He grinned, then the humor bled away when his mind seemed to skid over whatever past horror he had been referring to. “Look. The point is that I’m not going to ever be the guy you want me to be. The guy you think I can be. Maybe in some other life I could’ve been, but—” He pressed his lips together, staring toward the wall with a hard expression. “Not in this one.”
He stood up suddenly and his face changed from grim to excited, as if he hadn’t just been talking about the forbidden subject. The ultimate taboo. Us. It was such a sudden change that I had to blink twice to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. Even his voice sounded cheerful. “Well, Pittsburg waits. Let’s get to it.”
18
Zach
I took Gardener Girl to the science museum downtown. She was wearing a beige cotton dress that had a way of flattening against her ass when she moved just right and gave me a glimpse of her panty lines. It was highly distracting, and I was back to wondering what color they were. I didn’t even have a bra color to start my mental investigation from this time. What a shame.
I tried to put my hand on the small of her back when we were waiting in line to get tickets, but she pivoted away from me and gave me a warning look.
I didn’t blame her for the way she acted around me. I made her life hell. I knew that. In some ways, I was glad she still fought me off. I wasn’t going to stop trying to get what I wanted from her, but I also wasn’t an idiot. She’d be better off if she never let me get it, and hey, I could root for both sides if I wanted. It was my fucking game, after all.
I tried not to think about last night. Not just the fuck-that-wasn’t with roadie McRandom, but the kiss that wasn’t supposed to rock my world. The kiss with Gardener Girl on stage. For a few dangerous seconds, I would’ve told her anything she wanted to hear. I would’ve professed my undying love if it just meant she’d let me get between those milky sweet thighs of hers. Just a few seconds though. I eventually came to my senses. I remembered that it wasn’t that easy. I didn’t get to just shed my past and magically become whole because the girl was a good kisser.
Tammy took something from me when I was still a kid, and I've spent my life shoving everything I could into the hole she left there. At first, I did it because I thought maybe some girl would fit into that spot and make me feel complete for once. Eventually, I just did it because I didn't feel as empty when I was breaking other people.
And there I went, thinking about last night. But when I was around Gardener Girl, I had more and more trouble feeling pissed and resentful for my past. She took my mind off it. I wanted to fuck her, there was that, but I also wanted to see what would come out of her mouth next. I enjoyed the back and forth between us, and knew I’d be sad when it was gone.
The first part of the museum was a wide open room with windows along the back wall that gave a view of a full-sized submarine docked in the river outside. There were all kinds of small exhibits set up there, mostly dealing with water.
“How did you know about this place?”
“The internet,” I said dryly.
She rolled her eyes at me in a kind of yeah I walked into that but you’re still a dick way.
I worked my lips to the side and wasn’t sure why, but I started talking. “Actually, I was here once before. When I was a kid. Middle school, maybe. My dad was in Pittsburgh on business and my mom and dad actually took a morning to bring me here. It’s pathetic, really, but it’s one of the few memories I have of the three of us doing something as a family.” I cleared my throat, not liking the way she was looking at me like I was a bird with a broken wing. “Anyway, I remember thinking this place was the shit. It’s probably not going to live up to the memory, but who knows.”
I waited for her to prod for more information, but she surprised me when she just chewed her lip and then looked away. Her eyes wandered up to one of the exhibits and then she gasped excitedly. It was a winding table full of water and little bridges with floating plastic boats and all kinds of colorful buttons to press. “Can we?” she asked.
“Hell yes we can.”
We both started playing with the little boats, forgetting for a little while that I was blackmailing her into being here and that she would probably stab me in my sleep if she had a chance.
A current ran through the water in the table, and you could alter it by setting down little pieces of weighted plastic that simulated sandbars or land masses. There were also water elevators that you could use to move the small plastic boats up and navigate through the artificial river. It was fun, and by the time we were done, we both had damp shirts and grins on our faces.
It didn’t take long at all for Gardener Girl to forget who she was here with and simply enjoy the museum. I was happy to see that she found it all as cool as I did. I was even happier when hardly anyone recognized me. The few that did wanted selfies or autographs, but that had never bothered me, as long as people were respectful about it and didn’t expect to tag along and hang out. No one did. They all got their picture or signature, thanked me, and left us alone. It was mostly moms and their kids, anyway, because I guess the place was technically more aimed at young kids than grown ass men and their blackmailees, but I didn’t let that stop me from enjoying it. It had been way too long since I’d done something like this. This wasn’t the kind of thing Brent or Taylor would do with me, and I’d never ask.
My bandmates and I had our own history, and it was full of the times I had screwed them over. They put up with me, and I put up with them. We made good music together. Something special, even. We all knew that, and it was the tentative bond that held us together despite our clashing personalities.
And groupies were out of the question. That was strictly a scratch-the-itch kind of deal. Apparently, I couldn’t even pull that off with Gardener Girl in the picture anymore. I still had a girl’s number from the last time I was in Pitt, and I called her up after the kiss with Gardener Girl. Truth was, my dick was hard as hell from those few moments, and it felt like something hot was clawing in my chest, desperate to get out. I assumed that meant I needed a good, quick fuck with no strings attached, so I called her. She was hot enough, and should’ve done the trick, but I felt the strangest feeling once she was in my room. I tried to ignore it at first. I talked her out of her clothes, reached for her hair to kiss her, and then all the passion in me died. I couldn’t stand looking at her. I didn’t want to fuck her. I didn’t even want to touch her. She was just a giggling, way-too-willing set of tits who was going to say and do anything she thought would lead to getting my dick inside her. I threw her out after a few minutes and suffered through the blue balls like a man.
I wouldn’t admit it under the harshest torture known to man, but until I got what I wanted from Gardener Girl, I knew I was done with any other women. There was one prize I wanted, and nothing else would satisfy me until I got it.
"Yank on this," I said, handing her a rope that stuck out from a cutout of a human body's stomach. She gave me a curious look, but started pulling. She had to walk backward because the rope kept on coming until she was at least ten feet away from the cutout. "That's how long your intestines are," I said.
She made a grossed out face and let go of the rope, which retracted back into the body.
“I have to admit,” she said, “This is a side of you I didn’t expect to see.”
“And what side is that?”
“A fun side, I guess? I’m used to angry Zach who only broods and says mean things. This is nice.”
“Well there has been a big-ass purple hair on the back of your dress all day and I haven’t said shit about it because I couldn’t be bothered. Is that better?”
She theatrically blew out a sigh and fanned herself. “Much better. I don’t feel like I’m in danger of liking you anymore.”
“Yeah, well don’t worry about that. You just caught me before I got warmed up for the day. There’s still plenty of time to ruin this date.”
“Date?” she asked.
I realized I fucked up. “Ah,
yeah. You know, today’s date is June fifth. Every day is a date. Dumbass,” I muttered.
She wasn’t falling for it. She chewed the corner of her lip in a way that was totally unconscious and made me instantly remember how those full lips had felt between mine. “Date,” she said, poking me hard enough in the chest to sting. “You wanted to talk all big about how at least I’m honest. At least I call this what it is. Well, you just called it a date. Care to explain?”
“Call it a date, then. Doesn’t matter.”
Her eyebrows drew together and then shot up as she gasped and leaned closer. “You’re blushing. Zach Thornwood is blushing.”
“Fuck off. I’m not blushing. It’s just stuffy in here. My cheeks get red when I’m hot.”
“We’ve been here over an hour. You just happened to get hot at precisely the most embarrassing moment in your entire life? Coincidence? I think not.”
“This? This was far from the most embarrassing moment in my life.”
“Okay,” she said, “then what was it? What was your most embarrassing moment?”
I couldn’t believe it, but I was about to tell her. I knew I was. “It was eight years ago, actually. When you and Brent were still dating. I heard him mention you guys were going to see a movie. So, uh, I put on a kind of disguise and went to the same theater. Same movie. I kind of kept tabs on you two to make sure he didn’t try anything funny.”
“Wait,” she said, eyes flicking over my face like she was waiting for my expression to break and for me to reveal I was joking. “I have so many questions.” She was holding back laughter, and I couldn’t help smirking along with her.
“Okay. Shoot.”
“What was your disguise?” she asked.
“That’s the embarrassing part. I wore a fake mustache and these thick rimmed non-prescription glasses. And I, uh, stuffed a pillow in my hoodie.”
She burst out laughing, reaching out like she needed to hold my arm to steady herself.
My eyes fell down to where her fingers touched my skin, and I licked my lips. She looks good when she laughs. When she's happy. I felt a pang of guilt because I knew I'm not the guy who would make her happiest. There's a great irony. Even if she got what she thought she wanted and I admitted I had feelings for her, it would only convince me to let her go. If I cared for her, I'd know the best thing for her was to find someone else. Someone with way less fucking baggage.
“Okay, wait,” she said, still touching my arm. “What were you going to do if Brent tried something funny. Exactly. I need details. Were you going to come up in your disguise and reveal yourself? Or were you just going to go for the incognito tackle?”
I was blushing then. Fucking hell. I didn’t know what had made me want to tell her that story, but I was surprised to find I didn’t regret it. I could count the times I’d made her smile on one hand.
“I didn’t think that far ahead. Like I said. Wasn’t my proudest moment.”
We grabbed some food from the cafe. It’s the kind of food that looked a lot more exciting than it tasted. I deliberated between hamburgers and pizza and ended up getting a chicken salad sandwich that was way too much bread and not enough chicken salad. Gardener Girl got a salad, and I was having too good a time to even make some lame joke about her eating the product of her labor.
"I saved the best for last," I said half an hour later, once we'd explored all the grossness of the human body, the dynamics of water and currents, looked at bugs under microscopes, and sat inside a skate-park style bowl while we put together cars from parts meant for kids to play with. We had pushed our cars around and tried to see whose could survive head-on crashes.
“There’s more?” she asked. She darted her eyes away from mine when our gaze met, like she had countless times already today. She was having fun, and she knew it. I was too, but I also knew this wasn’t likely to change anything. The last few days had probably been borderline miserable for her, no thanks to me. This was like an intermission. A few hours of mercy to re-acclimate her to whatever torture I dreamed up next. At least that was the excuse I used in my head when I caught myself having fun.
“Didn’t you see the submarine?”
“I thought it was just a prop or something.”
“Nope. It’s a decommissioned military sub. We can go inside. Amendment,” I said, holding up a finger. “We are going inside.”
We climbed in the top hatch. I went first. I looked up and realized she was about to give me a full-on view up her dress as she climbed down. I normally wouldn’t have thought twice about perving on her, but an alien-feeling surge of guilt stabbed at me and I slid my eyes to the side, watching her through my peripheral vision just to make sure she wasn’t going to slip and fall. I brushed it aside, figuring it was just a fluke.
A woman inside the submarine asked if we wanted a tour, but I saw the way she was squinting at me to confirm I was who she thought I was. I waved her off with a forced smile and led Gardener Girl deeper into the sub. It was cramped with tight doorways that we had to duck through and small rooms with low ceilings. Thick pipes and heavy machinery were everywhere we looked, and it was hard to imagine that men and women lived on subs like this for months at a time.
“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” I asked.
“It’s incredible.” She sat down on one of the beds in a room, moving her head around to take in the room around her. “Can you picture waking up to this but knowing you were under the ocean somewhere? God. Imagine if something happened. Being trapped in this sub while water was rushing in.”
I grimaced, looking down the hall and visualizing a rush of water racing toward us, knowing there was nowhere to run. There were worse things than growing jaded with life, after all. You could always have your life snatched away from you in a single series of horrifying moments.
I pulled the hatch shut behind us, closing her in the room with me. She gave me a strange look, eyebrows nearly touching.
“I guess we would have to make the most of our last moments.” I stepped closer to her, licked my lips, and put a hand on the wall behind her, leaning down. “We wouldn’t even need to worry about the consequences. They’d be buried under miles of saltwater.”
She watched me with hungry eyes, chest rising and falling quickly. I bet if I put my hand over her heart, it would have been beating like crazy, too. But she dragged her eyes away from me and swallowed. “I’ll leave the sex without consequences to you and your groupies, thank you very much.”
Two nights ago, it had been my move to pour freezing water over the flames that kept rising between us, today, it seemed to be her turn.
She stood, pushed past me, and walked down the hall, leaving me to watch after her. She must have heard the groupie in my room the other night. All the better if she did. Better still if she really thought I fucked that girl. I had actually enjoyed hanging out with Gardener Girl today. Little by little, she made me want to be better. She made me feel good when I was decent to her, and she could even put up with me when I was being a prick. I should have told her I didn’t do anything with the groupie. Maybe I should have even said I didn’t lay a hand on her because there was only one woman I wanted my hands on for the moment, but those were words for another man.
I let her go, because in a moment of clarity, I knew she was too good for me. It was like I saw all my potential futures branched out in front of me, infinite forking pathways. Every single one ended in darkness. Anger. A life where I had finally taken revenge for every last slight against me, where all my well-laid plans had come to fruition and all that was left was to sit on the ruins of the people who had opposed me like some kind of cursed king.
Every path but one ended that way.
Sabotaging myself had become so natural that it was easy to try to close the door to that path. I let the lie about the groupie hang there in the doorway between a future where Aribella and I were something more than a could-have-been or a casual fuck that would come and go. I let the belief that I had started the rumor back at
Belvedere High hang there, too. One more lie. One more obstacle.
And brick by brick, I strengthened the barrier between us.
19
Aribella
I took an Uber back from the museum. I left Zach in the submarine, along with all the temptations he carried. I wanted to give in. I think I could have even forgiven myself for it. Maybe he was right, in a way. I could sleep with him and if there was no spark, then all the confusion I had about what I should do would evaporate. It wouldn’t be some sort of defeat like I had been imagining. It could just be closure.
Why hadn’t I seen that before?
Taylor was at the reception desk in the hotel when I got back, arguing with the man behind the desk about how many pillows was reasonable. It seemed like the man behind the desk won the argument, because Taylor threw up a hand in defeat and started walking away.
“Aribella,” he said. “Thought you were supposed to be galavanting with Zach?”
I shrugged. Taylor had barely talked to me since this whole arrangement started. I wasn’t sure if I had ever talked to him back in Belvedere, either. He was always the neutral presence in the background. He didn’t seek out women, but they came to him readily enough, and if his reputation was true, he rarely turned them down. Still, he was the only member of the band that hadn’t earned my distrust.
“We already galavanted,” I said.
Taylor made a show of looking me up and down. “And you’re in one piece? Good for you.”
I gave him a wry smile. “He’s not that bad. If you tell him I said this, I’ll murder you in your sleep, but I had fun with him today. I think he forgot he was supposed to be an asshole for a little while.”
“You sure it was the right Zach Thornwood? Maybe you had the wrong guy.”
“Why do you guys put up with him, anyway? I don’t get the impression he’s much nicer to you and Brent than he is to anyone else.”
Hate at First Sight Page 13