And that’s exactly what I wanted.
I knew someone couldn’t sweep in and rewind time to change things. I just wanted someone to come in and stare into my eyes and not down my shirt. I wanted someone to follow my heart and not my reputation. Even though it was the reputation I created, I wanted to destroy.
Scarlett saw me finally and ended the call with Tripp. When she put the phone down, her smile was practically ear to ear, her face flushed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The things he says... they’re just so real, you know?”
“I actually don’t know,” I said. “I live in a fake world, but I’m happy for you.”
I put the pizza on the table and opened it, inhaling the warm smell of cheese, sauce, and dough.
“Better hit the gym extra early tomorrow,” Scarlett said.
“You probably get your cardio in though in other ways,” I teased.
Scarlett found two wine glasses and kept smiling. She walked to the table and bumped her hip into mine. She put the glasses down and I saw she already had the wine open. She picked up the bottle and took a drink from it.
“To us,” she said and handed it to me.
“What, do you think you’re some rockstar now? Drinking from the bottle?”
“Shut up and drink,” Scarlett said.
I couldn’t argue with that. I drank from the bottle and put it down. Scarlett poured us each a glass and then looked at me, holding the glass.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “This isn’t a wedding or something...”
“Just listen to me,” Scarlett said. “You’re the craziest girl I know, even if you claim you’re not crazy. And I love you for it. You were with me through rough times you didn’t know were rough for me. But just by being here, you made it matter. By going out, having fun, enjoying your life, it helped me. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t fucked a hundred guys, trust me, that’s a great thing. Just know how much you mean to me. And all I want you to do now is what I had to do...”
“Which is?” I asked.
“Follow your heart.”
Scarlett tapped her wine glass to mine and we drank.
When she stopped she said, “Oh, by the way, Tatum says hey.”
I almost gagged on wine. “What?”
“Yeah, Tripp was at band practice. Tatum yelled from the background... Tell your hot friend I say hey and to put that drumstick to use... whatever that means.”
My mouth fell open and I smiled.
“What does that mean?” Scarlett asked. “That’s not like something sexual, is it?”
“Oh, you’re gross,” I said. I couldn’t help but visualize where Scarlett’s mind had just gone. Uh, talk about uncomfortable...
“What does it mean then?” Scarlett asked.
“Tatum wrote his phone number on the drumstick.”
“Are you kidding me? And you didn’t call him or anything?”
“Yet,” I said.
“Yet? What kind of excuse is that?”
“I didn’t say it was an excuse.”
“Not calling him is an excuse in itself. The drummer from DownCrash gave you his number and you didn’t do anything with it?”
“That’s not true. I have the drumstick on my nightstand.”
“Yeah, because that’s going to get you in his bed, isn’t it?”
“I already told you...”
“Stop that talk,” Scarlett said. “Take a chance with Tatum. The way he talked about you last night, trust me. He’s not concerned about a reputation. And remember, it doesn’t even exist. When you tell him that, it’ll be like you’re a virgin. I bet that’ll turn him on.”
“Change of subject,” I said and went into the kitchen to find plates.
We ate, we drank, we talked, we laughed. The only thing we didn’t do was cry which Scarlett ruined when she told me the next time she gave me her apartment key it would be for good. She had taken it back that morning so she could let herself in after work which would be one of the last times she’d be able to do that.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” she asked me.
“Not that I have a choice,” I said, “but yes, I’ll be fine. I’m not going to hold you back, Scarlett. You and Tripp belong together. Enjoy it.”
Somehow the wine bottle ended up empty. I joked about it at first, calling Scarlett a closet drunk, but once I stood from the couch, I realized maybe I had been the one who drank most of the wine. I put my hands out for balance and started to laugh. It wasn’t even eight o’clock and I was drunk.
“You know, now would be the time to call Tatum and Tripp over,” Scarlett said. “I’m sure they’d take advantage of this.”
“No way,” I said. “I don’t want to be taken advantage of. I wanted to be loved.”
“How sweet,” Scarlett said.
“You don’t get it,” I said. I felt my walls starting to break down a little. I knew if I opened the flood gates, I wouldn’t be able to shut them. “It’s all I really want. Maybe that’s why I liked to make up stories about other guys. So I could avoid it or something, I don’t know.”
“Stop avoiding things then,” Scarlett said. “Celebrate life to not avoid things.”
I nodded and smiled, but didn’t feel so confident about that.
Scarlett’s cell phone beeped and she dove towards it, almost face planting into the coffee table. I watched her face as she read the text message. I knew our night was going to be coming to an end...
“Make sure he comes to get you,” I said.
Scarlett looked up. “What?”
“We’ve been drinking. No driving.”
“How did...”
“Your face,” I said. “Band practice is over?”
“Yeah,” Scarlett said. “Tripp wants to do something.”
“Has he been drinking?”
“No. Not during band practice. Not anymore.”
“Then tell him to come get you.”
“No. I can’t. Tonight...”
“We had our pizza and wine,” I said. “And laughs and cries. I’m spent. Seriously, Scarlett, I’m spent.”
“You’re calling it quits already? You’re an old woman.”
I stuck out my tongue. “Sorry I’m not some groupie.”
Scarlett’s face dropped and she shook her head. “That was low.”
I smiled. “So is leaving your roommate hanging.”
I disappeared into the kitchen and opened the freezer and saw the vodka. That would make a great friend for the night, once Scarlett left, of course. When I closed the freezer, Scarlett stood there, looking hurt.
“Maggie...”
“Scarlett, I was joking,” I said.
“I feel terrible.”
“Terrible enough that Tripp isn’t driving here right now?”
“He’s on his way,” she whispered.
I stepped to Scarlett and held her shoulders, both for dramatic use to make a point and to balance myself thanks to the wine.
“Scarlett, listen to me. Go have fun. Enjoy Tripp. Enjoy life. Enjoy love. I’ll catch up soon enough.”
“You can start catching up tonight.”
Scarlett nodded towards my bedroom but I didn’t look.
Yeah, yeah... the drumstick...
Scarlett and I spent our last few minutes of the night looking at some of the pictures hanging on the wall. They were all collages of us, spanning our years together. It was fun to see how much we had changed. Different clothing, hair styles, and thinking back to those first days of moving into the apartment. How it went from becoming a dorm away from school to a home. An actual place to live. But when I saw Scarlett, I realized we were both living together with enough secrets to fill the place. We were close but we held so much back for so long. I didn’t understand why but I knew it must have meant something. Scarlett’s secrets had taken her to Tripp. And my secrets...
“He’s here,” Scarlett said, looking at her phone. “Are you sure...”
&n
bsp; “If you say Are you sure... one more time, I’m going to slap you.”
“Okay, okay, I’m going then.”
We hugged and when Scarlett opened the door, I called for her.
“Do me a favor. Tell Tripp to tell Tatum I was asking about him.”
Scarlett smiled. “Are we in high school? Tell him yourself.”
With that Scarlett was gone, probably gone forever for all I really knew, and that meant I was officially alone in the apartment. Not forever, but for now. The silence was enough to drown a person and even after I turned up the television in the living room and put music on in my bedroom, it did nothing for me. The noise couldn’t attack the loneliness in my heart as it spread like wildfire.
This was why I liked being near guys. They weren’t afraid to hold me and touch me, and once they were drunk enough to fall asleep, the night could end and I’d be in the embrace of somebody.
“If we don’t keep promises, Maggie, than what can we keep? This is all for your own good. Not mine. I don’t like this at all... Maggie, okay?”
I look at the ripped skin on his knuckles, the crimson rush ready to spread down the back of his hand. I lick my lip and taste the same thing. Blood.
“Just keep your promises, okay? Forever.”
The vodka kept me comfortable for a little bit. I enjoyed the burn as it went down and the smooth feeling as it continued through my body. I somehow ended up in my bedroom, sitting on my bed. The music had ended and I didn’t bother putting more on. It wasn’t going to do a thing for me. Looking at the stereo I thought about DownCrash. Then I turned my head and saw the drumstick on the nightstand.
“Tatum...”
My mind flashed images his fist connecting with Danny’s face. So hot. His body exposed as he tore his bloody shirt off. So sexy. His eyes devouring me. So protecting.
Maybe Tatum could keep doing it. Exactly what he did last night. He could fight something for me, take his shirt off, and then keep protecting me. As long as I stayed with him. Fight. Naked. Protect.
It made sense, right?
I reached for my phone and started texting before my mind could understand what my heart was trying to do.
Hey you. I listened.
The message was sent and I started to read it, over and over, trying to figure out what Tatum would think reading it. I always hated text messages for that reason. Was there any real emotion behind them?
A few seconds later, my phone vibrated in my hand. That didn’t take long at all.
Hey beautiful. I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever.
My heart jumped. Between my legs it was anything but calm. Tatum just proved my last thought wrong. There could be emotion through text messages.
He sent one right after that.
Coming to visit me?
I laughed. Then I growled. Why did I drink wine? Then vodka?
I can’t drive. Might have had something to drink.
I cringed sending the message, realizing it did nothing to help my reputation. Tatum could read the text and know that I was home, drunk, and take advantage of me. Then again, if that happened, it wouldn’t really be taking advantage of me, not at all. I was more willing than I could probably explain.
Tatum texted back.
How much of ‘something’? Can I come pick you up?
I bit my lip, knowing this was one of those moments when I felt like everything in my life could change forever. Of course, I had about a dozen of those per week and they all turned out to be nothing more than passing moments in life. But with Tatum, I knew it could be true. I knew he could change my life, one way or another.
I touched my phone, debating on what to type. Flirt? Get serious?
I’ve had enough of ‘something’. Trust me, you don’t want me right now, I’m a mess.
It didn’t seem like the right thing to write but whatever I guess. Eventually I’d have to spill my guts to someone. Why not Tatum? The worst he could do was stop responding to my texts.
Which he didn’t...
A mess? What kind of mess? Are you okay?
I then felt like a hopeless victim, desperate for attention to fix my situation. They were the same kind of feelings that rolled through me when I wanted to be with other guys.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been okay. I’m not Scarlett... I can’t just let things go from me, not now.
I sent the message as tears filled my eyes. The feeling inside was pure abandonment. I felt like such a baby, the surges of jealousy pouring through me, thinking about Scarlett and Tripp together, holding each other, laughing, having fun. I listened to the silence of the apartment and heard the murmur of the television, knowing it was the only voice I’d hear because nobody else was there with me.
I felt my phone vibrate. It had to be a reply from Tatum. I told myself to talk to him, to call him, to go back to having a little flirty fun. But instead I fell back on my bed. My head hurt and the room spun. I couldn’t figure out if it was from the wine and vodka or my mind.
My phone vibrated again, the reminder notification that a message waited, unread.
“Tatum,” I whispered, “come find me...”
I shut my eyes, picturing Tatum without a shirt on.
At least I passed out semi-happy.
~7~
When I felt someone touch me, I shuddered. I moaned and shook my head. All I could picture was some creep like Danny - or one of the other guys I led on night after night - finally making their move. The cards turned on me. Me too drunk to defend myself or flirt my way out of the situation.
“Maggie, relax,” a voice said.
I instantly relaxed. The voice was sexy. Smooth yet commanding. My eyes fluttered and I opened them, the room still spun. My mind began to race again, picking right up where it left off.
But then I saw him, standing over me.
“Tatum?” I whispered.
“Jesus, Maggie, what the fuck are you trying to do to me?”
He looked pissed off. But my gosh was it the hottest pissed off face I’d ever seen. I’d purposely fuck up for the rest of my life if it meant Tatum would look at me like he did right then. His eyes were big and mean, like a rattlesnake ready to attack. His touch, however, was caring and gentle.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I texted you and you never replied,” he said. “I flew over here and the door was unlocked. Are you crazy? I thought something...” Tatum exhaled, his warm breath spreading over my face. It warmed me up.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You’ll get used to me letting you down.”
Tatum lifted me, wanting me to sit up. As I stared into his eyes, the room finally stopped spinning. The night started to make sense. I lunged at Tatum, surprising him as my lips crashed to his. My perception was just a little off and I felt my teeth hit the inside of my lip. It stung for a second and I groaned but it didn’t matter, I was kissing Tatum. The tip of my tongue couldn’t resist touching his lip ring. I did and Tatum pulled back in a hurry, his eyes wide.
“Whoa, wait a second,” he said.
“Wait...? For what?”
“Maggie, you’re wicked drunk right now.”
“Isn’t that how you like it? A drunk chick all over you?”
Tatum smiled. “Actually, I’m sort of all over you.”
I looked down and saw the position we were in. Tatum leaning over my body. His left arm outstretched on the bed, his right hand holding the back of my head. My legs were open, perhaps something I couldn’t help because it was Tatum on top of me.
“Just do it,” I whispered. “Please.”
“Do it? Do what?” Tatum asked.
“Me,” I said. “Right now. Get it over with.”
Tatum pulled away from me as far as he could. When he let me go, I hurried and put my hands to my bed, balancing myself. I blinked, trying to regain more than half the senses I had right then.
“Stay put,” Tatum said.
He stood and tried to leave. I grabbed at Tatum�
�s back pocket, my fingers sliding right in. He kept walking and it pulled me from the bed. I cried out and fell to the floor in a heap of drunken mess.
“Fuck!” Tatum cried out. He fell to his knees and had his hands back on my body.
I started to laugh and clapped my hands.
“Maggie, what are you trying to do?” he asked.
“I wanted to grab you,” I said. “I wanted to touch you.”
Tatum sighed and then had his hands under my neck and my legs. He lifted me with ease. I wasn’t sure if it was a complement to my weight or his strength. No matter what, it was super hot. I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled at him, wanting him to kiss me. Isn’t that how it happened in the movies? Then he could place me on the bed and...
“Did it hurt?” I asked, my voice slurring as I was about to fall asleep or pass out.
“Did what hurt?” Tatum asked as he bent down to place me on the bed.
He started to back away and I had his shirt. I looked at him and smiled. I was turned on. More than he could really know, but then again, all he had to do was touch between my legs to feel it. Even if he left my panties on, he’d feel it... I was so wet...
“Your nipple ring,” I said. “Did it hurt?”
“A little,” Tatum said.
“Show me,” I said and started to lift my shirt.
In my mind, it was sexy and seductive. Lifting my shirt, letting him bite on my nipples, enjoy my body. Tatum put his hands to mine and shook his head.
“You need water first. Then we can talk piercings and pain.”
I giggled and tried to grab at him again, but this time he made it out of the room.
The second he disappeared from sight, I knew what I had to do. Maybe Scarlett was right after all. Just go with it and enjoy Tatum, right? If he was into my reputation and wanted to exploit it then fine, I could get into that, no problem. If he wasn’t into my reputation and had some kind of heart of gold, or whatever, then he’d come back to a nice surprise.
I lifted my shirt over my head and reached behind for my bra. How could a sexy drummer like Tatum resist a woman drunk and topless? I had already begged for him, this would just make more clear what I wanted from him.
Torn to Pieces (The Boys of DownCrash #2) (new adult contemporary romance / rockstar romance) Page 5