Finding A Way

by T. E. Black

  Worst topic ever. My mouth should check in with my head before it spews any other cock-blocking sentences out of it. I can't even blame it on the five sips of beer I had, but I can blame him for derailing my train of thought. I didn't plan on telling him my story, but it seems a little late for that now.

  He cracks a breath-taking smile before lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply.

  "When did you stop using, beautiful? Because you don't look like no junkie I've ever seen." His eyes shift to my arms, searching for the answer to his question. Or track marks. I'm not sure.

  Shaking my head, I answer him quickly before he gets the wrong impression. "I'm not a junkie, never was. I stopped taking them about a week ago. I was prescribed them by my psychologist. I didn't willingly take them, believe me."

  He must be confused by my answer because his eyes leap to mine, trying to figure out what I'm talking about. "Why the hell did you need to see a shrink, sweetheart? You seem to have a pretty cushy life judging by the looks of your mansion. You're a regular ol' princess here." He gestures toward my parents large house and bright green, manicured lawn which screams I must be what my parents are—rich assholes.

  This guy has no room to judge me when he looks like he gives beat-downs for a living. He may be eye candy and exceptionally gifted when it comes to smooth talking, but I refuse to take shit from anyone. I refuse to take shit from him.

  I snap harshly, standing up from my chair, and pointing my index finger at him. "You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Mac. It's rude and unappreciated, but if you must know, my rich parents held college over my head until I saw a shrink after I watched my boyfriend get splattered across a fucking highway. So, before you pass judgment, know the facts. Oh, and I hope there's fire ants in your bed tonight asshole!" I storm away, slamming the French doors behind me.

  I stare at the wooden French doors in shock. What the fuck just happened? I know I insulted the girl, but damn. If any other chick ever talked to me like that I would be fuming, but with her, I actually feel a little bad. I didn't mean to insult her. I was only having a little fun.

  I assumed she was one of those rich, high society bitches by the looks of the damn mansion she lives in. I found it kind of odd when I first saw her walk out her front door rocking chucks, jeans shorts, and a black crop top. I had all these ideas of what Callie would look like in my mind, but none held a candle to the real thing... guess I was pretty fucking wrong.

  I stub out my smoke, looking up into the night sky, taking a long deep breath. When Evan asked me to come up here and help him out so he wasn't stuck with two chicks the whole trip, I was happy to help him. His girlfriend Sierra is pretty cool. Not my type, but hey, to each his own. I prefer a little more meat on my women which Sierra lacks. She’s thin and tall. Legs for days though, that I do appreciate.

  Her friend, Callie, on the other hand…she's the way I like them. Enough curves for me to grab on to as I fuck the sense out of her, and those baby blue eyes which I could get lost in without even trying. And let’s not forget those plump lips that were begging for me to suck into my mouth. She’s what dreams are made of.

  I think my cock was hard before I even met her in person. Sierra wouldn't shut the fuck up about how good looking her damn friend was the past two weeks. She kept making Evan promise he wouldn't even pass her a second glance. Me, I planned on giving her plenty of glances if she had any of the sexy attributes Sierra described. Who knows, maybe I'd even give her the night of her life.

  When she walked out her front door though, My mouth hit her perfectly maintained driveway. Sierra's vivid description didn't even do this girl justice. She was beautiful. It's rare I use the term, but it was the only way to describe her. Light skin complemented by long auburn hair which cascaded down her back. Killer chest with a tight, flat stomach, followed by wide hips and thick short legs. She’s every man's wet dream. Those damn blue eyes drew me in the minute I saw them. A mixture of dark and light that reminded me of the ocean—or some other sappy shit. She’s the perfect woman, and I knew I would have to have her sooner or later.

  What I didn't expect was the little fire she burnt me with when she called me out for judging her. I'm guessing from her little rant she went on, her parents are the ritzy type and she’s the black sheep of the pretty little family portrait.

  I run my hands through my hair roughly. I should apologize. She opened her home to me, even if it isn't technically hers. I haven't been in a place this nice since I was young. The nice house wasn't mine, so to say, but a foster home I got placed in for a while.

  In talking to her tonight, I played around first, seeing what her reaction would be if I told her what I wanted from her. As much as I know she wanted it too, she friend-zoned me and changed the subject, dodging what I said like a speeding bullet.

  I grab the empty bottles, tossing them in the trash can near the door before padding around the house looking for Callie. I hear the sound of water running coming from a room at the end of the long hall. I tap on the door hoping it's her and not her parents, home to find some stranger in their house. I rap my knuckles lightly again when I don't get a response.

  "One second!" she yells. It sounds like she’s rushing out of the shower. I hear her turn off the water and open the shower door. More rustling sounds from inside. Soon the door handle clicks and I pull myself back from it.

  She opens the white door, seeming surprised that it's me standing here. "Uh, Mac… What are you...Is everything okay?" She asks me nervously while I take in what of her body I can see peeking out from the cracked open door.

  She's in a white bath towel, wrapped tightly around her chest. Her petite shoulders are bare and her long red hair is almost black-looking from the water. She’s sexy as sin, and I want nothing more than to shove her back in the door and fuck her in the shower until she can’t walk.

  She watches me drink in all of her gorgeous features. "My bad, I'm not sure what I was thinking with you in the shower. I just wanted to talk about the shit that happened outside."

  She stares up at me with wide innocent doe-eyes. She seems flustered, fumbling with her words. She’s so damn beautiful and I doubt she even knows it. I smirk at how much I affect her already. She may be mad I insulted her outside, but she still wants it. She still wants me. I can almost smell it on her. I pick up on the little things, like her breath quickening, or how dry her lips get around me. If she was any other woman on the planet, I'd have her naked already. Hell, I'd have her naked anyway if she didn't hate me right now.

  "Uh…yeah, it's fine. Give me a minute and I'll be out." She waves her hand, gesturing to her lack of clothing.

  I follow her hand, watching the beads of water which pool down on her chest. Her body teases me, yet she’s completely unaware of it herself. I restrain myself from mauling her like an animal, instead giving her a nod of approval.

  I make my way to the guest room and take a seat on the neatly made bed. I examine the room. The walls are a clean shade of white whereas the carpet is a deep shade of brown. There is a large espresso colored dresser against one wall and a matching armoire opposite of it. This place screams money, but as nice as it is, I’m still uncomfortable as fuck.

  My parents were pieces of shit who put me in the system before I was even born. I couldn't even tell you their real names or what they looked like if I tried. I spent my childhood growing up in foster homes that only saw me as a paycheck. Every home I was placed in gave me back within a year. No one wanted a bastard child despite how much money they were making by dealing with me.

  After years of getting into fights, doing drugs and getting arrested multiple times, a couple wanted to adopt me. This came as a shock. I remember wondering why the hell does somebody want me? It had to be a mistake, but it wasn't; the Davis family adopted me when I was sixteen years old and they actually kept me. They didn't give up on me after twelve months. Instead, they helped me find things to do so I wasn't getting in as much trouble, although it didn’t last long once
I moved to the city at twenty one years old.

  We lived in Vermont in a small but decent house in the suburbs, and it was there I learned to use my hands. My foster father showed me how to tear down anything with an engine and then put it back together. The day I laid eyes on his 69' Ford Mustang was the day I fell in love with cars. I loved caressing all those beautiful automobiles and getting to fix them. They were my life, next to women of course. Almost all women love a nice car no matter what they said. If you had a nice car, their panties dropped to the floor in record time…and I always had nice cars.

  A soft knock on the bedroom door lets me know Callie is there. She stands in the doorway watching me reminisce.

  "Hey, look, I’m no good at this shit, but what I said out there was wrong. I shouldn’t have said that to you. I really appreciate ya letting me crash here." I try to sound genuine. I really am sorry, but I can’t say it. I'm just not used to having to apologize.

  I notice she's dressed now instead of in a towel. I feel myself getting hard just at the sight. She's wearing a long, oversized shirt which stops about mid-thigh. I examine it a little closer focusing on the bare skin that's exposed. The thought of her bare underneath is a total turn on. I quickly avert my eyes when she moves closer. She takes a seat next to me on the bed, silently confirming she didn’t pour fire ants in my sheets when she stormed into the house earlier. Thank fucking God for that.

  "It's all right. I guess I overreacted a little. It's been a long day, and I'm nervous to leave tomorrow," she replies, lying back on the bed and throwing her arms above her head. Her movement causes her sleep shirt to rise up her thighs a little more and I get more curious.

  I sneak a quick peek to see if she is wearing shorts under there. I still see none. Fuck me. I suppress the groan which tries escape from my throat, my cock jumping to life. She's not wearing any. Jesus. She's gorgeous the way it is, but now knowing she's in bed with me with no pants on, that's an entirely different story. I manage to form words after a good minute of attempting to calm myself, not that it worked, but something is better than nothing at this point.

  "Thanks for being so cool about it. You have Sierra and Evan, and I live about ten minutes off campus myself. So, if you ever need anything you have more than enough friends to help you out."

  She glances in my direction, humor registering on her shining face. She smiles for the first time since she walked in the room, and I swear…it's the moment I know will change everything. This girl is way too good for just a quick fuck, despite my first thoughts. She's the kind of woman you spend the rest of your life worshiping. The type of woman men write sad songs about when she breaks their heart. The kind that once you get her in your arms, you never let go of. Her smile lights up her entire face in some sort of way I didn't even know existed. She's fucking beautiful when she smiles.

  "After our last talk, I didn't think you'd want to be friends. Especially since I'm all rich and high class," she says, letting out a small giggle.

  It’s the cutest fucking giggle I have ever heard. Normally women that giggle piss me off. There’s nothing more annoying than trying to get off and the bitch can’t stop giggling like a twelve-year-old, but with her I swear I could listen to that sound until I die. I blow out a breath, laying my head in my hands. I feel like an asshole all over again.

  "I didn't mean to..."

  I’m cut off by her sitting up and shuffling over to my side of the bed, opening her arms and inviting me inside them. What the hell is she doing? I start asking her, but she interrupts me quickly. I snap my mouth shut.

  "It's a hug Mac. It's something friends do, and assuming we're friends now, I'm expecting one from you. So, come here and accept my peace offering, tough guy."

  The smile which breaks across her face as I lean in to accept her offer mesmerizes me once again. If I had her, no amount of time would ever be enough. I want every single piece of this girl. The good, the bad, and the crazy. My heart swells inside my chest when her small arms wrap around my midsection. This girl isn't just hot. She's beautiful, kind, and funny.

  And as much as I try to tell myself I only want her for one night, the truth is…I'm completely fucked.

  “You only give it up when you want to, Callie! It's bullshit. I'm a man for fuck’s sake. You talk all this game about loving me, but it’s fake!"

  He slams back his rum and coke, pouring a second glass not even a moment later. The liquid beads on the side of the frosted glass, dripping onto the skin between his thumb and forefinger before sliding down the length of his tense arm.

  "Can you please stop drinking? You said you would stop a month ago and you're still doing it, Derrick! I love you but not when you're drunk."

  His nostrils flare, and I can tell his buzz from the first drink already kicked in.

  Derrick has a temper when he drinks, and that's one of the main reasons I want him to stop it all together. He runs his hand through his hair frustrated by my calling him out before slamming back the second drink with such force I'm afraid the glass will break.

  "You're right Cal. I'm a piece of shit alcoholic and that's all I'll ever be. You're so much better than me. It's clear as fucking day now!"

  "That's not what I was saying Derrick! I'm saying you have everything going for you, and you're willing to throw it all away over a cheap bottle of bourbon! I'm saying this because I love you dammit! You're going to kill yourself one of these days!"

  His eyes stare daggers into me, and at the flick of the wrist his crystal glass is flying through the kitchen where it hits the wall shattering into pieces around us. It’s metaphorical almost.

  Derrick mutters a slew of curse words under his breath, snatching his keys off of the counter quickly. He stalks out of the room heading toward the front door, and in my gut I know he's leaving. This is what he does. He'll leave for a few hours, get wasted at a bar, then come home groveling for me to forgive him. And I will. Because although he's a drunk, he's owned my heart since ninth grade. Because while people think a relationship takes two to tango, all the relationship needs is one person to be stronger than the other. Two can live on as long as one gives a little more than the other. Loving someone is a selfless act, and while movies and books give you hope that there's a prince waiting for you around any corner, the truth is most of the time there won't be a prince to save you. Save yourself, and try to save the one you love in the process. You have to take care of yourself before anyone else will do it for you.

  My eyes fly open, my chest heaving under the weight of my dream. Tears sting my eyes like it’s the first time I’ve had to live it all over again. How many times is this going to happen? How many times am I going to wake up in the middle of the night, only to remember the worst day of my life?

  Dr. Flynn may have tried to help me with the nightmares and the grief, but nothing will ever actually stop it. I’d do anything to make it stop but for now, it’s out of my hands. So, I glance over at the clock, reading 3:18 a.m. when my body finally lets me slip into the blackness again.

  After making peace with Mac last night, I packed up the rest of my things so we could leave as early as possible this morning. When I extended a hug to him, it was my offering of friendship, which is ironic because I thought about him in the shower this morning. That shouldn't have happened. I had to stop myself from getting off on the memory of him. I forced myself to remove my hand from between my legs, knowing he isn't the right guy for me. He has other things on his mind and friendship isn't one of them, but that's all I can give him. That's all I will allow myself to give him.

  I figure I might as well call my parents to let them know I'm leaving early, but, of course, it goes to voicemail. "Uh, hey mom, dad. Just wanted to let you know I'll be gone when you get back. Sierra came early and we're leaving today. I got the money you left for me, thanks. If you need me, just call."

  I hang up, deciding to get any odds and ends I have lying around packed up. I get dressed, settling for something comfortable to wear on the five hour dr
ive to the apartment. Thank God for yoga shorts. I grab my bag, bringing it out to the living room. Sierra, Evan, and Mac are all sitting on the deck talking amongst themselves. I make my way out to them and am greeted by an excited Sierra talking my ear off about all things “moving”.

  "I made the guys load the moving truck a half hour ago. So whenever you're ready, we can get the hell out of here."

  I look over toward the banister and see Mac watching me intently. He speaks, making sure no one else gets his attention.

  "The lovebirds want to drive the car back together. So, it looks like it's you and me, Red." Red? As if he reads my mind, his lips turn upward into a smirk.

  "Friends give each other nicknames, right? So now you're Red. You can give me a nickname too, but I don't know exactly what you’d call me."

  Trying to figure out where the hell the term Red comes from, I realize it must be because of my current hair color. It's more of a deep auburn, but apparently red seems to be what he sees. His demeanor confuses the hell out of me. Last night he was so intense and sexual with every word he said, but today he seems laid back, being as casual as I'm trying my hardest to be.

  I give him a small smirk, and let out a small laugh while shaking my head at him. “Whatever floats your boat, friend."

  He continues smoking, eyes watching me still while laughing. The thoughts of him and I naked float around in the back of mind, but I shoo them away. Friends don't think about other friends naked. End of story.

  "Well, I'm ready to head out now if you guys are. I just wanna get to the apartment already."

  Half an hour later, Mac and I sit comfortably in the moving truck heading down the freeway while Sierra and Evan follow us in her car. Mac offered to drive, which he claimed was a genuine offer, but if you ask me, he seems like one of those men who think all women are terrible drivers. Lucky for him, it's fine by me because that means I get to control the music for our little road trip. He's in for one hell of a drive with my playlists.