by Mandy Harbin
"Here you are, Mr. Ashley." I glanced at the redhead and took my card from her before focusing on Liv again.
She'd finally won the battle with the door.
"I think you should do some kind of victory dance," I said dryly as I walked up to her.
"Don't start with me."
I chuckled. She was so full of ire it was refreshing. Most girls were too into fashion or makeup or whatever they babbled about among themselves that I usually didn't pay them much attention. Except when I wanted to get laid. I might be a jerk, but I wasn't an idiot. I knew the kinds of things women wanted to talk about to get comfortable with a guy. Not that I ever lied to them. I just didn't engage them unless I was on a mission. But the girls I'd been around who'd shown me anger were different. They'd been spiteful bitches.
Liv was just...honest. Real. Yeah, refreshing.
"I'm not starting anything. I got you a latte." I turned before she could say anything, but I heard a little harrumph before she shuffled to the side and the sound of a chair scraping across the floor echoed in the room. I walked to the counter and grabbed the first of the two coffees and the sugar dispenser in case she wanted some. I walked over to her and set them both down, then went back to the bar to get mine as the guy behind the counter placed it beside the napkins.
"What's all that?" I asked as I sat across from her and blew on my coffee to try to cool it. "Did you pack your entire dorm room?" I knew she hadn't, but when she glared at me, I understood teasing her had been the right way to go. Besides, I liked doing it.
"Are you always a smart ass?"
"Not always. I have my bad days, too." Hopefully, she'd never experience one of those days where I shut down...or worse.
"Well that's comforting." She picked up her coffee and put it to her lips. I reached out on impulse and grabbed her hand, stopping her.
"Shit, it's still hot! You want to burn your lips?"
She gasped and leaned away. She didn't say anything, just watched me with big eyes. Great. I'd scared her again. Why was she so skittish around me? I hadn't done anything to hurt her.
But someone had. It was obvious she'd been hurt by someone. Probably a man. I couldn't see her acting this way around another woman.
"Sorry," I muttered. "I just didn't want you to burn yourself. I didn't mean to...never mind."
Her shoulders relaxed and she gave her head a slight shake. "No, I'm sorry. I'm trying to do better. Um, let's just get started, okay?"
Do betteras in not jump when I did something unexpected around her. Yeah, there really was no doubt in my mind that she'd been hurt, possibly abused, by a man. The thought of that made my teeth hurtfrom the amount of force I was using to clench them. I took a deep breath to force my body to relax and nodded at her. "Sure."
She pulled out her laptop, notebook, and pen, slowly, methodically. I got the feeling she was still trying to shake off whatever emotion me startling her had ignited. So I sat quietly, letting her.
Not that it was easy for me to bite my tongue. But I was fighting more than my desire to fill the silence. I wanted to know why she was easily spooked. There was a story there. It wasn't that I just wanted to know. On some level, I needed to. Which made me want to keep quiet even more. I'd let my tongue bleed before I gave in to any needs I had that weren't of the carnal nature. Anything else suggested something more, and I couldn't allow that.
"So tell me about your paper?" she asked without looking at me. She started typing something on her computer, glanced at her coffee, then picked it up before making eye contact.
"I have to write a paper on graphic design. I know it's my major, but the thought of writing some long research paper on the BS topics within it sucks ass. I'm an artist, not a writer."
Her eyes narrowed. "You know, writers would tend to disagree with your assessment of them. Writing is an art."
True, but I liked getting her riled up. She was like a firecracker. Small package that when exploded was harmless noise. I enjoyed seeing her little detonations, so where was the fun if I agreed? I smiled and shook my head. "Whatever you say, Liv," I said in a faux placating tone.
She sighed. "Just get on with it. What do you have to write about? I know squat about graphic design or your form of art, so you're going to have to spell it out for me if you want my help."
I suppressed my urge to laugh, but didn't have the same luck with smiling. "Okay. I have some leeway. It just has to be on a significant aspect of graphic design. I can touch on the history of it or focus solely on it if it ties into the importance of where graphic design is today. Things like major movements and developments within it. Or I can focus on the current importance of it. Like how it works with corporate branding, across various platforms to engage specific audiences. I guess I could even discuss something more high level like conception and perception translated into technical proficiency." I shrugged and took a sip of my coffee.
"I don't suppose you can tell me that again in English?" she said dryly.
I coughed, almost choking on my coffee. I looked up, about to bark at her for making me spew on my shirt, but the corners of her lips were tugging, fighting her amusement, and my retort died a quick death. "That was English, firecracker." I snatched a napkin out of the holder and wiped my arm.
"Firecracker?" But she was still smiling, so that was good. I hadn't planned on actually calling her that, but at least she wasn't offended. Chicks were easily pissed if they took something the wrong way. "I was joking. I think I get it." She was typing again. "You actually already know where you're going with your paper. You brought up the history of graphic design, some elements that propelled the study forward, and its relevance today. Why don't you focus on those three things, rather than just one of them? We can write an intro showing how each flows from one to the other, then discuss each topic in greater detail, followed by a conclusion tying it all up neatly. The supporting paragraphs on each of the topics will be easier for you to write since you won't be writing an entire paper on one topic."
"Oh my god, where have you been my entire life?" I breathed. That was genius. Simple, effective, genius.
She blushed and looked away. The rose color of her cheeks almost matched the pink streaks in her hair. I found it pretty cool she had her own style—colorful hair but non-flashy clothes. And yes, she wore other colors than black as I'd once teased her about. Without the uniqueness of her hair, she'd seem average.
She was anything but that.
She looked at me and licked her lips. "When is your paper due?"
"Three weeks."
She paled. "Crap. Procrastinate much?"
"That's why I have you to help me."
"Yeah, but I'm not going to do it for you. Can you write some summary paragraphs on those three topics by next week? You don't have to tie them together, just pretend like they are three small separate papers."
I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can do that." The way she broke it up made it feel more than doable.
"Good." She looked out the window and frowned. I glanced out to see what she was staring at, but nothing was there. I waited for her to say something, but she seemed lost in her own little world.
"Liv?"
She looked at me slowly, then blinked. "Can I, uh, ask you something?"
"Sure." Though I didn't like the hesitant tone of her voice.
"The night of the fundraiser..."
Well shit. Was this about Chelsea? Liv was my friend, but she was also a girl. Fuck, I had no idea what she wanted to know. My knee started bouncing. "Yeah?"
"I take it Gabe's the guy you hit in class that got you your counseling sessions."
I hadn't known what she wanted to talk about, but bringing up Gabe hadn't even been on my radar. Mainly because I never thought about him. I tolerated him at best when I had to, and I usually sucked at that. Too much history got in the way of the present. "That wasn't a question. You sound like you already know it's him."
"I just wanted to make sure they were one in the same, and you'
re not making a habit of beating the shit out of people just for the hell of it."
"Hmm...is that a trick question?" I smiled. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, they are one in the same. No, I don't usually make a habit attacking people."
"Do you have a problem with him specifically?"
I felt the blood fall out of my face. "Why?"
"Because Jewel has been talking to him on the phone, and he asked her out last night. I think she likes him. I don't know him, but you do. I'd like to know if she'll be okay around him."
I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. I could tell her why Gabe and I had issues. She seemed really nervous for Jewel because of that jackass. Why? Was she being a typical girl looking out for her friend? Liv was anything but typical. Maybe it went deeper, this concern she was sporting. I couldn't shake the feeling that some dude had done a number on her. If I asked her outright about it, I doubted she'd tell me, but maybe she'd be open to it if I explained about Gabe. Either way, she needed to understand about him.
"We used to be best friends. A long time ago. We grew up in the same neighborhood, played video games at each other's houses, and rode bikes when our parents forced us to turn off the television and go outside. There was a time in our lives we were inseparable."
"So what happened?"
I rubbed my hands on my face and shifted in my seat. I dropped my elbows onto the table and propped up my chin. I hadn't talked about this with anyone that wasn't family or in the position to prescribe medication. I looked at her for several seconds, weighing my own words before I fed them to her. "Remember the story I told you about my dad having an affair? It was with Gabe's mom." She gasped and I nodded while she let that sink in. "Yeah. The fact that he and I were friends just provided a nice cover for my father. She wasn't married but wanted a husband. She was pissed when he took his own life after killing my mother. Even went so far as to blame me for ruining her plan."
"What kind of plan?" Liv asked, but the words seemed to come out as if she hadn't realized she'd spoken them.
"She took it as a sign that because Gabe and I were as close as brothers we were meant to be actual siblings. My understanding is that she and dad fooled around for years, but she was getting antsy. She wanted him to leave my mom so she could have the family she wanted. Of course when Dad offed himself, that plan died with him."
"Oh my god. That's unbelievable."
She hadn't heard the worst of it. "What was truly unbelievable was that Gabe knew. He knew his mom and my dad were seeing each other. My dad was a fixture in his life almost as much as he was in mine. There were times my dad would eat dinner with them and then come home to have dinner with us. Gabe knew what was going on, and he never said a word to me. Not one fucking word."
"Maybe he thought they were just friends."
"He knew, Liv. Gabe knew. He told me his mom said not to ever say anything because their happiness was at stake."
She seemed to mull over that then said, "Yeah, but he was a kid, Kill. Maybe he didn't know any better. Kids tend to trust their parents and his mom abused that trust."
That was the first time she'd called me Kill. I hadn't been particularly fond of that nickname because it had started with Gabe all those years ago. But I liked hearing it from her. "He abused mine, too. Gabe resented me after my dad died. He let his mom fuel his emotions, and he ran with it. He blamed me. Not only did I lose both my parents on the same night, I lost my best friend."
Liv nodded. "So you moved in with your grandparents. That's why you don't live on campus. You didn't move out here to go to college. You already lived here."
"Yes."
"Do you think he's safe for Jewel?" she asked, frowning. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The fact that she was worried about her roommate was very sweet. I was momentarily stunned into silence by her honesty. "Will he hurt her?" she whispered.
"I'm not sure how to answer that, firecracker," I said softly, wanting to soothe her but not sure how. "He was a good guy once, but that was a long time ago. I'm not even sure he was real back then and not some puppet for his mother. Even if he was genuine, stuff like that changes people."
"What's your gut tell you?"
There was no doubt how to answer that. "She should stay away from him. I know first hand how quickly he can turn on someone who trusts him."
"I'm not sure if she'll take my warning. Can you talk to her?"
I refrained from cringing, but just barely. "Er, the thing is, Jewel and I, um..."
"She told me y'all hooked up," she said, looking away. I felt like a bastard, but I wasn’t sure why. I'd always been nice to Jewel.
"Yeah. We did. It was a long time ago, but I'm not sure I'm the best one to warn her away from other guys." I didn't want Jewel to think I was jealous or anything.
"I'll talk to her. Not sure how much good it'll do. Not that I'll tell her why you don't get along with him," she said quickly. "That's none of her business."
And now she was worried about me. I wasn't sure how to process that. If I were trying to get into her panties, I'd turn on the charm. But that just made me feel as if I were a first-rate asshat. Besides, I didn't want to. I wanted to keep things honest between us. Keep things real. I didn't want any of that bullshit that clouds people into thinking they had to play by certain rules to get certain things.
I just wanted to be.
"I appreciate that. Gabe and I don't even talk about it. It's the proverbial pink elephant with us."
"Understandable." She sipped her coffee, and I took the cue to pick up my cup and down the rest of the tepid liquid. "I need to head out. I've got my own paper to write." She chuckled.
"Sure. Thanks for helping me. You have no idea how much I appreciate it."
She closed her laptop and stuffed it into her backpack along with the other items she'd dragged out earlier. "You'll never know how much you've helped me, too," she mumbled, not looking at me. If I hadn't known she was talking to me, I'd have thought she was muttering to herself. I looked at her, but she was avoiding eye contact as she stood. I knew from the few times we'd been around each other that she was naturally a shy person, and it was times like this I shouldn’t push her. Normally, my asshole self wouldn't care about something like that, but this was different.
She was different.
Yeah, she was different, but I wasn't going to put any label on her other than friend. Maybe that was the only reason she was different.
Maybe not.
7
"How are you doing at school?" Mr. Noble asked as he sat across from me looking relaxed. God, only two more of these damn sessions to go.
"I'm at school now sitting with you. I think I'm doing good, but you're more qualified to answer that."
There went that pencil, scribbling something that would go in my permanent file. I wanted to reach across his desk, snatch it away, and break it.
"You know what I mean, Killian," he finally said. Yeah, I knew what he meant, but I never knew how to answer his questions. This had been our song and dance from the beginning. I saw no reason to change it.
"I'm not sure that I do, Mr. Noble. If I guess incorrectly and start rambling on about something unrelated to what you intended, then you'll start writing something in that notebook, and then hone in on why I mentioned something that I could've avoided. I like it better when you're specific. No room for error then."
Without looking up at me, he said, "There are never any wrong answers in here."
Damn. I knew that, too.
When I didn't say anything, he looked up. "I only ask questions to get you talking about things you prefer to avoid. Addressing those issues is why we're here. If you're compelled to talk about something, it's never wrong."
"I always want to talk. You know it's part of my hyperactivity. It's easier for me to fill the silence than fight that urge."
He smiled. "I know. But this is really twofold. When you talk about things you'd rather not, you're working through stuff that bother
s you. When you're being quiet, fighting the urge as you say, you're working on the hyperactive part of your personality. Progress doesn't have to be major to be made."
I so didn't like this man. Especially when he was right. "Things are fine at school. Really," I finally answer.
He looked down at his notebook, jotted something, and then focused on me. "Have you had any interactions with Gabriel?"
I sighed. "Yeah, but not the physical kind. He was at the fundraiser last weekend."
"Did he do or say anything to provoke you?"
"Always."
He looked wary. "Did anything happen?"
"No. He's an asshole. I know he is, and I know there's nothing I can do to change that. Believe me, Mr. Noble, I learned my lesson." I would do my best to never be provoked by him again. That didn't mean I didn't want to hurt him in the worst way, but deep down, I knew Gabe wasn't worth it. At least not worth damaging my education when I was this close to being finished. Now after graduation...that was a different story. No way was I going to put up with his shit if he started anything once school was over. But I hoped I'd never see him afterward. If I didn't, problem solved.
"So you were the bigger man. Good."
"Being the bigger man sucks."
He chuckled. "I know. But it's part of being an adult."
"Being an adult doesn't automatically make you good.” My father had been one sadistic son of a bitch. Age hadn't quelled his immoral tendencies at all.
"Your father was a bipolar man off of his medication. I've read reports that also suggested he was an undiagnosed schizophrenic. That doesn't make him evil. It makes him a sick man who didn't seek out the help he needed."
We'd talked about this before. It didn't change what I'd been through. "Don't sugarcoat him to me. I know how he was."
He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "The point is, you are not him. You are your own man. The best way to exorcise your demons is to realize you control who you'll become. Not him."
It sounded nice and all, but I just didn't agree with him. Not completely. Yeah, I controlled who I was, but I was able to do that by understanding who I'd come from. That man's blood was in my veins. I was created by him. I could never forget that.