chest. I itch to lash out and smack him or maybe kiss him. I don’t know which would satisfy the urge—maybe both. “But I loved you,” my voice cracks. “I gave you everything.”
“I did it so that eventually—I could be the man you need. If I can’t do it alone, for myself, what good was I to you? What if I slipped up and disappointed you again? For me, that disappointment is crushing. The weight of the guilt of letting myself down—making a stupid choice to forego my meds on top of letting you down… it’s too much. It was too much. I had to separate us. I had to want it for me alone.”
“You told me it was all a lie! I believed you. I could have given you space. I could have given you time. I could have done anything you needed but instead you broke my heart. You hurt me,” I half sob, half shout. Dallas looks pained, like I physically hit him. Good. I think, how does it feel?
In a rush of panic and claustrophobia I swing open my door and hop down from the truck and start jogging. I need air. Wide open space. Freedom. It’s too chilly now without a sweater or coat and the light from the day is waning. Dallas hollers after me, but I just keep jogging. He loves me? He loved me. It’s loved. Past tense. This is just an apology. Closure. Take it and be done.
He yanks my arm, forcing me to spin around and face him.
“Don’t!” I swing at him, open palmed, but he catches me by the wrist—stopping my motion.
“I love you, City. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t. It was all real. You’re the best thing in my life. But I had to let you go to get right. I did it for you, not to hurt you.”
“Bullshit,” I spit at him.
“Please. What do I have to do to prove it to you?”
“Why didn’t you call immediately when you got home if that were true? Why didn’t you write me a letter or email to explain? You don’t make sense,” I blurt out.
Dallas’s brow furrows but he keeps his grip on my arm tight so I can’t escape. “I didn’t know if that would upset you more. I’d made a decision and no matter how much it killed me, I was going to stick with it for you. So you’d be happy. What if I got home and you were over me. Didn’t care anymore. Had moved on?” He pulls me closer to his body. Close enough that I can feel his breath on my face. “All I wanted was for you to be happy. I didn’t want to disrupt that. It was horrible—to lie to you. To tell you it was all a lie. It wrecked me to see you sink to the pavement sobbing. But it was the right thing to do. For me and for you.”
“No. It was cruel and hateful,” I say, but my voice lacks the vehemence I want to convey.
Dallas snakes one arm around my lower back. I push against it, trying to keep my distance.
“I would do anything for you...including send you away if I thought I was the problem. That’s how much I love you.”
“I don’t believe you.” My voice is too quiet, the fight leaving me. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes closed.
With one arm around me, he releases my arm. My eyes pop open as he digs something from his back pocket. “Let me prove it.”
He holds a photo between us, in front of my face. It’s me and Dallas right after we got our tattoos. The tattoo guy took it for us. Dallas is looking right at the camera beaming, holding up his arm, flexing to show off the tattoo on his inner bicep. I’m gazing at Dallas—dreamily. So much longing and joy captured in my expression. So much love. You can practically see it oozing out of me and into him. A stranger looking at the photo would yearn to feel a love so deep. It’s that obvious.
I roll my shoulders. “Where’d you get that?” I ask, feeling strangely calm.
“The disposable was in my pack. I have all the pictures.” I blush at the thought of the naked one we took together at the cabin. “All of them,” he says.
“On you?” My voice trills up at the end. The thought of Dallas carrying around nudes of me is mortifying.
Dallas chuckles deeply and shakes his head. “Not the others. Just this one. Always.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you carry that around?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Because, that girl?” he points to me in the picture. “See how she’s looking at me? That look is because of how I loved her. How I loved her so right, that she gave me that look all the time. I never want to forget that feeling. I never want to forget you, City. You’re mine. My girl. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you that I can be even better than before. I’d like to prove that I have my shit together enough to be deserving of a girl like you.”
Tears stream down my face. I have no control of my body or emotions. I can’t think straight. I so want to believe what he’s saying. But a sliver of me screams to not buy into it. That the heartache that results is too vast, too great to endure again.
Dallas cups my face in his hands, the pads of his thumbs swiping away my tears.
“Please. Just let me.” His voice cracks as I sniffle, and it solidifies something in my gut. The emotion in his voice, a true plea. “Give me a second chance to love you right.”
My heart knows what it’s always known, I’m in love with Dallas Baribeau.
Epilogue
Dallas
Seven Months Later
The theme for Charlotte’s senior prom is Candy Land—like the kids game. I don’t know who picked it, but honestly, the idea seems ridiculous. How does Candy Land translate into partying, dressing up and dancing all night? What will it be next year? Chutes and Ladders? I snicker at my own internal joke as I wait in the kitchen. Eve’s excitement for Charlotte’s entrance palpable, but also laced with hesitance toward me.
Normally that would irritate me, but I get it. It’s not just City’s trust I’ve had to earn back. Still, it’s weird having to prove to someone that you won’t hurt someone they love. This is love we’re talking about. Can I even guarantee that? I guess Eve doesn’t care if we naturally fall out, or fizzle out or break up like teenagers do—she’s watching me like a hawk for mental health decline. Fair enough.
Normally that would piss me off—make me feel stifled and rebellious—but this time I feel like I have a legit family watching out for me—rooting for me, albeit cautiously.
Nora steps into the kitchen with Eve, and Aubry trails in as well. All eyes are on me.
“Was I supposed to dress up more?” I ask, as they block the doorway to the living room.
Aubry laughs. A cackle really. She’s my favorite of the three of them. Witty as fuck and laid back. Nora reminds me so much of Charlotte, so it’s hard to find anything wrong with her. I’ve managed to have some good talks with her over the last few months and gain a little insight into her and Charlotte’s world on that mountain from a different perspective. That helped me understand so much more about why City took me there and did what she did. Ray, Liam and Mike are on the front porch laughing about prom nights past while having beers together, the kitchen windows open, their conversation drifting in.
My foot starts tapping, nervous energy filling me up. What is taking City so long.
“Do you have a corsage for her?” Eve asks.
My eyes snap to her and I’m already nodding. I slide the plastic container off the table to my right and present it to her.
“Thank God,” Nora says.
“Agreed. Wrist corsages are so much better than the pin on ones,” Aubry giggles.
“Oh. And I got you this, Eve.” I dart to the entryway to grab the flowers I picked up for her. Charlotte told me that she didn’t get to go to her prom—she was too busy raising her sister. So I thought it would be nice to get her something special for the copious amounts of pictures they’ll be snapping in the next few minutes.
I present her with her own plastic container. A matching wrist corsage for her to wear. Nora and Aubry both make weird little cooing sounds.
“What?” Eve says. “Why?”
I shrug. “So you and Charlotte will have fancy pictures together for prom?”
She loops an arm around me as Nora stretches the elastic to slide it
on her wrist.
“You’re a pretty decent human,” she whispers in my ear before pecking me on the cheek.
“I’m ready!” Charlotte’s voice sings out and my eyes snap to the doorway. Nora and Aubry step aside, revealing an incredibly stunning girl. No, woman. City’s hair is swept up off her neck and away from her face. And her face. Shit. The makeup highlights all the very best parts of her natural beauty. Her dress, emerald green, looks silky and shines under the kitchen lights hugging and accentuating her delicious curves.
“Holy shit,” I mutter. Aubry cackles again and Nora simply rolls her eyes at me. Charlotte gives me a megawatt smile at the same time Eve smacks the back of my head. I don’t even care though. There was no other phrase that would do her justice. Whistles float in through the open window, from the guys, and my chest swells in a mild fit of possession and jealousy. I shake away the sentiment, because, of course, every guy there tonight is going to want City. Which also means, I don’t have to be jealous because they’ll all be jealous of me.
After a solid hour of the various parental figures taking photos, we hopped in my truck to get going to dinner. I took City to a new place not too far from the High School. I arranged for the roof deck garden area to be ours alone. Seeing Charlotte’s face as she took in the beauty of it, and the fact that it was all ours, was priceless.
At the dance, we walk through a bonbon arch, lollipop lanterns lining the makeshift ‘red carpet’ decorated to look like candies. Giant cupcakes and sugar pops; everything is a colorful burst and all I can think is, if they start up a strobe light, seizures will strike and kids will start dropping left and right. It’s unnatural—everything being so bright and comical.
“It looks like Candy Land threw up in here,” she says, laughing.
“Agreed.” I practically have to shout to be heard over the loud music. I’m not big on formal dances, but City wanted to come and I knew she’d eventually be bummed out if she didn’t attend so I’d decided to make a big deal about it for her.
She leans in, kisses my cheek. “I feel like a real princess.” We move past all the usuals, staring wide-eyed at the two of us, as we pass by. Ha!
“As you should,” I say, while leading her to the dance floor. “Better than being the Nutella heiress?”
Laughter peals out of her and I can’t help but just stare at her.
“So much better. Will you wait here for a minute?” she asks. I glance around, it’s an awkward place to wait—alone on the dance floor—but I nod anyway. Charlotte grins and speed walks to the DJ table. I don’t miss the way his eyes wander over her cleavage while she leans in close to his ear and says something. She straightens and turns to me. Such joy radiating off her that I can’t help but feel it from my spot fifty feet away.
“Lucky bastard.” The voice pulls me from the moment. Mike stands nearly shoulder to shoulder with me, staring at Charlotte.
“Yup,” I say.
“We can go to my place after, party together. You, me. Charlotte, Ava?” I glare at Mike, wishing him a thousand painful deaths. “Dude, could be fun,” he says.
The Bryan Adams song Charlotte and I danced to nearly a year ago comes on as she walks to me. Screw Mike. Screw them all, the only person here worth thinking about is focused solely on me.
“Probably not. Plus, my girl doesn’t like to share,” I say. Charlotte looks between us as I take her hand. “Sorry dude, gotta go.”
“What was that about?” she asks, when I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her flush against me. God. There is nothing more satisfying than the feeling of City pressed against me.
“Nothing.” Her arms snake around my neck and tug gently. Grinning, I lean down until my lips meet hers. It’s a chaste kiss. Soft and meaningful before she rests her head on my chest as we sway around in circles.
“I love your impish smiles,” she sighs out.
“Impish, huh?”
Charlotte grins before pushing up on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine again—this time more erotic in nature.
I pull back so I can cup her face between my hands. “All the destruction from my mother, all the lips I’ve kissed, every mental health hardship I’ve endured, every girl I used, every foster home, it all feels like I was just mindlessly passing time until I found you. You changed everything, City.”
Her arms squeeze around my middle, acknowledging my words. She tilts her face to mine, eyes watery, a soft smile on her lips. And I know she’s feeling exactly how I want her to feel. Thing is, I feel it all too. The perfection of the moment, of us. My heart races, thumping against my ribs. I don’t see anything but her. I don’t hear anything but our song. It’s like this whole place is decked out for only us. Charlotte reaches up and swats at my shoulder playfully.
“Don’t make me cry—it’ll ruin my makeup,” she says, a coy smile on her lips. I can’t help but laugh. I grab her hand, spin her out, and then roll her back to me, making her squeal with delight as our song continues to play.
“Whatever the lady wants.”
THE END
Read on for a snippet of…
The Tutor
Copyright © 2017 by K. Larsen
Cover by: Cover Me Darling
Editing: Indie Edit Guy
Formatting: Integrity Formatting
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All of them.
This is not a romance.
It will not elicit warm and fuzzy feelings
Him
Not just any woman will do. I require a special woman. I honored the last woman by staying with her overnight. Outdoors in the woods. I am not a monster. Because she was so lovely to look at and at one point I had wanted her. I tried to make her understand me but she never returned my affection. I can still picture her begging me to let her live. She promised to do anything, if I just let her live. But she wasn’t worth saving. None of them are. No matter, though. I will find another. There is always another. I will keep searching until someone is worthy of keeping. They are easy to find, when you know what to look for.
A simple classified ad. A few interviews. Does she turn her body toward me in the interview? How about a wide open and innocent gaze? Does she bow her head slightly or sit with her shoulders rounded forward? Does she blush or become flustered at something I say? Given a compliment, does she dismiss the validity of my praise or laugh nervously?
All these little characteristics help me choose the right woman. A background check seals the deal. No family—or—no family that cares, and no older than twenty to start.
Not just any woman will do. She has to be the right kind and I am a master at finding them.
Her
I am a logophile. A lover of words. Perhaps it’s because of my namesake or maybe just because I’m quirky but since I was a child, I’ve loved words. I assign all the important people in my life words.
For instance, Aubry, is winsome, callipygian, multifarious and capricious. Just pronouncing those words makes my brain happy. Me? I’m demure, acquiescent, and a logophile. Words inspire me. Always have. Certain ones sound magical when said aloud. Aubry thinks I’m ridiculous but that’s because her attention to detail is evanescent. Without Aub though, I’d be a total outcast. She basically saved me throughout high school—socially that is. Aubry is my toran to others; her peremptory confidence paves a way for me and my slight self-consciousness.
“So, are you going to be ready when I pick
you up tonight?” she asks.
I roll my eyes. “Aub, you know I hate parties.”
She holds her hands up. “Wait, wait, if I play your game, will you go?”
“What game?” I ask and make a face.
She looks all over the living room quizzically. “Um, nadir optimum,” she says, before bursting into a fit of giggles. When Aubry Clark laughs, everyone laughs. She has an infectious air about her.
When I stop laughing, I mock seriousness. “Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s your nadir?”
“Ugh, the new manager at the burger joint. He is so crude.” She pouts and shakes her head.
“Okay,” I say. “And the optimum?”
Aubry’s eyes light up. “My bestie is going to a party with me tonight. Woo!” She jumps up and does a little victory dance, causing me to laugh all over again. I clutch my stomach because it’s too much to attempt keeping a straight face.
“Okay, girls, dinner’s ready,” Angela, Aubry’s mom calls from the kitchen. Anton and Aimee start arguing over who has to set the table, while Aubry stares at me.
“Stay.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Especially nope if you want me to get ready for a party.”
She lolls her head back and groans. “Fine, turd. I’ll see you at eight.”
I call out goodbye to Angela while walking to the front door.
It’s warm out. Summer has just started and I can practically smell it in the air. My walk home takes me down quiet side streets. I like to look into people’s windows as I pass by. Families gathered around tables, passing food to each other. It makes me smile while simultaneously causing a pang of loneliness in my gut. There will be no family dinner for me.
Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me. I prefer to be alone. I prefer books to parties, fictional characters to live friends, music to concerts. I’m a little antisocial. I’m also a little laser-focused on my goal of going to college. Aubry and I graduated a year ago and I have until August to save up enough money for my second year’s tuition. I sigh and jam my key into the lock. The door clicks open quietly. I flip switches on as I walk through the house, illuminating it room by room. Tossing my purse onto the kitchen table, I purse my lips and deliberate what to make for dinner. I haven’t gone grocery shopping in a week and the pickings are slim. I settle for an apple cut up, paired with some slices of cheddar cheese. I take my plate to the living room and curl up in the oversized arm chair. Pulling my book from the side table, I open to the dog-eared page and dive back in while popping apple slices and cheese into my mouth occasionally.