Amazingly Broken

by Jordin Williams

  I had too many weaknesses.

  “You know we're not going to hook up,” I said, pushing away. I was telling myself as much as I was reminding him. “Friends and nothing more.”

  Jaxon nodded with a grin, “Friends, gotcha. That's the plan. No need to keep reminding me.”

  By the look on his face, I knew the wheels in his brain were turning. He knew a lot more ways to seduce me than I did to reject him. He had the advantage of experience, but he seemed to push those thoughts aside.

  “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Its college, Toots. The streets are filled with coeds eager for sex, and I am not one to disappoint. Anyway, you don’t strike me as the type to enjoy casual sex, and I’m not the type to enjoy commitment. We are a perfect match as roommates, but we’d be a mess as anything else.” He kissed me on the forehead like you kiss a little kid or a puppy. “I’ll respect your boundaries . . . mostly.”

  The statement snapped me out of my cologne stupor and brought me back to reality. The negative things I’d heard about him and had seen—fighting, drinking, and sleeping with everything in a skirt—came back to me. I vowed not to indulge the fantasy. It was one thing to admire his body; it was another thing to get caught up in his nonsense.

  “I want none of that,” I said, looking up. “The sex, I mean.”

  Jaxon seemed unfazed by my declaration. “You say that now, but down the road you may have a completely different answer,” he said, without a hint of coyness. “People say the heart wants what it wants, but the libido wants what it wants, too.”

  I glared at him.

  This was going to be a long semester.

  Chapter 6

  After Jaxon left, I wandered into the kitchen, looking for a late-night snack, so at least one of my appetites could be satisfied. There was a recycling bin in the corner filled with beer bottles. Jaxon obviously drank a lot. It was possible that he didn’t empty it very often, but it was also possible that he drank every night. If that was the case, I was worried about him.

  Tiffany was right to warn me not to fall for him. The last thing I needed to add to my college experience was a guy who loved to drink and knew how to throw a punch.

  I needed my own place.

  If the university couldn’t find me a dorm room, then I needed to find a job and earn rent money.

  In my hometown, I worked as a waitress at a diner. It wasn’t fun, but my dad wouldn’t give me money. The more he drank, the less I tried to interact with him. If I wanted clothes, lunch money, a car, gas, or anything else, I paid for it. The best money I spent was for my plane ticket to Florida. Tiffany told me to make him pay for the ticket and school, but that wasn’t an option. He would’ve never agreed. It felt good to take care of myself though. In the long run I knew I would be able to take care of myself. Even if he would’ve offered to pay I wouldn’t accept. He wielded enough control after my mom died; I wasn’t looking to give him any more.

  Granted, this wasn’t an ideal living situation, but I had a free place to stay with a bed until I found something else. It was time to get settled in and catch-up on a week’s worth of sleep.

  I lugged my bags into his bedroom He had two dressers, one tall and one short. The shorter one had a large attached mirror that faced the bed. There was nothing on either dresser—no pictures, no loose change, nothing. The room was spotless, not even a stray dirty sock on the floor, and the bedside table only had a lamp on it. Since the rest of his place was cleaner than an empty hotel room, I had expected some signs of life in here.

  Looking for a place to put my clothes was a valid excuse to do a little snooping. I opened the drawers of the tall dresser, finding them packed with perfectly folded clothes. The shorter dresser was empty, so I put my stuff in there. I hung a few dresses in the closet on spare hangers and noticed that his shirts and pants were arranged by color and type. None of this was what I imagined after meeting him. Only his nightstand contents met my expectations. The drawer was filled with condoms.

  Typical.

  Making sure everything looked undisturbed; I grabbed shorts and a tank top and headed to the bathroom. As I undressed my phone chirped with a text message alert from Cole.

  Hope everything’s going well. Miss U. Call soon.

  Sighing, I turned the phone to vibrate and started the shower. When the water was warm enough I stepped in.

  Ever since I was old enough to take them, I had loved showers. Everything about them is comforting—the warm water, the privacy, the white noise blocking out the world.

  My parents were the same way. In my house, nobody knocked on bathroom doors. Once you shut the door, you might as well have left the house. As soon as I was old enough to clean myself, my mother let me be. It was my first step toward being a grown-up and it was glorious. I’d stay in there so long the whole room would fill with steam, dew covering the counter and tiles long after I finished. Later, even on my father’s worst days, he didn’t bother me in the bathroom. Not one cuss word or banging fist breached that sanctuary.

  I could deal with the lumpy sofa at Tiffany’s, but having no privacy in the bathroom was like being tortured to me. Jaxon’s bathroom was an oasis of fluffy towels and perfect water pressure. It was the first time since arriving in FL that I had a real shower, covering myself in soapy bubbles, standing still with my eyes closed as the water poured down on me. I wanted college to feel like a new beginning, but this was the first time it did.

  Almost an hour later, I climbed out, grabbing a huge towel, wrapping myself in softness. My clothes were luggage-wrinkle free from the steam, and I felt relaxed enough to sleep for a month. I sprawled out on my bed, nestling my head into the dense, down pillow. The song of distant crickets played outside the window as I turned out the light and drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 7

  Jaxon was never home to distract me. He even missed our appointment to work on the art project Sunday afternoon. It didn’t bother me. I relished the peace and quiet and assumed he’d show up eventually.

  I developed a routine that first week. When I got in, I sat at his desk and did all of my homework. I needed excellent grades to apply for a scholarship that would offset the cost of tuition. I took loans to cover the first semester. Tiffany's mom agreed to sign with me to keep my father out of it. Getting the scholarship was essential if I wanted to finish my degree.

  I buried my face in books, but thoughts were constantly interrupted. If it wasn't Tiffany stopping by or calling me, it was my neighbor blaring his music. Hip hop was the genre of choice, and he was constantly playing it. The music was so loud that thinking was near impossible. Luckily I was able to block it out by listening to my own music but it was still hard to study taking me twice as long.

  When my homework was finished, I turned to TV. I usually watched sappy chick flicks. I was always into them because there was always a happily ever after. Which life didn’t seem to have. One night, I decided to change it up and found an old comedy on cable, where the father was a complete mess leading up to his daughter’s wedding. He couldn’t handle her not being his little girl any longer and wild antics ensued. It made me sad enough that I had hard time falling asleep that night. It was wonderful to have some space to myself, but there’s something to be said for interruptions. It’s not always good to be left alone with your thoughts.

  A part-time job was definitely in my future.

  I needed cash and distractions.

  On Friday, I decided to call Cole. It seemed cruel to continue ignoring him, and it hadn’t stopped his calls and texts. I sat anxiously as the phone rang in my ear. We hadn’t talked since he broke up with me. It was his choice at first but by the time he started texting me to talk, I didn’t want to anymore. He hadn’t given up though and so I decided this was his chance.

  The ringing stopped. “So, how’s the beach life?” he instantly asked.

  He must’ve been awaiting my call.

  “I wish I knew. I’m at least an hour from the beach. It’s good, though.
I’m adjusting.”

  “I wanted to say, well, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have —”

  “It’s water under the bridge Cole. You did what you needed to do, and it made sense. Iowa to Florida is too much distance in a relationship, so don’t worry about it.”

  I wasn’t trying to persuade just him, but myself.

  “I just think.” He stopped, but I could hear him breathing half a continent away. “It’s, well, I didn’t mean it, Elana. I’m sorry I did it.”

  It was so much easier when we were a couple. He didn’t exactly make my heart beat faster, but he made it beat consistently and comfortably. “I’m here, you’re there. It made sense.”

  He drew in his breath, about to speak again.

  “So you don’t hate me?”

  “No, I don’t hate you Cole. I understand, really.”

  I did understand him breaking up with me, sort of, just not when he ignored me for two months. I was pretty much over it but hearing Cole’s voice made it hard over again.

  “Great Elana.”

  “Listen, Cole, I’ve gotta go. I have a huge test tomorrow and loads of studying to do. Talk soon, ok?”

  “Yeah, sure. Thanks for calling. Good night.”

  I hung up the phone and rolled over, hugging one of the pillows. I was happy to get that phone call out of the way. I knew it was best since he constantly called or texted me since I had arrived in Florida. I finally thought I moved on but talking to him brought all the emotions back. I drifted to sleep on top of the covers, phone next to me, clothes still on, cuddling a sack of feathers. I was exhausted.

  After a week of not seeing Jaxon, I started to worry. He could be anywhere, drunk in a ditch, trapped in a burning car, bloodied in an alley, locked in a prison cell. He hadn’t even been in art class, and we needed to finish our first drawing. I decided to check with Tiffany before someone showed up to evict me. I grabbed my phone and dialed Tiffany’s number

  After a few seconds she answered. “Hey, Elana, I started to think you left the country.”

  “Not without you. I’ve been getting settled, adjusting to college life. You know the drill.”

  “I understand, and I know you like time to yourself. Everything okay?”

  “Perfect,” I sighed.

  “Have you ever noticed when someone says perfect they almost never mean it?”

  “No really, Tiff, I’m good. Let’s do something this week. Lunch or whatever. I need talk to someone before I am officially declared a hermit.”

  “Unlikely with that roommate wandering around. Has he tried anything yet?”

  “I haven’t seen him since the night I got here. I can tell that he’s been home a few times for clothes and stuff, but that’s it.”

  “Huh, that’s good, right?”

  “Of course, I don’t need him standing around half-naked, making thinly-veiled sexual advances.” I forced a chuckle. “So, um, have you guys seen him?”

  “Jaxon? Not me, but he’s been out with Lance a couple of times to work on the car and stuff. I had a big paper due yesterday, so I haven’t been paying too much attention. Who the heck assigns a paper this early in the semester? College was much cooler on TV.”

  I laughed. “You’re telling me.”

  “Are you worried about him Elana?”

  “No,” I said, doing my best to hide that I was.

  “You’re lying!”

  “No I’m not! Just wanted to know where he disappeared to is all, I swear.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “I better get back to it Tiff. Love you.”

  “Okay, love you, too. Text me with a plan.”

  The next night, standing in the shower with hot water washing over my body, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jaxon. I saw him smiling at me, his arm reaching out to me, his abs flexing as he bent toward me. I conjured his smell and felt the warmth of his skin after his shower that first night.

  Luckily, the front door interrupted the fantasy. It was not a good use of my time. I heard giggling coming from the living room and remembered the bathroom didn't have a lock. I quickly rinsed, dried off, and slipped on my shorts and a tank-top. Pressing my ear against the door, I could hear Jaxon talking to a girl.

  “Want something to drink?” he asked.

  “Noooo,” she replied. “But I know something I do want. Youuu!”

  How original.

  “Do you?” I could hear his grin.

  The leather couch squeaked and the sounds of two people making out came from the living room.

  Seriously? When I'm in the apartment?

  In a matter of minutes, I had gone from worrying about him and desiring him to wanting to kick him. How the hell was I going to get out of the bathroom without calling attention to myself?

  “Take your pants off,” she whined.

  “Slow down. We’ve got all night.”

  They were probably so drunk that they didn't even hear the shower running. Or he forgot he had a roommate. I opened the door and slammed it, attempting to make my presence obvious. I decided that calling attention to myself was smart. Maybe they wouldn’t go all the way.

  I heard her giggling.

  “Stop kissing me there,” she laughed. I could hear her squirm.

  I hurried to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Unfortunately, I could still hear every lip smack and whisper. It was 1:30 in the morning, and I had to be up in six hours. The door slamming shut didn’t even faze them. I laid down in bed and tried to sleep but kept straining to hear.

  The giggles quickly turned into full on moans and groans and then they stopped.

  The door to the bedroom opened and I laid there trying not to make a noise. Is he really bringing her into the bedroom where I was?

  I barely open my eyes, enough to see but my back was towards the door. Then he came around the bed and over to the bedside table. He opened the drawer and wrestled around until I heard crumpling plastic. There was a slight tear and when his hand reappeared from the drawer I saw the square condom wrapper. His eyes darted towards me and I squeezed mine shut. A few seconds later I heard the door close.

  Pulling the sheets up around my neck, the girl began moaning and groaning as if it was half painful and half pleasurable. The couch screeched as it scooted across the wooden floor. Before long it was banging against the wall on the other side of the room. The moans got louder and louder. I pulled a pillow over my ears to dampen the sounds.

  Jeez.

  The next two nights were more of the same, and it sounded like a different girl each time. The fourth night was different though, I ignored my desire to scream at him for being an inconsiderate ass and used some ear plugs to muffle the sounds. I had the type of sleep insomniacs dream about—deep, satisfying and utterly peaceful. However, a couple of hours later, music started to drift through the ear plugs and something made me sit up and listen. I ripped the ear plugs out.

  This wasn’t just any music; this was the CD of my mom singing, the one she made for me before she got too sick to sing. My blood started to boil. It was my fault for leaving it in his stereo the other night, but that didn’t make me any less angry.

  I was sick of not being able to sleep that past four nights. This was the type of trouble I didn't want to get myself into. Tiffany warned me. I laid my eyes on the bad boy, the one that would make me spin out of control, the one who would capture my heart, throw it on the floor, and walk away. I didn't know how my attraction quickly turned into lust and I started to feel like a middle school girl.

  Then over the sound of the music a distinctly female voice was calling out Jaxon’s name. I glanced at the clock which said 2:30 am. The last time I looked it was 11 pm. Jaxon was still having sex, but while my mother’s CD played.

  I stomped down the hall to the bathroom and turned the sink faucet on full blast. I stared at my reflection, gripping the edge of the sink and digging my fingers into the marble countertop.

  Shit.

  This could not happen. He was not
going to screw some random girl with my mother providing background music. I splashed water on my face wanting to be wide awake when I confronted him. After a couple of minutes of cold water flooding my face I was ready.

  I blasted through the bathroom door and stormed into the living room. I shouted, “How dare you! You insensitive, inconsiderate pig!”

  I frantically pushed buttons on the stereo, looking for the eject button. The light came on and Jaxon stood next to the table, shirtless and speechless. The girl’s hair was a mess, and she was clutching her shirt in an attempt to cover her bare breasts. He was wearing pants but she wasn’t. A thong was the only piece of clothing that didn’t make her completely naked. It was clear they weren’t having a late night chat.

  “Oh, it’s you,” I said, recognizing Amber from art class.

  “What are you doing here? Jaxon?” She looked at him, apparently unaware that he had a roommate.

  “Have you ladies met? Amber, this is Elana. Elana, this is my friend Amber. You may remember her from art class.”

  I resisted the urge to hurl the CD at his face.

  “Are we disturbing you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Jaxon, some people like to sleep at night. Some people have to go to class. I thought you understood the importance of those things when you offered to let me stay here. You’ve been freaking loud every night. And this,” I shook the CD at him. “This WILL NOT happen.”

  Amber stared at Jaxon with her mouth agape. She turned to me and seemed to regain her some composure. “You can join us, if you'd like,” she said flatly.

  “Thanks, but he’s had enough women this week.”

  “What is she talking about, Jaxon?” She pulled her shirt over her head and stood up. “Jaxon?”

  He looked at her without saying a word and shrugged. She grabbed her purse and ran out without putting her pants on, holding them in one hand as she slammed the door with the other.