Strike

by Jennifer Ryder

  I roll over in bed and Soph stirs next to me. Her blonde hair is in a bird’s nest, but she’s still as beautiful as ever. Her mascara is clumped and smeared. She rubs at her eyes, pulling at her lashes.

  “Morning,” I mutter, pulling my pillow to my chest to snuggle.

  “What time is it, babe?” she croaks out.

  I glance over at the alarm clock. “Shit. It’s after ten. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”

  “Don’t apologise. I’m not working today anyway.”

  “Hey, I was thinking … are you still keen to move in?”

  “Yeah. Anything to get out of my fucked-up group house. Why?”

  I shrug and turn my body to face her. “Just thinking about what’s next, you know?”

  Soph brushes the hair off my face and cups my chin in her hands. “I could take care of you, you know,” she says, her expression deadly serious. She really cares about me.

  “You do, Soph. You’ve listened to me cry like a baby, and held me when I needed to be held. Trust me. You take care of me.”

  “I mean like a girlfriend. A couple,” she says, hesitantly, like she’s afraid of what I might say next.

  “Oh, Soph. You’re so sweet but you know what team I play for.”

  She sighs loudly. “Yeah. I know.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have turned to you for this. I hope it’s okay that I did. I really had nowhere else to go.”

  “No, babe. I’m glad you did. I just need to stop torturing myself over you. I want an April all to myself. It’s not easy finding a girl. Not one like you.”

  “If I knew someone, I’d push them your way in a heartbeat. You’re beautiful, Soph, and by far, the most incredible kisser … for a girl, that is. That night we went out and got plastered, and we kissed … you know I only did it to ward off the guys. I shouldn’t have, though, I was a shit for doing it … leading you on.”

  “I know you’re as straight as they come, but I let you. Gotta take small victories when we can, huh?”

  ****

  Later that day …

  “Soph, we’re going out,” I blurt out.

  “Babe, not a good idea. You’re not in the right—”

  “Headspace? Yeah, I’m not, but I don’t give a shit. I’m gonna go out and get fucked up, and I’m doing it with or without you. It’s your choice.”

  Each breath I take imbeds the hurt deeper. Each beat of my heart reminds me of how I loved Spencer, how I still love him. It hurts me more than I ever could have imagined. I need to do something to dull the pain, or at the very least, escape it, if only for a night.

  Hands on hips, Soph huffs her blonde fringe from her eyes. “Fine, but I’ll have to raid your wardrobe.”

  “I thought that was already assumed.”

  We take our time doing the girly-get-ready routine, something I rarely indulge in. But Soph’s my best friend, and if I’m gonna do this kind of thing I’m doing it with her.

  We style each other’s hair and paint our nails whilst sipping champagne. Soph does my makeup, which is nice for a change. It makes me feel … different, and it helps me imagine I’m someone else, because I don’t wanna be the girl who has lost her heart and wants to crumble into a heap every time she thinks of him.

  “So, I kinda got asked to go on a date,” Soph says, as she finishes curling her hair.

  “Ah, excuse me, but when the hell did this happen? Details. Spill.”

  “You know how I cut my hand at work last week? Well, there was this doctor in Emergency. We kind of flirted a bit while she stitched me up. Hottest doctor I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I should’ve injured myself earlier.”

  “And?” I ask, wide-eyed.

  “I gave her my number that night. I must’ve made an impression, because she texted me today. Wants to go out with me.”

  “That’s fucking fantastic, Soph. So what’s her name?”

  “Bonnie.”

  “Nice. So why don’t you ring her? Do it, Soph. You deserve to be happy.”

  “I will; it’s just—” She sighs. Her shoulders slump, and she scratches the back of her head.

  “What?” I bark.

  “I don’t want to leave you. I need to make sure you’re good, you know?”

  I shake my head, and hold out my empty glass to her. “Shut up and get me another champagne. I’ll be fine, Soph.” One day. “Don’t put your love life on hold for me. God, how long’s it been since you’ve had some sexy-time?”

  Soph tops up our glasses and hands one to me. “Fuck, it’s been a long drought,” she admits. “I’m starting to worry that I’m exceeding the safe usage of my toys. I’m buying batteries every time I’m at the shop for milk and bread.”

  I laugh out loud, and then pout. “Aw. My poor, poor friend. Well, I’m sure if you give this Bonnie chick a call, you might save yourself buying a couple of packs of AAAs.”

  “Yeah, guess I should call her. Money’s tight,” Soph adds, and then pisses herself laughing. “They’re fuckin’ expensive.”

  “Yeah, I’m hearing you.”

  I walk over to rummage through my wardrobe.

  “You know what sucks, Soph?”

  “What?” She puts down her glass and walks over to stand beside me.

  I throw my hands in the air. “I’m back in toy territory, Soph. Fuck Spencer and his perfect cock. He’s ruined me.” No toy is gonna make me feel like he did.

  Soph rolls her eyes and turns her head, ignoring me as she flicks through the tops on hangers.

  “I don’t expect you to understand, Soph. I’ve had guys before, but Spencer …” I let out a long breath. “I swear his cock is magic.”

  “I’ve had cock before,” she admits, and then tries to contain a cheesy grin.

  Hello! Soph’s had cock? My lesbian friend?

  I stumble on my feet and grab her shoulder with one hand, and the side of my wardrobe with the other. “Noooo. What? You never once told me you’d been with a guy.” I can’t believe this. Does this mean she’s bi?

  “That’s because I don’t care to remember, babe. Men are fuckers. I’m never going back. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Tell me what happened,” I ask, but my tone might as well have me on my knees begging her to tell the story.

  “Nuh-uh. I’m not reliving it. So you can quit it.” Her mouth forms a hard line. She slips her jeans down and pulls a super-short sexy blue skirt over her narrow hips. Soph takes her long-sleeved top off and tugs a lacy black tank off a hanger.

  “Did he have a magic cock? Is that what happened? Did he ruin you too?” I should be laughing, because what I just said was damn funny, but I don’t feel like giggling.

  “Shut the hell up before I gag you and tie you up,” she says, slipping the tank on.

  “Fine then. Hand me the sluttiest thing in my wardrobe.”

  I’m determined to move on, whatever it takes.

  ****

  I’m slamming down the Jägerbombs like they’re water. Damn they hurt, but not as much as being sober. I’m sick of crying. I have to get over him. I just don’t know what to do or how long it’ll take.

  It wasn’t like this with the others. With Todd came a sense of relief. With Nick, I guess I always knew it wouldn’t last because I would have to come home eventually, but this? This sucks, big time.

  Big time.

  A pair of strong hands slip around my waist, pulling me back against a hard body. The combination of too much aftershave and rum infiltrates my nose in a fog.

  “I thought that was you, April,” a male voice says in my ear.

  Whoever it is, their face is about to meet my fist. I swing around, causing his arms to drop. I swing, and he dodges my fist, leaning back. I stumble on my heels and face-plant into his firm chest. Well done, me.

  Short black hair and olive skin. It takes me a second to realise who it is.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  * APRIL *

  “Billy?” I mumble.

 
Fuck. One drink too many, me thinks.

  “Shit, April, you’re blind.” Billy chuckles, holding my upper arms to steady me.

  “Oh no. I’m seeing everything clear as fuckin’ day,” I lie. I can barely focus on one of him.

  “Girls’ night out, huh?”

  The boy’s a genius. Two girls together … must mean a girls’ night. He should be a brain surgeon with wits about him like that.

  “Yup.”

  “So you and Jones, huh?” he asks, his eyes zeroing in on my lips. He must know it’s over. Who knows what else happened between Daddy and Spencer in that room after I left? Spencer wouldn’t have been able to hide the damage from Daddy’s right hook.

  “Nope. There is no me and Jones. He prefers to suck face with MX skanks.” Among others.

  His dark eyebrows pull together. “What MX skanks? When?”

  “Tequila shots after the championship win. You would’ve had a front row seat.”

  His brow relaxes as realisation sets in. “The shots were harmless. I didn’t know about you two then, but I knew something was up with Jones. He wasn’t into it, and I swear it looked like he wanted to rip Rocco’s head off. One shot and he couldn’t wait to get away from the girl, as much as she tried to take it further.”

  Is that the truth? Did he feel because our relationship wasn’t out in the open that he couldn’t back down from Rocco’s challenge?

  The strong smell of rum exuding from Billy has me wondering if the alcohol is fuelling his stories.

  “Yeah, well, we’re over,” I say, my words harsher than I’d intended.

  I guess I believe what he’s saying. But even if it’s true, there’s still the issue of the threesome. I can’t forgive that.

  Billy leans in close, the heady combination of alcohol and aftershave making me cough. “Lucky for me,” he says quietly in my ear.

  Is he kidding? Why would Billy be interested in trying for a shot? Does he have a death wish? Didn’t Spencer give a clear enough picture of what happens when someone touches Mac’s precious Peaches?

  Billy is just a kid. I hadn’t pegged him for a player but maybe, having spent time with the manwhore of motocross, he’s keen to follow in Spencer’s footsteps.

  “No, Billy. No lucky you.”

  He places a hand on my hip. “You know, I hear there’s nothin’ like a bit of rebound sex. You can take out your frustrations on me. Promise, I won’t mind.”

  I poke him in the chest, and glare at him. Boys suck. They suck arse. And Billy thinks he has a chance because I’m on the rebound. And smashed out of my brain.

  “Don’t be like the others, Billy,” I warn, poking him right where I’d expect his nipple to be. He winces. Bingo. If this boy has half a brain in his head, he’ll know exactly what I mean.

  He shrugs and his mouth smirks to the side. In another life I might find him cute. Maybe if I were the same age.

  He raises an eyebrow. I think he’s serious. Ha! This is funny. Shit funny.

  I laugh out loud. Loud enough to be heard over the blaring music. I stumble back as a hiccup jumps out my mouth. Acid burns in the back of my throat. I swallow, but it doesn’t take away the sick twisted feeling in my gut. I cover my mouth, just in case.

  “Come on babe,” Soph says close behind me, pulling at my elbow. “Think you need some water.” She slips her arm around my shoulder, a protective stance, and glares at Billy.

  Billy sizes her up like she’s his next target. You have no idea what her caper is, buddy.

  “Who’s your friend, April?” he asks in a sly voice, widening his eyes as he gets an eyeful of her slim body. Soph’s skimpy outfit is totally working for her. If I were a lesbian, I would so do her. I’d have to learn what to do with her bits, but I’m sure she could teach me.

  “Not your type is who she is,” I say, my words slurring. Yeah. Probably do need some water. Another hiccup, louder than the last, bursts out my mouth without warning. As they do.

  “Who says?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her.

  I laugh and grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer. “She don’t like dick,” I say. At least, not anymore.

  His mouth forms an O, and then grows into a pathetically wide smile. Oh boy. What is it with guys and lesbians? Do they all have that damn fantasy?

  “Really?” he asks, sizing her up again, shaking his head from side to side.

  “Yup. Think about that, Billy.” I link my arm around her tiny waist and pull her hip up against mine. “See ya.”

  We leave him standing there, his jaw slack and his body frozen. I can’t stop giggling as we walk away, trying not to trip over my feet. I swear it’s like I’m wearing clown shoes. Ha, ha. Clowns. I’d make an awesome clown.

  “You think I’d make a good clown?” I ask Soph, tugging on her hand to make her stop. She’s walking too fast.

  Soph stops in her tracks, shakes her head and smiles.

  I don’t feel like smiling.

  Spencer’s a clown. My clown. At least, he was.

  “This love shit hurts,” I say on an exhale. It’s torture.

  Soph smooths her thumbs over my wet cheeks. What, am I crying now? I’m losing it. I hate that I have no control over my emotions.

  “Someone must be cutting onions in here, Soph, ‘cause I’m not crying. I’m not.” I don’t want to shed any more tears for him.

  I lean my head against her shoulder and push puffs of breath out my nose, and swallow the excess saliva in my mouth. Her arms wrap around me.

  “Let’s get you home,” she whispers in my ear.

  Urgh. I don’t feel so good.

  ****

  * SOPHIE (Yes, Sophie) *

  Saturday

  If I ever see him again, I’m going to rip him a new one. I have never seen April like this. This week has been torture for her, but I won’t tell her I’m cut up too. I’ve been living my own personal hell, watching someone I love in so much pain.

  I love April.

  I love her as a best friend, but my feelings run deeper than that. April knows it, but she doesn’t really know how I feel. I imagine us being together. I have inappropriate sexy feelings about her.

  I haven’t always had a thing for women. I think I’m one of those people that just love ‘people’. It’s a person that connects with you, not their gender. I know it’s not socially acceptable to be that way, but there’s a reason I won’t go back to men. Once bitten, twice … no fucking way. From the first night I met April, there was an energy about her which connected with me on some deep level. Like a soul-mate kind of vibe. But this week, those wanton thoughts have been buried deep. I’m here to support my friend.

  I have never seen someone cry so much. Ever. Surely it’s not normal, or even physically possible. Being with April through this has been intense, and emotionally draining, but I couldn’t be anywhere else. She needs me. The poor girl has no one, and I find that really sad because she is an amazing person. She is giving and caring, smart and funny … and sexy and beautiful.

  April is perfect.

  Men are dumb pricks. You’d think a guy would have noticed that about her, and whisked her off her feet. Dumb and dumb. And as for Spencer Dickface Jones, he’d better get a restraining order against me, because the next time I see his pretty face I’m rearranging it. I wanna see him bleed. What Mac did to him will be like a slap on the wrist.

  April has her dad, and they’re normally really close, but I can understand why she’s keeping her distance from him. She was pretty shaken up the way he spoke to her that night. The sick thing is, she’s sorry she disappointed him. She has a habit of putting herself last. Seems to be what gets her into these messes. But I knew she was falling for Spencer. Even before they’d slept together, which is just crazy. The look on her face says it all. He got to her. Got under her skin. He got his claws into her heart, and then proceeded to rip it out.

  Last night I’d done what any friend would do. Any good friend. I’d held her hair back while sh
e spewed. Like, all night. She’d heaved and heaved, and I was sure at one point I saw blood. As if that weren’t enough, there were the tears. Each one was like a knife stabbing at my heart. If it hurts me that much just to watch her cry, I can’t imagine what it’s like for her. When she asked me what she did to deserve this pain, I couldn’t help but cry with her.

  When there was nothing left in her, I washed her face with a cool cloth, helped her into some pyjamas and tucked her into bed. I kept a bucket close at hand and lay beside her, wide awake, so I’d be ready if she needed me again. April had snuggled into me, her body trembling as she’d clung to me as if I were her last hope.

  I’d liked it. More than I should have. But this isn’t the kind of love I want April to feel for me. She’s made her feelings for me clear: we are friends. Best of friends. I know that, but it’s hard to switch it off.

  I have a chance to be happy. The doctor. It’s time to put myself out there again. Take a chance to be happy. I know April is right.

  April stirs beside me, and I sweep the hair from her face as her eyes flutter open.

  “Never,” she says, clearing her cloggy throat, “never, ever, let me do Jägerbombs again, Soph.”

  She smiles and then winces as if just that simple action hurts. She really overdid it. But stubborn as she is, she didn’t listen when I told her she’d had enough. She said as long as Spencer’s name was still in her heart, she needed another.

  “I promise, babe. No more Jägerbombs, and no more rides on the porcelain bus for you.”

  April lies on her back and stares at the ceiling, running her hands over her stomach. Her gaze doesn’t move from the fixed spot on the roof, and after not answering me for a while, I have to look up to see what’s got her so intrigued. There’s nothing but white ceiling and a dusty light fitting.