Perfectly Flawed

by Nessa Morgan

  I walk in on several couples, seeing much more of them than I ever wanted. Sputtering apology after apology, I slam the doors shut and continue my search. I know none of the ones I walked in on will remember any of this in the morning so I’m not too embarrassed, just the normal amount where my cheeks are permanent color of red.

  The final room of the hallway—and my last option for this hall before I need to climb another flight of stairs, I shove open the door a bit too hard, watching it aim for the wall, and before I can stop it, it connects with a loud bang, alerting the occupants to my stupidity. Or occupant. There’s only one sitting on the bed, his head in his hands as he slowly sips a beer.

  And he’s the last person I want to see.

  Surprisingly, he’s alone.

  “What do you want?” Ryder spits, anger lacing his words. His eyes look above me, not at me and I feel so flattered.

  I roll my eyes and reach for the door, trying my best to be civil. The last thing my night needs is a fight. “Nothing from you,” I answer, clamping my hand on the knob to pull it back as I exit, but Ryder’s in front of me before I can fully leave the room. He’s leaning to the side, blocking my view of the empty hall and any attempt of mine to run away. I’m not sure how he moved so fast but that’s the last thing with which I need to concern myself.

  He’s leaning toward me, his breath growing warmer against my skin. He’s so close I can smell the vodka pouring through his pores, the whiskey on his breath, and the beer in his hand. Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear. I just want to push him away, I just want him away from me, but he’s only edging nearer, invading my personal space. He wouldn’t care if I told him. I can see the small bump on his nose; I can tell how it didn’t heal correctly. I can see the loose thread in the collar of his red t-shirt. I can see the freckles dotting his hands. I can see all of this because he won’t back away from me.

  “What do you want?” he asks again, his face moving closer to mine but I back away to get some distance, stepping into the empty room against my better judgment. I learned a long time ago never to be alone with him. “Just tell me, Joey.” I watch him slam the door shut behind us, further trapping me in here with him.

  I want you to leave me alone, that’s what I want.

  “I don’t want anything, Ryder.” Nothing but a bathroom and night away from you, is that too much to ask? “I was just looking for a bathroom.”

  He barks out a laugh, stepping closer to me. “Yeah, there isn’t one in here.”

  “I can tell. I’ll just leave you alone.” I try to step to the side, away from him, but he only follows, blocking every move I make. A sense of unease flows through me, a feeling of dread dropping into the pit of my stomach, and I just need to flee, I need to get away. But the only way is through him. “Where’s Alexia?” I don’t care but I want to distract him.

  “She’s with some girl I don’t know.” Ryder sets his beer on the nightstand by the bed. “Where’s Kalivas?”

  “Waiting for me.”

  I step to the side, ready to walk around him, when his arm shoots out, grabbing mine to keep me in place.

  “What’s your hurry, Joey?”

  I look toward the door, tugging to free myself from his grasp, his tightening grip on my skin that’ll leave fresh bruises within my skin.

  “Ryder, let go of my arm.” He shakes his head, his blonde curls flopping back and forth as a laugh escapes his throat. I tug at my arm, trying to yank it away, but his grip only tightens. “Let go of my arm, Ryder,” I demand, trying to keep my dignity.

  “You see,” he begins, throwing me toward the bed. I hit the mattress, bouncing once, twice, before I settle. “I had this bet.” I scramble up, leaning on my elbows as he stalks toward me. “This bet was about you.” He grabs my ankles, sliding me down the bed, closer to him. I reach out, hoping to grab something, hoping to keep away from him, but there’s nothing.

  “Ryder, just—”

  “No, no, no.” He places his finger over my lips. “Just let me finish, babe. There was this bet about you and I decided to take it.”

  What’s happening? Why’s he doing this? I could be running away, I could be fleeing, but there’s a part of me too scared to move, a part of me frozen in time, waiting to see what he’ll do.

  “Ryder—”

  “You don’t even know who placed the bet, right?” His hand trails down my neck, down my shirt to the hem, his fingers tickling the exposed skin beneath the gray fabric. “Alexia’s always hated you. I don’t know why, but she was willing to pay money to see you destroyed.” His head dips close, his nose gliding across my cheek. I’m too stunned to move. “And I was more than happy to oblige, baby.”

  “Don’t call me that.” I push at him, shoving at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

  He’s settled between my legs, holding one knee to the mattress while his other hand snakes around my neck.

  “You want this.”

  Before I could even tell him I didn’t, his lips crash to mine so hard, his forehead slams against mine. I reach my hands up, trying to shove him away, but he only pushes harder, pressing against me, pushing me into the mattress. He forces my lips apart, shoving his tongue sloppily into my mouth, tasting heavily of alcohol.

  I bite down, nipping at his tongue violating my mouth. He leans back, letting out a yelp while his hand covers his mouth. He pulls it back, spotting blood. He looks to me as I try to scramble away, gripping my ponytail and yanking me back.

  “Just shut up and it won’t hurt.”

  Never tell, baby girl.

  No, no, no… please.

  “GET OFF OF ME!” I scream, hoping someone in this crowded house can hear me. Ryder cuts off my scream with a hard slap, the force throwing me back to the bed.

  “RYDER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” someone screams from the door.

  I sit up, facing the opposite direction, fixing my glasses to my face.

  “This is what you wanted, right?” I hear laughter in his voice but I can’t focus. I taste blood and I need to find the source. I need to get out of here. I need Zephyr. I need Zephyr now. I clutch my hand to my mouth, pulling it away to see if I’m bleeding. There’s no blood but I’m not that trusting. “Look, we’ve got her where we want—”

  A loud crash sounds through the air, a lamp shatters from the bedside table, and I look up, catching Ryder’s crumpled body as he lies in a heap on the floor. Footsteps vibrate through me as someone stomps toward the seemingly lifeless body, and I see Zephyr bending over, examining his work.

  “Zephyr,” I croak. The last thing I want to see is this.

  I blink once, twice, three times, trying to clear my vision. After the fourth blink, I watch Zephyr take a deep breath, grab a groaning Ryder by the back of his hair, and throws a punch directly to his nose. The sounds soars through the air, the sound of flesh hitting bone, and I can’t breathe.

  This shouldn’t be happening.

  Scrambling up, I move toward them, watching one punch after another, one painful hit after another, and no one is stopping him.

  “Zephyr,” I say, reaching out a hand. He doesn’t hear me. “Zephyr, please, stop!” A sob escapes and Zephyr’s hand drops, as does the bloody mass of Ryder’s head.

  A shudder racks through my body and I drop to the floor, not able to stand.

  He turns, his hand dragging through his hair. There’s hate in his eyes, there’s anger and something terrifying, but it disappears when he sees me. Zephyr rushes to my side, sweeping me up in his arms and cradling me against his chest.

  “Are you hurt? What happened? Should you go to a hospital?” he rapidly questions, his eyes searching my visible skin for imperfections.

  “I just want to go home.” I tell him, everything I saw leaving my mind when he tucks my head beneath his chin. “Please, take me home.”

  He nods. Standing, he lifts me up by my arms, steadying me to make sure I can walk. When I appear fine, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me through the gr
owing crowd.

  “Joey,” Alexia calls. “Joey, please.” She rushes to my side, her hands reaching for me but I recoil. I don’t want her near me let alone to touch me.

  “I think you’ve done enough,” Zephyr says, angling me to avoid her.

  “No, she needs to listen to me…”

  “She doesn’t need to do anything for you,” Zephyr spits. He obviously heard Ryder’s brief speech about the bet.

  I stop, turning my gaze to her, ready to hear what she has to say. Zephyr tries to lead me away but I won’t move. If I need to hear this, I’m going to hear it. Then punch her for good measure. Because if what Ryder said is true—and he has no reason to lie to me anymore—she deserves so much worse than a punch.

  “What he said, it’s not all true.”

  “All?” I ask. Yeah, she’s getting a punch.

  “Yeah, I wanted to see you hurt, but I never wanted this.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, her eyes rimmed red. Is she sad? “I’m sorry. It’s my fault, every bit of it. Truly, I never wanted anything like this to happen. I just thought that he’d…”

  “You thought he’d what, Alexia?” It’s taking all my effort not to lunge at her and rip her hair out. That and I can’t really lift my arms. I’m sure my eyes swelling, I’m bleeding, and she’s sorry?

  “I thought he’d just get a good story, something to ruin your reputation.”

  The crowd’s thinned completely, leaving only the three of us, and a snoring Ryder, in the room. I want so much to be home right now, I want to be away from this, but part of me wants to see what Alexia has to say. That part of me just wants ammunition to take her out.

  “If you haven’t noticed, my rep is pretty shot.” I turn away from her, leading Zephyr from the room. I don’t need this; I don’t need any of this. Parties aren’t my thing to begin with but I did this for him because it’s what he wanted but it’s just another thing ruined by Alexia Cavanaugh’s hatred for me. “Take care of your boyfriend,” I tell her.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she whispers back.

  “Then I guess you’re lucky.”

  Zephyr leads me out.

  ***

  I crawl into my waiting bed. I’m clean and dry after taking the longest shower known to, well, me. The longer I stood beneath the stream of scalding hot water, the more I felt Ryder’s touch disappearing. My aunt’s at work and Zephyr’s sitting on the edge of my bed, making sure I’m okay even when I tell him I’m fine.

  He doesn’t believe me.

  At least my eye isn’t swelling, that’s a plus.

  “You can lie in my bed,” I tell him, reaching for his hand. “You know, with me.”

  He yanks it away, standing up and backing away from the bed. “No, I can’t.”

  “Zephyr.” I sit up, looking to my boyfriend as he paces back and forth, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “I should be punching his fu—”

  “Zephyr Kalivas, no talking like that. It’s New Years.” I reach out my hand like a greedy kid, wanting only one thing.

  He looks to me, the softness of his eyes returning, and he reluctantly takes a step toward my bed, taking my hand.

  He joins me, snuggling beneath the blankets. I drape my arm over his stomach, placing my head on his chest. The soft thump-thump, thump-thump of his heart is enough to calm my nerves. But add his hand drawing circles on my back and I’m ready to do just about anything.

  “I’m sorry about tonight,” I whisper to his button-up, wishing I could change the last three hours.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” I can hear the bitterness of his voice. He’s right, I know that, but the last thing I wanted to do was ruin our planned evening.

  I let the words die on my tongue, never releasing what I wish to say, and it’s okay. The silence surrounding is comforting, relaxing, and I dive right, feeling the warmth caress every part of me.

  “Any resolutions you want to make?” I ask, disturbing the silence developing around us.

  “Nothing worth telling,” he answers. The circles grow bigger. “You?”

  “They’re a secret,” I whisper, smiling.

  “Only for you,” he whispers to the top of my head before pressing a quick kiss into my damp hair.

  I lean up, looking at the boy in my bed. His head resting upon my pillow, his arms draped around my waist, and I’ve never wanted him more, I’ve never needed him more. My only resolution for the New Year is to let everything go and live without regrets. And my one regret is waiting to let Zephyr in.

  Something blooms within me, something strong and south, something I’ve never really noticed before. It burns and blossoms and takes control, and I can’t help it, I need to feel him everywhere.

  I lean closer, closer, closing the distance, and press my lips against his, gently, tenderly at first, before welcoming him in. His hand fists against the fabric of my t-shirt, balling against my side. His other hands threads into my hair, resting on the back of my neck.

  Throwing my leg over his body, I feel him pressing against my core, ready. And I think I’m ready. No, I know I’m ready.

  I think.

  Want dissolves into need and need controls my entire body beginning with my hands on the buttons on his shirt. My hands glide over the sculpted muscles of his stomach, feeling every ridge, every detail that I’ve traced time and time again when it’s been just the two of us trying to discover everything.

  His hands slide up my legs, electricity scorching through every touch into my tender skin. I want him to touch all of me; I want to feel his fingers everywhere. I want to feel his skin against mine. He grips my lower back, pulling me closer. I move against him, listening to his moan escape his throat. It’s fueling my fire.

  I slide my hands up the bare skin of his chest, grabbing his neck.

  “Joey,” he whispers as my lips near his. His breath plays against my cheek, his breathing hard and fast as my hands trail down his body, dipping lower and lower until I’m at the band of his jeans, playing with the button, working up the courage to unbutton it.

  His hands slide up my sides, feeling scarred flesh, feeling me and only me, and I love the fire from his fingertips. Without thinking, I tug my shirt over my head, revealing the lacy white bra I didn’t think he’d see tonight. Zephyr’s eyes widen with the sight of me, and I can see his wish to devour me whole. I can also see his chaste wish just to be with me. In his eyes, I can see he truly loves me.

  He flips me onto my beck, covering my body with his own, and I grip onto him, pulling him closer, wanting him closer. His chocolate eyes find mine as he touches his forehead to mine, keeping his lips from me as his breathing evens out.

  Zephyr takes this moment to let his eyes scour my body. He licks his lips, his hands greedily gripping my skin. “We don’t…” he pauses, catching his breath. “We don’t have to do anything, Joey.”

  “I know.”

  He smiles. Gently, he presses his lips to mine before trailing lower and kissing my stomach. Then again, and again, until I realize that he is kissing every scar, every imperfection on my body.

  “Zephyr,” I moan out. His hair tickles along my flesh as he nears closer.

  I grab his shoulders, fisting the fabric of his shirt in my hands until he takes the hint and tosses it aside, leaning over me, slowly nearing closer and closer until I can feel his soft breath against my lips. His knees part my legs and he settles between, edging closer and closer until I can feel him, his want, pressing against me.

  “Tell me what you want.” His hand caresses my cheek, soft fingertips trail down my flushed skin.

  “I want you,” I moan out.

  “Tell me,” he starts again, quietly. His other hand grips my hip, pulling my body closer to his. “What you want.” He presses into me.

  “Z-z-zephyr,” I stutter out, shutting my eyes as a sensation blossoms deep within me. It's hot and fluid, flowing through my veins as he hovers above me.

  �
��Yes or no.” His breath is hot against my ear.

  “Yes,” I breathe out.

  He doesn't hesitate. His lips attack mine. They nip and tug at the swollen flesh as he savors every kiss, every moment between us.

  He presses against me, I arch my back, and the feel of his skin, soft and smooth, against mine is enough to send me spiraling into a hazy daze. Zephyr's lips connect with my chest, trailing soft kisses down the center of my body. I want to beg him for more but my mouth refuses to make any sound other than the guttural moan of desire. I bury my hands in his hair, pulling him back up to kiss me while his hands fumble with the tie on my shorts. Slowly, and tentatively, he slips his hand between the soft pink fabric of my underwear and my skin, reaching until his hand reaches the desired destination.

  So beautiful…

  Baby girl…

  My eyes snap open, but it wasn’t Zephyr who spoke. His mouth is too busy against my neck. I try and shake away the odd feeling, but something dense falls to the pit of my stomach, something I can't ignore.

  You’re prettier than Mommy, you know, the voice tells me.

  No—no—no, I want to scream.

  It won't hurt, I promise, baby girl.

  “STOP!” I scream, shoving as hard as my weak body will let me until Zephyr flings back, his eyes wild with worry.

  “Joey,” Zephyr calls as I grab my shirt from the floor and bolt from my room, locking myself in the bathroom.

  I collapse against the far wall, my shaking legs weak, and my bones brittle. One false move and I’ll crumble, decay into ash, and blow away in the wind. One false move and I disappear.

  “Joey?” A light knock taps against the door across the tiny room. “Joey, please, open up.”

  I shake my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. I clutch the shirt to my chest, trying to hide the evidence. But the scars, they never go away, and they grow and grow until I’m nothing but scar. Ruined skin walking around.

  “Please, tell me what happened.”

  I can't.

  I don't even know.

  “Please, just open the door.”

  You are so beautiful, so beautiful, the voice continues. I clutch my hands to my ears, willing the sounds to stop, willing them to disappear, but they only grow louder. Daddy's little girl, that's what you are. Daddy’s beautiful baby girl.