Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed

by Fields, MJ

  I talked with friends and relatives of Brad. All were wondering what I knew, and most of them were eyeing me up, wondering if I, too, was using drugs. The only people who didn’t ask were my parents.

  For the last three days, they’d sat with me and talked to me about death. They’d asked me how I was feeling and encouraged me to write down my feelings. I didn’t know what to write, so I’d made a collage of images I’d found in a magazine. My dad had been pleased but had warned me that he was going to sit down with me every day to talk whether I liked it or not. I was okay with that. I felt like I could use someone to talk to.

  That was why I left Brad’s house the day of his funeral and walked in the rain. My hot-pink umbrella in my hand, I let my feet carry me through the streets, over two miles, until I was in front of a home with green shaker-style shingles and a wood porch.

  It was warm out, but my feet were wet and cold as I knocked on the door to Adam’s house. I knocked, and no one answered. I knocked again. Still, there was silence. I started ringing the bell. Again and again. I rang that bell consecutively until, finally, he opened the door.

  He didn’t say a word. He just opened the door, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. His feet were bare, and his eyes were red-rimmed. For a moment, he looked relieved to see me. Quickly, that relief was replaced with something morbid.

  “Why didn’t you come today?” I asked.

  He tried to close the door, but I leaned in and pushed it open. His eyes looked up at my pink umbrella with utter disgust.

  “That’s how you show respect?”

  I looked up at my umbrella and closed my eyes in embarrassment. “I came to see if you were okay.”

  His nostrils flared, and his eyes glazed over, tears threatening to break through. “You left my best friend’s funeral to see if I was okay?”

  I nodded my head. I was confused as to why he had said that like it was a bad thing. “I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t stop thinking of you. It’s been three days, and you haven’t left your house. Not even to say good-bye to Brad.”

  “Don’t tell me how I should pay respects to my best friend!” he yelled, forcing my feet to jump. “He’s been dead for seventy-two hours, and you’re already done with him, moving on to the next thing.” He looked like he was about to spit. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You were a whore when he was alive, and you’re an attention-seeking brat now.”

  The air whooshed from my lungs. His words struck me in the gut like a knife. I put my hand on my stomach to see if I was actually bleeding.

  “How…how can you say that?”

  His eyes narrowed, his body filling the doorframe. “Do you know where I was supposed to be that day? I was supposed to meet him at the park. He wanted to talk, and I stood him up. You know why, Leah? Because you just can’t stop. You think life is a game. You had a boyfriend, yet here you were, trying to push me. You were pushing me to talk about something that neither of us had any business discussing. Because you were his girlfriend. Because you were supposed to be with him.” He stopped on that last sentence, tears falling so fast down his face.

  I leaned forward, needing to console him. I wanted to take his hurt away, but he wouldn’t let me.

  He sharply turned his shoulder. “You were here with me, and you know what he was doing when he died?”

  I shook my head.

  His eyes met mine, harsh and sinister. “He was drawing you.” His eyes roved over me, looking for an answer. “Did you know he was using?”

  If I could have died in that moment, I would have. “No. I had no idea. We hadn’t been spending time together. Not like we used to.”

  My words did something to him because he screamed, “Go away!”

  “Adam—”

  “Don’t say my name. We are not friends. We are not acquaintances. I don’t want to see you ever again!”

  I ran. I dropped my hot-pink umbrella on his doorstep and ran. By the time I made it home, I was out of breath, drenched, and completely heartbroken.

  I hadn’t just lost my first love that day. I’d also lost my last.

  Twenty-Three

  I worked at The Bucking Bronco until eleven, and now Suzanne is over to blow out my hair, and she’s adding some ringlets to the bottom. I apply my own makeup, adding lash extensions, and go heavy on the eye shadow.

  Wearing my tightest leather mini and a low-cut baby-blue halter that brings out my eyes, I slide on hooker boots and large hoop earrings. As they say, the bigger the earrings, the bigger the ho. Tonight, I am getting my ho down.

  Jessica, Suzanne, and I head down Main Street and walk into Velocity like we own the place. Hell, tonight, we do since it’s Ladies’ Night, and we get in for free. We order drinks at the bar and immediately have three gentlemen offer to pay. Jessica goes to say yes, but I pull her back and decline. I have their hands in each of my palms as I pull the girls onto the dance floor.

  Partying at The Bucking Bronco is fun, but the one thing Velocity has over us is the sound system. With a DJ mixing at the front of the club, the bass creates a pulse for our feet, the vibration of the speakers making the room shake. It’s loud, the rhythm pounding on the dance floor, while strobe lights move in sync to the music. The dance floor is packed tonight.

  The girls cheer me on as I drop my hips and roll up. The rhythm slows down. The lights hold still in their colors and then fade with the music.

  Suddenly, the beat starts up again, softly at first. It builds and my body starts to orbit, my midsection swinging. My arms are out in front of me, moving with my hips.

  The beat grows louder, faster, and the lights pick up their pace. The electronic music breaks away. The fast tempo has me kicking up my knees, one at a time, and dancing to each side. The bounce in my chest rolls with each beat, and I am totally free.

  A few songs in, we’re a little sweaty, and my heart is racing from the exercise. We move our threesome to a booth and take a breather.

  “This is just what we needed!” Jessica shouts over the music. “We haven’t had a girls’ night like this in forever.”

  “Agreed,” I say.

  Even though Velocity is the competition, it is a lot of fun. Since the Victoria incident, I’ve become friends with the owner. He, too, is worried about letting the wrong kind into his establishment, especially since drug use in nightclubs is prevalent

  A waitress comes over, and we order drinks. Cosmos for Jessica and me. Suzanne asks for a club soda since she’s driving. While we wait for our drinks, a guy comes over. He has dark hair and a darker complexion with a smoldering stare and a smile that has Jessica practically drooling.

  “You ladies having a good time tonight?” He’s talking to the table but only looking at Jessica.

  Her eyes light up as she answers him, “Better now that you’re here.”

  Suzanne pinches my side. I look over at her and see her smoothing her lips together to keep from laughing at Jessica’s super-cheesy reply.

  The waitress arrives with our drinks. Suzanne and I take ours and watch the flirting going on in front of us like it’s a Wednesday matinee at the Cineplex.

  “I’m Derek,” he says.

  Jessica tells him our names and follows up by asking where he’s from. In a matter of minutes, they’ve shared each other’s life stories. He’s from Cincinnati, in town to celebrate a friend’s birthday. He’s a nurse at the children’s hospital. That alone has Jessica’s panties practically falling off.

  “Looks like someone’s over her broken heart,” Suzanne says into my ear.

  “He is tall, dark, and dreamy,” I reply. “I could totally get down with him.”

  We clink glasses with a laugh.

  Suzanne pushes her glasses up her nose. Her hair is up, so she has this sexy librarian thing going on today. “Now, it’s your turn. Let’s find you a guy.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Why? Do you only have eyes for Adam?”

  I take a ginormous gulp of my drink. “Absolutely not.”


  “That’s a shame,” she says, sipping the teeny-tiny straw in her club soda.

  I cock a brow at her. “Why is that?”

  She smiles at me with her glossy, pink lip-stained mouth. “Because he’s walking over here right now.”

  I turn my head so fast and see Adam walking toward our booth. He is inches above almost everyone in the club. He has on a crimson button-down with the sleeves rolled up three-quarters. His blue jeans are hugging his thighs, and that gorgeous tan face is looking so stern and sexy that I want to punch him square in the jaw.

  My head swings back to face Suzanne. “Why is he here?”

  She holds up her hands in defense. “I didn’t say anything.” She takes a sip and speaks with her lips wrapped around a straw, “But Rory did.”

  I give her a seething look and then turn back to Adam. He’s feet from the table. I don’t let him approach. I’m on the move, walking past the booths and tables, making my way toward the bar. This is pretty pointless since I had a fresh drink at my table. I look back toward the table and see my drink sitting there, and Suzanne is looking my way.

  Adam is nowhere to be seen.

  Turning back to the bar, I order another drink. I want to get wasted tonight on overpriced liquor and cheap feels.

  As I pay for my drink, a guy slides in next to me. “Hey there.”

  I know the guy from The Bucking Bronco. He went to my high school and is one of those overly confident douchebags I tend to stay away from.

  “Hey, Joe.” I lean with my elbow against the bar, pushing my boobs up and out toward the one-time high school quarterback.

  His eyes rove over my cleavage. Even though I’m pushing them out, I didn’t technically want him to be the one staring at them.

  “Surprised to see you at the club. Thought you lived at the bar.”

  I roll my eyes and give him a fake smile. “Yeah. It does feel that way.”

  “You want to dance?” he asks.

  “No,” I say as I look around the room.

  What is wrong with me? Here I am, talking to a guy I have no business flirting with.

  The bartender taps me on the shoulder as she puts my drink on the bar. Joe puts his hand in his pocket to pay for it, but I halt him.

  “I pay for my own drinks.”

  He’s pulling a twenty out of the leather. “Let me.”

  Pulling a fifty out of my bra, I put it down on the bar before he does. “It’s a thing. I don’t let guys buy me drinks.”

  Joe laughs like he thinks what I just said is absurd. “Is this a feminist thing?”

  I have no desire to explain to him that it’s a matter of not having to owe him anything in return for buying me a drink, but I don’t. On the other side of the bar, I see a stunningly gorgeous man. He has copper hair and onyx eyes that are staring at us with a look of vengeance like I’ve never seen on him before.

  “You know what? I’d love to dance.” I take the change from the bartender, tip her, and shove the rest in my bra. I inhale my drink way too quickly, grab Joe, and escort him to the center of the dance floor.

  I don’t want him to touch me, but there’s a game that needs to be played, which means his vile hands are caressing my midsection. I keep mine low, ready to grab his if they roam too far, and dance to the music. I don’t need to look over to see Adam’s hateful gaze because it’s penetrating me like a laser beam of disgust.

  Swinging my head back, I let the platinum strands run wild. Joe’s hands are starting to lower, so I bend down with my dance moves, forcing his hands to move up.

  I step back, away from his arms. He moves in closer, so I spin to avoid his grasp. He takes ahold of me as soon as I’m back. I really can’t blame him. I am the one who asked him to dance. His mouth juts out as he makes this face, which I’m sure he thinks looks sexy when he dances.

  He pulls me in tight, and I push back.

  He pulls tighter, and I push back harder.

  I think he’s getting the hint until his head moves toward mine, and I divert to the side, giving a strong push and spin away from him.

  I’ve twirled my body into the crowd of people and smack directly into the chest of Adam, who grabs me by the wrists and pulls me in close.

  “Cut the shit, Leah.”

  I pull my arms from his and look at him in the eyes, showing I am not intimidated in the least. “Get your hands off me.”

  His face is stern. He’s here for business, and that business is me. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re coming with me.”

  Before I can utter a word, Adam grabs my hand again and puts his other hand under my ass, and then he’s flinging me over his shoulder.

  “Put me down!” I shout as Adam carries me off the dance floor. My hair is swaying down over my head.

  He pulls down the leather material of my skirt, which I assume is to keep me modest. He should have worried about that when he had me half-undressed against a hundred-year-old spruce.

  I kick and scream, but too many people know Adam as the good ole arm of the law. He’s like our very own Andy Griffith. No one is going to argue with him while he’s dragging the sullied Leah Paige out of a club. In fact, people part ways like the Red Sea, and a bouncer even opens the damn door for him.

  Nice to know people are looking out for a woman in need. Sheesh.

  When we’re outside, my protests are no longer muffled by the loud music. “Let me down, you lying sack of shit!” I bitch and protest as he walks us down the street. “You think ’cause you’re the big, bad cop, you can just do what you want with whoever you want? That you can play God because you have the law on your side? You do not, cannot, and will not do what you wish with me. I have every right to have you arrested for what you did to me!”

  I’m still ranting as we walk through the parking lot. “Is this because I was dancing with whatever his name is? What? You can go on not one, but two dates with Jessica, but I can’t dance at a club? I am a very desirable woman, Adam Reingold. Men everywhere want me!”

  And, yes, I’m still going as he puts me down by his truck. “And I’ll tell you one other thing. If you think for one minute that this little episode means you can just—”

  And I’m silenced.

  Adam’s mouth is on mine. It’s not a subtle, gentle kiss. It’s fast, determined, and vicious. His lips and tongue caress me like a dare. I can’t think, let alone remember what the hell it was I was going to say.

  His body pushes me up against his truck. His hands snake around my waist, holding me tightly in place like I’m never allowed to leave again.

  When he ends the kiss, I am very aware that my eyes are still closed, and my lips are still pursed.

  “Finally. Now, it’s my turn to talk,” he says.

  My eyes pop open, and I am ready to pounce.

  I slap him in the face.

  His eyes grow wild with exhilaration. “Hit me again.”

  I let out an exasperated breath. “What?”

  He steps back. With two fingers, he pushes me in the shoulder.

  I grab my shoulder in the spot where he pushed me. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Why do you hate me?” he asks.

  Running a hand through my hair, I look back at him like he’s insane. Because, right now, I think he is losing his mind.

  “Because you lied to me.”

  He pushes me again—this time, in the other shoulder. “Before that.”

  Out of reflex, I punch him in the chest. He doesn’t flinch.

  “Because you held me hostage when you knew I was innocent.”

  With a finger, he flicks the skin of my bicep. It hurts more than being pushed. “Before that.”

  With two hands, I shove him away, hard. “Because you run around this town like you’re above everyone. Above me.”

  He flicks my other arm. “Before that.”

  Rage builds. I shove him, almost violently. “Because you look at me like I’m trash.”

  He doesn’t even touch me because my fist
is on his chest again.

  “Because you called me a whore.” My left hand rises. My knuckles collide against his chest, bouncing off the muscles. “Because you were my friend.” I start to beat him, banging my fists against his pecs. My words can’t keep up with my hands. “Because you were more than a friend to me.”

  Hot tears spill down my cheeks. My emotions rush out of my body, but I keep hitting him. Keep hurting him. Trying to hurt him as much as he hurt me.

  “Because, when Brad died, I went to look for the one person I needed, and you pushed me away. You pushed me away, and I loved you, goddamn it. I loved you so much, and you pushed me away. You called me a whore, and you never gave me the chance to tell you how I felt because you’re a cold, heartless prick.”

  I collapse onto his chest. The tears burst out of the seams, like a levee breaking. My breath is unable to catch up with how hard I’m crying.

  Adam’s arm comes up and holds me tight against him.

  I sob into his shirt. “You’re not the only one who lost Brad. I lost him, too. He meant so much to me, and I had all this shame after he died. I didn’t know what to do with it.”

  His hand rises and caresses my hair, petting my head and holding me firm.

  I breathe into his chest. “I needed you. I needed you to tell me I wasn’t wrong for how I felt. You weren’t there, and I hate you for that.”

  The words feel like a million-ton brick being lifted off my chest. The hate and animosity of a seven-year vendetta have finally been shattered into the air at a nightclub parking lot.

  Adam places his chin on my head and cocoons me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  I look up at him. My brows curve in as my wet cheeks feel cool in the night breeze.

  He places his thumbs on my face and wipes away the tears. “I never hated you.”

  I must be giving him a look that says, I don’t believe you, because his eyes crinkle a smidgen but grow serious again.

  “I hated myself. I wanted you so much. You’re all I thought about. At first, I just thought it was because you were my friend’s girl. That maybe there were other girls like you. Then, I thought it was because we were spending so much time together. I would lie awake at night and think about how you had these two birthmarks, right here, on your neck. They look like vampire bites. When I saw you, I’d want to bite it so bad that I’d have to walk away. When I was in class, I’d recall all the bad jokes you told me. I’d start laughing, and my teachers would stop class to see whom I was talking to. At night, I would find myself watching Matthew McConaughey movies. I can’t stand that guy, yet I couldn’t help but watch and wonder what he had that I didn’t. I never hated you.”