He slipped his hand through mine and pulled me up from the bed. I kept my gaze on his back while following him into the kitchen. I could make out his shoulder muscles through his shirt, and a pair of black athletic shorts fell loose around his waist.
“I like this look,” I said, pulling out a stool and watching him move around me and to the stove.
“Huh?” He asked.
I gestured to his clothes. “This look, you tired, just waking up in the morning.”
He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. “Thanks.” He pulled out a spatula from a drawer and began piling eggs on two plates. “I wasn’t sure what your breakfast of choice was or how you like your eggs, so I went with scrambled again. Everyone loves scrambled eggs.” He sprinkled some pepper before adding bacon and a slice of toast.
I leaned back in the chair. “That’s fine. I honestly don’t have that much of an appetite.”
“Too bad.” He handed me the plate. “You’re eating.”
My eyes bulged at the heaping portions. “Are you trying to make me fat?”
I wasn’t a healthy eater. I didn’t have my three to five meals a day, and I definitely didn’t eat enough fruits and vegetables. I ate when I felt like it, and it was usually ice cream, sandwiches or whatever Bella made.
“Eat,” he demanded.
I groaned and snatched a piece of bacon. I took a giant bite at the same time a glass of orange juice was sat in front of me. “So where do we go from here?” I asked, after swallowing.
“I’ll be gone for awhile today.” Guilt was obvious on his face. He felt bad for leaving me. “They found a replacement for me at Sun Gate. I need to go there and clear out my things.” He pulled a black mug to his mouth and took a drink.
I perked up in my chair and swallowed down my eggs. “Can I go?” He paused mid-drink and looked at me with surprise. “It would be nice to take a drive, and clear my head. I need to get away from this place, even if it’s only for awhile.”
He pointed his cup my way and smiled. “Sure, I could use some good company.” I grinned. “Finish eating and then we’ll head out.”
“You better give me a good time, counselor,” I said, taking a giant bite.
He chuckled. “I’ll try my hardest.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ELISE
I fiddled with the knob on the car radio, changing the station every five seconds until I found a song tolerable while I waited for Weston to come back out.
I didn’t want to look up when we’d pulled into the parking lot. But like a car crash, I couldn’t help myself. I blinked a few times before focusing on the normal looking building. Nothing had changed, but that still hadn’t stopped me from grinning while I flipped Sun Gate the bird.
Weston was gone less than ten minutes before he came strolling back through the parking lot with a cardboard box balanced in his hands. He casually walked to the car, each leg taking long, even strides while the wind smacked into his face. He paused for a second, hiked his knee up to rest the box on it so he could push his glasses farther up his nose.
God, this man was adorable. He was handsome. He was … I couldn’t even come up with the right words to describe him. There were actually no words.
I couldn’t believe I was referring to a man as adorable or handsome. I had a tendency to not refer to men as either one of those things. My terms of endearments tended to be along the lines of: sexy, hot as fuck, or fuckable. But never handsome and definitely never adorable.
Then again, I’d never met a guy like Weston. My ‘hot as fuck’ men were typically womanizers who only wanted a girlfriend while they were getting their dick sucked. As soon as they exploded in your mouth, they had a change of heart and now wanted their freedom.
“I see this place looks just as lovely as it did three years ago,” I joked, after he set the box in the backseat and got back into the car.
“Hey now, look on the bright side of things. If you hadn’t been here, we would’ve never met. We wouldn’t be here sitting in my car after enjoying a mini-road trip.”
He had a point there. The place had never hurt me. It had actually taken me away from my prison. And most importantly, brought Weston to me.
He tapped my knee. “Now, lunch. I’m starving.”
Because of the snow, the streets were pretty much deserted while we drove to get food. We ordered through the drive-thru, but didn’t eat until he pulled onto the side of a vacant street a few miles out of the town. He shifted the car in park and left the car running.
“I like to come here and think,” said, opening up the bag of food. My stomach embarrassingly growled at the smell of greasy french fries. “I use to eat my lunch here all the time.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said, looking out the window at the small park. It was the most serene place I’d ever seen. A partially frozen narrow creek flowed between rows of trees. Patches of melted snow and ice covered sections of the dying grass. Quiet tranquility surrounded the entire place. There were no people there. There were no tables. The only feature other than nature’s mark was a small wooden bench sitting in front of the creek.
He handed me a cheeseburger, and situated a container of fries against the shifter until it stood up without falling. I took a large bite and drowned it down with a sip of coke.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked, looking over at him. The burger in his lap remained untouched.
He shook his head and lolled it back. “Will you please tell me what happened last night?”
“Why don’t we eat first?”
He unwrapped his burger and took a giant bite. His lunch was gone in three bites. He was on a mission. I continued to take small, slow bites as a way to bide me some extra time.
“It’s bad,” I finally said. “It’s disgusting.”
I wasn’t sure how much more bad shit I could take before I completely lost it. I’d been raped several times, I’d overdosed on pills on more than one occasion, and been sexually assaulted by my own father. I didn’t want to keep feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t want to keep thinking about it. All of my life, I thought that it was wrong for me to tell somebody what happened. I’d been told telling my story was begging for attention.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and my eyes shot over to him. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. I don’t know how the hell you do it, but you are.”
“Do what?”
“Stay strong. Do you know how many people would’ve given up by now? But you keep going. You’re strong, but I need you to do me a favor. I need you to take that strength you have in you and tell me what happened. You need someone to take some of that burden off of you. You need to get it out.”
“He tried to rape me.”
“Your dad?” He asked, caught off guard by my answer. “He tried to rape you?” He clarified in shock.
“Yes,” I whispered.
I jumped at the sound of the horn blasting when his fist connected with the steering wheel. “Mother fucker!” He screamed, and another roar came from the horn. He threw his door open, jumped out of the car and stalked away from me. He cursed to the sky and kicked rocks while he moved towards the small stream.
I reached over the console to turn off the ignition before going after him. I found him slumped down on the wooden bench with his head slumped down between his open legs.
“Hey,” I said, softly, standing in front of him and tucking my hands into my coat pockets.
“Get back in the car,” he insisted, without raising his head. “It’s freezing out here.”
“I’m not going back until you do.”
“Please,” he begged. “Get back in the car. I need a minute to clear my head.”
I brushed a layer of snow from the bench and plopped down next to him. I scooted closer until my thighs hit into his, and rested my head against his drooping shoulder.
“Did he do it?” He finally asked.
“No, Marlon stopped him.”
He lifted his head up and turned
to the side to face me. That’s when I noticed his eyes. They were watery. “Thank God,” he said, exhaling a breath. “Now please, get in the car. Just give me five minutes, please.”
“Okay, but if you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming back out here.” He responded with a nod and his head fell to look back at the ground.
I slowly walked back to the car, turned it back on and switched the heat on high while I waited. I watched him through the window. He looked torn. He looked regretful. My confession had made him as broken as I was.
“Is everything okay?” I asked when he got back into the car ten minutes later.
“Yeah, I just needed a minute to think.”
“Please don’t be upset with yourself. You couldn’t have stopped anything.”
“I should’ve been there for you,” he muttered, looking at me with red eyes and wind-burned cheeks.
“Don’t you dare beat yourself up about this, okay? You’ve helped me more than I could ever ask for.” I needed to lighten the mood. I told him what had happened, but it was over and I wanted to forget about it. “Can I drive?” I asked, changing the subject quickly.
His chin lifted and he stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was being serious or not. “Do you have your driver’s license?”
My muscles loosened. “No.”
“Then no.”
“Come on, I’m twenty.”
“And?”
I crossed my arms across my chest. “And I’ve played Grand Theft Auto.”
A slow smile crept across his face. “How in the world does that make you a qualified driver?”
I tapped my cheek. “Uh, let’s see. I can outrun the cops, shoot a few bastards and pick up a hooker all at the same time. I would say I’m a woman of many skills.”
He laughed, shaking his head, and drove down the street. “Now that, my dear is talent.”
I pushed his shoulder. “Now get out of my seat before I pull your ass out and leave you on the side of the street.”
“Not happening, keep practicing with your video games, and we’ll get you your permit.”
I slumped back against my seat. “My permit? Seriously? What am I twelve?”
“Yes, seriously, and it’s sixteen when you get that.”
I opened up my clutch and pulled out a bill. “I’ll give you ten dollars,” I offered, flicking the bill back and forth beside him.
The car slowed down and he looked over at me. “Really, you’re trying to bribe me?”
“I sure am.”
“Ten? You better up the ante.”
I groaned. “Fine.” I pulled out another bill. “Eleven?”
His eyes widened. “Now we’re talking the big bucks. Give me twelve and hell, you can have the whole damn car.” I busted out in laughter and pulled out another bill. “And you just won a new car.” He swiped the bills from my hand and shoved them into his pocket.
“You’re so lying,” I grumbled, holding out my hand. “Now give me my money back.”
“Not so fast there, babe.” I looked away from him as he turned onto an old snowy road. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, stopping the car.
I jumped out of the car before he had the chance to change his mind and into his seat. He held his hands into a steeple as soon as he got in next to me and looked up at the ceiling. “Lord,” he said, his voice low. “Please forgive me for all of my sins.”
“What are you doing?” I asked, knotting my hands around the steering wheel.
“Praying for my life because I’m not so sure I’ll be making this out alive.”
“Very funny.” I stretched the belt across my body. “Now, buckle up.”
He did as he was told and then turned around to look at the back seat. “I knew I should’ve kept a helmet in here.”
I shook my head at his comment and shifted the car into the D symbol. That had to be drive, right? Immediately after the light hit the D, I slammed my foot onto the pedal and we went flying forward.
“Fuck, I definitely know I’m not getting out of here alive,” he said, when I used my other foot to press on the brake. My chest smacked into the steering wheel and both of our bodies swung forward. He grabbed the door handle. “Maybe we should do this another time, when it’s not snowing, and you actually know the basics of driving a car.”
“I’m just testing you,” I lied. I had no clue what I was doing.
His hands smacked into the dashboard when I braked again. “Right. I’m pretty sure you’ve never even been behind a steering wheel, but we’ll figure this out.”
I brightened up. “Really?”
He nodded. “I’ll talk you through it. Just lay easy on the pedals and we might make it through this with a few limbs left.” He shook his head. “And you’ve got me turning more reckless with each passing minute.”
“Life’s supposed to be fun, Weston. It’s not like we’re making it out alive, anyway. We might as well make the best of it.”
“True, that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to last as long as possible.” He grabbed the handle on the ceiling. “Now, ten and two.”
“Ten and two? What the hell does that mean?”
His head fell back. “Ten and two are where you need to keep your hands on the wheel.”
“Oh right. I knew that.” I adjusted my hands until they were perfectly at ‘ten and two.’ I slowly pressed down on the accelerator and we scooted forward.
“Good, now keep your hands on the wheel and drive at a very slow speed. Stop at fifteen miles per hour.”
“This doesn’t seem as fun as Grand Theft,” I muttered, my foot tingling to press down and gain some speed.
He chuckled. “Gradually, and I mean gradually, increase your speed. Just give the gas a little more pressure.”
I gave it more gas. More gas than I probably should have. I shrieked as we went barreling down the street. My hands flew off the steering wheel when we started to slide. Shit. Shit. Shit. Maybe there was a reason I’d never been given the chance to drive. I needed to stick to video games.
Weston bent over my lap to latch onto the steering wheel and stopped us from landing in a ditch. I threw my foot down on the brake and we skidded to a stop.
“I think that’s enough for today,” he said, blowing out a breath and putting the car in park.
“So how did I do?” I asked, slowly turning my head to look at him with a smirk on my face as we sat idle.
He tried to hide his smile, but failed when he busted out in laughter. “I’d say you failed. Rule number one, never let go of the steering wheel.”
CHAPTER TWENTY- ONE
ELISE
Weston pulled me up from the passenger seat and led me up the snowy footpath to an aging, brownstone building. Snow crunched underneath our feet¸ and I tucked myself into his side to block the bitter cold from smacking me in the face.
“What is this place?” I questioned, running my hands up and down my arms when we walked in.
The exterior was misleading to what was inside. It was spotless and in the process of being renovated. Dark mahogany wood covered the floors and led through the entry and down the hallway. The walls were coated with a fresh taupe colored paint, and rows of mailboxes labeled with apartment numbers lined the walls.
“You’ll see,” he said, snatching my hand back up. Each step creaked while he guided me up the stairs to apartment 2B. “I thought we’d find a more creative way for you to express yourself today.” He dug out a set of keys from his pocket and jiggled one into the rusty lock a few times before it clicked open.
“A new what?” I already hated any form of expressing myself, so I doubted charting into new territory was going to make it any better for me.
“Patience is a virtue,” he said, looking back at me.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have any virtues.” That granted me a smile while he shook his head.
“Holy shit,” I breathed out, looking in awe when we walked inside. My eyes fl
ew to each side of the room and I was suddenly flowered with pure beauty.
I was standing in a small studio. The floors matched the ones downstairs. It was sparsely furnished with only a single couch. The rest of the space was absorbed with art.
Canvas after canvas, in every size, was hanging along the walls, situated along the furniture, or carefully planted onto the floor. I’d attended plenty of art shows with my father, but I didn’t recognize the work. My brain ticked and I realized they were familiar to the paintings in Weston’s place.
“This is my friend’s art studio,” he told me, fussing with the thermostat until the furnace kicked on. We both slipped out of our coats as soon as the place warmed up and draped them over the couch.
“They’re breathtaking,” I said, moving around the room and pausing to admire each piece. The artist liked colors. The pieces glowed with every hue in the spectrum splashing together as one.
I reminded myself to breathe, my feet moving slower when I felt Weston’s presence behind me. “He’s so talented,” I whispered, my voice getting fuzzy at our close proximity.
Breathe Elise. Don’t forget to breathe. I shivered every time his hot breath hit my shoulder while he shadowed my steps.
I stopped abruptly at one piece in particular. For some reason, it completely drew me in. I inched closer, my eyes squinting and scanning every inch of it. My hand went to my chest and I gaped.
“She looks like me,” I muttered, tilting my head to the side. It was the largest painting in the room. A woman’s face was sketched wildly and then filled with an array of shapes and colors to complete it.
“This one is my favorite,” he said into my ear, his chest bumping into my back. “And you’re right, she does remind me of you.”
It was like I’d been the artist’s muse. Her long, black mane draped over the right side of her face and you could barely make out the dark features that lay behind it. The left side contrasted with the right. Her hair was pulled back, putting her side on display and exposing the array of vivid colors and shapes making up her face. Her blood red lips started as a frown on the right and then morphed into a smile on the left.
Pretty and Reckless Page 12