by Dee Palmer
“Wow.” I’m dumbstruck. No other word for it.
“And I’d bet my left pussy lip that he hasn’t kept it in his pants all this time.”
“Wow.”
“You said that already.” Jamie’s face scrunches with more confusion.
“I think I need another beer.” Drinking down the beer, I hand the empty to Jamie.
“You got it.” She shifts out of her side of the booth and stands; I do the same.
“Where are the restrooms?”
“Out the back, through that door.” She points to the end opposite the pool table.
“Thanks.”
There are two doors, one with the lock broken. I shake the handle of the other one.
“This ones taken, jerk-off.” I recognize the panting male voice.
“Kurt, please don’t stop.”
“Oh baby, I ain’t stopping, not now, not ever.” Kurt grunts. I step into the restroom with the broken lock. The flimsy wooden wall shakes with the rhythmic pounding of two people fucking. I assume it’s just two. Muffled cries and heavy breathing punctuate each thrust. The pace is frantic and short lived. Kurt groans deep, she cries out, and the wall stops shaking.
I don’t have to press my head to the wall hear them speaking, and given what they’ve been doing I’m strangely grateful for that fact.
“You’ll stop when you marry her though, won’t you? You’ll not want me then.”
“Taylor, I’m not going to stop this. I can’t make it any clearer.” They are breathing heavily, fumbling around each other—getting dressed, I assume.
“I don’t understand why you are still going ahead with it all when you want me. You said you loved me.” There’s a pleading edge to her tone.
“I want to fuck you, Taylor, not marry you.” He scoffs. “There’s no way I want my wife doing the dirty shit you let me do.”
“What?”
“Taylor, you know I like you, but you have to know what this is.” He softens his voice and I can’t imagine that makes what he’s saying any less despicable. I want to punch the shit out of him through this damn wall. “What Buttercup and I have is special.”
“So special she told everyone tonight that she’s having second thoughts and doesn’t love you.” Taylor snaps her retort.
“It doesn’t matter what she said, she’s marrying me.” His casual dismissal of what Taylor has just said is ice cold, callous and sickening.
“How can you want someone like that? She doesn’t love you. I love you.” She pleads.
“I know you do, and that’s why I get to do this.” His response is devoid of anything remotely human. I close my eyes and picture his face pummeled into the ground. My fist clenches and just as I’m about to crash through this feeble partition Taylor sighs.
“Mmm. Oh god that feels good.” They deserve each other. “I hate you Kurt.”
“I know you do, baby. I hate me too, sometimes.”
Not as much as I hate you.
HIS TRUCK ISN’T HERE, AND I am about to turn around and head home; instead, I pull the handbrake on. The place I call home suddenly feels like the last place on earth I want to be. It’s the reason I feel like I have a noose hanging around my neck, waiting for the day I have to take a step off the ledge and up the aisle.
And I’ve got nowhere else to go.
A near full moon illuminates a pathway enough to see my way clearly to the cabin. The nocturnal wildlife are out in force, a cacophony of noise as loud as any urban landscape if I really listen and one I find strangely peaceful, familiar.
The cabin is pitch dark, and I use the flashlight on my phone to find my way around. Daisy is on her feet, startled by the beam.
“Shh, it’s only me,” I soothe. She lets me stroke her head, and after a minute or two of calming sounds and nestling against me, I leave her to settle back down. I’m weary, emotionally spent and exhausted, and collapse onto the couch. Even bone tired, this thing is too uncomfortable and it’s not five minutes of restless maneuvering, trying to find a spot where a spring isn’t digging in to me that I find myself standing in the doorway of Pink’s bedroom.
I shouldn’t. What if he comes back? What would he think?
Sitting on the bed, I slip my shoes off and lie back on top of the covers. Just five minutes. I can smell him, the pillow is drenched in his manly scent. Unashamedly, I draw in long, deep breaths through my nose. Turning my head, I press my face into the soft cotton, gorging on the aroma like a starving woman. Tears form, and I let them fall, silently, hopelessly, until I fall asleep.
Mmmm… His lips brush across my skin, so delicately I think I must be dreaming. The hairs on my neck prickle to life when he sweeps my hair to one side. He kisses a pattern that tingles and scorches, snaking from the nape of my neck to my ear. He sucks my lobe between his teeth and a bolt of liquid desire explodes in my core. How is that possible? How can he draw such a raw and powerful reaction when he’s barely touching me at all? His firm body presses to mine, his front to my back, and with one hand on my hip, he secures me to him. I can feel every inch of him, rock hard and so hot I feel I am about to combust.
“Pink,” Twisting my neck so I can face him, his name on my lips sounds like a plea.
It is. I want him.
“Hey, princess, what are you doing here?” His voice is more distant and when my eyes spring open, I realize why. His body isn’t wrapped around mine. I was dreaming. Shuffling to sit, I rub the sleep from my face and try to ignore the heat from the dream, which is still burning up my cheeks. He places the candle he’s holding on the floor and sits on the bed beside me. His is voice low, deep, and filled with concern.
“Are you okay?” He rests his heavy hand on my thigh and I feel sparks beneath his fingertips. Embarrassed, I jolt wide-awake and sit bolt upright.
“Oh, lord. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Wiping the dribble from my cheek, I’m thankful the low light of the single flickering flame masks my mortification.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure that these contraptions have been specifically designed for that purpose.” He jokes, patting the bed.
“No, I meant…I was just so tired. I thought five minutes. I guess I needed more.” Swinging my legs over the edge, I sit flush to his side, our thighs, hips and arms touching.
“Tough night?” He nudges.
“Something like that.” My hands are clasped together and I’m acutely aware of the heat sizzling between us. He draws in a deep, slow breath that I mirror.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you come here every night?” He looks at me, and I crane to look up, since I’m so close. I lean back, though, confused and a little hurt. I thought he liked me here. I’m such an idiot. I try to stand, and my words stumble awkwardly in my mouth.
“Um, Daisy—”
He grabs my hand before I fully stand and pulls me back to him. He’s turned to face me, so close all I can see is him, all I can feel is him. He surrounds my senses like water, and I want to drown in him. His eyes look like inky wells, dark and bottomless. The back of his finger caresses my cheek and his voice soothes like rich velvet on my naked sensibilities. “Hey, please, don’t move. I like that you come here. It’s my favorite part of the day.”
“It is?”
“Yes, it is. But Daisy is just fine. I want you to tell me the truth.” He holds my gaze and it’s too much.
“The truth doesn’t matter, Pink.” I blink and drop my gaze to my lap. My hands knot together until he stills the anxious tic with his own hand.
“It does to me,” he urges. Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses my palm.
Why does he have to be so perfect? Why now, why him?
“I like being with you, you know that. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“I want you to be honest with yourself.”
I let out a sigh so heavy, it falters in my throat and makes my voice crack when I try to explain. “It
hurts too much. This, this here is a fantasy I can’t ever have. I won’t let Kurt’s family take my Grampa’s farm, not when I can do something about it.”
“And your happiness doesn’t come in to it?”
“No, not really.”
“Martyrdom doesn’t suit you,” he snaps, harsh and painful.
“That’s unkind. I was mostly happy.”
“Yes, I got that. What with picking you up on the side of the highway in your wedding dress.” Bitter sarcasm coats each word, and as ugly truth goes, it’s spot on. I can’t defend myself when we both know it’s a lie.
“Okay, not happy but I was managing before.”
“Before?” He tips my chin and fixes a steely gaze that seems to penetrate my soul. He sees every part of me, so why is he pushing this? “Before me, you mean. Say it, Buttercup.”
“Yes, before you.” Snatching my hands from his, I’m too quick for him to stop me this time. I step away and back away toward the door. He stands, steady, stalking toward me. His deep gravelly voice makes the hairs on my neck tingle, and his dark scowl makes my stomach flip. My back hits the wall and my mouth dries at the sight before me. Tall, smoldering sex on two legs is closing the distance until there is none. Shadows from the candle dance across the room, licking the walls and casting sinful images that would not look out of place in the bowels of hell.
“So this is my fault?” He cages me, his hands pressed flat either side of my head. I’m going to burn.
“Yes…no…of course not. It’s just, if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t know what it’s like.” I’m panting, trying to get air into my lungs. He’s so close I can’t breathe. Heat courses through my veins, and I can’t think. I can’t move. I can’t stop myself.
“What what is like?”
“What it’s like to… love.” I jump when his fist slams into the wall beside my head. The force cracks the plaster and I’m surprised it doesn’t splinter into smithereens.
“Fuck, Buttercup, you can’t say something like that and expect me to say nothing, to do nothing.” His forehead presses mine, and panting, I can feel him tremble where we touch.
“What can you do?”
“This.” His lips crash with mine. I gasp and welcome his urgent tongue in my mouth, eager to twist and tangle with mine. His hand grasps my face, sealing me to him. He tastes so sweet, his lips firm, soft, and perfectly passionate. Desire mainlines to the heat raging in my core, and I feel like every nerve ending in my body is on fire.
“More,” I sigh. He breaks the kiss and I chase the contact until I am on my tiptoes with a comically exaggerated pout. “More,” I plead. A sense of desperation fills me with panic. I’ve never felt this before and what if I never feel this again?
“No. If I kiss you again I won’t be able to stop.” He growls.
“I don’t want you to stop.” My fists tear into his shirt, fruitlessly trying to bend his rigid frame low enough to resume the best kiss in the history of kisses.
“I won’t let you break your promise.”
“What promise? My engagement?”
“Not that promise.” His knowing gaze makes the blood drain from all the good places.
“How…how do you know about that?” He steps back when I gently push his chest to give me some room.
“Small town.” He has the decency to look sheepish, even as I wish the ground would swallow me up whole.
“Lord, could this be any more embarrassing.” I cover my face with my hands and slide to the floor, then cover my head with my arms and try to disappear into a small ball that’s all me.
“I think it’s—” He drops down to his haunches and strokes my hair that’s providing a proactive curtain. I peek up through the strands.
“What? If you say cute, I will have to slap you,” I grumble, a mix of mortification and horror battling to consume me.
“I think it’s extraordinary. Hey, you don’t have to justify yourself to me. This is important to you, and that makes it important to me.” His soft, sincere declaration goes some way to ease my embarrassment. It’s not that I’m ashamed. It’s just that it’s private. Only now that it’s out there, I feel I need to explain.
“My mom was abandoned when she became pregnant with me. Her boyfriend had asked her to marry him, and they were properly engaged. It was the only reason my Grampa let her go out with him unchaperoned. He’s very strict, and I think that’s why they got engaged in the first place, just to spend time together, alone. Anyway, she got pregnant and the guy dumped her and left town. As far as I know, he never came back. I know my Grampa would’ve put him in an early grave if he ever showed his face. As much as I would’ve liked to at least know who he was, I’d rather not lose a family member over something that can’t be changed. It was a huge scandal back then; even my grandmother was shunned by the town. My mom was never accepted by the town. She died when I was seven. I only came out from under her cloud when I started to date Kurt. I promised myself I wouldn’t make the same mistake, and honestly, it’s been an easy promise to keep. Kurt’s never put any pressure on me.” I catch the skeptical arch of his brow and it’s not like I haven’t seen that expression before. “I do know why. I’m not that naive.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“An occasional one night stand that means nothing to him? Of course it bothers me.” I answer my sarcastically laden rhetorical question and snap an irritated reply. “But he said he would stop when we’re married.”
He snorts out a humorless laugh. “And you believe him?”
“I have to.” I sigh heavily. “I can’t go into my marriage not trusting him. He’s a lot of things that aren’t that great, Pink, but I trust him. Besides, I don’t think there’s a guy in the county that’s not been with Alicia. She’s the town slut.” I’ve only ever internalized this justification and I now know why. At best it’s one sided and lame, in the cold light of day, explaining it to Pink is sounds downright pathetic.
“And that makes it all right?”
“No, of course not. It’s disgusting, but I never expected him to remain a virgin. It is my thing, not his. We agreed as long as he was discrete and it stopped after we were married.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“I don’t disagree. This whole situation is messed up, but I don’t love him, Pink. I didn’t care what he did. Honestly, I hoped he would find someone else but that never happened.”
“No, I get that, and from what I heard tonight, Taylor gave it her all.” Disgust curls his lips. I start to nod my agreement only to vigorously shake my head at his mistake.
“Taylor? You mean Alicia?”
He pauses for a second, and his eyes search skyward no doubt recalling this evening’s event. He’s adamant. “No, I mean Taylor. That’s the name he said when he told her he wasn’t giving her up, not ever.” He’s telling the truth, and I feel sick in my stomach. My close friend and my fiancé. I must be the joke of the whole darn town. And even that is not as devastating as seeing the way Pink is looking at me now.
“I need to go.”
“Buttercup, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His compassionate, cautious tone is too little, too late. The damage is done. I feel like a monumental, pathetic fool. His face is impassive, and although I don’t believe he is pleased with this outcome, I can see in his eyes, he’s not remotely sorry either.
“Yes, you did.” Pulling myself to my feet, I hold my hand out to stop him coming any closer. He wisely steps back when I reach for the door. His arm flies to block my exit, anger clipping his harsh tone.
“You know what? Maybe I did. You needed to know the truth. You can’t marry this man, Buttercup.”
“And why is that, Pink?” Pushing his arm away, I walk out of the bedroom, grab my keys and bag.
He yells, “Because he’s an asshole.”
I spin to face him. “Yes, he is. He betrayed me with my friend and I still don’t care about that as much as I care about the fact that he isn’t the on
e that’s hurt me tonight. I wish I’d never met you!” Pushing the front door, it ricochets, slamming hard against the wall. I run flat out to my truck and don’t look back. The keys fumble in my shaking hand, my heart is racing as fast as the tears fall and streak my cheeks. I can’t do this anymore.
“FUUUUUCK!” I YELL TO THE night sky as the red taillights of Buttercup’s truck speed away up the track and into the darkness. I drag my hand over my face, feeling every bit of shame imaginable. She didn’t deserve that. She may not love the guy or want to marry him, but even so, that level of betrayal is going to hurt like a motherfucker, and I told her like it was some great revelation that would help her see the light.
I should have kept my mouth shut.
I may not comprehend her warped sense of obligation and responsibility, but I know enough to understand that level of sacrifice isn’t going to change with that fresh piece of information. All it did was hurt her. No, I saw her face, and the way she looked at me, it destroyed her. Kurt didn’t do that with his scumbag behavior; I did that with mine.
I don’t remember a second of the drive, and only when I slam the brake on and skid to park my truck do I notice where I am. Back in town, outside the only place with enough of a wifi signal to make a call. The chirping sound of the ringtone seems to go on forever. I’ve got so much on my mind, I start rambling the instant the call connects.
“Why the fuck did I have to be so cruel? I knew she’d had a rough night, and the fact that she came to me meant the world, and I screwed it up. She needed a shoulder to lean on, not more pain. I hate this, and I don’t know what to do. She loves me. She told me she loves me, and I didn’t even tell her how I felt. I fucked up.”
“Pink, what time is it?” Finn’s sleepy voice instantly soothes my raging torment. It’s too dark to see the face on my watch and the clock in my truck has never worked.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s three in the fucking morning, man.” The distant disgruntled grumble from Charge makes me grimace.