Switch: A Bad Boy Romance

by Michelle Amy

  Finally Jason submitted and sulked by us, his shoulder childishly bumping into McCoy’s. McCoy barely moved and Jason sort of stumbled off of him and down the first couple steps before he regained his balance. He looked over his shoulder at me and I took a dig at him by resting against McCoy’s chest.

  We watched Jason sulk down the sidewalk until he was out of view. I unlocked the door and took McCoy’s hand, but he didn’t follow me in.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Nothing, there’s just some stuff I need to take care of.”

  “Oh, okay.” My heart felt like it had deflated in my chest. I had been expecting this earlier. It made sense that he would only go so far before he decided to abandon ship.

  “Don’t overthink it.” He said as he hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”

  I nodded.

  He leaned over the threshold and braced himself on the doorframe. He planted a kiss on my cheek before he turned and hurried down my porch steps. He crossed my lawn and went the opposite way of Jason, shoulder checking to watch for a taxi. I closed the door and called Carly.

  She showed up at my place shortly after. The disappointment in my voice had tipped her off, and she wasted no time in coming to my rescue. She arrived with chocolate and her copy of ‘A Walk to Remember’. If either of us ever needed a good cry, it was our go to. As I popped a mint chocolate wafer into my mouth, I filled Carly in on what had happened that afternoon. She sat tucked into the corner of my couch and waited for me to finish. When I was done, she unfurled her legs from beneath herself and stretched her legs out to rest her heels on my coffee table.

  “Veronica, I think you might be getting a bit ahead of yourself. I know I’m not his number one fan, but I don’t think McCoy is bailing on you. It doesn’t add up.”

  I washed my wafer down with a sip of white wine. “How so?”

  “Well. First he spent the night. It would have been easier for him to just slip out while you were sleeping. Then he took you out for food. Nothing spells ‘I’m into you’ like taking a girl out for food after you sleep with her. Then he took you to a park, which is actually kind of romantic-”

  “Yeah, or he just wanted to have sex.”

  “Most probably, but he could have brought you home and had sex with you here. And maybe there really is stuff he needs to do. He has a life, you know. Maybe he didn’t expect to spend so much time with you and now there’s stuff that he needs to catch up on.” She clasped her hands behind her bed and stretched. “I’d bet money that he’ll come back tomorrow. I saw how he looked at you in the kitchen. Why did you think I left?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know Car. He seems too good to be true.”

  Carly laughed. “Oh come on now, he’s not too good to be true. Sure, he has good things going for him, like his looks. And his charm. But besides that… he’s kind of a criminal, right?”

  It was a fair point. Maybe I was idolizing him too much.

  No, I wasn’t. McCoy was unlike anyone I had ever met before. I felt empty now that he was gone. “I’m such a fool,” I muttered, resting my head back on the back of the sofa and sighing as I stared at the ceiling.

  “You fell way too fast, is all.”

  I fake sobbed and covered my eyes. I ran my fingers down my face in exasperation. “This is so stressful. What do I do if he doesn’t show up tomorrow?”

  Carly rolled her eyes. “Then you move on.”

  That was easy enough for her to say. She didn’t know who he was. Carly had no idea what kind of power he held over me. I had believed, for the briefest moment, that I held that power over him as well. But then he was able to walk away from me and never even look back.

  Carly handed me another chocolate wafer. “Don’t agonize over this. You’re going to feel like an idiot tomorrow when he shows up.”

  I hoped she was right. When we put the movie on I spent most of my time trying to think of all the reasons why McCoy would bother to come back. He could probably get sex anytime he wanted. You don’t get to walk around looking like that and not enjoy the perks. There was nothing that set me apart from any of the other women I was sure he had programmed in his phone. Not to mention, I had baggage. I had a crazy ex boyfriend who randomly liked to show up at my house. And, just for bonus points, he also tried to fight McCoy. It ended horribly for Jason, but I was sure it would be a red flag for any sane man. And McCoy, despite his history, was definitely sane.

  When Carly left just past midnight she tried to reassure me that everything would be fine. I still went to bed sobbing. I couldn’t control it. It poured out of me and the sadness that sat in my gut was so much more powerful than what I had felt when I ended it with Jason. How it was possible to feel this way for a man I had known for only a week I had no idea.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I woke to the sound of my doorbell ringing. My alarm clock told me it was nine in the morning. I rolled over and stretched. My throat was sore from crying. My eyes felt puffy. I slid out of bed and pulled on my flannel pyjama set. I found my slippers and stepped into them as the doorbell chimed again.

  “I’m coming, god damn it.” I muttered.

  I hurried down the stairs and unlocked the door.

  McCoy was standing before me. His smile faltered when he looked me over and turned into a worried frown. “You alright?”

  Carly had been right. I felt like an idiot. I was wearing the most unflattering set of pyjamas in the history of all pyjamas. My slippers had holes in them. My eyes were most likely swollen and pink from crying. I hadn’t taken off my makeup last night, so I most likely had streaks of mascara on my cheeks.

  “Umm, yeah, I’m alright.” I answered. Lies. I desperately wished I hadn’t opened the door. If only I possessed the slightest amount of common sense I could have avoided this embarrassing moment.

  McCoy’s mouth twitched and he looked down at his hands. I followed his gaze and realized he was holding a book. “What’s that?” I asked.

  He handed it to me. It was a black leather bound book. It was simple and heavier than I expected. I flipped open the cover. A glossy print of a black and white forest coated in frost was tucked into the front page. It was a photo album. I flipped to the second page. Another beautiful photo. I continued to look through them, my mind now completely distracted from how horrible I looked and felt.

  There were photos of places I recognized. The park we had walked the day before. The bookstore we had nearly had sex in front of. A side street off of Main Street that was swimming with homeless people. Everything was black and white.

  I tore my eyes from the pages and looked up at McCoy. He was watching me. “These are incredible,” I whispered. “You took all of these?”

  He nodded.

  “McCoy… you’re really talented. People would buy these. People would collect these.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Every time he was flustered or nervous I caught him doing this. I continued. “Why did you decide to show this to me?”

  He dropped his hand and took the book from me, tucking it under his arm. “I wanted you to see them. And… and I was hoping you could help me try to make something of them.”

  “As in?”

  “As in, see if my photos have a place in the market. I don’t know what people would use them for. Magazines, or books, I don’t know.”

  “McCoy, this is art. People would hang this on their wall.”

  He raised his eyebrows at that. “You think?”

  “Oh hell yeah I do. They are stunning. I can’t believe you took them all here. How do you see something on the street like that and turn it into something beautiful?”

  He shrugged. Flattery was something he clearly was not used to.

  “Do you want to come in?” I stood aside and let him step past me.

  We went into the kitchen. I took the book from him and went through the images again. I wanted to show my boss. I suspected that if she saw them she would see h
is talent, and would at the very least have recommendations on where he should send his work. At most, she may want to use his images for cover art. The possibilities were endless.

  “Can I bring these to work with me?” I asked. “I want to show my boss. She has connections and she may be able to give us a good starting point.”

  “Sure, if you think she can help. Lisa, right?”

  I looked up at him. “Yes.” In the years I had been with Jason, he never remembered Lisa’s name. I had worked for her for four years- three of which were during my relationship with Jason. I had spent not even three whole days with McCoy and he knew her name.

  “If she could help that would be awesome.” McCoy’s smile made me want to kiss him.

  “She’ll help. For sure.” We stood quietly for a moment as I flipped through the pages. McCoy watched me. I could feel his eyes on me. I wanted to shower. I wanted him to leave for an hour and forget what he had seen.

  He cleared his throat and leaned on his on the counter. “So, what’s the story?” He asked, gesturing at all of me.

  Damn. “Rough night.” I said, hoping he would leave it at that.

  “Did something happen?”

  “No, nothing happened. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  He frowned. “I can’t help it.”

  I sighed and rested my forehead in my hands. “Okay. I didn’t think you were going to come back. So I may or may not have indulged in a pity party. And it sucked. Okay? It really, really sucked.”

  “You thought I would just run off and leave you after everything?”

  I bit my bottom lip. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. I can’t blame you. I should have explained myself a bit better rather than just high tailing it out of here yesterday.” His eyes flicked back and forth between mine. He pushed himself off the counter and looked away from me when he started talking again. “Thing is… I’m really into you, Veronica. It scares me. I haven’t shown anyone my photographs. Not a single person. And with you… I just had to show you.”

  “I’m really into you, too.”

  He lifted his eyes back to me. “Are we crazy?”

  I nodded. “Yes, for sure we are. But that doesn’t change anything. At least, it doesn’t for me. I like your crazy.”

  He cocked his head to the side and reached out to caress my cheek. Then I realized he was wiping away mascara and eyeliner from under my eye. He chuckled. “I like your crazy too. Very refreshing.”

  I swatted his hand away and he graced me with one of his whole body laughs. I watched him as he threw his head back and held his ribs. Perfection. Pure perfection.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When I showed Lisa the photographs in McCoy’s album she gushed over them. She had told me to hurry it up as I put the album in front of her on her desk. She shushed me when I tried to explain who McCoy was and why I wanted to show her his work. She had told me that it was best to let the photos speak for themselves.

  Apparently, they spoke highly of themselves. She had placed a call to another agent somewhere in the office, asking if he had time to review some new content. Upon him seeing the images, he wanted to sign a contract with me. I explained that I was not the photographer, but I would relay the message to McCoy.

  They wanted to use his photographs for a project that was in the works. A writer had written a piece about living in the city and wanted photographs to accompany the autobiography. McCoy agreed to the terms. From there he received many calls from local magazines and three art galleries. Everyone paid well. It was clear that he had something new to bring to the table; something people hadn’t seen before. His pictures were raw and real and appealed to the masses. He was, as Lisa had said, very marketable.

  We were eating dinner when the third art gallery called. I insisted he take it, just in case. When he hung up he gave me a broad, boyish grin. “I got another one,” he said. His enthusiasm and genuine excitement radiated from him.

  “I told you so,” I quipped. “And look how fast it all happened. Two weeks. Two weeks and you have art hanging in galleries for everyone to see. Crazy.”

  “And I’m making money.”

  I nodded. “Money is good too.”

  “I have news,” he said, putting his fork down on his plate. I had cooked us spaghetti and we were sitting at my dining room table. There was a candle burning between us. It lit his face up with a warm amber glow that made him look even more attractive.

  “Okay, do tell.” I followed suit and put my fork down.

  “I quit my job.”

  McCoy had still been going to work at his construction job for the last two weeks. He spent most of his nights at my house and one of my drawers was filling with his shirts and jeans and boxers. I didn’t mind. Carly had tried to hint that I was moving too fast, but I didn’t care. The progression, albeit fast, felt natural.

  “You quit? That’s amazing! We should have gone somewhere to celebrate.”

  He shook his head. “No, no need. This is perfect. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I grinned and picked up my fork.

  “No seriously, Veronica. Thank you. I wouldn’t have done any of this if it wasn’t for you. I’d still be getting ready to put on a hard hat in the morning. Still be hanging around with… with the wrong people.”

  In the two weeks that we had spent together McCoy had never mentioned anything about the crowd he associated with, and I hadn’t asked. I thought often of the night that we had first met. I thought about the man who had crouched in front of me and ran his finger along the inseam of my jeans. I thought of how terrified I was.

  But I didn’t want to say anything to McCoy. I trusted him, and I didn’t expect him to run off on me, but I also didn’t expect him to cut all ties with his old ‘friends’. I didn’t want to ask him to. It wasn’t my place.

  However, now seemed like the perfect window to start asking some questions that I had been holding back. “Why were you with those guys that night?”

  He wouldn’t look at me.

  “McCoy. I’m not going to judge.”

  He glanced at me and his eyes glowed in the candlelight before he looked away again. As he spoke he refused to meet my eyes. “Because I had my priorities all screwed up.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “When I got out of prison…” he sighed. “When I got out I wasn’t able to go back to how things had been before. There was no home to go back to. No friends to turn to. I had to start fresh. And starting fresh is really hard, especially when there’s no one to lean on. So when some of my buddies from the system found me and offered me a place to stay, I didn’t say no.”

  I nodded. “I don’t think that’s anything to feel bad about.”

  He shrugged. “Had I stayed until I got my shit together and then left, sure. I wouldn’t feel ashamed. But I stayed for four years. Dicking around. Wasting time. Watching them spiral. Watching some of them go back to prison. If I hadn’t met you, I would still be on that path.”

  I lifted a mouthful of spaghetti to my mouth. “You’re starting to sound like a Nicholas Sparks novel.”

  “Who?”

  I laughed. “Nevermind.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “Does what bother me?”

  “All of it,” he leaned back in his chair. “What I did. That I was in prison. That I hung out with guys like the ones… like the ones from that night.”

  “Honestly?”

  He nodded, his jaw tight and his hands clasped in his lap. “Honestly.”

  I put my fork down once again and thought about how I could best answer his question. “I don’t worry about you, McCoy. I don’t think anything of your history. I know who you are now- right now. I think, to a certain point, we all fall victim to circumstance. You just fell a bit harder than some. So did I. I let myself waste nine years of my life. I guess what I’m trying to say is no, it doesn’t bother me.”

  Relief w
as so plain on his face. He relaxed and pulled himself back up to the table, then he cracked that devilish smile of his. “You know, you really are a strange kind of girl.”

  “So I’ve been told,” I smirked. “Pass the parmesan.”

  My cell phone rang. McCoy went to grab it off the counter and I shook my head. “I’ll call them back. Who is it?”

  He shrugged. “Unknown number.”

  “Probably just a telemarketer. Their uncanny ability to call during dinner is impeccable.”

  When we snuggled up on the couch to watch Netflix, my phone rang again. McCoy paused the movie and I answered the phone. I said hello several times, but no one answered me. “Helloooo? I hate when this happens.”

  McCoy was watching me over his shoulder. “Just hang up.”

  Fifteen minutes into the movie the phone rang again. “Hello?” I said, my voice irritated. Still no answer. I held it to my ear and waited an extra fifteen seconds or so. Then I heard it. The soft yet distinct sound of someone breathing on the other end. “I can hear you,” I said. “Stop calling me.”

  Another fifteen minutes went by. The phone rang again. I went to answer it but McCoy held out his hand. “Give it here.” I dropped the phone in his open palm.

  He answered it and raised it to his ear. He didn’t say anything for a while. He just listened. “Listen buddy,” McCoy started, “time to get a hobby. Stop calling and get a life. We have better things to do with our time than listen to you breathe like an overweight uncle at the dinner table into the phone. Got it?” Then he hung up and put the phone on silent. “If they call back don’t answer it. They’ll stop eventually.”

  I did as he suggested. “Who do you think it is?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t care. Probably stupid teenagers sitting in their parents basement prank calling random numbers.”

  “Sounds like you have experience in the subject.”

  He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and gave me a cocky smile. “You know it.”