by Claire, Ava
"Cassandra?"
I did a twirl and the smile on my face crinkled to a scowl of confusion. I couldn't escape him at school and now I couldn't even get drunk and belligerent without running into him?
"Dr. Crawford." I staggered back toward my stool, suddenly no longer in a dancing mood. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" he rebuffed. I wished I could say I was so trashed that I didn’t notice that he’d traded the black button down shirt for a charcoal gray V-neck sweater that fit him like sin, but I’d be lying. His hair was a glossy brown in the dim light and his hazel eyes were even more intense. Dive bar looked good on him.
When the bartender slid another shot I’d ordered to the edge of the bar, I moved to claim my prize but Chance blocked me. “I think you’ve had enough, Cassandra.” He repeated his question. “What are you doing here?”
I wanted to tell him where he could stuff it but my inebriated mind dropped his question in the ‘hilarious as hell' box and I laughed instead. He gripped me by the elbow and steered me away from my waiting shot. I let him hold me tight for a couple of strides before I shook him off. "What do you think you're doing? You're not the boss of me."
His dark eyebrows drew together in distaste. "Did you come here with someone?”
I shook my head.
He frowned. “Do you have anyone to pick you up and take you home?"
I tried to lurch away from him, but he slammed an arm onto the wall beside me, blocking me in. I blinked as I drunk in the sight of those powerful midnight strokes seared into his flesh. I could still remember how the dark lines rushed up his bicep and spilt onto his back. I tore my gaze from the tattoo and looked him dead on. It wasn't fair that he was being all commanding, looking like something straight out of some guns blazing action flick. Ferocious eyes. Razor jaw line. Lethal lips. Heat rushed all over me and I ached for him.
His voice lost the scolding edge as he relaxed the arms on either side of me. "Are you okay, Cassandra?” When I paled, he added, “Are you about to be sick?”
"Not quite," I said hoarsely. Being so close to him was a bad idea. I was about to be something alright. Stupid.
I stretched out my hand toward him until my fingers touched the threads of his V-neck sweater. Down over his solid chest, almost brushing his navel before he stopped me.
“Don’t.” It was a gruff command, but his eyes were molten. Coursing with lust.
I licked my lips. “Don’t? You should be ecstatic. After what you did, the only touching you should be getting from me should be a smack upside the head.”
His lips parted in surprise and for a moment, I could see him considering my olive branch. Wanting me. I eased my body from the wall, just needing to move a few inches closer to feel him throbbing in my hands.
He gripped my wrists, stopping my journey downward. “Don’t, Cassandra.” His voice tightened. “I want you and your forgiveness, but not like this. Not when you won’t remember it in the morning.”
I glared at him, anger devouring my lust in one fell swoop. How dare he try to pretend like he was a good person after what he did to me? How dare he try to act like he still cared?
I snatched my hands from him. “Get away from me.”
He didn’t budge. “I’m getting you out of here. Right now.”
“If you think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re in for a rude awakening,” I said stubbornly.
He faltered and I took a measure of satisfaction in the guilt racing across his face. He took a step back, giving me a little space but not enough to dash off to do something crazy like strip down and dance on the bar Coyote Ugly style.
“I know I hurt you and I would take it back if I could,” he said tersely. “If you don’t believe anything else I say, please believe that.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t really care about anything you say. I tried to give you a pass just now and you weren’t interested.”
“You’re blitzed, Cass,” he scoffed angrily. “If you think I want some pity drunk lay then you really never knew me at all.” He cocked his head toward the bar. “All of this is because of your father isn’t it?”
The word ‘father’ sobered me right up and I didn’t have a witty comeback. No jabs.
“I know I have no control over you, and I won’t insult you by saying I know what you’re going through.” His voice softened. “But your father wouldn’t want you here, getting blasted and then driving drunk. Please let me take you home.”
I wanted to tell him that he had no right to talk about my dad or invoke his memory. This was just some ploy to wriggle his way back into my life. But the liquor was doing something to my emotions—I’d already gone through horniness and anger and now sadness was knocking on the door. If he kept talking to me, being nice to me, I was going to cry. And I could NOT cry in front of Chance. Not ever.
“Just leave me alone,” I muttered, not looking him in the eye.
He stood there for a moment, just staring at me before he let out a firm, ‘stay here’ and stalked away. I barely had time to resist before he paid my bill and steered me toward the door. He lassoed some guy who was chain smoking to follow him in my Bug.
Chance swiped my jacket from the floor and tossed it over my shoulders as we walked toward the exit. I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to put my arms into the holes before I just gave up. It didn’t matter anyway since I didn’t feel a thing when we stepped outside.
Chance tossed my keys to the brooding guy who took one look at my bright yellow car and shuddered.
“I didn’t even ask for your help!” I yelled defensively. “Tell him, Chance!”
Chance ignored me, running over to tell the other guy something before shepherding me over to a sleek, black sedan. I slid onto the leather seat and jumped as Chance nearly shattered the window when he slammed my door shut. He slid behind the wheel and turned the key so hard in the ignition I was surprised it didn’t break off in his hand.
“What’s your problem?” I snapped at him. “You’re getting what you want, aren’t you? Forcing me to be around you whether I want it or not?”
He gave me a look so cold that I shivered. “This has nothing to do with you and me, Cassandra. This is about you being irresponsible.”
“Irresponsible? I only had a few shots and-”
“And how were you expecting to get home?” When I didn’t respond, he repeated the question, twice as loud. “How were you going to get home, Cassandra?”
I turned my head to the window, refusing to let him see my sobering guilt. I hadn’t really thought that far. I was being irresponsible, dangerous even—but I wouldn’t admit it. Not to him. Silence filled the car, loud and suffocating. I tugged the zipper of my jacket down a few inches, watching the street lights flicker like fireflies.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he murmured. “Getting upset doesn’t help the situation.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s no problem. I know you’re loving playing the hero instead of the villain for once.”
When we pulled up to a red light, he slammed the car to a stop. “I made a mistake, Cass. A horrible mistake.”
I turned back to the window.
“Look at me Cass.” His voice darkened. “Look at me.”
I slowly tilted in his direction, my head tuning him out, my heart dying to listen as the car rocked back to motion.
“When I told you I thought I was dominant, that I wanted to explore that part of myself with you, you laughed in my face.” He paused. “You laughed, Cass. And when you realized I was being serious, you were horrified and said you needed space. And I gave it to you. Weeks of space. Weeks of not talking to you, knowing that you found me depraved for even suggesting it in the first place. Lola-”
“Don’t you dare speak her name in my presence,” I cut in acidly. “Ever.”
It went quiet again and I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the cool window. I knew what he was going to say next. He was sorry. Oh so sorry.
But he couldn’t be, not really. I glanced over at him.
Not yet.
It was obvious karma needed a help in the right direction. He deserved to feel what I felt. To care about someone with every ounce of yourself, to love them—then have that love ripped away from you when you least expected it. Right when you were ready to be open. To give them everything.
He made the right on my street and I saw that his friend was already parked neatly in front of the house, still puffing on a cigarette. I threw off my seatbelt and reached for the door handle, like I couldn’t wait to get away from him. I had to sell it. Make him work if I wanted him to believe it.
“Don’t drop British Lit.”
My fingers froze against the cool sliver of metal. I smiled on the inside. “I don’t think I can see you day after day, Chance. Not after what happened.”
His voice softened. “I know I have no right to ask it of you. Don’t do it for me. Do it because this course will be good for you.” He droned on about all the things the class would cover and I kept my eyes forward, already knowing I’d decided to stay enrolled.
I glanced down and saw his hand was still on my arm. He unwrapped his fingers, but I took my hand and put it over his.
“I want to forgive you,” I said softly, looking deep into his eyes for effect. “I want to believe that you’re really sorry.”
He leaned in closer. “I am sorry. Truly.”
Our lips hovered mere inches from each other and I didn’t pull away, just watching him watch me, smiling slightly when he tucked my hair behind my ear. I couldn’t kiss him right off without being suspicious, so I put the conflict that bubbled in my gut in clear view. Trembling lips slightly parted, eyes begging him to do what both of us so clearly desired. To set us both free.
He led me to the slaughter, his grip on my hair firm as his lips brushed mine. The light touch is enough to send a shiver of memory down my spine. The kiss deepened and I forgot that this was for show and melted into him. My lips were soft and pliable, welcoming his tongue into my mouth. A rapt, soulful moan echoed from him and I froze, his top lip between both of mine. I’d heard the sound of contentment a million times before. I used to lose myself in the sound, the timbre and inflections leaving me breathless.
Hungry.
Happy.
It was the exact sound he was making when I caught him with her.
I pulled away from him and burst from the car, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. I snatched my keys from his friend and booked it up the steps leading to the front door, slamming it shut behind me. Trying to slam the door on the past. On all the hurt. On all that we lost.
I staggered forward like a zombie, pausing at the living room. I’d expected to see Mom curled up on the sofa, waiting to give me an earful, but the room was long abandoned. I glanced around the darkness solemnly, waiting to hear her footsteps on the stairs and coming up wanting. I trudged to my dad’s old armchair and ran my fingers up and down the worn fibers before I sunk into it, sobs rocking me back and forth.
****
I walked into Chance’s office like I was going into battle. I'd been psyching myself up since I woke up that morning, going through all the reasons why I should stay enrolled in British Lit. 1.) Dropping the class would give him power over me, 2.) I’d scoured Blackboard for another English elective and, no dice and 3.) Taking his class was the in I needed if I wanted to get revenge.
But I’d be lying if I said that revenge was the only thing on my mind. When his lips brushed mine last night, everything faded away. It was short lived, but those few seconds were full of a bliss I hadn’t felt with any other guy. I couldn’t help but fantasize about another kiss, this one trailing over my jaw, down the nape of my neck. A kiss that would be just the beginning.
A quick survey of him and I knew he was thinking about it too. My eyes hovered in the crotch arena and I bit my lip, remembering the taste of his salty warmth on my tongue.
Stop it, I told myself sternly, willing my eyes up, away from his sculpted chest beneath his dark pinstripe shirt. But up meant I had to tango with those eyes, the same ones that still knew what made me tick. And from the spark and slight upward curve of his lips, he knew I was still thinking about that kiss.
I stood ramrod straight, going rigid as a statue. "I looked over the syllabus and saw that you take off a certain number of points for every day of class missed so I wanted to begin an extra credit research assignment." I held out my typed proposal for his approval.
He took it and skimmed the paper before bringing his eyes back to mine. “An interesting topic, Cassandra.” He paused. “That’s all you wanted to talk to me about?”
I gave him a quick nod of the head.
He twisted his lips to one side, not convinced. "You didn’t come here to talk about something else?"
"Don't flatter yourself. Last night was the result of one too many shots, nothing more." I ignored his warm, flirtatious smile, turning toward the door. "I just came here to turn this in and now I'm leaving."
"I don't buy it." His deep voice lassoed me back in. He was doing the ‘thing’—the low, gravelly emphasis that turned every square inch of me into raw nerve endings. A trembling, throbbing mess. "You could have emailed me the word document. It would have taken less than five minutes and if just being around me brings you such physical pain, it would have been the logical course of action."
I didn't turn back to face him. I couldn't let him think he had a point.
"Instead, you decided to come to my office and hand it to me in person." His chair creaked and I had a sinking feeling he was moving toward me. "You came here because you wanted to see me. Because of last night."
He was closing in. Close enough that my body betrayed my true motives. I could hear every husky breath rippling over my skin. My heart boom boomed in my chest and my voice trembled. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uh huh." He let out a low chuckle. "You can't even look at me, Cass."
"Shut up," I hissed weakly. "I'm not going to stand here and do this." I moved closer to the door, twisting the knob and pulling it open, but my escape was short lived because he was a step ahead of me. He reached around me and pushed it closed with a firm hand.
"You can't keep me here." I finally spun to face him. "I want to leave, Chance."
I expected some sarcastic retort but instead, the hand pressed against the door slackened and his face was awash with emotion. Regret. Guilt. Sadness. "Say it again."
I felt like a balloon caught in the breeze, untethered and bopping about. Just when I got used to things and knew what to expect the wind changed. "S-say what again?"
The emotions hardened as did his arm. He stepped closer, essentially pinning me in place. "Say my name."
I hitched a breath as I realized that our bodies still fit so well together; clicking, moving, breathing like three years were no more than three minutes. I felt his name on my tongue, writhing and alive. But there was no remembering the bliss without remembering the pain.
I steeled myself and looked him square in the face. “I can't say your name without thinking of hers.”
"God damn it, Cass," His voice was rough with frustration. "I made a mistake. I have no excuses but-"
"Good," I interjected stubbornly. "Because no excuse could explain away what you did."
We glared at each other, jaws squared, teeth clenched. With the battle lines drawn and neither of us budging, I couldn't help but catapult back to that night three years ago.
I'd spent most of it holed up in the library, futilely attempting to do homework until the words in the textbook swam and blurred. It had been almost a month since Chance sat me down after saying four words that made my heart stutter in my chest. He didn't want to break up, but his confession was just as dumbfounding. After a lot of 'soul searching', he thought he was a Dominant and wanted to explore the bdsm lifestyle.
Since his confession, my days were filled with Google searches and scouring Wikipedia. How could
Chance, a dark, brooding, progressive man, get off on inflicting pain on someone he claimed he loved?
I still wasn’t sure what was different about that night, what made it different from all the other nights and led to me being ready to answer his question. Maybe it was the hours of studying, turning words into a blur of smudged black and blue that gave me the push. All I knew was the only thing that was clear was that I loved him—and if this was a part of him, I'd try to love it too.
I decided to surprise him at his apartment and tell him I was ready to explore, but I was the one who got a surprise…some woman on her knees in front of my boyfriend.
I felt the tears latching to my words as I came back to now, face to face with someone that still had the ability to reduce me to a bumbling mess. "I need to leave."
He let out a weary sigh, but still didn't move. "I should let you leave. But I-" He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up so it hung in unruly tufts around his painfully attractive face. "I know I should let you go, Cassandra."
I swallowed the rock at the back of my throat but it just expanded, choking any rebuttal or fight. I wanted to hear him out.
"I've tried to let you go," he said quietly. "I even put an ocean between us. But it didn't matter. Everywhere I went, I saw you." He reached toward me, his hand hesitating a few inches from my cheek before he cupped it. When I didn't shirk away from the intimate gesture, he moved his other hand from the door and held my face gently, strumming his thumb up and down my jawline like he used to.
"You know me," he said after a minute. "I didn't believe in regrets or do-overs—not before that night. But hurting you is the biggest regret of my life, Cass. I'd give anything to do it all over."