“I want you to know I have never slept with the same girl twice, Babe,” he whispers. “I think your vagina might have me addicted though!”
“Gee, that’s both romantic and gross, all at the same time!”
He looks so serious I can’t help bursting into loud, unapologetic laughter. In fact, the whole sentiment has me crying for no other reason than it feels good to laugh so hard that tears form in my eyes. It’s the first time I’ve cried without sadness or anger in months.
When he furrows his brow in confusion over my hysterical reaction, I laugh even harder, so hard, my stomach hurts. Eventually, he joins in with me. My tears run freely over my cheeks and I must look like a loon, but it feels so amazing to just lose it with someone laughing with me, not at me.
When we finally stop belly laughing, we end up lying side by side, staring at one another without words, just his hand lazily drifting up and down my back with silly smiles still on our faces. It feels surreal to be here with Bowie of all people, but it’s also nice. In fact, I can’t imagine it being with anyone else.
“How did you learn to…you know?” I ask, being genuinely interested.
“What? Have sex? Fuck? Bump uglies?” he grins mischievously.
“To be so couth, actually!” I roll my eyes and nudge him.
“PornHub,” he shrugs with a smirk, “guaranteed, all the men in your life have checked it out at some point. Gotta learn somewhere, right?”
“Porn?!” I ask disbelievingly. “Mercy showed me porn once, it was…well, it was, kind of off-putting for a girl.”
“I bet she showed you the hardcore stuff. Your friend is straight-up crazy, Mils!” he says but with a smile, not judgment. “I’m talking the amateur stuff. Try it, you’ll like it. We could try it together sometime if you like?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and bares his teeth into a predatory grin, so I playfully push at him.
“Maybe another time,” I yawn, suddenly feeling beyond exhausted. “Sorry, I’ve had a busy day and I wasn’t expecting…visitors.”
He pulls me into his arms where I rest against his chest, my eyes already falling closed as the steady rhythm of his heart lulls me into the beginnings of sleep. Before I go under completely, I hear him whisper, “Sleep, Babe, I’ve got you.” I’m still not convinced but for now, it feels good.
Chapter 19
Amelia
My morning begins in disappointment when I wake to find Bowie is missing, something I should have predicted but stupidly convinced myself otherwise. I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt after last night, particularly when he told me ‘he had me’, but my let-down soon turns into anger for thinking it was anything other than what it was; an itch to be scratched.
I chuck myself about in bed like a toddler throwing themselves around mid-temper tantrum before I use my pent-up energy to literally leap out of bed and get myself into the bathroom. I’m not sure I would have managed otherwise, and, no doubt, would have stayed fetal on my bed, berating myself for falling for his charms for the second time in only so many days.
My dream of getting into Stanford is the only thing that gets my butt into gear, but once inside my bathroom, I see a handwritten note scrawled over my mirror. It’s penned in pink lipstick, one that isn’t mine and subsequently makes my blood boil. Typical he should choose to use some random skank’s lippy to message me, Great night, Bowie x. I sneer at the impersonal message and rub it off hastily, muttering a whole host of names I didn’t even realize I knew. They must have been stored inside of my subconscious, just waiting for a special occasion to be let loose. A shitty one like this.
Walking into school feels no different from what it was like before, except for the fact I gave my virginity away to my own personal bully. I then moronically had sex with him again, secretly hoped he would still be there in the morning, only to have him make me feel cheaper than dirt on his Italian leather boots.
My locker offers me the usual stash of crap, together with my daily mantra from the previous owner. When I slam the door shut with venom, I notice the usual characters hanging about by Bowie’s locker, along with the bastard himself. He soon feels me watching him and offers me that trademark smirk, the one that is both nauseating and a total turn-on at the same time. However, today I can safely say I would dearly love to smack it off his smug face. Especially when Melody Carpenter saunters past them with a waggle of her fingers just for him. He watches her go past, before returning to his conversation with a very forlorn-looking Matt, who thankfully hasn’t noticed me yet. I hate myself for it, but I can’t help feeling a gutting pang of jealousy swirling around inside of my stomach when I force myself to make my way over to the first period.
“Mils, wait up!” Matt shouts over the masses of students, prompting Bowie to look my way with an expression of nonchalance.
I quickly make an about-turn, trying to avoid the whole shitshow that is both of them being in my life, and begin walking away. I can feel Matt’s eyes on me, and I’m fully aware that he is now running to try and catch up with my quick pace. Given the fact that his legs are far longer than mine and he is an athlete, he’ll achieve it, but I’m hardly going to make it easy for him.
His tall, broad, body eventually rounds on my much smaller one and it brings back chills from the other night, especially now that he’s cutting me off from the exit. He catches his breath before dropping his large hands onto my shoulders, which I glare at before giving him a chiding expression, one that even has him doing a double-take of his natural urge to touch me. I know it doesn’t mean anything sinister, Matt’s always been the touchy type, but I still haven’t forgotten about them gripping me in place against my will. He removes them almost as quickly as he put them there and his eyes are now the size of saucers and looking remorseful.
“Matt, can we do this some other time? I didn’t sleep well last night,” I huff out on a long sigh, just as Bowie walks slowly past us, pretending not to notice the little exchange going on between Matt and me. His usual cocky swagger makes me throb between my thighs and I silently curse my raging, traitorous hormones.
“No, I need to get this out, Mils,” Matt replies, almost looking terrified, most likely wondering how long it will take before I tell him to do one after he lost control on Friday night. “I was a jerk, a complete fucktard, and I’m so sorry I did that to you. It will never happen again, I promise!”
“No, it won’t, because I won’t let it!” I bite back, crossing my arms and showing I mean business because Friday night was not alright, on so many levels, but mainly because he’s supposed to be my friend, not someone who could potentially hurt me. “I can’t believe you did what you did. You’re supposed to be my best friend, Matt!”
“I am your best friend, I just momentarily lost my mind,” he says chewing on his lip nervously, something I haven’t seen him do since his parents gave him hell for wrestling with me when we were turning into teenagers. It turned me to mush then and it’s pretty much achieving the same effect now. At least he has the decency to look ashamed, unlike his asshole friend. “Please forgive me, Mils, I’ll do anything!”
“I don’t know Matt, maybe it’s better if I leave you alone for a bit,” I suggest, trying to sound sincere instead of just plain angry. “It’s obviously not good for you being around someone you have feelings for, especially if it makes you act as crazy as you did.”
“Please!” he begs, shaking his head at the same time. “I’ve done a lot of thinking over the weekend and I get it now. You’re not into me that way and I need to accept it.” I look away feeling guilty for still not being able to return his affections, but it is what it is. “Your friendship means so much to me, please don’t give up on it…on me?”
The puppy dog eyes come out in full force and I can’t help but give in to his begging. He instantly sees it written all over my face, being well versed in my expressions and subtle nuances, and grins with glee.
“Fine,” I drop my arms in defeat, “but that’s it, Matt, you need to m
ove on. Find someone a little less stupid and blind to your awesomeness! Please go back to seeing me as your friend who used to climb trees with you when we were pretending to storm the castle.”
“I can do that, I promise!” he smiles and holds me in a warm hug, one that stays at a strict G-rating.
I open my eyes to catch Bowie glaring at me down the hallway with raging eyes and a tight mouth, clearly pissed off by what he’s seen. When he eventually storms away, I can’t help but sigh noisily and surrender to the fact that some things will never change.
I manage to make my head stay in the game for most of the morning, bar the ongoing mantra, ‘Stanford, Stanford, Stanford’, in my rather juvenile attempts to remain focused at all times. By lunchtime, my head hurts but I am almost certain that I can discuss the reactions of aldehydes and ketones should anyone ask me. I count that as a success from my Chemistry class this morning, as well as the fact I only thought about my evening with Bowie less than a dozen times. I think I’ll reward myself with a disgustingly, chocolatey muffin, the type that will bring me out in pimples within the next few days.
Upon entering the lunchtime cafeteria, I scan the giant, crowded room to try and find my vibrant, red-headed friend, before I eventually see her waving at me with a none-too subtle shouting of my name. I wave back to her with a little less vigor, never wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to myself. Before I even have a chance to say hello to her, I hear Matt’s familiar laughter drifting across from the other side, just as Bowie jovially calls him an asshole and chuckles alongside him, all the while knowing that he slept with his best friend’s crush. God, what an almighty, horrible mess!
My muffin idea goes out the window and even the prospect of saving myself from zits doesn’t stop me from dropping my head to the table with a soft thud and a satisfying coolness to my progressing headache. Matt, Bowie, and even Grant whirl furiously around in the recesses of my mind and it’s thoroughly exhausting. Mercy pats my head affectionately and giggles when I groan ungraciously out loud, all the while thinking, ‘Go to high school, they said, it’s a good, life-affirming, experience, they said!’
“Talk to me, Babe,” my wild, often care-free friend says nonchalantly as she continues to crunch noisily away on her apple.
“I can’t,” I grumble, before finally raising my head to survey the jungle that is lunchtime in the school cafeteria. “It hurts my head too much!”
Matt is now looking over to where we’re sitting and bobs his head at me before smiling bashfully, still donning the puppy dog look like a pro. The boy could literally commit genocide and get away with it in a court of law with just those eyes and a semi-decent lawyer. I give him a half-hearted smile back before finally slumping my bag onto the floor beneath my feet, carefully avoiding the fallen food that already litters half the hall.
“Forgiven him, then?” Mercy asks me with a scoff, openly judging both him and me.
“Yeah,” I sigh over my own weakness, “I guess…”
My eyes travel to the left of Matt, where I see Melody shuffle slightly to one side to reveal Bowie, whose lap she is currently straddling. I lose my voice while acidy bile begins to travel up my gut, just as he eyes me and smirks with that smug, I-deserve-a-slap, face of his.
“Excuse me,” I mutter before shoving my chair back angrily and hoisting my bag from the dirty floor to leave. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Mills?” Mercy asks, now looking at me like I have a split personality disorder. “What’s up?”
“I’m off my food!” I snap unintentionally, being that I currently lack the emotional stability to stop it.
My legs work on overtime as I shuffle my way through the hall and storm down the corridor, probably looking slightly deranged and ready to kill. I don’t particularly care right now. I have a one-track mind to get to the place I know will be deader than my social life at this time of day: the library.
Mr Smith, the librarian, who is about as defining and interesting as his surname, gives me a nod, but thankfully leaves me alone to go and huddle away in a dark corner where I can have my adolescent meltdown in private. I must look particularly stressed because he usually regales me about his latest bird watching activities and how many species he’s managed to tick off during the past weekend. FYI, his record stands at twelve.
“Grrrrr!” I growl with my face screwed up and my feet stamping about like a wild animal. I’m sure it’s not a pretty sight. My hands swipe around in the air like I’m swatting flies, whisper shouting every name known to man, all thanks to that secret list still lodged inside of my subconscious.
After I fully exhaust myself, I end up leaning against the closest bookshelf, which ironically houses a stale-looking set of self-help texts, and close my eyes tightly, breathing in and out in long, steady breaths, willing myself to calm down. I don’t open them again until I hear a small cough from behind, and even then, I do it in slow motion. I take my time to spin around on the spot, eyeing the little villain who is taking a greedy peek at my breakdown. I’m not surprised to find Bowie standing like a sloppy alpha up against the wall, chuckling at me unapologetically as I look upon him as though he’s Satan.
“Something funny?” I grit out in an eerily low voice.
“No way, Babe,” he replies through his shit-eating grin, “I could watch you all day. That little performance was sexy as fuck. Check out my jeans and you’ll see what kind of effect it had on me.”
I don’t know why but I instantly look down to the bulge in his groin area, hating the fact that he wasn’t even joking about it. He’s as hard as stone and looks proud of the fact. My traitorous glance only serves to make him laugh even harder at me.
“See something you like?”
His eyebrows dance for me before he begins his usual swagger over to where I’m standing rigidly, no doubt thinking I’ll sink right into his arms like every other brain-dead bimbo in this place.
“Stop!” I cry, throwing my hands up defensively, which instantly turns his cocky grin into a furrowed brow, obviously confused that I haven’t swooned on the spot before him. “Don’t come near me…please.”
“Why not?” he asks like I’ve gone mad, but for once, I think I’m finally thinking straight.
“Because I don’t trust myself around you, alright?” I admit with shame in my voice. “I’m not like Melody or those other girls you get together with, so please leave me out of it.”
My rage turns to almost begging as I look into his eyes with a resolute expression, pleading with him to not suck me in any further; to leave me alone if all he sees me as is a random hook-up. It’s one thing to use me for sex but completely another to charm his way in with the promise of real feelings, only to throw them back in my face the very next day. His confusion immediately softens before he reaches out for my wrist where his touch almost burns me with the heat we share.
“Amelia, I don’t see you like that,” he whispers, stepping closer but also noting the doubt behind my eyes. “I told you, I never sleep with the same girl twice, not until…you.”
“As touching as that sentiment is Bowie, you left me this morning. I’ve watched you eye fuck Melody and then enjoy her straddling your lap for everyone to see, including me. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m stupid. I know this is just a game to you!”
Hurt spreads quickly and I look away to stop the ball of emotion from erupting in front of him. However, he catches me by lifting my chin with his finger, so that I have no other choice but to meet his gaze.
“I only did those things to throw people off the scent, Mils,” his eyebrows rise skywards in an attempt to look sincere, “so people wouldn’t suspect anything between us.”
Even the troll inside my head winces over the epic failure of his argument, the one which suggests I’m even worse than a hook-up. I’m a hook-up that is so shameful to him, he’ll do anything to keep it hidden.
“So, let me get this straight,” I ask, feigning confusion and stepping back all at the same time
, “you’re saying you want to sleep with me, feel things for me, but it’s too embarrassing to be seen with me? Is that it? Because I hate to break it to you but that’s infinitely more insulting than admitting you’re just using me for sex.”
“Look, I told you it would be seen as slightly fucking weird if people saw us together given the fact that your brother is inside for raping my sister!” he says with anger building up behind each accusatory word. “And what about Matt?!”
“What about him?! I’ve made my feelings clear time and time again,” I push against him, no longer comfortable with him barricading me in like this, because, quite frankly, he’s made me feel lower than a rancid turd. “I know it would have hurt him, to begin with, but we could have talked to him, made him understand, but no! You’d rather grind yourself up against my archnemesis right before my very eyes than try and make anything work between us. Face it, Bowie, we all know that deep down, you’re too much of a coward to show your cool friends that you’re slumming it with lil’ ol’ me.”
The Darkness Within Page 21