Pulled Under

by Sarah Darlington

  “And what advice did you need from me?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve always got your shit in control. I need some of that to rub off on me right now because I feel like I’m spiraling out of control. I’m trying to ignore the possibility that I might never see this girl again.” I tipped my beer back and guzzled the remainder of my drink. Noah finished his drink with me.

  “Let’s play a game,” Noah suggested, nodding at Luce for another beer. “Every time a girl walks in the front door and she isn’t your girl then we take a drink. Sound fun? We’ll see how drunk we can get before she shows.”

  For the first time in several days, I laughed. “Game on, Noah.”

  * * *

  Noah was hammered. We’d been drinking since lunch, but somehow I’d managed to stay semi-sober. Exhausted, maybe, but my thoughts were coherent and my emotions rather level considering everything. Still, it was nearly closing time at Chancy’s and we needed a ride. I called Ellie. She was going to bitch and whine, likely hold this against me until the end of time, because everything was always my fault with her. But when it came down to it, I could always count on her to come pick me up if need be. And vice versa. She knew I was there for her, too.

  A quick half hour after calling, there Ellie was in all her lesbian, short-haired, tattooed glory. Like a little pissed off poodle, ready to bite at my ankles, she stalked into the restaurant in her pajamas and sunglasses. A blinding flash hit my eyes as she approached. What the hell? I think she’d just taken a picture of Noah and myself. And as fast as that device she’d used to take that surely incriminating photo had come out of her bag, she was already putting it away.

  Ellie was so random sometimes.

  “What’s up with the camera?” I asked.

  “Yeah, what’s up with the camera?” Noah slurred like a drunk parakeet beside me.

  “Nothing,” she grunted. “You two fools ready to go. I was in bed. Asleep. You all owe me for this.”

  “We’re ready. No need to get your boy-shorts all twisted,” I said, shooting her a wink.

  “Ew,” she groaned. “I wear boxer briefs.”

  “Oh, really? Me too.”

  “Can you just shut up and help Noah?”

  Noah—and his dead weight—fell into me. I helped him walk toward the door. He kept muttering the name Georgie, which I assumed was short of Georgina, in my ear. Yep. I’d been totally and completely right. He was all about Ellie’s younger sister. Ellie heard him say it a few times, but she ignored it. Which, if I had a younger sister, I wouldn’t ignore that sort of thing. But whatever. Not my business.

  Ellie and I helped Noah into the car, where he instantly passed out in the back seat, and then she drove the three of us back to the house. The streets were dark, the car awkwardly quiet, and the mood suddenly too depressing on this sticky, hot night. What little buzz I had going died as I realized tonight made two nights since the night I’d taken my green-eyed girl home. Every day that slipped away felt like more and more distance between us. I hated it.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Ellie observed. She drove slower than a grandma. “And where’s your normal bimbo ride-along? Usually there’s always a stray following you home.”

  “I’m done with girls for a while.”

  She clicked her tongue, probably not believing me.

  “It’s true,” I argued. “That blonde I had over the other night, I might be in love with her. Or I was until she ditched me the next morning. I’m done until I figure out whatever that means. Hey—” It occurred to me now that I had a lead that I had yet to follow. “She knew your brother. Did you recognize her?”

  “No. I’d never seen her before in my life. What was her name?”

  I thumped my head on the back on my seat a couple times. Why couldn’t I have gotten her name? My life would be so much easier if only I had. “I don’t know.”

  Ellie chuckled. “Oh my God. Of course you don’t know her name.”

  This conversation wasn’t helping my wounded heart. But I wasn’t giving up, so I tried another angle. “The other night wasn’t the first time I met her actually. The first time was a couple years ago and she was with this older guy. Like late twenties or maybe early thirties.” Surely not her boyfriend if she’d never kissed a guy before me. But I still had no explanation for who he might have been. “Anyway, he was covered in tattoos. I mean covered. And he knew my name for some reason. Any idea who he might have been?”

  Ellie turned down our street and into our driveway. She opened her door, but before getting out and ignoring my question, she laid into me. “Because everyone with fucking tattoos knows everyone else,” she snapped.

  I shot her a nasty look. Why did she always have to be so damn difficult? We were constantly bickering, while she and Noah were chummy as hell. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Whatever. Was this guy skinny?” she questioned. “Dark hair? Piercings?”

  “Yes! You know him?” Finally, something!

  “Maybe. He might this guy, John Michaels. He owns Inked in Kill Devil Hills. It’s the only place I go. He’s done like ninety percent of my work. He did the octopus.” She lifted the edge of her shirt to show off the giant octopus tattoo that covered her stomach, the one with the legs disappearing into places I didn’t want to think about. I’d seen it a million times. She was constantly showing that thing off to whoever would look. I didn’t need to see it again. “He has a younger sister,” Ellie continued on, pulling her shirt back down. “He’s her guardian or something. She lives with him. I’ve never met her, but he talks about her a lot. She’s Georgie’s age. So…bingo. There you go.” She gave me a high five, all proud of herself. “Did I just solve your little mystery?”

  The relief that hit me was something amazing. “I think you did,” I whispered.

  “I got one better then.” She smiled. “I know her name. Her name is Sydney.”

  CHAPTER 9:

  SYDNEY

  Apparently, I’d broken Rhett’s heart. I’d heard this from a few different people now. Rhett had a lot of friends around this town and people were quick to tell me how miserable he was. Some were more politely than others. I had to harden my skin, put up a mask of indifference, and pretend like I felt nothing for him. But I did feel something and that made the last week torture. The worst moments had been my conversations with his roommate, Noah.

  Our first run-in happened a couple days after my night with Rhett. John had taken me to play miniature golf, claiming that I needed to get out of the house and stop hiding, that I’d done this to myself and couldn’t avoid the consequences. And to say John hated Rhett now more than ever…well, that was the understatement of the century.

  “Noah,” I gasped, when he suddenly jumped over a mini Mount Rushmore rock, part of the golf course, and right into the middle of my game with John. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  He caught his breath and took a step backward, eyeing both John and I.

  “How do you know my name?” he asked.

  “I remember you from the other night.”

  “Oh.” He glanced at John, who was glaring at him like he was a serial killer.

  “Sorry I interrupted your game,” Noah said politely, a contrast to his kind of shaggy appearance. “But Rhett Morgan has been looking for you,” he told me. “You know, my roommate.”

  I purposely let out a chuckle, kept my head high and my words strong. “Yeah, I’ve already heard—from you and about five others now. It’s a small town. Word gets around. Did it ever occur to people that maybe I don’t want to be found?” Almost buying into my own words and almost feeling like an actual bad-ass, I stepped onto the putting green, lining up my club with my golf ball. “It’s called a ‘one-night stand’ for a reason.”

  John groaned, all part of this carefully crafted scene we were playing. “Seriously, do you have to say that shit in front of me?” he whined on cue. “No brother wants to hear about his little sister fucking the town manwhore.”


  “Shut up, John.” Pretending to be unfazed, I swung my putter and actually happened to sink the ball into the hole in one easy shot. This was a small miracle in itself since my hands were trembling. Then I turned my attention back to Noah. “Tell Rhett I had an amazing night. He was sweet and I never meant to hurt him. But one night was all I wanted.” I shrugged, trying my best to pretend like I didn’t care at all when really, I’d never cared more in my life.

  “Fine. I’ll tell him,” Noah grunted, done with me, and then he walked off.

  The moment he was gone, back inside the small building on the edge of the golf course and out of sight, John wrapped his arms around me and gave me the biggest hug. Tears filled my eyes and my lungs burned. “Do you have to use the f-word like that?” I sniffled into his shirt. “It’s so mean. It’s so embarrassing.”

  “Yes,” he said bluntly. “I do. It sends a clearer message. You did good, Sid, and hopefully this is over now.”

  When I left Rhett the morning after our night together, I knew I was making the best decision for myself. All I ever wanted with him was one night of sex and fun, but somewhere along the way it had turned more complicated than that. Because I’d developed genuine, deep feelings for him. How could I not? He was sweet, handsome, funny, and we clicked in this special way that I’d never experienced with anyone else before.

  Which was completely inconvenient…since I still loved Ben.

  So I ran. I woke up that morning, and I ran as fast as I could. I was afraid of my feelings for Rhett, and I was afraid of my feelings for Ben. What if I would always be trapped in this limbo with Ben? How was that fair to Rhett? It wasn’t, and I was beyond stupid to think sex could ever be so easy. It didn’t help that Rhett had connections to Ben’s family.

  But there was something else to consider with Rhett too. Sure, he may have said all the right things, made all the right moves, and treated me like a goddess. But how much of that was real and how much of that was an act? Because the Rhett everyone else knew was supposedly some manwhore, super-player. A guy who used women for one thing. Sex. We’d had sex. So how was I any different than all those other girls before me? Guys like him did not change overnight. If I stayed, how long would it have taken him to figure that out?

  That very morning?

  Would he have woken up, remembered that about himself, and kicked me out of his bed anyway? I didn’t want the answer to that question. I wanted to keep this special, untarnished image I had of him, forever intact in my mind. So I ran. And I kept telling myself that it had been the right decision.

  John agreed. He more than agreed, he believed with such certainty that it was very convincing. I told him everything. Well, a very simplified version of everything. I never would have told him I had sex, but this was Rhett we were talking about, and John knew it instantly. And I couldn’t lie to John. So when I first heard that Rhett was looking for me, that he needed to speak with me, John came up with the solution. Tell everyone I’d used him for sex, which was more-or-less the truth, and that I wasn’t interested in seconds.

  Still, there was this tiny voice in the back of my head that told me Rhett hadn’t played me. That he’d been nothing but genuine. I hurt knowing that I might have hurt him. But even in a perfect world, if there were no other factors to consider, we couldn’t be together. In a little over a month I’d be starting college at Luke University—over three hours away!

  I’d done the right thing.

  “This is the right thing,” John said, echoing my thoughts. He absentmindedly flipped through a Sports Illustrated magazine at the doctor’s office, his right leg shaking a million miles a minute. We were waiting in a small waiting room for the nurse to come back with my HIV test results. That’s right…I’d had my finger pricked and had to pee in a cup today. All because John was making me get an STD test. Awesome. The chlamydia and gonorrhea results wouldn’t be ready for seven more days. Even better. This was what every girl wanted to do with her older brother on a Monday morning.

  “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I mumbled, sinking further into my chair, wishing the nurse would hurry up and bring us the results already. “You couldn’t have waited in the car?”

  “Nope,” John said, chewing on his lip ring. “If that bastard gave you anything, I want to know so I can kill him. I’m serious. I will hunt his ass down and run him over with my truck.”

  “Do you think we should ask the nurse if she’ll do a pregnancy test next?” I said sarcastically.

  My brother’s face turned white. “Crap. I didn’t even think of that.”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “I’m not. We’ll stop at the drug store and pick up a test on the way home. Let’s hope you don’t have Satan’s spawn growing inside you. I am not ready to be an uncle, especially to his kid.”

  “John,” I whined. “Why do you hate Rhett so much?”

  His leg stopped shaking. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It kind of does.”

  “Fine,” he groaned. “Because he slept with Shelley. And he kissed you when you were sixteen. Barely sixteen. Who does that? Like the girls his own age aren’t enough?”

  “I kissed him,” I clarified.

  “Doesn’t matter. He reciprocated.”

  When John was eighteen he moved out of our parent’s house and into their beach house in the Outer Banks. Before that day, he’d been this clean-cut guy. He wore khakis and polo shirts. He was on a rowing team in high school. He got straight A’s and never did anything out of line. He was the product of private schools, raised by nannies and money. But then, as soon as that eighteenth birthday of his came along, he left. It had been a shock to my whole family. When he came back to visit the following Christmas, everything about him had changed. He had tattoos and piercings, wore skinny jeans and t-shirts of bands I didn’t know. And he was happier somehow—happier now that he’d become who he was supposed to be and not who everyone else wanted him to be. He also had a new girlfriend—Shelley.

  They dated for almost five years. And then, just before I came to live with him, they broke up. I always thought their breakup had been my fault. I guess it had everything to do with Rhett.

  “Did he sleep with Shelly while you were still with her?” I asked, looking for clarification.

  “Yes. She fucked him. Then she ended it with me, telling me she wanted him instead. Then, when he didn’t actually want her for more than that one night, she came crawling back to me. I didn’t take her back, obviously, but I felt like shit for it. The details don’t matter. I don’t like the guy and I don’t like the way he uses women. And now I really hate him since he did the same thing with you.”

  “But he didn’t do the same thing with me,” I argued. “And he’s been looking for me. That has to mean something.”

  John huffed. “All that means is that you played him at his own game and his ego doesn’t know how to handle it. If you hadn’t ditched him, he wouldn’t give two shits about you, Sydney. Trust me. It simply is a matter of him wanting what he can’t have. Give it another week. He’ll be off screwing anything that comes into his bar again and you’ll be completely forgotten.”

  That made me sick to my stomach.

  “Don’t take it personally,” John added. “It’s him and his pea-sized intellect, not you.”

  The nurse chose that moment to walk in with my test results.

  Good news. I didn’t have HIV.

  * * *

  I wasn’t pregnant either. Which I already knew because Rhett had used a condom and the time of the month was all wrong. But, John being John, made me take a whole box worth of pregnancy tests just to be sure. All of which were negative. Then my period came the next day. A red flag— literally—that I didn’t have a Rhett, Jr. growing inside me.

  I’d also received my chlamydia and gonorrhea results back from the clinic. Also, negative. So…end of the story…I didn’t get anything from Rhett. John had been overprotective for nothing. But he had been right ab
out one thing. Another week had passed, and I’d completely stopped hearing about Rhett from random people.

  I’d even ran into Noah a second time, in the middle of a shift at my waitressing job, and he flat-out asked me about Ben. He remembered seeing me at the funeral crying. So I told him the truth. I told him that I’d loved Ben. He seemed to genuinely care about my loss. But never once in our conversation did he mention Rhett.

  More days passed. Then weeks.

  I kept reminding myself that this is what I’d wanted, that I chose this, and that there was no other possible outcome to my one-night stand. But then, a few days before I was set to move across the state to Luke University, while John was at work and I was home alone, there was a sharp knock at the front door.

  Our house in Corolla sat on twenty acres of wildlife preserve. The beach was private. The access road was private. ‘A hidden gem’ my Grandfather always called it. Needless-to-say, we never got visitors. Not even the mailman delivered packages—we had a PO Box in town. So when the knock came, naturally my senses were heightened.

  Who could be all the way out here?

  Only one name came to mind. Rhett. Because something inside me told me that he couldn’t let this go. That he was the kind of person who always had to have the last word. If it actually was him, I wasn’t sure how this conversation was about to go, or even if it would be civil. Underneath everything, I had a bit of a temper. And I had all these mixed feelings toward Rhett now. But as I walked to the door and let my hand hover over the door handle, the only thing I felt inside was…hope. Oddly enough.

  I took a breath and opened the door.

  It was him. With his hands in his pockets, sunglasses over his eyes, a fresh haircut, and a light blue shirt that matched his skin tone perfectly—there was Rhett on my porch. This smirk came to his lips. After all this time, after I snuck out of his bed without saying goodbye, he smiled at me like the reverse had happened, like he held all the power and I held none. I might have been annoyed by it too, but he had such a charismatic, beautiful smile that it kind of melted me. “You shouldn’t be here,” I warned.