by T. E. Black
"Tell me about your ex."
I feel her stiffen with the mention of him, and I know this is a sore subject, but Leah was a sore subject for me, too. I let her in, I told her those things, and I need her to let me in now, too. I want to know about her. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears, and her past. Good, bad, I want every piece.
She takes a deep breath, speaking softly and unsteadily.
"His name was Derrick. He was my high school sweetheart, my one and only. We met when I was a freshman and he was a sophomore. He was the total opposite of me. The typical popular jock. I was the odd ball out, always with my nose stuck in a book instead of talking to people. Sierra is the reason I met him, actually." She pauses, blowing out a long breath before continuing. "We were friends, and she invited me to a party where he stuck up for me when some guys from my class were giving me a hard time about my huge boobs. Everything happened so fast after that. Before I knew it, I was graduating, and we were getting ready to go to college together. Then he was gone. He liked to drink, a lot. He was a bastard when he was drinking." She laughs lightly to herself. "It's not really funny what he used to do to me, but I guess when you love someone, you end up sacrificing a part of yourself to fit their wants and needs. Love makes people do stupid things, and I was the dumbest girl on the planet."
My body tenses as I listen to her. That motherfucker better not have hit her. I swear, I will find his grave and dig the piece of shit up and kill him all over again. I wouldn't think twice about doing it. I need to know.
"Did he hit you?" I ask, trying to stay calm.
"God, no!" she squeaks loudly. My body instantly relaxes.
"He was verbally abusive when he was drunk, but he never laid a hand on me. He liked…uh...having his cake and eating it too. With multiple girls..."
Once again, I'm pissed off at this guy. How he could ever cheat on a woman like this is beyond me. If she was mine, my eyes wouldn't fucking stray a millimeter from her. Not that they don't already, and she's not even mine yet. I've probably showed her more attention than he ever had.
"He was an asshole then, and he didn't deserve you," I comment sternly, running my lips over her hair.
"He was an asshole," she clarifies. "But he was my first. My first everything, and I had a special thing with him. I couldn't control it. In my eyes, he did no wrong, and I realize now it was stupid of me because he was screwing everything that walked."
I listen to her, enjoying the sound of her voice, completely wrapped up in it. I memorize every giggle, every sigh, and every smile.
"I let Derrick drive that night, you know. I was completely sober, and I did nothing as he got in the driver’s seat. I killed him, Mac, and that's why my parents made me get help. They knew I did it. They knew I killed him. So, they figured some medication would make me forget. But I will never forget."
I reach up, tilting her head back by her chin, making her look me in the eyes. I can see how this crushes her. What the fuck is wrong with her parents, letting her believe she killed him? It was his fucking choice to drive, not hers. He made his own mistakes.
"You did not kill him. He killed himself, Callie. It’s not your fault," I argue, trying to be very clear.
She lets out a sigh. I can tell she’s heard it a thousand times before. Silence filters through the air, surrounding us both.
"I tried to kill myself once. I blamed it on the medication I was taking, but I was fully aware of what I was doing. I counted out every pill I washed down with a bottle of vodka. Twelve pills and twelve shots. I couldn't deal with it. I told everyone I was good, but I was never good. Guilt isn't something that just goes away, and no one seems to understand. They didn't see him, Mac. They didn't see him splattered across the road like a possum who got ran over and left there. I saw it though, and I'll never forget it."
Her breathing picks up and her body shakes lightly while she cries in my arms. I instinctively soothe her by turning her around and placing her head into the crook of my neck. I speak softly to her in her ear, soothing her.
"It's okay sweetheart. I got you covered now. Everything's gonna be okay."
I keep repeating this until she calms down enough to stop crying. She pulls away from me, letting me get a good look at her now tear streaked face. She's still beautiful as fuck even when she's a blubbering mess. I could take this woman in any way she would give me. Her tears, her laugh, her smile, her scowls. I'll take every inch if she'll let me.
She laughs softly, a hiccup escaping.
"Nothing like casual conversation, huh?"
I let out a soft chuckle, running my hand along her smooth skin on her cheek.
"It's all right, babe. We all gotta go to that dark place some time or another. We all have our demons. You just gotta figure out how to deal with them. You’re not the only one, sweetheart."
She nods her head slightly, turning out of my view. I study her movements while she wipes at her face.
"Let's get outta here. You've got a big day tomorrow anyway," I suggest, tugging her up to her feet, but never letting her fingers escape mine.
After Mac dropped me off last night, Sierra and I lounged around the house, getting things ready for my first day of classes tomorrow. I talked about how I was so excited to finally start, but also nervous. Sierra said the campus is huge, so don’t get overwhelmed.
My seat in my English Literature class is the perfect one. I stay in between the classroom full of students, blending into the crowd like a shadow amongst them. Everyone speaks around me, but no one notices me. The professor talks about Shakespeare and I can’t help my mind wandering back to the creek yesterday. Mac holding me, like he does all the time now, felt good. He’s such a caring and kind man underneath his hard exterior. For someone covered in tattoos, and muscles which scare the crap out of little kids, you’d expect he would be as hard as he looks. Instead, he’s compassionate.
Sierra told me he’s never like that with any of the women he sleeps with, so I must be special. I shrugged off her suggestion. I can’t think of being with him that way. I don’t want to think about being with anyone. We obviously have a connection, but I’m not ready to give myself to someone emotionally again.
Since Derrick’s accident, I’m too afraid to get close to anyone. I’m afraid of losing them, too. I don’t think I’ll be able to come back from it next time. I didn’t really come back from it this time, but at least I’m living my life instead of walking around like a zombie.
“Excuse me, but do you have an extra pen?”
I’m saved from my thoughts when I see a handsome guy, maybe in his twenties, leaning over the empty seat between us. I nod my head, fishing around my bag for an extra one. Handing it to him, he flashes me his beautiful white teeth.
“Thanks. I’m Chase, and you are?” He tips his head to the side.
“Callie,” I reply to him, looking him over.
Brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, not too skinny, but not muscular like Mac. He’s attractive, but in a clean cut sort of way. He seems like he has money from the way he’s dressed, wearing a polo shirt and light colored ripped jeans.
“That’s a perfect name for someone as beautiful as you, Callie.” He raises his eyebrows a little.
I don’t want to be rude to him, but the last thing I want is to hear pick up lines while I’m trying to make it through my first day of classes. He may think he’s smooth, but he’s not. I know his game already. Been there, done that, heard it all a thousand times.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“You should come to my buddy’s house this weekend. He’s throwing a little Welcome Bash. It should be pretty awesome. Beer, music, you know. It's gonna be a rippah.”
I sigh quietly before letting him down.
“Sorry. I’m not a real fan of house parties.”
He lets out a soft laugh before continuing to pitch me his idea.
“I’m usually not either, but this is different. We’re all old enough to drink. We just prefer to have it at his hous
e so no one has to drive from the bar.”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head at him. I mean I’ll give it to him; his persistence is impressive, but still it’s not going to change my mind. I’m not going to a party where I won’t know anyone besides the people I bring with me. That’s not fun. That’s just awkward.
He slides me a small piece of paper. I open it up and read the address of what I assume is the place the party will be held and a phone number.
“Call me if you change your mind. It starts at nine.”
I fold the paper back up, tucking it into my hoodie pocket before answering him.
“Thank you, but expect nothing,” I confirm my already made up mind.
He makes a muffled noise and turns back to taking his notes.
The professor dismisses us early in light of the first day of class. English Lit. was my only class today. So, I walk around campus, familiarizing myself with it. I walk out of the classroom building, wandering through the small courtyard which lies in between the buildings. Seeing a park bench placed in front of a fountain, I take a seat and pull out my phone. I open up my little yellow notepad app and type in my entry for last night and today being I forgot. Nature.
I hit save, leaning back as I watch the busy campus around me.
Derrick would have liked it here. I know he would have. He was supposed to have a full scholarship here, which was one of the main reasons I chose this university. At first, it was only because I wanted to be close to him, but once I saw the campus online, I instantly fell in love with it. I loved the city, being I was from a small town. I wanted the opposite. I love the hustle and bustle that surrounds the city and I love Boston’s rendition of a Central Park. I haven’t seen it in person yet, but I plan on going there as soon as everything settles down. Hopefully Mac will be the one to take me there.
I jump when I feel two hands slip around my shoulders, pulling me into them. My heart pounds in my chest and my panic sets in just as I spin around to see a very amused Mac. I throw him a glare trying to regulate my breathing.
“Jesus Christ, Mac! You can’t just sneak up on someone like that! You almost gave me a heart attack."
I hear him let out a small chuckle, massaging my shoulders where his hands are on each side. His touch feels amazing. Having his hands on me is heaven. It seems like he finds every knot in my shoulders while he continues to massage them.
“I highly doubt you were that scared, Red,” he whispers into my ear.
This man always needs to get close when he talks and it’s screwing with my head—or my vagina, one or the other. Either way, it’s amazing.
His breath blows lightly against it and goosebumps break out on my skin. His voice is the sexiest thing I've ever heard. It makes my mind picture what he looks like naked again, even though I've been doing pretty well at fighting it. I cannot think about him that way. All right, let's face it, I never freaking stopped thinking about him. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I can think all I want, but I can't touch. No harm done, right?
The amusement in his voice makes me want to punch him. Heart attacks happen to people of all different ages and with all the stress I’ve had in the past three years, I wouldn’t doubt if my heart was waiting to cave in one of these days.
I shoot another glare at him before letting out a long breath.
“Still, don’t sneak up on me like that. What are you doing here anyway?” I ask.
I know he doesn’t go to the university, so really there's no reason for him to be here. Unless maybe he was coming to see me, but he didn’t even know my class time and I’m out two hours earlier than I’m supposed to be.
“Well I came down to look at an employee’s truck, but I saw you sitting here,” He shrugs casually.
I knew he wasn’t here to see me, but it doesn’t stop the little bit of disappointment which filters through my brain. For a second, I thought maybe he was coming to surprise me. Maybe he would wait for me in the hallway outside my class and greet me with a big…UGH! I’m ridiculous to be thinking like this. We are friends, even if he holds me whenever we’re around each other. It doesn’t change the fact I’m not ready for a man in my life, and he will never be ready to have a woman in his. We’re two fucked up people who can never be with someone else. I guess we have more in common than I thought.
I stand up, grabbing my bag and spinning toward the direction of my apartment.
“Well I won’t keep you. I’m gonna head out anyways,” I say.
I start to walk away when I feel his hand grip my upper arm, turning me around to face him.
“Why don’t you just come with me? I was gonna come back and pick up his truck, but you can drive mine back to the shop and I can grab his now. It’ll save me a trip.”
I give him an unsure look, contemplating his idea. I've never driven a truck before. What if I smash it on the way to the garage? I don’t have the money to pay for that. I barely have enough money left to buy groceries for the apartment, and I’m not calling my parents to ask for more money. That is not an option.
“Red, it’s fine. You can drive my truck. I’ll be right in front of you. Just follow me there. Come on, don’t leave me hanging. You know how I got you covered all the time? Cover me this time," he pleads with me.
I huff out a breath and cross my arms over my chest. I poke my finger into his hard chest as I make my point to him.
“Fine, but I’m still mad at you for scaring the shit out of me, Malcolm Davis, and you owe me big time.”
A crooked grin plays on his lips as he shrugs his shoulders at me.
“Anything you want, sweetheart.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I bump my shoulder into his side before walking past him toward the garage. I want to get this car and get the hell out of here already.
“Stop with the pet names Mac, and stop calling me Red. The color of my hair is auburn, you jackass. There’s a big difference.”
“You’re going the wrong way,” he yells in my direction. I can literally feel him laughing at me still. It’s not funny. I’m mad and sexually frustrated, and that’s a horrible combination.
I swear, I want to kiss, fuck, and bury Malcolm Davis all at the same time. How is that even possible? Those three emotions shouldn't fit together, but in my mind that's where they all lie. Together. Each one equal to the other.
He tags along behind me, laughing.
Once we get the teacher's car on the road, I follow Mac to his garage in the city. I think I cheated death about ten times driving on these crazy city roads, but at least Mac’s truck is now safely parked in the garage parking lot.
He shows me around the garage, taking time to let me see his beautiful car he’s building. It’s gorgeous from what I see right now. It isn’t fully put together, but the candy red paint job makes up for the lack of assembly. I lean against the front hood of it, admiring what it will be when he’s done.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask, running my hands against the smooth feeling of the paint.
“1969 Ford Mustang Fastback,” he answers, studying my every move. I can see something primal in his eyes while he watches me lean against his prized possession. His eyes are dark and his nostrils flare slightly.
“She’s beautiful.”
I stare into his eyes, licking my dry lips. His eyes get darker. He steps toward me, the intensity making me swallow a lump in my throat. My breathing increases and I watch him. The wonder of what he will do next adamant. The way he stalks toward me is like a caged animal experiencing freedom for the first time. His expression conveys he's hungry and I’m the only meal for miles.
He steps in front of me, his hands finding my ass. He gives it a squeeze before picking me up and gently placing me on the hood.
I feel the desire pooling between my thighs. One of his hands stays planted on my ass as the other slides up my body slowly caressing every inch. His fingers slide up the side of my neck, reaching into the hair behind my ear. My heart pounds in my chest while the hairs o
n the back of my neck stand up in anticipation. My mind races through a thousand scenarios of how this will end, but all I can concentrate on is the way Mac’s eyes never leave mine. The way he looks at me sends shivers through my spine. Lowering his mouth so it’s hovering above mine, he whispers, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering around at full force.
“Not as beautiful as you, Callie.”
I shiver from the chills his voice sends throughout my entire body. I try to speak, but instead I stay silent. He stares directly into my eyes, never looking away once. I know I should stop this, but I can't. I can't find it in my heart to push this amazing man away from me.
“I would kill to bend you over the hood of this fucking car. Fast and hard, that’s how I’d give it to you, and I can tell by the way your body is shaking under my touch, that you want it too. Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself. Just tell me it’s okay, Callie. Tell me it’s okay to undress you. That it’s okay to kiss every inch of your beautiful fucking body, and I will, sweetheart.”
I swallow hard, willing the words to fall out my mouth. I want to tell this sexy and rugged man he can have me, but the words don’t come. Instead, he takes it upon himself to lower his mouth to mine. Slowly at first, his lips touch mine. Then his kiss speeds up and his tongue runs a path over my lips, seeking permission to enter. I moan against him, which he takes as the acceptance he wanted, and darts into my mouth. He tastes of nicotine and mint and it’s a delicious combination. My hands find his hair and tug on the longer strands. He rewards me with a groan laced with satisfaction as I deepen the kiss, pulling him closer to my body. His hand grips my ass tightly, tilting me so I can feel his erection pressing against my stomach. My head spins from the feeling of his hands and his mouth on me. My head is working overtime right now. I pull away, gasping to catch a breath. His mouth moves down my neck just as words tumble from my lips.