Forever Love

by Chelsea Landon

  Or maybe I’m just done.

  “Hayes? You’re up.” A rep from the NCAA says looking at Landon.

  They test all of us after the last game and after a bowl game as well. Landon knew that heading into the game. It wasn’t like this shit was a surprise.

  “I’m sure Steven would have loved to see this shit.” I mumble when I see that Landon’s going to be tested as he holds the plastic cup in his hand. I know for a fucking fact he isn’t passing.

  Landon glares, his eyes on the cup. “Don’t you fucking say his name around me.”

  “Why?” I’m being a senseless bastard tonight but I don’t care. “Does it hurt to know you were responsible?”

  “Fuck you, Cash.” He brushes past me toward the bathroom.

  “Yeah, right. Fuck me.” I turn back toward my locker.

  “That girl jerked you around.” Colton says when he notices that I’m ripping away gear and slamming shit in my locker. We just won.

  I should be happy. I keep telling myself that. Over and over again.

  I should be fucking stoked but I’m none of that right now.

  I’m fucking none of that.

  There’s laughter behind Colton’s words and that makes me see red. I’m not in the mood for this shit. Not after last week. I’m just not. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I put my pads in my locker and hang up my knee pads on the cooler and push the shelve up out of my way before I knock my head on it like I do every other time when I reach for my shoes.

  “Yeah, sure.” Colton laughs.

  I drop my shoes on the floor and turn around to face him. “Listen to me, motherfucker!” I slam him up against the wall. “You know nothing about Madison Thomas. Nothing. You know a girl who sucked your dick when she was high. I can guarantee you that she doesn’t remember your dick from Jay’s. Keep your fucking mouth shut!”

  “That’s all I need to know about her. She gives good head, what else is worth knowing?”

  He’s laughing.

  The motherfucker is laughing.

  I pummel his ass right then and there with as much force as I can muster. Our bodies slam against the lockers. Guys start breaking us apart and I’m so pissed that I can’t even think straight. I want to kill him for saying that.

  Landon laughs returning to the room, standing between me and Colton with his hands against my chest. I knock his arms away, and it fucking pisses me off to no end.

  What the fuck would he have to laugh about right now?

  “It’s not even about you just being an all-around dick anymore.” I say watching his reaction to my every word. “It’s about you having a fucking drug problem.” I shove him backwards into Coach Lander. “You not only let me down, you let Steven down. You let the whole fucking team down, you piece of shit!”

  He says nothing.

  He hesitates.

  Hesitates.

  Only he doesn’t back down as his body tenses. He’s pissed. Most emotion I’ve seen out of him in years.

  “You sure you want to do this right now, Landon?” I say putting no space between us despite us being pulled apart. “You sure you want to have this conversation, here, right now?”

  “Yes.”

  No hesitation.

  None.

  I can’t believe it. He laughs, like I’m joking with him but I’m not and he knows that too. He knows I’m about to say shit to him that he’s not going to want to hear.

  I shove him roughly against the wall.

  His arms catch him against the lockers, metal rattling as he eyes me carefully.

  The smile’s finally gone. “You ready for me to break that million dollar arm?”

  It’s my turn to laugh at him. I’m shaking my head as he watches me, testing and then provoking. “I'd like to see you try, asshole.”

  He shoves me getting in my face. “How long have you been fucking Macy?”

  I admire his bluntness and fight off a smile. There’s nothing funny about it but I smile. Maybe that’s why he smiled.

  “Don’t say shit like that unless you want an honest answer.” I’m making his head spin and feeding him lies without even saying the words. It makes him see red. It’s not technically my fault if he’s misconstruing what I’m saying as the truth. I didn’t lie. He just isn’t gathering the truth from my cryptic words.

  It’s by design and if he knows me at all, he knows that.

  “You warning me?” he asks, his expression controlled in a way, but fading in others. His voice has a dejected tone to it. It would kill him if he thought I touched his girl that way.

  You know what, fuck you, Landon. Fuck you because you touched mine.

  “I guess I am.” I smile. “Don’t ask unless you want the truth.”

  He waits. His eyes scanning my face like he’s studying me. He’s looking for the lie.

  He says nothing. He knows I don’t lie. I don’t need to.

  I shove, harder than he does but not nearly hard enough. I don’t like where this is going and he doesn’t either. “How long have you been fucking, Madison?”

  I’m really fucking curious what he’s going to do next. Landon’s not dumb but when he’s like this, resentful and moody, he’s a fucking asshole with problems that go deeper than even a therapist could handle.

  For the second time in a week, I’m punched in the face.

  “I like a man with battle wounds.” Bethany says, taking in my split lip and the gash above my eye that I had stitched up mere hours ago. Landon got in a few hits but he’s nursing a broken nose so I feel like my mission was accomplished.

  I feel good about the beer in my hand too. I’m hoping it takes this pain away. Something’s got to, right?

  I laugh and take my hat off running my fingers through my hair nodding for her to sit down beside me. Bethany takes that as her opportunity and it’s one I’m giving her as I replace my hat pulling it down to shadow my eyes. I give it to her because to my left I see Madison come into view.

  Fucking Madison.

  There goes that beat in my chest. It thumps wildly knowing she’s here.

  She’s wearing a dark hoodie with the hood pulled up over her face. I know it’s her though. I know that girl. I’d know her in the daylight, in the moonlight, in the darkest of nights. She looks awful, like she hasn’t eaten in days and has been high just as long.

  I know her.

  Behind her with his hand on the small of her back is Jay.

  That hand should be mine.

  Her gaze darts to mine.

  She finally fucking sees it. There’s a small part of me that thinks she wants me to be upset and see this. Only she’s not looking at me.

  Should I be upset?

  That’s a fucking understatement.

  I’m a fucking mess.

  You know what, fuck her for showing up here. Fuck her for being with him. He sees me before she does and smiles at me. Fucking smiles.

  I give nothing in return.

  I turn back to Bethany, a smile curves her lips. My eyes drift from hers and to Madison. Bethany moves onto my lap and straddles my waist. I let her. I bring the beer to my lips and I let her. My head falls back against the couch.

  I look at Madison again, she’s staring at me.

  I hope she’s a fucking mess like I am.

  I hope she feels this pain and heartache I breathe and die for.

  I hope she’s miserable.

  For so long I’ve felt alone in this anger that takes over everything I am. It’s controlling me, taking over everything I try to understand and confusing me. How could she not see that? I believed in her. My life was built around that faith I had that I could change her, be there for her until she saw it. It never worked.

  She’s watching me, her eyes intent on mine to see what I’m doing with this girl on my lap.

  This could have been you. It was you. Fuck you.

  Smiling at Madison, my mouth lowered to Bethany’s. It’s a condescending smile I offer Madison. A smile that asks, h
ow does it feel to be used?

  This is revenge and she knows it.

  Keeping my eyes locked with hers, I kiss Bethany. It’s not a kiss I’d give Madison but I put some emotion behind it. And from her view, it looks like I’m into it.

  Bethany looks at me, I know the look, she’s wanting this to go further and she holds up a condom. I nod and undo my belt buckle and the buttons on my jeans. Apparently this is how this works because she goes for it. You’d think she’d want some place private but no, not this girl. She wants the world to see who she’s fucking right now.

  With one hand on the edge of the couch, the other on Bethany’s hip, I let her lean back and roll on the condom she dug from her purse. My dick’s guarded with the way her dress is bunched up around her waist but if someone walked by the couch we’re on, they’d know. It would be fairly obvious but there’s also four other couples doing the same thing in the house, against walls, on the lawn, where ever there’s a flat surface.

  Madison knows what we’re doing. Her eyes penetrate me.

  Fucking take it. You stole my heart. You destroy my beats. You’ve done that. Take this shit.

  Pushing her panties to the side, or maybe she’s not wearing any? I don’t know. Bethany lets out a moan when she raises up on her knees and then slides down on me.

  It feels wrong. My stomach tightens and not in a good way. Though I’m hard, nothing about this feels good to me.

  I’m an idiot and just like every other fucking football player here fucking in the hall, on counters, on couches, or in the hot tub.

  I’m not like them though. This isn’t me.

  I’m sweating, my face feels like it’s a hundred degrees in here and I can’t focus. Bethany wraps her arms around me tighter, grinding against me, rocking her pelvis into mine trying to move faster.

  I see the tears stream down Madison’s face and I shouldn’t care.

  I shouldn’t.

  I’m disgusted with myself. I feel the burn rising, the bile, the beat, it’s back and looking to destroy.

  My fingers dig into Bethany’s hip bones as I rock my hips against hers moving inside of her trying like hell to forget. I can’t take this.

  “I can’t.” I say but she doesn’t hear me. Bethany just keeps moving, her tits bouncing in my face. “Stop…”

  She doesn’t hear me.

  I grab her hips when I hear a door slam shut and flinch at the sound because it feels like my fucking head was slammed in it. I stare at the door over Bethany’s shoulder, my head pressed against the side of hers. That door. It’s the one Madison is now behind.

  I stare because I’m not her.

  This isn’t me. It never will be.

  “I can’t.” I say louder, in her ear. Bethany hears me now and opens her eyes, staring down at me like I’ve lost my mind. I have. She has no idea. “You need to get off me. I can’t do this!”

  I swallow trying not to vomit but it’s coming, I can feel my throat get tight and dry. I practically throw Bethany off me and run for the door pulling my pants up as I do so. I make it to the door and I’m puking just outside of it.

  I’m burning, rising, and falling. Forever failing.

  I can’t.

  I just… can’t.

  I go back to my dorm with the beer and drink despite just vomiting. And then when that’s not enough I take the bottle I know Saylor keeps under his bed for special occasions.

  This was a special occasion. It’s fuck you day.

  When I wake up in the morning, Saylor is hovering over me shaking his head. “Dude,” he kicks me in the stomach. Not hard, but enough that I’m sitting up. “You puked on my bed last night.”

  I steady myself against the wall when I sit up, my hands in my hair as I try to regain some sort of composure. “Sorry, man.”

  Saylor looks at my face, the marks covering it and the stitches above my eye. I don’t look like a star football player or someone who maintains a solid GPA all year long. I look like a goddamn train wreck. “Word on campus is Jay’s been asking around about you.” I say nothing, he raises an eyebrow. “I’m not about to start a war with a drug dealer over her.”

  I know what he’s referring to. He’d protect me, should I need it but he’d refuse to do it for someone like Madison. A girl he’s never trusted.

  “Then don’t.”

  He looks at me, and then walks out the door. After last night I can honestly say I gotta give props to Saylor for still talking to me. I remember bits and pieces of it and I did puke on his bed. While he was in it.

  November 30, 2013

  I can’t forget what I’m see that morning. Cash Bryant is fucking a girl in front of me at three AM. He wants me to see that.

  My heart wrenches in pain, lingering in despair and melancholy, only nothing makes that feeling go away. Usually I can get it to ease. Find a way to pull myself from it.

  Not anymore.

  The Cash I know has always been a happy guy. That’s what I love about him. Not only does his smile get you, he’s fucking pure down to his soul. He’s not mean. Ever. What he said to me, what I see him doing, I deserve all that and then some. I’ve taken this happy boy and destroyed him. I’ve made him hate me in ways I never thought was possible. I made him believe he hated me, when really, he doesn’t. He’s lying to himself. He wanted to but he can’t. A soul as pure as his can’t.

  I want him to be happy. I want him to see that there’s light away from me.

  He’s dying and I feel it. I feel it radiating from him. I’ve shattered the innocence in his heart. It’s in his violent posture when I see him and the way his hands shake when he reaches for Bethany.

  I can’t blame him for hating me. I hate myself.

  I turn my back on him.

  Again.

  Addiction—and what you’ll do for that addiction—is not something to mess with. It can ruin your life.

  It’s ruined mine.

  I’ve gone through withdrawals from cocaine and it’s not fun. I’ve had days where I feel like my skin is being ripped from my bones, layer by layer, and my heart is beating outside my chest. I’ve woken up thinking I’m holding it in my hands, blood all over my hands only to see it’s my nose bleeding.

  Do I stop?

  No.

  I don’t because I’ve also experienced the high it provides and when I’m on that, it’s good. It’s really fucking good. Nothing bothers me. I’ve thrown up, had nose bleeds and a sore throat that feels like it’s there for life. Stomach pains, cramps, rapid heartbeats. All that.

  None of that compares to Cash leaving and the feeling I have now.

  So I take three pills and stare at my hands. They shake. I shake.

  Despite what I saw just now, he’s still pure.

  Nothing can shadow Cash. Nothing in my eyes.

  My eyelids fall, the images blur when the pills kick in, the voices around me begin to fade with each breath. There’s no action, no noise and finally I feel at ease.

  Jay approaches. He’s angry and I know what the anger in him does to me. If I could move, I would. I can’t. With each movement he makes towards me, I’m helpless.

  He stares at me, hovering over me, his hands restraining mine. Turning my head, I look at the whites of his knuckles as his hands grip my wrists.

  Darkness.

  Fuck your darkness.

  Fuck the light too.

  He looks at me then, turns my head so I’m looking at him and laughs. “Your boy’s in deep.”

  I want to spit in his face. I want to say something back, beg him to stay away from him. From me. I can’t so I only moan and try to curl into myself. He grips me tighter forcing me to look at his dark eyes that see no gentleness right now. “I could kill him.” His breath hits my face like a gust of wind and I flinch. “Remember that.”

  I fade, my body limp, and that’s what I’m looking for. Only the memory of him doesn’t fade. It can’t. That’s my fault. My memory holds him deep within.

  My heart slows and my body
stops shaking. My eyes drifting close.

  December 6, 2013

  I don’t deal with December fifth very well. I know four others who don’t either.

  I know one who’d give anything to have another one.

  Another moment.

  Another day.

  Another breath.

  Another I love you.

  Instead she’s left with a memory of what she had.

  I have something right in front of me and I constantly leave it hanging.

  Leave it lying at my feet when all I need to do is pick it up.

  It’s early, I can’t sleep and I’m sitting by my window holding a brochure I got from my counselor on substance abuse, staring at nothing again, smoking when my phone rings. It’s Landon.

  “You up?”

  “Yeah…” I wave the smoke out the window and close it looking around on my floor for my hoodie. “What’s up?”

  He hesitates as he speaks, slow and relaxed. “Alexa tried to kill herself last night.”

  My heart stops.

  It takes a minute for it to beat again.

  “Are you going back to Canby?”

  “Yeah.”

  I start throwing shit in a bag, hoodies, jeans, shoes. “Can I ride with you?”

  “Yeah… meet me outside in ten minutes.”

  When I get out there I see that Macy’s in the driver’s seat of his truck. She gets out and lets me climb in the back. It’s strange seeing her. She looks at me like I’m not good enough to even be in the same car with her.

  I’m not.

  The seat hits me in the face when she pulls it back and I glare at her in the mirror. She did that shit on purpose. “Did anyone text Cash?”

  Macy rolls her eyes. “He already knows.”

  And I hate that she can answer that. It should be me. I know she’s friends with Cash and they still talk. It doesn’t bother me. I know she would never do anything. I also know Cash wouldn’t. He may not talk to Landon anymore but they’re very different. Despite the damaged relationship, he wouldn’t make it worse by making a move on Macy.

  The entire hour-and-a-half drive back to Canby was the most uncomfortable ride ever. It reminds me of Steven’s funeral when Cash, Landon, Macy, Alexa and I went to the football field. Not a word was spoken by anyone for over three hours that day. We all just sat there on the field staring at the sky.