More Than Lies

by N. E. Henderson

  “Let me up, please. I’m going home.” Please don’t make this a big deal, I chant silently in my head, but I know he will and it’s my fault. Two nights within the same week, let alone consecutive nights is a big no with Jared. He wants more. I don’t. Doing this to him only makes things between us worse.

  His arm releases from around me and I feel him rise up onto his elbows from behind me. I’m quick this time, though. I hop my naked self out of his bed and start searching the floor for my dress. I know it’s here somewhere, just where is the question. Jared isn’t exactly the cleanest person I know and with the lights off it’s making my task more difficult.

  “It’s three-thirty in the fucking morning, Taralynn.” Isn’t he full of the obvious? His alarm clock was staring me in the face when I opened my eyes. I know what time it is. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m ready to go home. Home so I can breathe normal air. I don’t reply, there is no need to.

  At the sound of sheets rustling, I know Jared is moving on the bed. Seconds later there’s the click of the lamp and soft light filters the room. I instantly see my black panties, but when I bend to swipe them off the floor, Jared’s palm connects with my butt. I yelp from the quick bolts of pain. I should have expected that. He loves my ass. I have no idea why, but it becomes his obsession when we’re together.

  “Was that necessary?”

  “Always. Don’t leave.” He leans back against the wooden slats of the headboard. The smooth satin cloth that held my wrists in place a few hours ago while he drove his cock into me is still looped through the center of the headboard. Jared likes to play rough, which is a huge turn-on and keeps me coming back for more.

  “I’m not staying.” I never stay and he should be used to it by now. Last night was an exception because I was hurt and mad. And by the time Jared and I finished ringing every ounce of pleasure out of each other, I was exhausted and accidently fell asleep.

  “Why not?” Reaching over to his left, he retrieves a half empty pack of Marlboro lights and his lighter. My nose scrunches up as I push myself into gear. The sooner I’m dressed, the sooner I’m out of his room that’s about to smell more like an ashtray than it does now.

  “Jared, don’t do this.” I slip my legs into the silk material of my Victoria’s Secret underwear, pulling them over my thighs until they meet my core. Next my bra is secured in place. “Its just sex. It’s always been just sex and you told me you could deal with that arrangement.” I bend once more to pick up my dress, but this time my butt is facing away from him. My ass does not need any more attention tonight. I don’t know what he used on me earlier, but eventually he replaced his hand with a flexible material. Perhaps a belt; I don’t know, I never asked because I was too lost in the painful, yet amazingly pleasurable sensation.

  Does that make me a screwed up person? Maybe. Hell, don’t let my mother find out. She would light my butt on fire. Literally.

  “I handle our arrangement just fine, baby. Doesn’t mean I don’t want more of you.” After my dress is in place I look at him. He’s disappointed. He’s always disappointed when I leave like this. “Look, if you’re determined, then let me throw some clothes on and I’ll take you.”

  “I don’t think so. You’re still drunk.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “I didn’t say that. I live a half mile from here. It’s no biggie, I can walk and be there in ten minutes.” I don’t give him a chance to think it over. I bolt from his room without so much as a goodbye kiss. Maybe I’m being a bitch, but I’m not trying to lead Jared on any more than I do on a normal day. Even then, I’ve never tried to lead him on. We’ve always been up front. He knows I don’t want something serious. I know he does.

  Once I’m down the stairs, I practically run into another large body on my way to the front door.

  “Whoa, T.” I look up to see Cole, Jared’s best friend. Hair, blonde as blonde gets with baby blue eyes and a crooked grin greet me. Cole reminds me of Mason. They are both the easy going, go with the flow type of guys. Cole dubbed me “T” freshmen year of college during the first week when I met him. He and Jared had also met that week, and quickly fell into a tight friendship. I roll my eyes. Not that it does any good. It’s never mattered that I’ve explained to him that clearly my name is Taralynn. “Where are you off to so late in the night?”

  “Home and it’s early in the morning.”

  “If you say so, but I didn’t see your car outside. Jared taking you?”

  “No, he’s probably back to sleep by now. I’m just going to walk.”

  “I don’t think so. Throw something on your arms and I’ll take you. Meet me outside.” With that he pivots and is out the door, not allowing me to protest. Cole really is one of the nice ones, and like Mason, if they ever out-grow their too much fun ways, could easily snag a great woman. I follow, but before I exit I grab what I think is Jared’s long sleeve flannel button up shirt off the coat rack. Then I walk a short distance to Cole’s Harley. Like Jared, his only means of transportation is a motorcycle.

  I’m not scared to get on with him. Cole and Jared have both been driving one since they were in high school. From everything I’ve witnessed, they are relatively safe drivers. “Here, put on the helmet.” He grabs Jared’s off his bike, holding it out for me to take. I do, securing it in place while he throws his long legs over his bike and cranks it to life. Their neighbors have to hate them. The machine sounds like a beast.

  I mimic his moves, swinging my leg over and hoisting myself up, making sure I don’t touch my bare leg to the scorching hot pipe. Once my hands are secured on his hips, I give him the go ahead to leave. He doesn’t and I can see the slight chuckle because his shoulders jump up and down. Cole grabs my wrists, wrapping them around his waist and I roll my eyes yet again. Not that he can see or would even care. Lastly, his cool palms slide up my tights and yank me forward. My chest meets his back. “Now, that’s more like it.”

  Cole doesn’t have any romantic or sexual likings for me. He’s just doing this to try to mess with me. He loves moments when he can get a rise out of me. I’ve just learned over time, not to give him the satisfaction. So I wiggle as far against him as I can possibly make myself and squeeze him tighter around his abdomen.

  The bike shoots forward and we’re leaving. It’s a short ride. Like I said, I don’t live that far. The mid October morning air is way too cold on my skin. I didn’t like it when I rode home with Jared from the club and I don’t like it now.

  A few seconds before I know Cole will arrive at my house, he leans the bike to the left, accelerating as he does, leading me to believe he’s passing another vehicle. Why it’s necessary I haven’t a clue, because as soon as he’s pulled back into the lane, he’s turning into the cul-de-sac that Shawn’s house is on. He parks on the street, but doesn’t cut the engine since there is no need to. He won’t be coming inside. Cole isn’t exactly friends with my roommates, especially Shawn. Shawn and Jared are enemies, which makes him and Cole enemies too. I’m not sure why. Shawn and Jared were tight up until our senior year of high school.

  I hop off, and while I’m removing the helmet, Shawn’s truck pulls into the drive. Cole waves and now it makes sense. He did that for Shawn’s benefit. Allowing him to see me on the back of his bike, I’m sure of it. Asshole.

  “Thanks for the lift.”

  “Anytime, Taralynn. Later.” With that, he takes off and I turn to walk up the driveway.

  Mason comes stumbling out of Shawn’s truck. Without looking at me he walks to the house. The poor drunk probably doesn’t have a clue that I’m behind him. Seconds later, Shawn rounds his truck. His hard eyes land on mine, but I don’t care. I walk past him without a word, following Mason.

  Once inside the door, Mason turns to the left to make his way down the hall toward his bedroom. Once he’s gone, I kick off my heels then move forward toward the kitchen in search of alcohol. The buzz I had kicking when I fell asleep is gone and I want it back. Looking to my right as I pa
ss the entryway to the living room I see young people scattered about and passed out. Typical.

  Once in the kitchen, I go to the counter by the fridge, where all the liquor is lined up and grab the open bottle of tequila. Pouring a double shot into a tumbler setting on the countertop, I toss it back, swallowing it in one burning gulp. I used to love this feeling. Not so much anymore, though. When you go so long without your needs ever getting satisfied, it eventually turns into frustration on a catastrophic level. Sure, I could go upstairs, pleasure myself until I come, but satisfaction won’t follow. It never has. I want more than what I’m capable of handling by myself.

  I don’t turn to acknowledge his presence. Seeing him only makes it worse. Instead I pour another double shot of liquid fire.

  “Why the fuck was that prick bringing you home?”

  After Mason made it known yesterday morning that I’m sleeping with Jared, you’d think Shawn would know the answer to that question. He probably does. He just wants me to verbalize it. I’m not going to.

  “Leave it, Shawn.” I twist around and pin him with a stare. Next, I toss the tequila back, but this time my eyes widen. Ok, maybe my buzz wasn’t so much gone like I originally thought.

  Wow. That was stout.

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Enough that I should be in bed.” What’s with the twenty questions? More importantly, why does he even care? From what I saw earlier tonight, or last night really, Shawn and Mason left with the brunette trash from Level. I don’t have to guess what they left to go do and I certainly don’t want to imagine it.

  “So, let me get this straight. You got onto the back of Cole’s bike, drunk? Are you fucking crazy, Tara?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “Or do you have a death wish?”

  “Neither, are you done now?” His palm smacks the side of the refrigerator before turning. Moments later, I hear the door to the bathroom down the hall slam close.

  I turn back around, pour yet another glass and down it. I’m going to pay for this when I wake up and it’s going to be so much worse than yesterday morning’s hangover. Screw it. If I’m going to do it in the first place, might as well do it right.

  “You know, it’s only a matter of time before Holly has him back in her grasps. You don’t stand a chance with Shawn; you never have.” Cassie’s catty bitch-ass voice assaults my ears. Sometimes she’s worse than Amanda. I put up with Mandy’s shit because she is dating my best friend, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I deal with her friends crap. Without giving it a bit of thought, I turn and leap forward. She needs a good butt kicking. I’m not a fighter. I know I can take her if I tried, but I don’t actively seek out confrontations. My mother would flip her lid, so I do what’s necessary to avoid that at all costs.

  Before I reach her, a set of massive arms grab me around the waist, pulling me backwards until I’m against his hard chest. “Get. Out. Of. My. House.” Shawn bites each word out through clenched teeth. I know they aren’t directed at me. Even if I weren’t looking at her shocked expression, I’d know they are aimed at Cassie Winston.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think he stuttered, Barbie.” Okay, Barbie is usually held for Holly, the queen bitch herself, but I had to. Sue me if you don’t like it. I don’t usually act like this, but I’ve had my fair share of alcohol tonight.

  “You won’t disrespect her, or anyone else that lives here. Last time I checked, you don’t live here…so leave.” His words are still a bark. Shawn can come off quite scary at times. Frankly, Cassie looks like she is about to pee her pants. Inside, I’m loving it. This is so much better than me punching her. “Or I could let Tara go, but I don’t think you want me to. Trust me, she will crush you.”

  I will? Hell, I don’t know if I will or not. I’ve never hit another person in my life. I’m bigger than Cassie, in every way, sure, but I’m not going there.

  The snootiness crosses her face again. It’s the same one my mother wears around me. She should have been my mother’s kid. I’m certain her and my mother would get along much better than my mother and I do. “Yes, she would.”

  Oh that bitch went there. Yes, I have issues with my weight. I’m not over-weight, I don’t think, but I’m not thin or skinny by any means, and it doesn’t matter how much I work out, I’m never going to be a small size. I love to cook and I love to eat the food I cook. It’s just not in the cards for me. Doesn’t mean I like it, but she doesn’t have the right to throw it in my face, especially with Shawn standing right here.

  I try to jump forward, but Shawn’s hold on me tightens. “Leave. Now.” Another bark, only this time his voice is deeper. It’s a warning.

  “Whatever.” She turns, exiting the kitchen followed by the house as quickly as her feet will move.

  Once I hear the door click close he releases me, and as he steps backwards the warm flannel shirt I’m wearing, Jared’s shirt, is pulled off my body. I turn, facing Shawn. What the heck is that about?

  “Go take a shower!” My jaw drops at his order. Seconds after, he rips the shirt down the middle, making two un-wearable pieces. What the flyin...

  The material is disregarded, landing in a pool on the tile floor.

  I plant my hands on my hips in a defiant gesture. He’s not about to order me around. I might take that crap from my parents, but I won’t from anyone else. “Excuse me?”

  Shawn wastes no time. He springs forward in an instant, making me step backwards until my back collides with the wall. He continues to close in on me, placing his palms on the flat surface of the wall next to my face and leans in. “You smell like him and I don’t fucking like it.”

  Oh tough shit.

  “Because you smelling like a cheap whore is so much better,” I lash back. I don’t waste my time, either. I take both of my hands, placing my palms on his chest and push as hard as I can. It might not have come across as a shove, because his body didn’t move away from mine as much as I intended it to. “Piss off, Shawn.” With those last words I leave the kitchen, taking myself up the stairs to my bedroom for a shower…and not because Shawn ordered me to, but because I do in fact stink.

  If I wasn’t as drunk as I am right now, I might have stopped to analyze what just happened between us, but I don’t. I’m going to struggle enough just getting out of my clothes to shower tonight, or this morning, or whatever the hell time of the day this is.

  He is a mother-effin’ jerk!

  A short, loud chiming sound rings though my ears.

  I hate that sound. That sound tells me, once again, my drunk-ass forgot to flip the silent switch on my cell phone on before falling into bed at whatever time I managed to get home this morning.

  Another piercing chime rings out and this time I groan.

  I reach out, grabbing a spare pillow and cover my head with it. No doubt, the pillow that should be under my head is somewhere on the floor. As long as I can remember, I’ve always woken up, lying on my stomach with my face buried into the mattress. Today is no different.

  A third chime comes through not even twenty seconds after the last followed by two more before I jut out my hand, feeling for my cell phone somewhere on the nightstand. Around the seventh or maybe eighth chime I locate the source of disruption. Without looking, I flip the switch to silent and then drop it back down.

  It’s not like I don’t know who’s texting me.

  Buzzing. Loud motherfucking buzzing is now jumping around to my side.

  Assholes.

  The person who invented text messaging should be punched in the dick.

  The person who invented group texting capabilities should be shot in the aforementioned dick.

  More, annoying buzzing.

  Reaching over my head, I grab my pillow and bring it in front of me. Then I rise up and flip over onto my back while snatching my phone off the table.

  Bingo.

  My roommates, aka my friends, okay, well, maybe that’s a stretch. I mean, sure Mason and I are best friends and have been si
nce first grade. Matt on the other hand, he’s more Mason’s friend than mine. I like the guy, he’s all right, and I’ve known him since junior high when he moved to Tupelo from California. That, I still don’t understand. People move out of Mississippi. No one moves to this shit hole of boredom. Then there is Tara, or Taralynn rather, but I call her Tara. She is a whole other story for another time when I’m coherent and awake.

  Opening the text message, I scroll up to the top, to read through what these shits have included me into.

  Tara: At the store, need anything?

  Mason: Condoms

  Tara: I’m serious, asswipe!

  Mason: So am I. Can’t go blowing my shit into any cunt.

  Mason: Bitches be nasty.

  Matt: Hope you covered your shit with that ho from last night.

  Mason: Don’t be calling my chicks hos.

  Matt: Ok, skank then.

  Mason: Fuck you. The bitch was hot.

  Matt: I’ll pass, man. I’m satisfied with my permanent pussy.

  Me: New fuckin’ roommates. That’s what I want.

  Mason: Yeah, with big tits. They can room with me.

  Tara: Um...Mase? What size? There’s a lot to choose from.

  Matt: They probably don’t have a small enough size to fit his pencil dick.

  Tara: Brand?

  Me: He’s fucking with you, Tara. Jeez.

  Mason: Sorry, I couldn’t resist. lol

  It’s funny and I want to laugh, but the pounding inside my head won’t allow it. For someone as smart as she is, she doesn’t catch on to the obvious.

  After tossing my phone onto the crumpled sheets, I roll out of bed to go locate something to take the pain away. After exiting my room I see the door to the bathroom is closed before I hear the awful noise of what’s most likely the latest pop crap coming from behind the door. That tells me, Matt’s little girlfriend must be in there. I think back, recalling she was here when I got home last night. I also recall the snooty little bitch being just that, a bitch to Tara. I don’t care if Amanda is her best friend’s girlfriend, I wouldn’t take that shit from her or her friend. They continually make digs and snide comments and I’m over it. But then Tara is the nice one, the one that doesn’t start shit; the one that keeps the peace. She stays non-confrontational for Matt.