by C T Rhames
I shook my head. I was not going anywhere with Ethan Grant, no matter how many sparks he shot through me when his fingers touched my skin.
I moved through my classes, mostly ignored by the other students. They seemed to have gotten used to me. In every class that Ethan and I shared, which was three on this particular day, he managed to sit directly behind me.
He didn’t say anything, just sat there, a looming presence at my back. It set me on edge and made me nervous. What was he thinking, tapping his pencil inches from my back?
By the time I finished up at school, I was a bundle of nerves. Mostly because of Ethan, but partly because I was letting him get to me. I should know better. Hell, I should be better at blocking him off. There was just something about him that got under my skin.
I headed for the nearest grocery store to the school and cruised the aisles, letting my irritation waft away on the cold vapors of the frozen food aisle. My father only kept frozen microwave meals at the house and I wasn’t interested in eating more of those.
Instead, I grabbed some frozen vegetables, chicken breasts, some yogurt, a couple of soups, and sparkling mineral water. Then I headed for the checkout. This should tide me over until my father was back and even if it didn’t, he had left me plenty of money to go shopping again.
As soon as I stepped out of the grocery store, I realized that there was no way to avoid getting soaked. It was pouring rain and the entire landscape looked gray.
“Stupid Washington,” I muttered, looking around for a taxi. Nothing.
I pulled out my phone to call an Uber, but the battery was dead. I must have forgotten to charge it before listening to my music last night. Frustrated, I decided to find a bus stop and get home that way.
Lugging my bags of groceries, I walked through the downpour, my head down. It had rained every day I’d been here so far. I wondered if this was it, I was just destined to get soaked every day.
The bus stop was three blocks away, but I found it and sat down under the iffy shelter. Cold wind blew and I shivered in my soaking wet jeans and sweater.
After 20 minutes and no bus, I started to pace inside the little booth, trying to warm up a little. It really didn’t help. Anyone who said exercise kept you warm was obviously not wearing wet jeans when they said that.
Then I heard it. The roar of a muscle car. Spinning around, I watched as a cherry red Mustang from the early 70’s pulled up to the curb.
The passenger door swung open and Ethan peered out at me. “Get in.”
My first instinct was to tell him to fuck off, but then again, there was no bus in sight and I was about to get hypothermia standing out here. Biting my lip to keep back the angry reply, I grabbed my bags and slid into the passenger seat.
He reached across me to pull the door closed, his body warm and hard against my chest. Then he sat up and looked me over in disdain.
“You’re soaked.”
“This whole stupid state is soaked,” I muttered.
“You should be better prepared for the rain.”
“Well, I’m not, okay?” I realized that I was arguing with my ride home and took a deep breath, controlling my irritation. “Thank you for stopping.”
He nodded and pulled back onto the road. “Going home?”
“Yeah, I’m freezing.”
I didn’t even have to tell him where I lived, he sped straight there and pulled up in front of the house that looked even more dilapidated in the rain.
“Thanks,” I started to say, but he was already out of the car and moving around it to open my door. Before I could say anything, he took the bags from me and waited as I got out.
“I can take those.” I reached for the bags, but he held them out of reach.
“I’ll carry them.” His tone left no room for argument.
Shrugging and too cold and wet to stand there and insist on carrying my own bags, I went up the steps and opened the door. Ethan followed me inside, then went past me and into the kitchen. He put the bags on the kitchen table and started pulling out food.
“This is all you got?” He frowned at me.
“The mineral water was heavy,” I pointed out.
“This isn’t food.”
“Yes, it is.” I glared at him. “You can’t just walk into my house and criticize what I eat. If you have an issue with it, you are free to leave.”
He shook his head and then started putting things in the fridge.
I watched him for a moment and then turned. “I’m going to get out of these wet clothes.”
His head snapped around and I saw amusement in his blue eyes.
“And then I’m putting on dry ones,” I clarified.
“Don’t get dressed on my account,” he said in that raspy, low voice of his. It sent shivers through me and I wasn’t sure how to react to his words, so I just hurried upstairs.
I locked my door and stripped off the cold clothes and stepped into a hot shower. Ethan could feel free to leave if he wanted to, I wasn’t going to suffer to make him feel comfortable.
Chapter 4
He was still there when I came back downstairs, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and staring out the window at the rain.
“Why are you here?” I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee, since he’d made it anyway.
“Because I want to be.” He looked at me and leaned forward. “Why don’t you do what I tell you?”
“Why should I?”
He cocked his head and then changed tactics completely. “Why do you hide this?” He reached out and pushed my hair behind my ear.
“It’s ugly. It makes people stare at me.” I tipped my head and my hair fell back over the scar.
Ethan’s eyes burned into my skin. “It’s not ugly. Don’t hide it.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” I muttered back.
His nostrils flared and he leaned in closer. “What if I was?”
“What?”
“The boss of you? Then would you do what I say?”
“No.”
He was so close that I could feel his hot, minty breath on my cheek as I looked over at the fridge, trying not to meet his eyes. I knew if I looked at his eyes, he would drown me in them. Just like that first day of school.
His fingers grazed my cheek and I couldn’t help it. I turned and met his eyes. They sparked as he touched my scar and then he pressed into it until I jerked back and hissed through my teeth.
“It hurts.” He looked pleased about that.
“Of course it hurts, it’s only a couple months old.”
“What happened?”
“Why do you care?” I shot back, not wanting to get into it. Not wanting to relive those moments. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I got up and took his coffee cup and put it in the sink. “Time to go. Thank you for the ride.”
He stood up. “It takes more than a cup of coffee to say thank you.”
I stared at him in confusion. “What do you want?”
“You.” He stepped forward, moving me back against the counter. He put his hands on either side of me.
“I’m not available, sorry.”
“You have someone else?” His eyes darkened. Could he actually be jealous? I shook my head, no, that was ridiculous.
“No, but I’m not in the market for a boyfriend.”
“I never said I wanted to be your boyfriend.”
I pushed against his chest but he was like a rock, solid and unmoving. A sparkle of fear zipped up my spine. It occurred to me that I was alone here in this house and if he decided to do something, I wasn’t strong enough to stop him.
“Please, go.” There was a catch in my voice and I saw the moment he heard it. His pupils dilated like they had when he’d caused me pain. He liked it.
“Beg me,” he murmured, moving in closer, pressing his body against mine.
The counter dug into my back and my face was pressed into his chest. His very hard, very muscled chest.
He smelled
amazing. I mentally slapped myself for thinking that. How great your attacker smells is not the thing you should focus on in this situation. Still, I inhaled deeply before pushing against him again.
“You can’t just barge into someone’s house and take advantage of them,” I hissed, leaning away from him. Unfortunately, this arched my pelvis toward him and I could feel just how much he was enjoying this.
“Can’t I?” his eyes dropped to my lips, then flickered over to my scar, on full view now that I had washed my hair and it was back from my face. “What other scars are you hiding, my broken girl?”
I stiffened. How could he possibly know about the other scars?
“Go away.” The words spilled from my mouth in a whisper, like I didn’t really mean them.
Ethan hesitated, his eyes still on my scar. Then he bent to me and I closed my eyes, knowing he was coming in for a kiss. Not sure of how I would react. Part of me was repulsed, but part welcomed the kiss. My lips parted slightly in anticipation.
But he didn’t kiss me. Instead, I felt his hot tongue lick up my scar, slowly, sensually, awakening nerve endings I didn’t know existed. They sparked down my jaw and into my chest, speeding up my heart and causing heat to pool in my belly.
I sucked in air, inhaling his scent, a spicy and heavily male aroma that made my insides melt. He smelled so good.
This was all wrong. I twisted away from him, ducking under his arm and breaking contact.
He watched me with hooded eyes, his erection pressing against his jeans, not even bothering to hide how turned on he was.
I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, breathing heavily and staring at him. What was with this guy? What was wrong with me? Why was I attracted to someone so wrong?
“You and me? We’re both broken,” he said, sauntering toward me. “Our broken pieces fit together. You’ll see.”
Then he was gone, out the door and roaring down my driveway in that massive car. I sank down on the kitchen chair, my heart pounding. What the hell had just happened?
Everything that had gone down had been bad, but my reaction to it scared me the worst. Why had I reacted like he was my lover? Hugging myself, I went out the back door and stood at the railing that edged the cliff. The wind and rain whipped at me and I stood shivering in the cold until I was soaked through again. Then I turned and climbed the stairs to my room, where I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
I used to be pretty. I had the wavy hair that my friends envied, the pert little nose and smooth skin that they all wanted. My curves had attracted the guys.
Now? Now I was brutally marked by the jagged scar that ran from my right temple to my chin. It stood out, angry pink against my pale skin. Ethan was right, I was broken, physically and mentally.
I stripped out of my clothes and looked at myself again. Dampness clung to my skin. Skin that stretched too tight over my bones and made me feel like it was trying to suffocate me. The curves were gone and in their place were jaggy, bony pieces of a girl who had been torn apart and pieced back together again, but not completely. I was missing something. Something you couldn’t see in the mirror.
My fingers ran over my thighs, where the scars were. The scars that Ethan had guessed. How had he known? Or maybe he just thought I had other scars from the car accident? The accident that my face was a constant reminder of.
My legs gave out under me as I felt the familiar panic filling my chest and suffocating me. Curled up on the floor, I shuddered and sucked in breath. Then I reached for the only thing I knew could help. The Altoids container in my backpack.
Cracking the tin open, I pulled out my instrument of choice, a razor blade. HIS razor blade. It seemed ironic that I used something from the man who had taken everything from me to let out the pain and guilt.
Holding the blade gingerly between my fingers, I slid it across my skin. At first, I felt nothing, then the stinging began as red droplets welled up on my pale skin and dribbled down to the hardwood floor. I used a piece of tissue to clean it up and to soak up the rest of the blood that came from the cut, feeling relief as the evil, the darkness in me, seeped out of the cut.
When the blood stopped, I disinfected the blade, as always, and carefully stored it with my alcohol wipes in the tin. Then I closed it up and put it back in its safe place. A Band-Aid over my cut and I was ready to get dressed, feeling drained and weary.
I curled up on my bed and drifted into a sort of sleep, tossing and turning.
Chapter 5
Nightmares plagued me. I’d actually slept alright so far in the new house, but after the run-in with Ethan and the cutting, I found myself surrounded by screams and the sound of screeching metal. Over and over, I jerked upright on the bed, startled out of my sleep by the noises.
Each time, I tried to stay awake, but fell back into the abyss. The worst was the last dream. Slick, cold hands on my thighs, prying them gently apart and stroking me, a voice I would never forget telling me to relax and be a good girl.
This time when I jerked awake, I didn’t fall asleep again. I sat in the middle of my bed and cried until I was empty. So empty it hurt.
The sun was peeking over the mountains and I finally dragged myself into the bathroom. I looked awful. The crying had made my eyes puffy and red, in bright contrast to my pallid skin.
Splashing cold water on my face helped with the redness and I managed to get the puffiness under control. Then I put some makeup on to try and make myself look human and put on jeans and a long sleeved shirt. My hair, I left down, as always.
Ethan had put my groceries away and neatly folded the bag beside the sink. I pulled out a mineral water and cracked it open, waiting for the bubbling to subside before I opened it all the way. Then I sipped it, feeling the bubbles slip down my throat and into a stomach that was churning too much for food.
Shoving the rest of the bottle into my backpack, along with my unfinished homework, I trudged out the door.
Since I’d been up so early, I arrived at school far too soon and sat in the empty Bio class, finishing up my homework in between staring out the window.
“Hey, you’re here early!” Rosa bounced into the room with a grin. “You must really love school.”
I shrugged. “It’s better than being at home sometimes.” Where my thoughts and memories attacked me. Where no one cared if I lived or died.
“Well, if you want, you can come over to my house after school. My mom is making lemon meringue pie.”
I smiled at her friendliness. “Okay, I think I would like that.” Besides, it would give me something to do apart from kicking around an empty house.
“Cool.” She slid into her seat beside me and leaned over. “Are you still doing your homework?”
“I didn’t get a chance to last night,” I told her.
Ethan walked through the door then. I didn’t even have to see him to know it was him. There was a heat radiating from his body that touched me and let me know he was in the room. I really was insane.
When I looked back, his eyes caught mine effortlessly and held them captive as he stalked toward me.
Rosa made a small sound and bent over her desk, pretending to be very involved in her work.
“Cursi.” His voice rumbled through me, instantly igniting me again.
“Ethan.” I broke the eye lock and turned back to my homework. I wasn’t going to let him affect me again. It was time to end this sick game.
As usual, he sat down behind me and leaned forward. His hot breath hit the back of my neck and I squirmed in my seat. Enough was enough.
“Stop breathing on me,” I snapped, twisting to glare at him.
“I can breathe on anyone I like.” He replied lazily. As I watched, he leaned over and blew lightly on Rosa’s nape. “Right, Rosie?”
“Right,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing.
“Leave her alone, you asshole.”
His eyes turned colder. “What did you just call me?”
“Asshole. It means someone who is ac
ting like a real jerk.”
“You might want to rephrase that,” he said, staring me down. When I didn’t respond, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back so I was looking up at him. “I said, rephrase that.”
“Okay, you’re a dick!” I winced as the pain from my head shot down my spine.
He jerked hard on my hair and I gasped in pain, seeing his pupils expand again. This guy really got off on hurting people.
“Not answer I was looking for.” He let go of my hair and shoved me away from him. “We’ll discuss this after school.”
“I won’t be around after school.”
Rosa looked at me with wide eyes. They begged me not to cause trouble.
Ethan shrugged. “I’ll find you.”
“Why don’t you not and say you did?” I snapped.
Other students were filing into the room now and he smirked at me, but didn’t say anything else. As the teacher taught, though, I felt his fingers tugging on my hair at random moments, keeping my mind off the lesson and focused on the mean boy who sat directly behind me.
The rest of the school day went by quickly, despite Ethan’s seemingly constant presence. At lunch, I sat with Rosa and licked the yogurt off my spoon slowly until I caught his eyes staring at me from across the room. Then I threw away the rest of the yogurt and headed out of the room.
The weird thing was that no one else seemed to be a target for Ethan. He had no close friends that I could see, but he also wasn’t alone. He sat with a group of people in the cafeteria. He talked and smiled, though his smile never actually reached his eyes. So why did he insist on coming after me?
As I followed Rosa out of the school, I caught myself looking around to see if Ethan was anywhere to be seen. He wasn’t and I got into her car with a sigh of relief.
“Do you like romantic comedies?” Rosa asked, as she spun out of the parking lot.
“I guess.”
“Great! I have a huge collection. We can watch a movie while eat my mom’s pie. You should stay for dinner, too.”
“I have to get home by six.” I told her, though that wasn’t true at all. No one cared if I was home at six, or even if I was home, for that matter.