by Lannah Smith
I shook my head. "No. Not yet."
She regarded me silently for a moment.
"But you're already drunk," she repeated softly.
I was drunk.
I knew I was drunk.
But I didn't give a damn.
Tonight was all about not giving a damn.
"It's your turn, Terry!"
Taking the cue stick that was handed to me, I bent over the pool table and lined up my shot. A memory started to nag me but I forced my mind to think only of the white ball and my target.
I made short work of the remaining balls, sinking every one last them. The girls cheered loudly as I did. When the last ball went in the pocket, I straightened triumphantly with a smirk.
"How come you're so good at pool?" one of the girls said accusingly. "I thought you didn't play?"
"I said it's been a long time since I played," I answered coolly.
"Oh, don't be a sore loser, Mimi," Sheena/Sheila intervened. "I'm fed up with pool anyway. Let's dance!"
Mimi brightened up. "Sure. Come on!"
Iris was shaking her head, telling me not to go but I just laughed and went with the girls. I was in a happy daze. My new friends made me smile, made me laugh and joked around until my mind wasn't saturated with hurt, with ugly thoughts.
Nothing mattered but the next song as we danced. My new friends sang along loudly and badly to the songs they knew. I could honestly say that being with them was the most fun I'd had in weeks because somehow, I could be myself.
Somehow, I could just be another regular girl living a normal teenage life.
Ah, I loved this relaxing feeling.
There was an edging sense of peace sliding over me as I danced and I wanted it. Peace was welcomed. Peace was great. I liked peace. Who wouldn't like it?
I opened my eyes, letting the same sweet, peaceful feeling steal over me.
Then I saw him.
What. The. Fuck.
John gritted his teeth, his eyes focused on the girl in front of him.
He knew who it was the moment his eyes hit her.
Knew that black hair. Knew that slim figure.
Knew that face. Those slanted brown eyes. That mouth.
Fuck.
What the fuck was Terry Evans doing here?
She was dancing, her hips moving to the beat. Her long, shining hair floated around her body as she tossed her head side to side. She wasn't dressed scantily like the other girls. She was wearing a long button down and jeans but fuck if he still didn't find her sexy. Maybe because she had popped the first three buttons of her shirt open, revealing the edges of a lacy black bra underneath it.
John felt his body respond to the very alluring sight and he groaned quietly.
Her lips tipped up into a dazzling smile when a girl leaned into her, saying something he couldn't hear. It had been too long, too fucking long since he last saw her smile and he felt his chest start to burn.
They'd been friends. Childhood friends. But things changed and now they weren't talking anymore. He still saw her around campus and sometimes in parties his parents managed to make him attend. But only from afar. He didn't dare approach. And neither did she. After what he'd done he wasn't surprised she wouldn't. It was killing him but this was better for the both of them.
He watched her turn slowly, lithely, and gracefully. Her eyes were closed, a small smile playing on her lips.
Even as a child, she had always been graceful. Even when she had gone through the dreaded pubescent years. Everything about her movements looked like a beautiful dance, even when she was fidgeting. He would have been satisfied to stare at her the whole night but his mind was still mulling over the fact that she was, of all places, here.
How the hell did she got here anyway?
John didn't have a good feeling about this. She shouldn't be here. And normally, his feelings were right on target.
"Hey, John." A white arm snaked around his neck but he refused to remove his sight from her. "Want to dance with me?" the breathy voice whispered in his ear.
"No."
"Come on, baby. You're not with anyone tonight, aren't you?"
The guys hanging around the edges of her group were watching her with interest. John tensed and he gritted his teeth. Her group mostly kept to themselves but some of them were starting to eye the guys. He knew it wouldn't take the guys long before they make their approach.
They'd better stay away if they didn't want to die tonight, John thought with rising anger. Heads will roll if anyone of them touches her.
"Do you want to go upstairs with me?" the voice continued, insistent this time. "Let me give you a good time."
"No," he muttered again, refusing to be distracted. "I'm not in the mood."
"I'll help you get in the mood."
A low, impatient growl escaped his lips. He untangled the arms from his neck none too gently and shoved them aside. The voice whelped in surprise and cursed at him. He slowly twisted his neck to look at this insolence. The girl under his gaze blanched at whatever she was seeing on his face.
"Leave me alone," he said in a low, chilling voice.
The girl nodded shakily and quickly turned on her heels.
John closed his eyes tight as she went and he took a deep breath to calm himself.
Shit, he had to get a hold of himself.
Shit.
He opened them and returned his gaze back to the girl who was giving him conflicted feelings.
And found her looking back at him.
Chapter 3
Nine years ago, John and Terry at age seven
"John, allow me to introduce to you my daughter, Terry."
Seven-year old Terry clutched the skirt of her mother's kimono tight and stared in front of her. A dark-haired boy her age stood in front of them, staring back at her in arrogant fashion. He was wearing a suit and possessed an air of maturity for a child. His green eyes seemed to see through her soul and she glanced down at her chiffon dress, feeling a bit timid.
When she looked at him again, he still did not quit staring at her. A faint smirk appeared on his lips when he caught her eyes, like he was laughing at her. Vexed at his snooty manner, she squared her shoulders and let go of her mother's skirt, lifting her chin at the same time. The boy's eyebrows rose.
"Terry, this is John. He's the son of our host for tonight," her mother continued to say, gently pushing her forward. "Say hello, Terry."
"Hello," she murmured.
"Hello, Terry" he replied in a cultured voice.
For a moment, the mother studied the both of them. Then a calculating look came upon her face and her eyes sparked with elation
"I'll be leaving her in your care for a while, John," she said, beaming happily. "Please look after her."
John nodded. "I will, Mrs. Evans."
Giving her daughter a warning, heated look and John's nursemaid a nod, she departed for the party, hoping the two children would get along well with each other.
But not ten minutes later, a scream was heard from the room where the two children were located. Everyone rushed over in panic. They opened the door, prepared for the worst, but when they saw them, they all froze in shock.
Terry, with a mutinous expression on her face and her hands curled into fists at her sides, was standing over John. John was lying on the floor, holding his leg, grimacing in pain.
She had kicked him.
I was a whore.
The sheets rustled as I slowly disentangled the arm wrapped around my waist. I slid my legs to the side of the bed and buried my face into the palm of my hand while the other tightly gripped the sheet covering my naked body to my chest.
I was such a fucking whore.
Biting back a sob, I raised my head and looked out the window. Dawn was just breaking, rendering the large bedroom grainy and grey.
Was this the price I had to pay for my one night of freedom? I thought with despair. If so, then my messed up life had officially gotten even more messed up.
&n
bsp; A hand snaked around my waist and I was pulled back into the bed swiftly. My breathing stopped when a body landed on top of me, effectively trapping me in with his arms.
"Get off of me," I demanded icily.
A smirk formed on his lips as his eyes roamed over my face.
"And where do you think you're going, Evans?" he murmured huskily, sending shivers along my veins.
"Somewhere you aren't, Steele," I snapped.
His face disappeared into the crook of my neck and he began placing light kisses along my jaw line. I bit my lip to stop the moan threatening from my throat.
"Let go of me," I hissed, trying to push him off.
Nipping my neck, he murmured, "No."
My body began to burn as he continued to trail his lips against my sensitive skin.
I pushed him harder, distressed by how my body was betraying me. "John, let go!"
He stilled.
Then his head came up and his expression turned gentle. I stared into his eyes, his piercing green eyes with golden flecks, speckled with chestnut brown. I remembered those eyes. I remembered how much I loved those eyes.
Now all I wanted was to get away from them. And their owner.
"You finally said my name."
This time, it was me who froze.
"Five fucking years and you finally said my name again."
Panic seized me. I began to beat my fists on his shoulders.
"Get off me," I said breathlessly. "Get off me now."
John let out a sigh and moved back. I frantically slipped out of bed and nabbed my clothes from the floor.
"We need to talk about this, Terry."
"There's nothing to talk," I said in a hard tone, pulling on my jeans.
"There is," I heard him say firmly. "Fuck, Terry. Why didn't you tell me?"
I blinked back the tears. My hands shook as I buttoned down my shirt.
"Two years."
He needed to stop talking.
"You were together with that asshole for two fucking years."
I needed to get out of this fucking room.
"Yukiko!"
My head jerked back and tears sprung into my eyes.
"Please. Look at me."
I shook my head. If I looked at him now, everything will come rushing back to me.
Everything I tried so hard to forget about him.
Everything.
I finished putting on my clothes and darted to the door. I had a hand to the door, opening it, when his hand shot out and slammed it close.
His heat was on my back, his tall, lean frame fencing me in. My eyelids fluttered to a close when I felt his breath over my ear.
"Why were you still a virgin?" he asked in a soft, chilling tone. "And why did you give it to me?"
I curled my fingers into my palms, tight.
The pain, as it often did, calmed my breathing, if not my heart.
What was I going to say to him?
What the hell should I say?
That when I saw him all the memories of us rushed into my inebriated head, making me miss him, making me yearn for him so much?
I tried to fight against the onslaught.
He wasn't the same person in my memories. He wasn't the same boy that I used to know.
He was a cold, heartless, unfeeling bastard who broke a lot of promises. I didn't, shouldn't want to have anything to do with him anymore.
But the memories, they nagged at me, insistent and forceful, until I just sighed in defeat and let them take all over my mind.
Then I found my feet moving towards him.
My arms curled around his neck.
I saw the shocked expression on his face before my lips found his.
I felt him resist before he gave in, pulling me closer to his body.
I remembered him telling me, begging me to make him stop as he hovered over my naked body. I remembered begging him not to stop. I remembered him whispering how sorry he was when I winced in pain after he broke the barrier between my legs. And I remembered how the pain went away as the pleasure intensified.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
What have I done?
John waited for her answer, his anger mounting.
When she still didn't speak, his hand closed into a tight fist and he slammed it on the door in frustration. She jumped and turned, her back pressed against the door. Her composure slipped for a split second, exposing fear, before regaining it.
"Why, Terry?" he pushed. "After all these years, why come to me last night at the party? Fuck, you weren't supposed to be at that party!"
Her eyes slid to the side. John didn't know what to make of this. But he knew it would piss the fuck out of him if she didn't give him an answer soon.
"Answer me!" he roared.
"It was a mistake!" she shouted back at him, her beautiful face contorted in pain. "I made a mistake, okay?"
He laughed humorlessly. "A mistake?" he asked her incredulously. "So you fucking me last night was a mistake? And the second time? What about the third and fourth time? So you made not only one mistake but four. Four fucking mistakes."
She didn't speak but stared at him, her eyes fully narrowed, her brown eyes glittering dangerously.
"Who were you with at that party?"
"No one."
He shook his head. "Why do I get the feeling that you're lying to me?"
"Why do you care?" she asked contemptuously.
"I don't." He leaned forward and gritted out, "I'm merely curious why the little princess of the Evans household went slumming."
Her lips began to tremble. "Step back."
John felt like shit when he saw how her eyes started to fill with tears.
He knew he was being harsh with her but, damn it, she was being evasive. He needed to know why she was there, who she was with and how the fuck she got there. He wasn't sure why he cared. Maybe it was because he felt responsible for her since he knew her or because she needed someone to look out for her, just like how he used to.
She didn't know how close to danger she was. She was surrounded, fucking surrounded by the worst scum of West Public High. Or maybe she knew and didn't care.
When her firm, little chin jutted stubbornly, he finally realized he wasn't going to get the answers he needed. Clenching his jaw, he pushed himself off her and took a step back.
"If you weren't a virgin, I'd had thought you were just another rich slut out for a quick, drunken fuck," he muttered angrily.
She swallowed and turned her head away.
"Tell me. Why did you even approach me last night? Of all the guys there, why me?"
She returned her gaze to him, the grand composure back on her face. "I'm leaving," she announced low, her tone slightly sharp and he nearly laughed.
"Then go," he clipped. "That's what you always do. You run. You never bother to talk, you never bother to listen. So get the fuck out of my house, Evans. And don't you dare come back."
Her composure slipped again and several emotions, one after the other, chased across her face. They went too fast he couldn't read them all but he could have sworn he caught disappointment before she gained control and her eyes shuttered.
He didn't care. She was going to leave, anyway.
He would never see her again, never be with her again.
And that brought a fresh wave of pain inside him.
Terry whirled and grabbed the door handle. She didn't even give him a glance before she shot through the door and slammed it shut. John sat on his bed and ran his hands over his face. He stared at the door for a moment before he took the wireless phone on the night stand from its cradle and dialed a number.
"Get her home safely," he said curtly as soon as the call was answered.
Then he threw it against the wall, almost breaking it into pieces.
Fuck this shit.
He stood up and headed to the shower, hoping to wash away the traces of her lips from his body, hoping to forget how she felt good, how being next to her felt so
right.