by Raven Scott
“Hi, guys. I just wanted to come over and see how everything is going. Fuck, Rain. It’s good to see you back in town. How was the flight?” he says moving Callum over and taking the seat next to me. He leans into me, and all I can do was accept his body within my private space. It takes every bit of strength I have not to lean in and take a big whiff of his cologne.
“Like, I was saying earlier… it was okay but long. It’s so nice to be home. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t miss your punk arses… but I did miss my city,” she says swaying to the music.
“Well, next round is on the house for you,” he replies.
His mouth might be acting on its best behavior, but his hand has other thoughts. He places his hand on my knee, sliding upwards and then back down. He continues this slow torture for what seems like a very long time but is only minutes.
I know I am flushing because my cheeks are red and my brother is looking at me like I’ve grown two horns.
Cannon leans over and asks me, “So, how was work?”
“It was awful. I got a phone call from my ex-best friend a couple of weeks ago announcing her impending marriage to my ex-boyfriend of four years. Then, she has the audacity to invite me to the wedding. My mother takes it upon herself to ask me why I was letting my “friend” down. I basically blew the fuck up and cussed my mother out.” I don’t know what came over me. I never ramble like this about my personal problems to anyone other than myself and now, Cannon.
“What the literal fuck? Why would your mother want to go to that wedding, when you clearly have problems with them, and it’s your so-called friend and ex? Love, don’t fucking worry about any of that shit. Live in the moment and let them be them,” he says stroking my hand.
I should watch myself because I am already craving more of him. Not physically, but I want to climb inside this man’s head and help him. I can see that he has been through some of his own losing battles. I want to be this man’s anchor and hope… but I can’t be that. I’m good enough for a fuck in the dark, not to be this man’s equal or his of any kind.
I am lost in my own thoughts and don’t realize everybody at the table is looking at me. Callum asks me to dance, and Parker accepts for me as usual. Cannon’s grip on my leg gets tight but loosens, and he nods to me. That simple action ignites an anger in me, and I don’t know why. Maybe, a little part of me wants him to say hell no or something.
“Yes, I would absolutely love that,” I say as I get out the table.
He leads me to the dance floor and his hands are automatically all over me. I start dancing to the beat of the song, and I know my dress is riding up my thighs. Tonight, I’m wearing a charcoal gray dress and black stilettos. It isn’t something I typically wear, but I wanted to go out of my comfort zone for the night. I start to notice Callum’s hands go lower and I don’t like it.
Laughing, I say, “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Shut up, bitch. Let me feel your fat ass,” he says as his grip tightens around me.
What did he just say? I don’t want to be near this fucking douche bag any longer, but I begin to struggle with his grip on me.
Gritting my teeth, I say, “Let… me… go!”
I rear back and hit him.
“You fucking cow!” he yells.
I’m so humiliated. I’m about to run off the dance floor when Cannon, out the corner of my eye, tackles Callum to the ground.
Parker is yelling for him to stop, and Cannon just keeps punching his face in. I rush over to Cannon and try to stop the situation.
“Cannon, stop!” I screamed.
He finally comes out of the daze he is in. He looks to me and then to Callum.
He grabs him by the collar and says, “If you ever talk to her like that again, I will find you, and this will be ten times worse than it already is.”
He stands and grabs my hand, pulling me towards his office. I pass the table and just stare at them. My brother and Parker give us a look that I know I will have to deal with later. Dalton and Rain look concerned and conflicted with what just happened.
What the literal fuck is my life coming to?
16
Is it More?
We walk into his office, and I immediately fire off questions,
“What the fuck, Cannon? I had it covered… I didn’t need your help. Like, what made you do something like that?”
He stares at me with emotions of anger, concernment, lust, and something else I just can’t pinpoint. He walks towards the desk and sets his hands on either side of me.
“Collins, I heard what he said to you. You should realize if I am around, no fucking body is going to talk to you like that. You don’t deserve to be called that or anything other than beautiful… loving… compassionate… smart… sexy,” he growls out.
I honestly don’t know what to think or say to him. I’ve never been around someone who fiercely protects or defends his peers like what I just witnessed. It is incredibly sexy and sweet. I don’t want to read into it, though. I can’t let myself think of more with Cannon Helding, or it will rip me to pieces when this arrangement ends.
“How are your hands?” I say changing the level of emotions in the atmosphere.
Sensing my need to change the subject, he says, “They are fine, Collins. I am tougher than you think.”
“Well, do you want me to kiss them and make them feel better?” I say as I start kissing his neck. He groans as I bite down hard on part of his skin.
“I know what I want that wicked mouth to kiss right about now, and it’s not my hands.”
I am already sinking to my knees excited to see his friend that I have grown so fucking fond of. I want to let this pleasure be a way to express the emotions and gratitude that I can’t say aloud.
Unzipping his pants, I place my hand on his dick and pull it out of his pants. I place my mouth on his tip and start swirling my tongue around his pre-cum. He grabs my hair and starts inching into my mouth, and I’m open and willing to take all I can get of this man.
We discovered a fast rhythm that makes me wet knowing I’m getting this man off. My hand massages his balls. I know he is getting close because he is moving getting faster and his hands tighten in my hair. I love that I can make this man wild with pleasure.
“Fuck, Collins,” he yells out.
Standing up and wiping my mouth, I receive a very wicked grin and a kiss.
“Love, that mouth should be illegal. I need to ask you a question, though. Are you free this weekend? I have tickets to this movie event at the park that I am wanting to take you,” he asks sweetly.
I can’t… or don’t want to say no to this man. I want to know more about him and his life. So, I accept his offer, and we make plans on where to meet.
Later that night, I have so many questions to answer, but the biggest one is, what the hell happened? A lot of explanations and lies later, we are all good… except for my brother and roommate.
Rain asks, “Are you seriously okay after that fucktard said that to you?”
“Yes, Rain. It was quite unsettling at the time, but Cannon took care of it. That prick will not be bothering me or any other women again without fear,” I say to her.
She lets it go after that and I walk into my room… and just sit there, thinking of everything that guy said tonight. He is right; I am a fat cow… I start thinking back to what Tyler would say to me and one event sticks in my mind more than the others.
five years ago…
It’s the night of our senior prom, and I couldn’t be any happier with the dress I picked. It’s red, tight-fitting, and perfect. I can’t wait for Tyler to see me.
“Collins, Tyler just arrived,” my mother says outside the door.
Here is the moment of truth… I can’t wait to see the reaction of my boyfriend. I start walking down the stairs towards the living room. Tyler is standing with his back to me and my dad looks over his shoulder when I am at the last step causing Tyler to turn.
I am taken aback by
the face Tyler is making… angry. Why would he be angry? But, he seems to recover quickly and smiles.
“Collins, you look…um… pretty. We better get going,” he says grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the car.
Once we are inside the confinement of the car, he starts in, “What the hell, Collins. Do you want to cause a commotion of embarrassing comments due to your fat ass in that dress? I thought I told to wear something to make you look slimmer, not fucking huge.”
I am completely shattered. I thought I would make him proud with my brave choice… that it would make him love me more and stop treating me like this.
“You, fat ass. I will not be seen with you like this. I will drop you off somewhere and don’t you fucking call your mother to come get you. I will pick you up after the prom.”
I watch him speed away, and I don’t go home. Not, because he said so. I do it because I don’t want my family to see the humiliation or hurt he has caused me.
I notice a local bookstore and walk inside. Books are my escape from him… he can’t get me here.
It was one of the most embarrassing and worst nights of my life. I look in the mirror, and all I see is the pathetic cow I will always be. I am crying with hurt, and I am just trying to convince myself or fucking beg myself to hang on and be strong. But, I can’t. I am just so tired of feeling this much fucking pain. All I can see in the curtain of tears is a worthless person who shouldn’t even be alive.
I look at myself in the mirror and state what has become a nightly routine since age seventeen, “Collins, you are worthless… you are the fat cow Tyler says you are… you will be nothing without him.”
The funny thing is that when I say this to myself or if I ever think something negative… I hear his voice. Tyler fucking scarred me for life, and for being that pathetic woman, I have allowed him for so long to treat me that way. I never fought back… I never took up for myself… I just apologized and tried to do better.
Who am I kidding? I am a fucking idiot, but I promised myself that day that this love or any love will never be in my fucking miserable future.
I accepted that fact a long time ago. I cry for a bit and then wipe my own tears away… and pick myself back up from this minor setback. Nobody else is going to rub my back and says it going to be okay other than myself. I’ve learned that I only need myself… I can’t or won’t let myself ever think differently.
Because, if I do… I will not have anything left of me.
17
Emotions
The weekend is here finally, and I am overcome with excitement and nerves. My hang out with Cannon is tomorrow, and I don’t have a clue what I want out of the evening.
Rain decides to hang out during the second part of my work day. Sitting casually in my guest chair, she’s in a black skull tee, jeans, and combat boots.
“Hi, what are you doing here?” I ask her.
She pops up, “I wanted to come and see where my roomie worked. Also, I want to hang out with you more to range how our friendship will be… will it be fucking awesome or horribly boring? We shall see.”
For some reason, I want Rain to like me.
“I can show you around, and then we can go around the corner to the local pub for a bite to eat. Is that cool with you?” I ask.
She nods. Let the fun begin…
She and I ask each other a series of questions. We learn a lot about each other through the answers. But, it’s what I learn in the spaces between the answers that makes my heart hurt for my roommate. I’m completely honest with every question… I leave out a thing or two, but so does she.
When she makes the simple statement, “Collins, we all have darkness in us, but it’s what we do to channel the darkness that defines us. Take me for example, I have always felt like I had something in me that I couldn’t control. I would try to express it in how I clothed myself and other things.”
Everything in that statement lets me learn deep things about her. She has been through things that are painful and horrifying. I also learn that I relate to the ‘…what we do to channel the darkness that defines us’ through the avoidance of my pain.
Rain states, “I can see that we share some of the same pain and through that, I know I can trust you. I know that sometimes I can have a foul, loud mouth, but I use that to my advantage. It lets me protect myself, and I know you use avoidance to protect yourself.”
Rain must be one of the most observant people I have met. Even though I have had bad luck with friends, I know I can trust her with my life. After all, I am a ‘listen to your gut’ kind of girl.
“Rain, I love you the way you are. Also, you are correct about everything. I do use the tool of avoidance to help me through my pain. I’ve gone through some shit that scarred me. I haven’t learned to let it all go yet, but I am trying to figure out a way,” I say staring back at her.
“We can try together then, my wee roomie,” she says.
“Knock, knock.” Parker comes walking into my study. Per usual, she is out of this world stunning in her business attire.
“I was coming by to see if you and Rogen want to come over to my parents’ house for the annual Friday night dinner. Dalton, Rain, and Cannon will be there too.”
At first, I’m unsure if I want to meet her parents because I want to throw some pity party for myself. But, I want to spend time with Parker and see what her parents are like.
“Of course, we would both love to come,” I say to her.
She is happy with my answer because she’s beaming with a smile. “Okay, yay! I am going to run home and change, then we can meet in the parking lot at seven sharp.” She hugs me and dashes down the stairs.
Rogen comes barreling into my room a couple of hours later and says, “Sis, you have to be kidding. You can’t spring something on someone like that. What if I was doing something?”
Knowing good and well he was probably just hanging at Cannon’s or Dalt’s place, my brother is the least of my problems. I don’t know what the hell to wear to the Helding siblings’ childhood home. Rogen has never had the problem with clothes or style with him— it’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of style.
He sees my panic and knows just what to say to calm me down, “Collins, you look beautiful in what you’re in. Okay?”
Breathing with a sigh of relief, I nod to him.
“I have some big news! I accepted a job at a local tattoo shop called, Viking Ink,” he says with pride.
I have never seen my brother so happy. I run and hug him with every bit of strength I have and say, “Rog, I am so proud of you, and even happier that you have decided to stay in Scotland with me.”
I am proud of my brother more than anything in this world. But, I know something is up. He said he would never leave Alabama, and now he wants to stay in Scotland. My big brother is running from something or someone, and I will find out what.
Rain comes walking into my room, and then I lose my train of thought. The girl is seriously so cool and comfortable with us being here that it’s slightly overwhelming.
“What am I missing? Did this douche finally learn a new word?” Rain says smirking.
Rogen throws a pair of socks at her says, “Oh, so funny, fucktard. But, no really, I got a job!”
“That’s amazing, Rogen. Congratulations! Where at?” she asks grinning.
“At a local tattoo shop called Viking Ink. The owner seems really down to earth, and he offered me a job as an apprentice.”
I know that my brother is very artistic— has been ever since we were kids. He can make the most difficult things look so real and raw. I remember when we were little, we saw this woman in the park, she was crying on the swings. My brother got out his stretch pad and drew the exact scene, but for some reason he made the woman look beautiful in her sad state. Ever since then, my brother has drawn and painted… but never really put it to use or to his advantage.
I can see the excitement and nerves written all over his face. I am so happy for him to have some
initiative in his life. Rogen has never been the dream type of sorts, but maybe just maybe, he needs Scotland too.
“When do you start?” I ask.
“In a couple of days. My boss is going out of town, and he wants me to start when he is there,” he states with excitement.
“I am so proud of you, big bro,” I say as I hug him.
Rain chimes in as well, “I am proud of you too, dumbass.”
We all laugh at her statement. Rogen wraps us all into a hug and pulls out of my bedroom.
Rain’s phone starts going off.
“Dalt and Park are outside waiting on us. Are you both ready?” she says.
“Yea, we’re ready,” Rogen and I say in unison.
The Heldings home is everything I imagined from what I know of Parker and Cannon. It’s an elegant townhome, but homey as well. When we get to the door, Parker waltz on in yelling, “Mum and Dad, I am here with our guests.”
A woman comes barreling around the corner, smiling, “Aw, yes! I am so happy to meet you both. You must be Collins and Rogen. I am Katerina Helding, but please call me Kat.”
This woman is the definition of classic beauty. She has long, flowing brown hair that has flecks of gray here and there but gives it a sparkle that makes me envious. Her makeup is simple but youthful.
“Yes, I am Collins. It’s lovely to finally meet you. I brought a dessert for you and Mr. Helding, my grandmother’s chocolate pie.” My momma and grandmother always told me to show up with something in your hand for the gracious host. It’s a southern thing I suppose, but I’ve come to love baking and sharing the delectable rewards with others.
“Please, call me Scott,” an older man says walking into the room. He is every bit as handsome as a classic Hollywood actor, with his blondish brown hair and his fit physique.