“Hmmm…” he hums, his hand traveling up my thigh. “Say my name like that again.”
“Jim…please…” I try to remove his hand, but even talking seems too hard.
“Ah…fuck, you’re hot,” he hisses, moving me so I’m lying on back. “And you smell good enough to eat.”
A tear rolls down my face as he pushes his face against my neck, inhaling me. His tongue darts out before he lifts and presses himself against me, his fingers moving to unbutton my shirt.
“Jim, please stop,” I manage to plead this time.
As he touches my now bare breasts, I squirm underneath him, crying out when he squeezes one of my nipples. Panic-filled adrenaline gives me a burst of strength and I push him. My efforts have little impact, though. He only laughs before securing both of my arms with one hand. Ice runs through my veins, realizing there’s no way I’ll be able to overpower this strong hockey player. “I don’t want to do this. Stop. P-Please, Jim. Stop,” I cry, but my pleading only seems to turn him on more. Bile rises in my throat. I’ve never even had sex before. This can’t be how I lose my virginity. I can’t be that cliché girl who gets too drunk at a party and has some guy take advantage of her. I’m smarter than this, better than this. Kicking my legs and wiggling my arms, I try again to release myself from his hold to no avail. A sob bursts from my chest as something in me breaks, as if accepting my fate.
As he starts to pull down my pants and underwear, he whispers in my ear. “Shhh…it’s okay. This’ll be our little secret.”
January 3rd
“Please, stop,” Julianna cries out again in her sleep, and I scoot to the end of my chair, running my hands through my hair before gripping the arms of the chair as I fight the urge to go to her.
When she passed out in my car after we left the bar, I decided to bring her to my apartment. It was late and I had no clue where to even take her, so it seemed to be the easiest solution.
Her screams woke me about an hour after I’d fallen asleep, and the nightmares have continued throughout the night. Not wanting to leave her side, I’ve watched her sleep, her painfilled pleas slowly killing me. I tried to wake her once, but that only seemed to stop the dream temporarily.
“No,” she moans.
Unable to take it anymore, I shoot to my feet and pad over to the couch where’s she sleeping with caution.
“Jules,” I say, my voice light. When she doesn’t stir, I step a little closer and raise my voice. “Hey, Jules, you need to wake up.”
Her limbs stretch as she takes a deep breath, but she doesn’t wake. Heart in my throat, I sit on the edge of the couch next to her before placing my hand on her arm.
“Jules,” I coax, lightly rubbing her with my thumb. She rolls her body, curling it around me, and my chest tightens. “Jules.” Lifting my other hand, I brush the hair out of her face.
“Eric?” She moans softly.
“Yeah. It’s time to wake up.”
She inhales sharply before releasing a sigh of contentment and relief. “What?” Her eyes flutter as she begins to come back into consciousness, then her gaze moves around the room before landing on me.
“Eric!” she screeches, her eyes widening as she sprouts to the upright position, colliding with me and sending us both into the floor.
“What the heck?” Acting as if having her body on top of mine isn’t sending my senses into overdrive, I laugh.
“Eric?” She blinks, her eyebrows drawing in confusion. “What the…” she trails off, her eyes moving from my face to where her hands are resting on my bare chest.
In hindsight, it might have been better if I’d put a shirt on before I woke her. Her cheeks flush and her features narrow as her eyes meet mine again.
“What the hell!” she shouts, rolling to her back next to me on the floor.
“Hey, you’re the one who knocked me down,” I joke.
She cuts her eyes to me before turning her glare to the ceiling and groans as she covers her face with her hands.
“Where are we and how the hell did I get here?”
“We’re at my apartment. You passed out in my car and I couldn’t wake you, so I brought you back here.”
“Oh, Jesus…” She slides her hands down her face and neck before letting them rest on her chest. “That’s lovely. And what the hell were you doing just now?”
I launch myself into a sitting position at her accusatory tone and glare at her. I didn’t do anything but try to protect and take care of her last night. Does she honestly believe I could ever do anything out of line?
“I was only trying to wake you.”
“That could’ve been done at a distance without touching me,” she scolds, joining me in the upright position and crossing her legs underneath her.
“Actually, I couldn’t. I tried.” Pushing myself up off the floor, I busy myself with folding the blanket on the couch as my irritation grows.
“Well, what was so damn urgent anyway?” she asks, fidgeting with her clothes and hair as she stands.
She lifts an eyebrow at me when I hesitate, freezing up entirely. Bringing up her nightmares might embarrass or upset her. Though, she’s irritating me at the moment, that isn’t something I wish to do.
“You were snoring,” I lie, returning to my task. “It was horribly loud and I didn’t want anyone calling the cops with a noise complaint.”
Smirking, I set the folded blanket back down and turn to gauge her reaction. Her arms are crossed and her eyes squinted, but there’s a smile playing on her lips and her posture seems more relaxed.
“You, sir, are a liar. I do not snore.” Snickering, she reaches for one of the pillows on the loveseat and flings it at me.
“Hey,” I cry out, dodging the pillow, “don’t shoot the messenger.”
Her mood seems to shift again, her back straightening as she wraps her arms tightly around herself.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she whispers, her eyes going vacant as they divert to the floor. “Thank you for getting me out of there and letting me crash here.”
My heart stutters from the brokenness of her tone. I wish I could put her back together again and hate myself for not being there for her—for not being the friend she needed and deserved. She’s clearly been dealing with some demons, and my guess is she’s been fighting them alone.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it because I’ve been such a colossal asshole, but I’ll always be here for you, Jules.”
Her glazed eyes lift to meet mine again and her throat bobs as she regards me with sad eyes before nodding in acceptance.
END ACT TWO
“Jack and Coke. Make it a double, please,” I tell the bartender, placing a twenty on the bar. She takes my cash and gives me the change before starting my drink, not even asking to see my ID. Thank God for small town college bars.
My plan is to drink until I can numb this pain or erase Julianna from my mind forever. Either that or I die of alcohol poisoning. All these options work for me.
“Dude, you look like shit.” Greg signals to the bartender that he needs another drink as she sets mine in front of me.
“Fuck off.”
He eyes me with curiosity as I pick up my drink and gulp it down like it’s water instead of whisky.
“What the hell is eating at you?”
Shaking my head, I place my empty glass back on the bar, my jaw ticking as I dig another five out of my pocket and slap it on the counter.
“Julianna,” I sigh.
My five-dollar bill disappears and another tumbler is set in its place.
“What now?” Greg follows my lead as I pick up my drink, then turn to lean on the bar.
“She informed me she’s getting married,” I explain, the words causing bile to rise in my throat.
“Oh shit,” he snickers. “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.”
“Did I mention this is taking place next month or that she’ll also be moving seven hundred miles away?” I tilt my drink back, willing the liquor to wash d
own the emotions threating to spill out.
“Damn it, dude. I tried to tell you it was a bad idea to go messing with that bitch again.”
My head jerks in his direction and I cut my eyes to him, my boiling blood causing my shoulders to square as I stand straight. Jules may have broken my heart—again—but I won’t tolerate anyone talking about her like that.
“Don’t,” I command, pointing my finger in his face.
“Un-freaking-believable.” Clenching his jaw, he shakes his head. “She tramples all over your heart and you’re still defending her.”
“It’s not her fault. I’m the dumbass.”
“Well, you won’t hear an argument from me on that one,” Greg retorts.
He smirks as I flip him off before taking a sip of his drink, and I relax back on the bar again.
“Wait, is she meeting you here?”
“No, why?” I question, trying to follow his line of sight.
“I swear I just saw her walk in the door.”
My eyes land on a dark-haired, paled-skinned woman by the front door and my head spins as hope blooms in my chest, but it’s not my Jules.
“That isn’t her,” I sulk, hating that I’d allowed myself to believe for even a second it could be her—that maybe she’d changed her mind.
“You have to admit that chick does kind of look like her. Maybe she can be her replacement.”
“That’s fucked up,” I scoff, giving the woman a more thorough look.
She’s nowhere near as beautifully stunning as Julianna—she’s too thin, wears too much makeup, and her clothes are too revealing. The only thing they seem to have in common are their skin and hair. I can’t see her eyes from this distance, but even if they’re blue, there’s no way they would ever compare to Julianna’s.
The woman takes note of my gaping and a seductive smile spreads across her face, letting me know she’s interested. Returning her smile, I consider my next move. Anything would be a welcome distraction to my current state of being.
Without giving it anymore consideration, I place my glass down on the bar and head in her direction. She’s begins moving toward me, devouring me with her eyes as she does, and we end up meeting halfway.
“Hi.” I smirk as I come to stop in front of her. “I’m Eric.”
“Hello, Eric,” she coos. “I’m Cara.”
My eyes roam, scanning the crowd of people again, but I know he’s not here. I was almost certain I saw him standing in the back as the ceremony ended, but it must have been my imagination. No one else saw him and I haven’t seen him since.
“Who do you keep looking for, babe?” Christopher asks, wrapping an arm around my waist before pulling me in close.
“Eric,” I sigh. “He promised he’d be here.”
Of course, that was two weeks ago, before we argued. He’d called to tell me he was seeing someone, and I’d felt a little saddened by the news and jealous of this girl he seemed to be so crazy about. But I was marrying a good guy who claimed to love me and finally getting far away from here. Eric deserves to be happy too. So, I played the role and pretended to be excited for him. I even told him to bring Cara along, and that’s when things took a turn.
He told me he was going to marry Cara at the end of the month—only two weeks after my wedding. Marry her. He’s only known her a couple weeks, which makes it so insane. It didn’t make any sense. After his parents got divorced this past year, Eric claimed he was never getting married, and now he was talking about marrying someone who was practically a stranger.
I tried to reason with him, asked him to wait a while before making such a huge commitment. He’d responded by basically saying I was the pot calling the kettle black, but I’ve known Christopher much longer. I may be rushing into things a little, but it’s not the same. I made a rash decision out of necessity.
All I want is for Eric to have everything he deserves. I want him to be with a woman worthy of him.
Christopher’s body stiffens against mine, and he pulls away to meet me with an angry glare.
“Really, Julianna?” he grits out. “It’s our wedding day and you’re thinking about him? That’s so fucked up.”
Giving him an apologetic smile, I wrap him in a tight embrace, laying my head on his chest. “He’s my friend. That’s all. We’re moving and I wanted to say goodbye.”
My throat swells closed, and I bite down on my lip to keep the tears at bay. I’m terrified of never seeing or talking to Eric again. I love Eric, might even be a little in love with him.
“Obviously, he isn’t a good friend.” My chest tightens as my head snaps up, and my face draws in pain. “I’m sorry, baby.” He strokes my cheek. “Please stop worrying about him and enjoy our day. Okay?”
“You’re right,” I agree, nodding.
Though my heart is breaking, I muster a bright smile. It was unrealistic to believe I could start a new life and keep Eric. He’s made his hate for Christopher pretty clear from the start, and I know I’ve lost him, but I can’t survive or thrive here. It’s going to take time and space to heal from what happened to me. I need to get away. Maybe one day Eric will understand that.
My grip tightens on my phone and my stomach knots as I stare at her latest message.
Hey you. Just thinking about you. Hope you are well. Miss you.
She’s sent me at least one text a month since her wedding, refusing to back down, even though I haven’t responded to a single one. I hate ignoring her. Why can’t she let it go—let me go? It would make this a lot easier on me.
I miss her so fucking much. Her smile, her laugh—everything. I don’t think I’ll ever feel whole again.
My thumb hovers over the reply button as my willpower begins to crumble. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and picture her in her wedding gown. Christ, she looked so beautiful standing at that altar. I knew seeing her like that would hurt like hell, which was the whole point. If I had any hope of accepting she’d never be mine, I had to feel the weight of my heartache. The level of pain I felt that day is what keeps me numb.
“Is that another text from her?” Danielle asks. My eyes pop open as she joins me at the kitchen table, a knowing look on her face. My jaw ticks as I cut my eyes at her, staying silent. It’s likely she’s already seen the telling agony on my face. “You know letting her go is the right thing to do.”
Sighing, I shake my head. Cutting her out of my life was supposed to make things easier for both of us. She was supposed to move on with her new life and forget about me, but that isn’t the case. If I’d been brave enough to tell her how I feel…if I hadn’t been too cowardly to say “pick me,” maybe she would have stayed.
“She doesn’t love him,” I sulk, hating the desperation in my voice. Before she dropped the marriage bomb on me, I’d been sure that was a fact. I’d been ready to tell her how I felt, to fight for her.
“She married him. She’s a married woman now. Even if you’re right and she does have feelings for you, that’s only more of a reason for you to stay away. You don’t want to be responsible for breaking up her marriage, do you? Do you really think that would be a good way to start a relationship with her?”
“I hear you. I’ve heard you. I’m not contacting her,” I grit out, spinning my phone on the tabletop.
“Good. You’re in a good place now. Your life was torn to shreds and you’re just starting to get back on track.”
“That wasn’t Julianna’s fault. That was because of Cara,” I snap, my stomach churning from the mere thought of my ex-wife.
We were only married a total of five months and lived together for three of those. To say marrying her was the biggest mistake of my life would be an understatement. Though I may hate Cara, she was a poison I’d chosen to take. I allowed my grief to cloud my judgment and made poor choices. That’s on me—not Julianna or Cara.
“Fault or not, it doesn’t change the facts. Holding on to her isn’t good for either of you. Change your number, do whatever you have to do—you have to l
et her go.”
“Trust me, I don’t need you to tell me that. I’ve got it handled.” I grimace, knowing it’s a damn lie.
Time hasn’t lessened the agony of this torturous pain. It isn’t any easier today than it was the first time I turned my back on her. If she were standing in front of me, I would surely fold like a poorly stacked house of cards. How does one simply walk away from their heart and keep on living?
CELEBRATING FAILURE
January 4th
“Is that what you’re wearing to church?” my mother scolds the second I walk in the door, her normal disapproving snarl on her face. No “happy birthday.” No “nice to see you.” Only judgment.
Inwardly groaning, I shrug. “Sorry, I still don’t have all of my stuff here.”
She hums, her lips pressed in a hard line as her eyes rake over me again. “Well, I suppose most of the kids your age do dress more casual these days.”
She turns, making her way down the foyer toward the living room, and I trail behind her, taking another look at my outfit. I’m wearing jean trousers, a white button-down shirt with a maroon sweater over it, and a pair of black flats. I don’t see the problem. We’re only going to church.
My dad beams at me as we walk into the living room, jumping off the couch to come greet me. “Happy Birthday, princess,” he chirps, giving me a quick kiss on top of my head. “You look nice.”
My mother scoffs as she walks away, and he winks at me. My mom has always been exceptionally hard on me—at least it feels that way at times—but my daddy has always gone out of his way to make up for it. If you ask my mother or Lori, they’d probably tell you he has always spoiled me. Sometimes I think Lori may even be a little jealous.
“Thanks, Daddy.” I give him a tight squeeze, releasing him right as my mother enters the room again with her purse and coat.
“We need to get moving or we’ll end up having to find a seat in the very back.”
She scurries past us to the front door and he smirks at me, rolling his eyes before gesturing for me to follow her. Although he makes me feel like we’re a united front against my mother, he doesn’t fool me.
Crushed (In This Moment Book 2) Page 9