Shame

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Then again, what if something really was wrong?

  I knocked again.

  The door swung open. Lisa stood there in the same clothes as earlier, her eyes were puffy from crying, and her hair was a mess.

  “What happened?” I cupped her face and examined it for any hint of injury. Finding none, shifted my gaze and quickly scanned her body. “Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”

  I kicked the door shut behind me and walked her backward toward the couch. I sat her down and gripped her hands with mine as I knelt in front of her. “Lisa, talk to me.”

  “I—” she croaked, her eyes glancing at the computer and back at me. “I…” She started shivering. “I can’t tell you.”

  “What can you tell me?” I was going to go crazy. Her tears were like tiny knives driving into my skin by force. I wanted to fix it; I had to fix it.

  She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

  “Are you physically hurt?” I asked calmly, even though I was ready to run my fist through whoever had made her cry.

  “No.” She sniffled.

  “Did someone try to hurt you physically?”

  She nodded her head slowly and then shook it, like the question confused her. But she cried harder, so something had happened.

  “Lisa.” I sighed heavily. “Let me help you, let me take care of you.”

  “Oh yeah…” She rolled her eyes and sniffed. “The professor that hates me so much he can barely look at me wants to suddenly take care of me? Sorry if I’m not so keen on trusting you at this point.”

  I reared back, eyes searching her face. She was right, completely right, but she had no idea the real reason. Why I did what I did, what drove me to treat her like she was nothing when really I knew in my soul she was an everything girl, the type of girl that guys hold on to. Hell, I knew that firsthand, because she’d been the one to drive him to madness. And I knew I’d follow happily in the same footsteps, even having proof that I could end up the same way, and I was ready to pack my suitcase and jump along for the ride.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Sorry for the way I addressed you in class, sorry for not listening to the real reason you were late, and sorry that you’re crying, that someone’s hurt you so deeply that you feel the need to waste tears on them.” I tilted her chin toward me again. “But I won’t apologize for kissing you, for thinking about you every night, for wanting you when I know I shouldn’t. I can’t apologize for that. I won’t.”

  Her sharp intake of breath was all it took for me to move. My mouth met hers, and I knew, in that instant, in that very second… madness for her? Was something I would choose.

  No going back.

  Her fingers tangled in my hair, and then, just as quickly as the kiss had started, she pulled back and quickly covered herself with the pillow, blocking me from reaching her.

  Chest heaving, I held up my hands. “Sorry. I’m sorry, no touching.”

  She shook her head again, taking her lower lip hostage as fresh tears started pooling in her eyes.

  I sighed, feeling completely helpless, totally unused to the foreign feeling that there was no one I could call to fix it, nobody I could pay to make her tears go away. “Are you hungry?”

  She sniffed then looked away. “A bit, but I don’t want to go out. I’m sorry I lost track of time and then—” She paled even more.

  “No problem.” I shrugged. “There’s always pizza.”

  Her watery smile had me reaching for my phone before she said yes. Her fingers grazed my arm and I paused.

  “Cheese,” she whispered. “I want extra cheese.”

  “My five-year-old self would have played with you on the playground solely based on that pizza preference,” I teased, trying to cheer her up.

  “Good to know at least your five-year-old self approves of me,” she said, though at least she was smiling.

  “Yeah, I imagine my five-year-old self would kick my ass or at least push me down into the mud for the way I’ve been treating you.”

  “Maybe later.” Lisa’s eyes locked on mine.

  “Later you’ll kick my ass?”

  “Later I’ll push you in the mud.”

  “Join me and we’ll talk.”

  “Order pizza and I’ll think about it.”

  Grinning, I pulled out my cell and whispered, “I think I like taking orders from you.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Why?” I searched for the closest pizza place, hit call, then glanced up at her pretty blue eyes. “Just think of it as returning the favor.”

  “Pizza Palace!” A voice said interrupting our heated exchange. I turned around and started firing off instructions, all the while feeling Lisa’s gaze burn a hole through my body. When the call ended, I turned around to see Lisa staring at the floor. All teasing had dropped from her face. She looked lost. Not the type of lost you see on people when they’re in a new city; the type of lost you see on a little kid when she thinks her parents left her at the store.

  She was the type of lost I had felt on the inside when he’d died.

  Hopeless.

  Withdrawn.

  Angry.

  “Pizza will be here in a few minutes,” I said casually, though I felt anything but casual… worthless was more like it. I was a fixer, and I was used to making things right. It was in my blood, but I was unable to do anything but sit there and order her pizza while she stared blankly at the wall. “Do you maybe want to watch a movie?”

  “You don’t have to stay.” She shrugged, her voice was weak. “You came, you apologized, you bought me food—”

  “I’m staying,” I placed my hand on her arm “Besides, I ordered two pizzas. Can you really eat two pizzas all by yourself?”

  A small smile formed across her lips. “Right now, I don’t even think I could eat one slice.”

  “We’ll go easy.” I moved toward her. “Bite by bite.”

  Her head jerked up. “Is there a reason?”

  “What?” I asked completely confused.

  She sighed. “A reason that every single thing you say to me, when we’re alone, when you’re not pissed or acting like an ass, is dripping with sexual innuendo.”

  And… officially called out. Words jumbled in my head — big words, great explanations, excuses mostly, but what came out was, “You’re beautiful.”

  Her smile grew.

  “And…” I sat down next to her and slowly raised my hand to caress her face. “…it seems, I just can’t help myself. When I want something… I want it. I’m selfish like that. I want to take it. I want it to be mine, nobody else’s. I never did share well as an only child.”

  Her eyes flickered with something. Hesitation? Amusement? I wasn’t sure. “Who said you had to share me?”

  “Off limits.” She was like a drug; even her eyes drew me in, made me want to kiss her again, made me want to absolutely lose myself in her. “And a student.”

  “If I put my mask back on, will you kiss me?”

  “No.”

  She tried to pull away, but I had a solid grip on her body as I pulled her across my lap so that she was almost straddling me. Her eyes were uncertain as they looked from my lips to my eyes then back again.

  “No masks this time.” I lowered my mouth to hers. “No masks.”

  “No masks,” she repeated, her tongue sliding into my mouth.

  And just like that, I sealed my fate.

  And signed my destiny right along with his.

  Cheerfully.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I hated her so much… I wanted to strangle her as much as I wanted to kiss her… I wanted her to feel pain the way I felt pain — raw, uncontrollable. The more I think about what she did to me, what she made me feel? The more angry I become… I am anger, and she is my catalyst. —The Journal of Taylor B.

  Lisa

  HIS KISS WAS slow; he tasted like mint as his tongue flicked mine then went deeper into my mouth, exploring me as much as I was exploring him. A
part of me — you know, the sane part — was totally freaked, but something about his touch, about his kiss calmed me, made me think that maybe, just maybe he was safe.

  I needed safe.

  He deepened the kiss, his hands moving around to my hips and pulling me against him. With a moan, I tipped my head back as his lips moved away from mine and found places on my neck no guy had ever, ever taken the time to find. I closed my eyes in ecstasy as his hot mouth devoured, infusing his touch and scent into my memory.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said gruffly, his lips still teasing my neck. His mouth moved to my ear. His kiss was wet, hot, as he whispered in my ear, “You are absolutely beautiful.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to be the girl that could make out without puking, the girl who could ignore the fact that my ridiculously sexy and mysterious professor had just ordered me pizza and was making out with me on the couch.

  But most of all? I wanted to ignore the fact that my life was hanging on by a thread… a thread Taylor still held. Heck, he held both thread and scissors.

  “Lisa…” Tristan’s mouth covered mine again, heat soared through my body. “…before…” He finally pulled back and looked directly into my eyes. “Tell me, tell me what happened.”

  I froze. My hands clenched his shirt so tight it was going to permanently wrinkle it where my fingers had tugged.

  “You can trust me,” he whispered.

  “I can’t,” I said honestly. “At least not yet.”

  “Okay.” He sighed. “Okay, then it seems I have a lot of work to do.”

  “You’re leaving?” Rejection slammed into me.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Does it look like I want to be anywhere but here?”

  Confused, I shook my head. “But you said work—”

  “Work on your trust,” His eyes narrowed. “Do you really have no idea the effect you have on me? On possibly the entire male population, including the blind?”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes, trying to pull away from him as a blush crept up my cheeks.

  “No.” He held me firm in his lap. “You are magnificent.” He kissed me softly on the lips. “Anyone who says differently is clearly insane.”

  “Says the guy who let me get out of his car.”

  He nodded. “Says the guy who let you walk away… once.”

  “Twice.”

  “Class doesn’t count.”

  “Oh?”

  “And I won’t make the same mistake three times.”

  “We’ll see.” I touched my tongue to my lips. “Won’t we?”

  With a grin, he set me away from him and leaned back on the couch. “Ask me anything.”

  “Anything?” I pulled my knees to my chest. “Anything I want?”

  He laughed; his smile was beautiful. “Well, within reason.”

  “Reason? What’s that?” I teased.

  “Cute.” His eyes narrowed.

  “Okay.” I popped my knuckles.

  “Whoa!” He chuckled and held up his hands as if to shield himself. “Preparing for a fight?”

  “Just getting my question ready.”

  “With your fists?” He scooted away. “Just to be safe, you understand.”

  “Please, like I’d actually beat my professor.”

  “Stranger things have happened.” He dropped his hands into his lap. “So, question? You get one question before food arrives, then I want to see you eat at least three pieces.”

  “What is with guys making girls eat all the time? We’re either too fat or too skinny.” I rolled my eyes. “And, for the record, I normally love eating and have an appetite that would put Gabe to shame.”

  “Gabe…” Tristan repeated the name. “…threatened to kick my ass.”

  “He’s a good friend.”

  “Good to know if we were in duel I could count on you,” Tristan said grumpily. “I’m going to put a time limit on the question if you don’t hurry up.”

  Panicked, I searched my head for the right question, one that would give me more clues to who he was.

  Meanwhile, Tristan hummed the Jeopardy theme.

  “You’re right.” I laughed. “You can’t even hum!”

  “I did warn you.” He continued humming.

  “Okay, okay!” I held up my hands, happy he was here, happy for the distraction. “So, you’re the CEO of a huge company I have yet to do an Internet search on, but Wes made it sound like… I don’t know, like you were really important.”

  “Do I not look important?” he asked in a serious tone, his eyebrows pinching together.

  My smile fell.

  “I’m kidding.” He smiled. “So I’m the CEO, yes, but the board mainly runs a lot of the company now, and it’s expanded so much that… well… I’m able to take time off and not worry too much about us going under.”

  “What type of company?”

  “Is that your question?”

  I chewed my lip. “For now.”

  “Companies… real estate investments, which is kind of boring and… um, pharmaceuticals.”

  Wow, not what I expected. “So you’re a legal drug lord?”

  He burst out laughing. “Sure, I’m part of the US drug cartel also known as prescription drugs.”

  “What type of drugs?”

  “All drugs.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Our specialty is… psychotropic drugs.” He coughed into his hand.

  I nodded slowly. “Psychotropic? So drugs for mental health.”

  “Exactly.” He looked away and shrugged. “All very boring to you, I’m sure.”

  “That’s why you’re so rich.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and by his stunned expression, it was completely possible I’d just crossed a line. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you…”

  “No.” He ran a hand through his hair, his T-shirt lifting enough to give me an awesome view of his lower abs. “It’s true… that’s the society we live in, right? Have a headache? Take this. Have a pain? Take this. Have a heartache? Here, this will make you happy again.” His tone became more and more bitter as he talked. “We mainly deal with research drugs, ones that help people who have mental struggles. We’ve made strides for those with bipolar disorders, and we’ve failed in other areas…”

  Fascinated, I couldn’t help but ask, “What areas?”

  He swallowed. “Schizophrenia, dissociative identity disorder, anti-social personality disorder, to name a select few.”

  “What’s—”

  A knock sounded on the door, interrupting all train of thought. I jumped to my feet just as Tristan rose to his and gently pushed me back on the couch. “My treat. You sit…”

  “Sitting.” I held up my hands in surrender.

  With a smile, he bent down and kissed me briefly across the lips then went to the door and opened it.

  “That’ll be—”

  The voice stopped talking.

  I leaned back and nearly choked on my tongue.

  Jack. Jack was delivering pizza to me and my professor. Oh. Crap.

  “Dr. Blake?” Jack scratched his head and weaseled his body halfway into the door. “Lisa? Is there a class party I don’t know about?”

  “Actually…” Tristan looked ready to confess.

  “I needed help—” I said quickly. “—with our new project, and, after being so late to class, I wanted to meet with Dr. Blake to go over ways I could earn some extra credit, but I almost passed out because I forgot to eat, so he ordered me pizza… so basically—” I shrugged. “—he just wants to make sure I’m alive so he can torture me some more.”

  “That right…” Jack grinned. “Well, far be it for me to stand in the way.” He took the bills from Tristan’s hands and nodded. “We still on for tomorrow, Lisa?”

  “Tomorrow?” I squinted.

  “Our project?” His eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you really do need food. I see what you mean.”

  “Sorry.” I covered my face with m
y hands, praying I didn’t look like I’d just been making out with Tristan. “I’m lethargic.”

  “No sweat.” He shrugged. “Let’s just meet at Starbucks.”

  “’Kay.” I nodded and waved goodbye.

  It wasn’t until the door closed that I remembered he worked at Starbucks — at least he said he did, right? So what was he doing delivering pizza? Did he have two jobs? I mean, that was completely normal for some students, but how did he find the time?”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Tristan leaned against the door then finally turned to face me, pizza in hand.

  “Do what?” I lifted one shoulder and let it fall.

  “Protect me.”

  I sighed. “Consider us even.”

  At his confused look, I kept talking. “You saved me from crying myself to sleep tonight, and I save you from getting fired, but that also means I deserve another question.”

  “Fine, shoot.” He placed the two boxes onto the table. “But make it fast. You need food.”

  “Who’s your dad?” I blurted.

  He cursed under his breath before turning away and whispering, “Pretty sure if you look up Mark Westinghouse, Jr., you’ll get that answer.”

  Stunned, I could only stare at him open-mouthed.

  “Plates?” He went into my tiny kitchenette and started rummaging through cupboards.

  I heard things slamming, but my entire body felt like it was paralyzed with shock.

  “No paper towels?” He sighed. “Such a college student.”

  When he returned, he dished out pieces of pizza and handed me the plate. “What? You don’t need Google?”

  “I have a brain,” I whispered. “And if it’s working correctly, that means your dad’s the Secretary of State…”

  “Yeah.” Tristan cursed. “Fourth in line for president. So, pizza?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I took another pill then another, they weren’t working like he’d promised; in fact, it felt like they were making the dreams worse, making the itch to do something stupid damn-near impossible not to scratch. When she came over that night, I barely even looked in her direction. Maybe I was still pissed she’d applied to college. Maybe, just maybe, that feeling that wouldn’t go away was jealousy. Pure and simple. Jealousy that she’d get a chance — and even more determined to be the one to take it from her. —The Journal of Taylor B.