by Michelle Amy
When I pulled myself together we brought a bag each up to Brooke’s room and he told me he would go to my house the next day to get the rest of my things. And that was that. I lived with them until Brooke and I moved out of their home when we turned nineteen.
I caught the waitress’ eye and we both ordered another glass of wine. “Since then Brooke has been the only person who’s stayed by me. Through all my crazy she stood proudly by my side. I think she’s getting tired of it though. I’m always making bad choices. I’m always playing the victim.” I felt a wave of sadness come crashing over me.
Jack nudged my shin with the toe of his boot. “She’s still standing by your side and fighting for you. She hasn’t gone anywhere. You have time to make it up to her.”
“I’m doing a lousy job so far. To be honest, she so badly didn’t want me to go out with you tonight. She’s so worried that I’m going to repeat the past and end up-” I cut myself off. He didn’t need to know all my baggage this early on. Bringing up Chris would be like opening the doors to my private collection of crazy and giving him a tour.
“And end up what?” He asked. He was still draped lazily over his chair. His hand rested on the base of his wineglass and he was mindlessly turning it in slow circles.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” I said, shaking my head. “Something I’d rather forget.”
“But you won’t.”
I blinked and looked up at him. It was true. I would never forget what Chris had done to me. I would never forget that final night with him, when he stood over me and stared down at me and made me feel like the most powerless thing on the planet. I could still close my eyes and see all my mother’s china lying in pieces on the kitchen floor. I sighed. “No, I won’t.”
Jack leaned forward and took a sip of his wine. He didn’t look up at me for a while. When he finally did, his eyes looked darker than I remembered. “Did someone hurt you, Alice?”
Yes, I wanted to say to him. Yes, and I’ve been afraid ever since. “It was a long time ago. I can’t change it. What’s done is done.”
Jack didn’t like that answer. “What happened?”
For some reason I was compelled to tell him. Denying him the truth made me feel like I was carrying a huge weight on my chest. But I also felt like confessing was giving him a lot of information about me. It was my baggage, not his. It was my mistake, not his.
He reached out and rested a hand on mine. “Alice. It’s alright.”
I took a deep breath. “My ex. He wasn’t the nicest person. He… he abused me. Not physically. He never hit me, but he made me feel weak. He tried to control me. When he couldn’t, he lost it. He tore my kitchen apart, threatened me. I’ve never felt so afraid, or so ashamed. I couldn’t believe that I ever let myself get into that situation. He’s why I left New York. He’s why Brooke doesn’t want me to be out with you right now. He did a lot of damage. It’s taken me a long time to bounce back.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. His eyes were soft and his thumb was gently stroking the back of my hand.
“Thank you. But I’m okay. It’s all okay. It’s behind me now.”
He let go of my hand when our server returned, and we ordered more wine. The buzz in my head made me forget about Chris, and I was able to give Jack my undivided attention as he changed the subject to lighter things. He took my mind off of Chris with ease, and for that I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him more than anything.
We stayed at Vixen’s until the place closed. When we were the last ones there we finally extracted ourselves from our seats and stumbled out of the place, clinging to each other for support as the alcohol threatened our balance. Jack wrapped an arm around my waist, and the warmth of his touch and the strength of him did something to my knees that I couldn’t just blame on the wine or the cold weather that made me shiver.
Jack leaned out over the curb and waived down a taxi for us. In the back of the cab he rested a hand on my knee and traced small circles over the denim. “We better get you home, before Brooke puts all your stuff out in the lobby.”
I lifted my cheek from his shoulder. “I don’t want to.”
“You said slow.”
“Screw slow.”
Then he was kissing me. His stubble was tickling my cheeks and my nose and his hands were in my hair again. I didn’t care about the cab driver who was graciously quiet in the front. I let Jack do what he wanted. He pressed himself against me like he was the one who was cold, and his hands couldn’t decide where they wanted to be. My knee, my thigh, my hip, my back. I smiled into our kiss as his fingers traced my spine.
When we pulled up in front of his house we managed to untangle ourselves long enough for him to pay the cab driver, who drove off as soon as the cash was in his fingers. I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to be driving two people who were in the back seat ‘sucking face’.
Jack pulled me by the hand up his driveway and to his front door. He fumbled with the keys and I made his job more difficult by leaning in and kissing his neck and his ear. He dropped the keys and I erupted in a fit of giggles.
When he tried to put the keys in again I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I slid one hand up the inside of the front of his shirt.
He caught my wrist and held me fast. “Woman,” he snarled, “you are not making this easy.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” I teased, dragging my nails of my other hand along his lower stomach.
Finally he managed to get the door open and we both burst inside. He pressed me against the wall To Be Continued…
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