Divine: A Novel

by Jayce, Aven

  Dan looks like he might gag as the rest of us laugh. I wish Greg and Kristen a happy evening and shake their hands, confused as to what to make of my first interaction with this family. At least I know where Dan gets his odd-ballish side.

  “Wait, can I ask a question before you go, please?” Bridgette begs in a whiney voice. “Since I missed out on the game, just one question, please?”

  I nod. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

  “Okay. This is a good one. Professor Hallowell, did you kill Hannah’s boyfriend?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Big Boy is dead.

  My jaw drops at Bridgette’s accusation and by my expression she knows immediately that I’m appalled, as are her parents, and Dan. She apologizes quickly, with her tail between her legs fully ashamed; these words aren’t hers. She’s repeating what she overheard in Margaret Cole’s Victorian Gossip Hall.

  But something else is going on. There’s relief in her eyes as she stares in awe, like I’m her hero.

  Dan hurries me away from his family and to the car, apologizing for them, all of them, but especially for his sister’s bad manners.

  “There’s a reason she’s like that, Div. That guy she’s talking about nearly raped her last year. She’s been saying stupid shit and acting out ever since, like the other day at the mall. I know she doesn’t mean it; she’s just not handling it well. My entire family’s been up in arms about the attack and I’m furious she refused to go to the cops about it. God, I’m sorry she did that to you. She’s having a tough time, and on top of her issues, she said that guy assaulted two of her friends at the sorority house. Did you know him? That dickhead, Luke Barnes? Was he a student of yours?”

  Dan’s perturbed, and it’s a side of him I like, the overprotective big brother who’ll stand up for the women in his life.

  “A while ago he was, not this semester,” I say. “I haven’t seen him in several semesters, but his girlfriend’s in my class.”

  “Yeah, Hannah’s one of Bridgette’s best friends. She knew what happened to my sister, and still, she decided to go out with the guy. They’ve been dating since last fall. I’ll never figure that one out.”

  “They’re not dating anymore.” Eww, that was cold. I can’t believe I said that. “I mean; it’s over now.” Getting colder. “I wonder what happened to him?” Slightly better.

  He hands me his cell. “Google it,” he says.

  I want to laugh, but that seems even more inappropriate than what I just said. Google it, of course.

  The top article when I search the news in our town is a hit and run. “A passerby on Collins Road found him in the ditch. His bicycle was twenty feet away.”

  Dan nods.

  “Sounds like an accident,” I say with my eye on the road, on edge. Night driving makes me anxious, especially when I have no control of the wheel. “Could you slow down?”

  He looks over. “Oh.”

  “Oh, what? Keep you eye on the road, Dan, not me.”

  “You’re either nervous about what you just read or you’re a backseat driver.”

  “Passenger seat driver, thank you very much.”

  He slows and keeps his head straight, eyes peeled, and two hands on the wheel.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not gonna hit anyone.”

  “I’m worried about something hitting us, not the other way around.”

  The street we’re on becomes narrower as we drive further away from the congested campus vicinity. Our development is on the outskirts of town, in a quiet, somewhat secluded area, tucked away from the overcrowded apartment communities and bright streetlights. It won’t be that private for long, and I knew when I bought the place that in a few years I’d be surrounded by new houses and grocery stores, and the suburbanites would begin to multiply. Halloween’s the day that’s most telling of how many new families have invaded the neighborhood. The first few years only a handful of kids showed up at my door, then twenty, forty, and last year seventy. They’re coming. And now, I believe Dan and I need to go to that secret spot at the top of the dirt road as much as possible before it disappears. But, not tonight. The experience with his family wasn’t a big turn on, and I’m meaning that in a sexual way. If we fuck when we get home... and believe me, I’ve been picturing him inside of me for days... if we fuck, I think I’d keep thinking about his parents’ words of approval. We have their permission to do it tonight. Even if it was a joke, it’s still awkward to screw right after all of that. Making out, okay, I can handle that, but not a fuck.

  “Are they always that way?” I ask.

  “Who? My parents?” he laughs. “Mmm, yes, unfortunately. Take ‘em or leave ‘em. I don’t have much choice since they created me,” he laughs again. “They’re clingy, but I love them and my family sticks together through thick and thin, and like most families, we have our ups and downs from time to time, but we’d do anything for each other.”

  “Huh,” I say under my breath.

  “You can’t change them. It’s impossible, and I wouldn’t want to anyway. Would you want to change your...” he pauses and I swear I can hear him bite his tongue. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have changed them. My parents were perfect.”

  We pull in front of his place and I moisten my lips, just in case he leans in for a kiss.

  “Tell me more,” he whispers. “I want to know more about you, your life, everything.”

  I take a deep breath and stare out the window. A beautiful grey and white cat is in one of the front lawns, sharpening its claws on a tree. It stops and stares back at the car, then dashes under the front porch as if it’s offended by my presence.

  “Div?”

  “They died,” I whisper, still staring out the window.

  His keys jingle as he opens his door and walks around to the passenger side to help me out.

  The dairy and my nerves cause my stomach to roll again as he touches my arm and I step to the sidewalk. That deep intestinal movement sets in and I feel warm, sweaty; a little dizzy. Shit. That’s a fact, that word. Shit. It’s coming. The ice cream wants out and it wants out now, which makes me even more nervous. No one wants to be sick in front of a person they’ve just started a relationship with. I need to go, now! The whipped cream on top added to its richness; it was just too, too much.

  We walk a few yards toward his door and all I can think about is a way to say, thank you, and goodbye. Yet, I want to go inside with him... oh, this fucking sucks balls. Balls!

  “Dan, how about we call it a...”

  He leans in and kisses me, under the same front cherry tree, in the dark, with his hands on my back, moving down, down... no! Don’t touch my ass!

  “I’m sorry.” I race away, as rapidly as possible to my place. “I’m sorry,” I call back, unable to wait another moment.

  “Wait, we don’t have to do anything. I won’t touch you.” I can picture him holding his hands in the air. “Promise!” He calls after me. “I can control myself.”

  Unlock door, slam door, lock door, run through room, into bathroom, lift the porcelain lid, lift skirt, slide underwear, sit... thank God. How many people have gone through this before? The bathroom panic, and why the fuck does it occur during such important moments?

  I could walk over when I’m finished and explain... yeah, right... how attractive... what a turn on. I’m sure he’d want to kiss me and hang out when I place a visual of my ass exploding in his mind.

  “Div?”

  He’s knocking at my front door, just a room away. I’m silent. Embarrassed. Now I have another hurdle to climb.

  You need a good smack, woman. Boo hoo hoo, so fucking what? You had to take a shit. You think nothing ever comes out of his ass? What’s wrong with you, Div? Look, this guy bores the fuck out of me, but he seems to make you happy, so fucking get off the pot and answer your door. If you don’t, I’ll flash him again, and next time it won’t be in such a private place. I’ll step away from his door and do it from the s
treet for the neighbors to see.

  I knew that was you who did that, and not me. I wouldn’t be so crass.

  “Div. I’m sorry.” He calls through the front door. “I didn’t mean to ask about your parents. I didn’t realize the subject... I didn’t think it would upset you so much that you’d run off. Open the door, I’ll make it up to you... let me hold you, or at least, let me apologize in person. I can start over and we can talk about hockey instead.”

  I smile.

  “Or anything at all. How about the books? Your western books I’m reading are badass. We can discuss those if you’d like.”

  I can’t stop smiling. Dan’s trying to make me feel better and he doesn’t even know what’s going on. Now he believes it’s about my parents and not that he was groping my ass. He’s so sweet and so different from my last relationship with the guy who never took his eyes off his damn video games. Dan pays attention, to everything.

  My stomach, body, and mind are relieved and I can finally relax. The panic subsides as I wash my hands, both with soap and of the situation.

  It’s quiet outside and when I look through my peephole, he’s gone. Gone. And now, once again, it comes down to me. My move.

  I place my head against the door and stare at the floor, debating if I can walk over there now, or if I need time to plan out my explanation. I know, the longer I wait, the harder it’s gonna be. His mind must be spiraling out of control, thinking about what could’ve possibly gone wrong.

  “Fuck!” My head jolts away from the door as another knock rattles my body. I look; it’s him. He’s back.

  Unlock door, open door, stare into beautiful dark eyes, he stares back, my tongue slides across my top lip, he mimics my actions, I smile, he shakes his head. I’m toast.

  “Fuck this shit,” he whispers with a quick lunge forward. He takes me in his arms and our lips meet. Oh my God, he’s one step inside my home. Oh fuck, he can kiss. No, he’s in my home! No, this is way too good to stop. His tongue, yummm. Gliding in and around and out. Jesus. I need this, but, no, not here. Jesus, Mary, Mother of God. He’s in my house! I cover his eyes in a panic. The lights are off, but he’d still be able to see what’s in the front room.

  “Don’t look, please Dan. Please. Keep your eyes closed.” I push him out and shut the door behind us.

  “Your house can’t be that dirty, Div. And even if it is, I really don’t care.”

  What am I going to do with you and all of your fucking problems, Divine Hallowell? A voice in your head, flashing people, watching porn, looking through Dan’s windows, hiding out at work, no friends, no family, and you’re obsessed with all those little ‘knick-knacks.’ You’re bringing me down.

  If you can’t figure out what’s wrong with me and why I’m like this, if you really don’t get me, the way that I act and the stupid mistakes that I make, then you’re either just as fucked up as me, or a complete idiot. And if you can’t connect, then go the fuck away.

  Hmmm, sounds like something you should add at the beginning of your books as a warning to readers. You know, Div, people wouldn’t be able to get through their day and make decisions if they didn’t have an inner voice, like me, to push them in the right direction.

  He’s staring. Waiting.

  “I’m sorry, Dan. I’ll just come right out and say this. I had a stomach issue.”

  His smile puts me at ease. “Is that all?” he exhales. “Are you better? I mean, I know why. Believe it or not, they add cream cheese to the ice cream at that place; it’s part of what makes their desserts stand out from all the rest, but I should’ve warned you. Sorry, Div.”

  He lifts my chin with two fingers, still focused on my eyes. “I thought I really fucked up by introducing you to my crazy family too soon. You sure you’re better?”

  “Much,” I whisper.

  “And it wasn’t because of them, or my prying, or my aggression?”

  “No,” I smile. “And you’re far from aggressive. If anything, you’re just the opposite.” I laugh.

  “You’ll be sorry you said that, trust me.” He has a most gentle expression that causes a tremor to slither down my spine. “I’m taking things slow with you, because I adore you, but also because I want to be inside of you, and no, not here.” He slides his hand over my vag. “I want in, Div. I’ll keep saying that until you open up. Once I’m here.” He places his hand over my heart and whispers in my ear. “Then I’ll be here.” And there’s that hand again, circling the front of my skirt. “Feel like coming over for a while?”

  Hell, fucking, oh yeah, yes, please. I nod but look down at my ridiculous outfit. “Can I change first? Five minutes?”

  “Whatever makes you comfortable. My door will be open.” He walks toward the sidewalk as I rush inside.

  I need to make this fast. I don’t wanna keep Mr. J.D. stud muffin waiting. Damn, that’s a horrible pet name. Still can’t think of anything that fits him.

  One can never be too cautious when it comes to an unhappy stomach, so I pop a chewable Pepto capsule, just to be on the safe side, and slip into a t-shirt, my grey hoodie, and a pair of comfy leggings. I use the bathroom one more time, again, making sure everything’s in order, and then I freshen up my shaved area in case it gets some action. A moistened washcloth, some soap and then a little bit of strawberry body lotion massaged around my abdomen and on the outside of the lips does the trick. Yes, Dan, go ahead and kiss me, lick me, touch me, I’m ready now.

  It’s ridiculous how often you think about sex and yet never act on it, wussy girl.

  His door is open a crack when I arrive and I walk inside, gasping immediately at the book covered walls in his living room. Floor to ceiling, shelf upon shelf of books. The walls have no color that I can see, nothing exposed, just books.

  “Shit,” I whisper. My mother used to tell me as a teenager that I should only go to bed with men who own books. She’d be pleased with Dan’s collection. And it was my mother who gave me a love for books. She read to me every night until I was old enough to read on my own, at which point the two of us would spend our evenings in the living room, each with a book in hand. She loved true crime novels, mysteries, and pretty much all biographies. An avid reader.

  “Dan?”

  “Be right down.” He calls from the second floor. “Make yourself at home, take a beer, or anything you’d like from the fridge.”

  I slide off my shoes and immediately browse his collection. Fuck the drink; I want to see what this man reads.

  Holy balls, Harlequin romances? And Maya Banks? He’s kicking it old school with her Breathless trilogy. I guess he’s kicking it old school in general by owning paperbacks - real, physical, touchable, aromatic books. That rocks. Wait, no way, he’s got Jaden Wilkes, J.A. Huss, Ker Dukey... they’re fucking incredible... Pepper Winters, Alessandra Torre... even Lesley Jones. This is some collection.

  Wait, he has quite a few of Hayden’s books. Is he obsessed with this woman?

  I pull one out and see that it’s a signed copy.

  “Find anything interesting?”

  I’m startled and set the book back on the shelf in a rush. “Sorry,” I say with a quick turn.

  Fuck me. He’s shirtless. No shirt, just jeans. No shirt, just jeans. Can I say that again? That’s all that’s running through my head right now. Look at those abs, and his tat, goddamn it’s beautiful. Across the front of his chest is a crow sitting on a branch of a cherry blossom tree, like the tree out front, and there’s text that coils through the branches which reads dark is lovely. It’s so feminine, yet masculine and from what I know, suits him perfectly - sweet at times, but full of dirty talk. Damn it, if I were a guy there’d be a spot of pre-cum on my jeans.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  “I wish I had a tattoo as stunning as that. When’d you get it?”

  He looks down and grins. “Almost a year ago, but I wasn’t talking about my tat, I meant the books. Did you see this section?” He points to the left and I notice it’s shelf after s
helf of history books. Some are textbooks, while others are biographies, essays, and the like. “My father gave them to me. He has a degree in History, which is like getting a degree in underwater basket weaving, there’s nothing you can actually do with it, except teach, and jobs in academia are few and far between, as you’re probably aware. It’s one of the reasons he started the catering business with my mother. Her degree is in poetry, and again, what are you gonna do with that? That’s why I went into business administration with a focus in marketing. I thought I’d have more options. I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve got kick-ass marketing and advertising skills. Give me a product and I’ll get it to the masses in a matter of days.”

  “How’d you come across a signed copy of one of Hayden’s books? I heard she’s only let a few out into the world, and only during online giveaways.”

  He pauses for a moment and stares at her books.

  “It was a business transaction, her editor needed some press so I posted a few articles about the company and the editing packages they have available for authors. You get gifts sometimes for that, along with a good amount of money.” He opens a closet door under the stairs while I look around the rest of the room.

  Next to the wall of books are two chairs that face one another with a coffee table in between. The chairs are more like mini sofas - large, plush, and comfortable looking. Ones you sink into and need help getting out of, perfect for lounging on a lazy weekend afternoon.

  Dan places a blanket on each chair and then walks toward the kitchen asking again if I’d like a drink.

  “Just a water, or anything carbonated. You have soda?”

  He comes back with two ginger ales, holding both cans playfully against his nipples before handing me one. His nips are red and erect, and I can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s being playful.

  I reach out and follow the cherry tree tattoo up his abdomen, from his right side to his left, stopping at the crow that rests over his heart. And then, with my hand on his stomach, I lean in and run my tongue around his nipple.