Bad Influence

by Charleigh Rose

  I pluck a picture I’ve never seen before of my dad sitting on the floor with an acoustic guitar. I’m next to him with wispy hair much lighter than it is now as I attempt to hold my toy guitar just like him. I flip it over to find ME AND MY GIRL—2003 written in my dad’s signature handwriting. All caps and sloppy strokes. Tears blur my vision as Jimmy Eat World’s “Hear You Me” plays on my headphones.

  I sift through the rest of the contents of the box. With each photo and old birthday card I find, my throat gets tighter, my hot tears falling faster. The dam breaks, my grief hitting me like a Mack truck. It feels as if it was just yesterday that I stood over his casket, saying goodbye, instead of a year ago, making it hard to breathe.

  In a moment of weakness, I pick up my phone, tapping out a text to Jesse. I shouldn’t text him. He left me. But I miss him so much in this moment that it physically hurts. My thumb hovers over screen before I finally hit send.

  I need you.

  I stare at my screen, willing him to respond. When it’s clear he’s not going to, I clutch a picture of my dad to my chest and lie down on my side, head throbbing and heart breaking. Tucking my knees into my chest, I close my eyes and let the tears fall freely, until there aren’t any left. When my eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds, I give in to sleep, not bothering to get off the floor.

  Warm lips press against my temple, stirring me from sleep. “Baby,” Jess whispers, and the empathy in his voice—and the comfort I feel from it—has unshed tears welling up again already. I don’t know what time it is. It seems like I’ve only been asleep for minutes, but the stiffness I feel from lying on the floor tells me it’s been at least a couple of hours.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, kissing me again, this time on my cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He peppers kisses to my neck, my face, my lips, whispering his apologies in between. Jess scoops me up, carrying me to bed. He sets me on the edge of the mattress and peels my boots and clothes off, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. He follows suit, stripping down to his boxers, and then lies down, pulling me into him, my head resting on his chest, his thumb tracing patterns on my lower back.

  “I’m so fucking sorry.” His free hand pushes the hair from my face, some of the strands stuck to my cheek, glued there by dried-up tears. When I cover his hand with mine, giving it a squeeze, I feel his swollen knuckles under my fingertips at the same time Jess flinches slightly.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask. I can’t see, so I reach for the lamp on the side table, but he stops me, holding me in place.

  “I’m fine,” he assures me. “Go to sleep, Allie. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  But I don’t listen, snaking my hand between his legs, gripping his length. I’m desperate to feel him. Desperate to connect.

  “Baby, stop. We don’t have to do this tonight,” he groans, but I feel him harden beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. I pull him out through the opening as he rolls onto his back, both hands raised, still unsure, as he looks down at my hand working him.

  Needing to feel him one last time, I push my underwear down my legs and kick them to the floor before I climb over him, positioning him at my entrance. When I sink down onto him, we both groan, my head falling forward, hands braced against his chest, his fingers flying to clutch my hips. I slide up and down his length, his forearms flexing as he helps my movement. I ride him hard and slow, needing to get closer, but I can tell he’s still holding back. I don’t want to be treated like glass. Like I’m fragile. Emotional. Even if right now, I’m both of those things.

  Bending forward, I kiss him, tasting the familiar tang of blood on his lips. He growls when I tug on his bottom lip with my teeth and then he has me pinned to the mattress, thrusting into me before I can blink.

  Yes. This is what I need.

  Clasping my wrists in his hands, he holds them above my head as he flexes into me. My knees cradle his hips as I take everything he gives me.

  “Nothing is better than this. Fucking nothing,” Jess rasps before leaning down to swipe his tongue across my nipple. I arch into him, jerking one hand free, needing to touch him. I run my fingers through his hair while meeting him thrust for thrust. We may not be the best communicators, but our bodies are intrinsically linked, inherently compatible.

  His free hand slides down my body before hooking around my thigh, holding it in place as he pushes deeper. His movements are slow but firm, his sweat-slicked stomach sliding against mine. I take in every scent, every sound, every feeling, and commit it to memory, knowing that I’ll call on this night every time I miss him. And it’ll have to be enough.

  “Fuck, I can’t last much longer,” he admits, his voice rough. I wrap both legs around him as he snakes a hand between us, using the flat of his fingers to rub me, bringing me to the brink along with him.

  “Jess,” I breathe, tumbling over the edge. He gives one more pump before letting go, then he plants a kiss on my collarbone before collapsing onto me, his harsh breathing fanning across my chest.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but I’m not going anywhere now. I won’t leave you again. I won’t lose this,” he promises as I trace the damp skin of his back until goosebumps form beneath my fingertips. I swallow the lump in my throat, and I’m thankful the dark room allows my tears to fall unnoticed. Because the truth is, I’m the one leaving this time. And it has everything to do with the fact that I can’t need him the way I do. I broke the rules. I got attached. I need to be the one to cut it off.

  * * *

  I WAKE UP, MUSCLES ACHING, but relieved to be back with Allie. After Lo left, I put down the bottle and started to form a plan. I took enough fights over the last two weeks to pay off Crystal’s debt and two months’ rent. After that, she’s on her own. For good this time. My phone died last night, and when I turned it on after my last fight, it instantly lit up with a call from an unfamiliar number.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” a dude’s voice shouts from my truck speaker.

  “Who the fuck is this?” I scowl at my phone, taking another look at the number.

  “It’s Dylan.”

  My heart kicks in my chest as dread seeps in. The fact that he’s calling me means he went out of his way to track my number down, and my first thought is something’s happened to Allie.

  “Is she okay?” I bite out.

  “Do you know what today is?” he asks cryptically, instead of answering the goddamn question.

  “No.”

  I hear him scoff on the other line, my patience wearing thin.

  “Allie’s dad died a year ago today. Which means it’s also her birthday.”

  “Fuck!” I bring a fist down onto the steering wheel. I was on my way to Crystal’s to grab the rest of my shit, already planning to head back to River’s Edge, but I jerk the wheel, flipping a bitch in the middle of the highway.

  “She didn’t show up for class, and no one has seen her.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Once I hung up the phone, I saw the text from Allie. Three words that cemented the fact that I’m the world’s biggest piece of shit. I need you. I turned a two-hour trip into an hour twenty-five, tops. I knew getting her back wasn’t going to be easy after the way I ended things at Crystal’s apartment, but I also knew I had to be there for her. I didn’t know where to start, so I went to Dare’s first, not expecting to find her curled up on the bedroom floor.

  Eyes still closed, I stretch my arm out, reaching for Allie, but all I find are cold sheets in her place. Opening my eyes, I see that the light is off in the bathroom through the open door. I stumble out of bed, heading for the hall. “Allie?” I call out. I yawn, scratching my stomach as I walk downstairs. When I find the kitchen and living room empty, my gut twists with dread. Where the fuck did she go?

  I jog back up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and pull open the closet door to confirm my suspicion. Her suitcase is gone. I turn for the dresser, yanking out the drawers and flinging them to the floor, even th
ough I already know they’re all empty.

  “Fuck!” I yell, bracing my hands against the top of the dresser before kicking the shit out of it.

  “Jess!” I hear Lo yell right before she barrels into the room in a T-shirt and baggy boxers, looking half-asleep. “You’re back? What the hell?”

  “She’s gone. She’s fucking gone.”

  Lo’s expression morphs from angry to sympathetic in record time. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I thought—” I shake my head, playing last night’s events over in my head. I should have fucking known she wasn’t going to forgive me that fast. I just thought she wanted a distraction from her grief. Turns out, she was really saying goodbye. I knew something was off. It felt different, and not just because I didn’t use a condom.

  I spot my discarded jeans on the floor next to the bed and go to dig my phone out of the pocket when a blue sticky note on the nightstand catches my attention.

  Nothing gold can stay.

  I peel the note off the nightstand, feeling like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. “Fuck that.” Reaching for my jeans, I find my phone and hit call. It rings through to voicemail—no fucking surprise there—but I call right back again.

  Pulling on my wrinkled ass jeans and T-shirt, I head back downstairs, but Lo blocks my path at the bottom of the steps.

  “Stop and think, Jess.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Move.” Anyone else would step aside, but Lo stands her ground, knowing I’d never harm a hair on her head.

  “Running after her like this isn’t going to fix anything.”

  “I have to try. I can’t—I’ve never—” I stutter, unable to find the right words, frustrated that I sound like a lovesick pussy. “I fucking love her, Lo.”

  She gives me a sad smile. “I know you do.” She moves aside. “So don’t fuck it up by scaring her off when she’s already halfway out the door.”

  I’ve looked for Allie everywhere. I went to Blackbear. I showed up at Manzanita, questioning a very pissed-off Halston, and even called Dylan. When I finally find her, she’s walking out of one of her classes at Kerrigan. She doesn’t see me yet. She has her headphones on, eyes aimed at her Doc Martens. Her face is free of makeup, her hair down and straight, and she’s wearing a hoodie that swallows up her tiny form, almost reaching her bare knees. When she looks up, her eyes find mine. She stops short a couple of feet away from me, and my heart clenches in my chest seeing the pain written on her face.

  “Allie.”

  I move toward her, but she holds up a hand, shaking her head.

  “I’m here now.”

  “But you weren’t,” she says so quietly I can barely hear the words.

  “I’m so fucking sorry. I pushed you away because I thought I was protecting you.”

  “From what?” She scoffs.

  “From me!” I take another step toward her. “I thought I could do it. I thought I could let you go. You went from being my distraction to my downfall, and I didn’t know what the fuck to do with that. But when I woke up and you were gone, I’ve never felt anything like that in my life. I didn’t expect to love you, Allie.”

  Her chin trembles as the first tear falls.

  “And it turns out, I’m too selfish to save you from myself.”

  “You left me!” she shouts. Her glassy eyes dart around. Suddenly aware of our surroundings, she lowers her voice. “Everyone leaves.”

  Her words slice right through me. Her dad died. Her mom moved away. And I wasn’t there when she needed me the most. Why would she trust me, when all I’ve ever done is leave?

  “I can’t do this,” she says, moving past me. I want to chase after her. Every instinct in me is screaming to fight for her. But maybe this time I need a different approach.

  * * *

  TRAY IN HAND, I MAKE my way over to my table, dropping plates off for my customers. “Let me know if I can get you anything else,” I say, offering a placid smile. When I turn back around, I see Jess sitting in my section.

  I straighten my shoulders, walking past him like it’s not killing me to see him. Like I’m not dying to touch him again. I make a beeline for the bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind me and pressing my back against it. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

  The door opens behind me and I gasp, stumbling backward into a familiar chest.

  Jesse’s arms come around me, shutting the door behind us, and for a moment, I allow myself to sink into him. His nose is in my hair, his lips grazing my neck.

  “I know I fucked up, but I’m not going anywhere this time, Allie Girl.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, my nose starting to tingle with the promise of tears. God, get it together, Allie.

  He presses a kiss against the back of my neck, and I shrug him off me, spinning around to face him.

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  He scrapes his teeth across his bottom lip, cocky expression firmly in place. “We’ll see about that.”

  All week long, Jesse’s been lurking around Blackbear, making it impossible for me to think of anything but him. I’ve been mentally wishing he’d just leave me alone, but when he didn’t show during my shift today, I found myself feeling disappointed. I miss him. God, do I miss him.

  I pull into my driveway, throwing the car in park before cutting the engine off. My grandma told me where the keys were once I moved in, and I finally decided to drive my graduation present. I don’t have much of a choice now that I’m living alone. I need to get to work each day and then school once summer’s over.

  I climb out, shutting the door behind me.

  “Nice ride.”

  My head snaps up, seeing Jesse standing by my front door with a box in his hand.

  “How do you know where I live?”

  “Halston’s Team Jesse now.”

  I roll my eyes. Traitor. “What’s with the box?”

  “I missed your birthday.” He smirks.

  I walk past him, opening the front door. He follows me inside, eyeing the place curiously. It’s a modest cabin-style home. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. It’s not much, but it’s perfect for me. Jess sets the box on the kitchen counter, then takes a seat at one of the barstools.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction. It’s hard to stay strong when all I want to do is be the way we were before it all went to shit.

  “But I am.” He smirks again. “Aren’t you going to open your present?”

  “If I do, will you leave?”

  He shrugs. “If you want me to.”

  I blow out a breath, pulling the lid off the box. The inside is full of Dum-Dums, all butterscotch except for one strawberry. My face heats at the memory of Jess and the way he used the sucker on me, and with one look at his face, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

  “Keep looking.”

  I dig around the box, pulling out a stack of CD cases. I hold them up, my eyes questioning his.

  “Open them.”

  I open the first case and inside it reads, Songs I’d like to fuck you to. On the inside sleeve, the tracks are listed. Everything from “Lollipop” by Lil Wayne to “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails. I laugh, closing the plastic case. “Very funny.”

  “Keep going,” he says, but his expression isn’t playful like I’d expect.

  “Okay…” I open the next one. Songs I’ve actually fucked you to. “Colorblind” by Counting Crows is listed, and I pause, peering up at him. “You remember that?”

  He nods.

  One by one, I open the rest. Songs that remind me of you. Songs for when you’re sad. Songs for when I fuck up. Songs for when you miss your dad.

  “Jess,” I whisper around the lump in my throat.

  “Thought you might want some new listening material,” he says.

  Moving toward him, I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. This is the most ridiculous, thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I take i
n his scent. His warmth. He feels like home.

  “Does this mean you forgive me?”

  I pull back, sniffing. “I forgive you, Jess…”

  “I feel a but coming on.”

  “But what’s changed?” I search his eyes.

  “I’m here, Allie.”

  “For how long?”

  “Look in the bottom of the box,” he says, flicking his chin toward it.

  I feel around, plucking an envelope from the bottom. I open it up, reading the letter with the Wildcats logo. My eyes snap to his.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  He nods. “I’m staying for good. Coach Standifer’s starting MCLA lacrosse at Kerrigan next year. It’s not as prestigious as the NCAA, but I get to be part of a team again.” He tugs me closer by my belt loops. “And I get to go to school with you.”

  “I’m scared,” I admit, feeling stupid and vulnerable for saying the words out loud.

  “I need you, Allie. I’m not fucking leaving you again. I’m starting school here. I took a job at Henry’s auto shop. I walked away from fighting.” He runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. “Nothing mattered to me before you. I self-sabotaged every good thing in my life before you came along. Part of me thinks I got kicked off the team on purpose, because it was easier to play that role, as fucked up as that sounds. But you make me want to be someone who deserves someone like you.”

  He wipes a tear from my cheek.

  “I love you.”

  His eyes flare, zeroing in on my lips. “Say it again.”

  “I fucking love you.” I feel my lips pull into a smile, and then he’s standing from the stool and lifting me in his arms, my ankles crossing behind his back.

  “I love you, too.”

  Legs still wrapped around his waist, I pull my shirt off over my head. “Then show me.”