I crack a smile through my split lip, registering the metallic taste of blood. We dash out the door without bothering to look back.
When we reach the parking lot, Chase slows his pace and says, “I can’t take you two anywhere, can I?”
“Apparently not,” Raven mutters. “Thanks for showing up when you did. You saved Eric from getting arrested.”
“Aw, were you worried about me?” I nudge her teasingly.
“Not really. I just don’t want you to be immortalized in an orange jumpsuit. Mug shots last forever. The color doesn’t suit your complexion.”
“I’d be more concerned about him dropping the soap,” Chase argues.
I groan. “My face aches. How bad is the damage?”
“Not as bad as Levi’s.”
“I can’t believe you hit him. What were you thinking?” Raven chides.
“You said you wanted to be out of there early. Sacrifices had to be made.”
She pushes my shoulders.
“Easy, woman. I’m wounded.”
Chase turns his head. “Seriously, though. What happened in there?”
“He called Raven a C U Next Tuesday.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“Yeah,” Raven scoffs. “Threw me for a loop.”
“What a dick. He deserved every punch.”
“Guys, where are we going?” Raven asks.
We all stop and give each other blank stares.
“My place?” I suggest. “There’s beer.”
“Works for me,” Chase says, whipping out his phone. “Let me text these girls I contacted earlier and tell them the party’s off.”
I look over to gauge Raven’s mood. “What about you?”
She shrugs. “Count me in, I guess.”
She’s down to hang. A promising sign. Does this mean things will go back to normal? Because I firmly believe defending her honor and getting my face bashed in deserves across-the-board forgiveness. Regardless, this is the first time she’s going to set foot in my apartment since last Thursday. I’m hoping that won’t interrupt the healing process.
If this complicated mess has taught me anything, it’s that I’m not willing to risk the friendship a second time. It doesn’t change the way I feel about her, but I need her in my life. She’s too valuable. If that means I’m the guy she cries to instead of for, then so be it. I’ll be the demoted, non-gay bestie with a comfortable shoulder, an ear primed for bitch fits, a freezer stocked with Ben & Jerry’s, and ’round the clock blue balls. Serves me right for trying to fix something that wasn’t broken in the first place.
TEN
r a v e n
I’m struggling to keep up with all the insanity. Eric torpedoes through life at a ridiculously high speed, racing through every moment like a shooting star in the night sky. Just when you think you’ve caught a glimpse and zoom in, he’s moved on to the next thing. The only traces left behind are his spasmodic paintings. Me? I can’t move that fast. My four-inch heels won’t allow it. I like to hang back and window-shop my way through life, absorbing all there is to see. Whirlwind events are about as common in my world as a fashion faux pas.
Despite all the chaos, Eric keeps dusting himself off and blasting forward with no real set goal or plan. That fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants mentality comes in handy for nights like this when it all gets to be too overwhelming. He doesn’t even have to stop and think about it. Unfortunately, that’s not a quality I possess.
Another quality I don’t possess: the ability to sweep things under the rug and pretend like nothing ever happened. Eric may be over our little spat and his blowout fight with Levi, but I’m not. No matter how hard I try to shed the memories, they won’t die. Violent images and bittersweet words are permanently seared into my skull.
“Hold still,” I tell him.
He winces under the ice pack.
“Shit, that’s cold.”
“It’ll help with the swelling.”
“You know what else helps? Having my own personal nurse.”
“You hear that, Chase?” I holler. “Eric wants you to dress up and play nurse.”
Eric pinches my inner thigh, making me jerk.
Chase emerges from the bathroom and heads for the fridge. “Wouldn’t doubt it.”
Eric perks up. “Hey, grab me another beer while you’re at it, will ya? The alcohol’s dulling the pain.”
Chase obliges.
Eric pops the cap, tosses his head back, and drains half the bottle. I’m momentarily dazed by the way his throat moves when he drinks, his lips pressed firmly to the rim of the glass. Recollections of how good those lips tasted and felt when they were moving with mine come rushing back.
Stop picturing these things.
Chase sits down next to me on the coffee table and inspects the corners. “Where did you get this thing?”
“Goodwill,” Eric answers.
“That explains a lot. These corners are chipped to hell.”
Chase makes a living as a carpenter for his dad’s company. He’s extremely picky when it comes to furniture. It’s borderline obnoxious, actually.
“Screw you,” Eric says. “Not all of us come from money or get paid what we’re worth. I work hard for the shitty things I have, thank you very much.”
Chase holds up his hands. “No judgment. Just stating the obvious. I can refurbish everything if you want me to.”
“And how much is that gonna cost me?”
He laughs and leans forward. “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll fix the coffee table for free in exchange for a new side piece. I’ll choose a girl from your contacts list, and you introduce me to her at your next party.”
“There’s no shortage of females in your phone. Call up one of them.”
“I want someone new. Don’t get it twisted, though. She’s gotta be single and platonic where you’re concerned. I’m not looking to turn our bromance into an eskimo brothers thing. You’ve got plenty of female friends. I don’t.” He turns to look at me. “Other than you, of course.”
“Nice save,” I tease.
He gently bumps his shoulder into mine and refocuses his attention on Eric. “Start scrolling.”
“If I introduce you to a homegirl, you keep it one hundred with her. Make it abundantly clear what you’re looking for. I don’t need any extra drama between friends. And no going back on your word if she’s not into you, either. You get one shot, and one shot only.”
“Duly noted.”
Is this really what these guys do during their spare time?
Eric blows out an exasperated breath and raises his hips to retrieve his phone from his back pocket. He swipes the screen and sifts through his contacts, showing Chase profile photos of the girls for feedback.
“Next,” Chase dismisses.
“What about her?”
“Pass.”
Eric’s list of female contacts is endless. I knew it was extensive, but this is absurd. My grip on the ice pack tightens infinitesimally. Thinking about him with other girls brings out my jealous streak. I don’t want him to suspect anything, so I play it cool and keep my emotions bottled.
“Whoa, hold up. Who’s she?”
Eric looks at the screen. “Mia Foster.”
“She’s cute.”
Before I can squash Chase’s intrigue, Eric beats me to the punch. “She’s a no-go, dude. She only lives here for the summer.”
“Even better.”
“Absolutely not,” I interject. “She isn’t just Eric’s friend, she’s mine. Besides, she doesn’t do casual hookups. Pick someone else.”
It’s nothing against Chase, but I don’t want him using Mia. She’s got enough problems to deal with back home. This is the one time during the year she can let loose. She doesn’t need boy problems spoiling her fun.
“Cockblockers,” Chase mutters.
The slideshow continues. Somewhere in the middle, my arm begs for a break. I get up and walk over to the kitchen and drain the loose water from the bot
tom of the Ziploc bag. I open the freezer up and fill it with more ice, then rewrap it in a hand towel and return to my spot on the coffee table just in time for them to finish up their stupid little wager.
Chase’s phone buzzes. He glances down to read the text.
“Uh...change of plans, guys. Gotta bounce.”
I turn my head. “Are you serious? You’re ditching us?”
“Afraid so.”
He stands and finishes his beer. This has to be a booty call. He wouldn’t be in such a hurry for any other reason. I’m surprised, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. Ultimately, this works out in my favor. Eric and I need to have a conversation and figure out how to resolve our issues without Chase lurking around.
“Thanks for saving my ass tonight,” Eric tells him.
“Sure thing. I’ll text you tomorrow,” Chase replies, setting the empty bottle on the kitchen counter. “Raven, always a pleasure.”
“See ya later. Thanks again for all your help,” I respond.
“Anytime.”
As soon as the door closes, Eric’s sharp blue eyes find mine. Uncertainty and silence fill the empty space between us. It’s sobering. All it does is remind me how fractured we really are. I’m emotionally exhausted, and we haven’t even cracked the surface of our issues yet.
With all the extra time I’ve had to think over the last few days, I’ve realized something important. No matter how much Eric thinks he’s ready for a relationship, he’s not. Pursuing me is one thing, committing to me is another. He wants sex and companionship without the burden of intimacy. That’s a deal breaker. I’m not willing to compromise and beg for scraps. I meant it when I said I wanted a real, honest friendship over a phony relationship. His lack of effort and fleeting affection can go to someone else. As much as it kills me to imagine that possibility, the alternative is worse.
Question is, what comes next?
Before I can verbalize the thought, he rests his hand on my upper thigh, distracting me. A jolt of heat shoots up my leg and settles on my sweet spot. I blink, trying to concentrate on icing his wounds. His fingertips lightly dance over my skin, stirring a rush of excitement inside me. No other guy has ever made me feel this way. It’s fantasy-shrouding insanity. If that’s what’s in store for me, sign me up for a straightjacket. As long as it’s custom-made with Italian leather, I’m in.
My body is charged, humming with desire, acutely aware of everything that’s happening. His fingers glide higher. Before I lose any and all common sense, I slap his hand away and deny him access.
“Ah! You’re adding to my injuries.”
“If you’d learn to keep your hands to yourself, you wouldn’t have any injuries.”
He grins proudly. “I did it all for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
His smile falters. He runs both hands through his hair, visibly aggravated. “I can’t win with you, can I?”
I rest the ice pack on my lap and assess his wounds. The bleeding has stopped but the swelling looks the same. “I appreciate you sticking up for me—really, I do—but you shouldn’t have hit him. That’s taking it too far. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. You don’t need to jump in and manhandle the situation like Mike Tyson. What if the cops had shown up? What if Levi presses charges? Or worse yet, what if you’d ended up in the hospital? You could’ve been seriously hurt because of me.”
“No, not because of you. Because of Levi and his big mouth. He was out of line, so I put him back in his place. End of story. I stand by my actions. The price I paid was worth it—all of it. Even losing him as a friend. I’m not saying it wasn’t a reckless thing to do, but it sure as hell wasn’t pointless.”
“Eric, I don’t want to be the reason why you get hurt or wind up in these scenarios. If I hadn’t been there tonight, none of this would’ve happened. I should’ve followed my instincts and stayed home.”
“None of this is your fault. Quit making it about you. He’s the one who made the comment and I’m the one who lost it and retaliated. Big deal. Shit happens. No use in blaming yourself or analyzing it to death. It’ll drive you crazy until you deflect or self-destruct. Those are my traits. Capiche? Don’t go stealing them. You’re the dramatic one, I’m the impulsive one. That’s how this works. It’s way too late in the game for switching.”
I suppress a smile and drop my gaze. I stare impassively at the ice pack in my lap. When I lift my head again, my expression is replaced with sympathy. “I’m sorry you lost a friend tonight.”
His eyes soften. “It is what it is. It’s not like I didn’t see it coming.”
Knowing that information doesn’t make me feel any better. As much as I couldn’t stand Levi, I didn’t want Eric to lose another person in his life. He’s already had enough people skip out on him. How does someone who’s been through so much abandonment learn to trust? No wonder he’s afraid of getting attached. And who can blame him? None of us want to be damaged goods. I may be willing to put myself out there, but it doesn’t make it any less scary. That’s what life’s all about—taking chances and sharing your journey with people who enhance you. Forget about wanting someone to complete you. That's overrated. You need to be able to stand on your own as a strong individual. Someone should always add to who you are, not make you who you are.
Speaking of standing on your own...
“What did you mean earlier when you said you aren’t sure what you’re capable of giving me anymore?”
A few beats of silence pass. He leans forward and exhales a breath so heavy my hair sways. All signs are pointing to another major letdown. As if my heart could take another trampling.
Sayonara remission.
“You have no idea how much I want us to be together, but I can’t give you what you want. That’s already been proven. You need full disclosure about my past, and I’m not willing to give it. We each have certain expectations for what we want out of a relationship. Problem is, they're not matching up. Thursday night was a wake up call. I’ve never seen you get so angry to the point where we're not communicating. It made me realize I’m not willing to jeopardize the friendship again. If the stakes weren’t so high, I would’ve had you a long time ago, so don’t mistake anything I’m saying for regret. I wouldn’t take back a single moment with us, even in hindsight. You’re my girl. Always have been. Always will be. But please understand I can’t afford to lose you.”
It’s taking every ounce of courage I have not to break down and cry. I feel like he just poured a bucket of acid over my heart and he’s watching it slowly corrode away when he’s the one who should be protecting it. In all our years of playing catch and release, he’s never been the one to reject me. How did he survive this repeatedly? It feels like my entire world is collapsing. Deep down I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make this any less painful. “Are you breaking up with me?” I half joke. “Cause it sure sounds like a breakup, and we’re not even dating.”
He grabs my chin and uses his thumb to caress the side of my cheek. I can’t tell if the gesture makes everything hurt more, or less. I’m just trying to get through this conversation in one piece. “I blame your age.”
“Why?”
“Because if you weren’t so young when I first met you, and you hadn’t made yourself indispensable, this probably would have worked out.”
This probably would have worked out...meaning it’s never going to? I know the timing isn’t right, but he’s making it seem like we don’t ever stand a chance. He’s setting us up for failure before we even get out of the starting blocks.
Why did I have to fall for this emotionally unavailable guy? What does that say about me? I’m not attracted to Eric because he needs to be fixed, but I’d be lying if I said the bad boy persona wasn’t thrilling. He’s an all or nothing kinda guy, which is what attracted me to him in the first place—well, that and those clear sky eyes—but it’s also why he won’t commit to me. He can’t give me his all.
“Why do we keep doing this to o
urselves? You and me, we fit. We’ve been into each other for years, and we’ve been burying our feelings and coming up with excuse after excuse not to act on them. First it’s my age, then it’s poor timing, then it’s casual flings, or fear of intimacy, fear of dependency, blah blah blah. It never ends. How long are we going to stay on the merry-go-round? Because it never seems to stop spinning and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.” I catch my breath and finish off my final thought. “I don’t understand why I’m not worth a fair shot.”
His response nearly crushes me.
“Because I meant it when I said you weren't like any other girl.”
Wow. What a way to throw that back in my face.
“You know we’re not ready. You deserve more,” he says, studying my reaction.
“You can’t say for certain we wouldn’t last.”
“And you can’t guarantee we will,” he counters.
“I’ll never be able to guarantee anything. Life doesn’t work that way. But at least I’m willing to fight for the people who matter most to me. I’m scared too, you know, but I don’t let my fear cripple me.”
I don’t know why I’m arguing the issue. He isn’t saying anything untrue. The timing isn’t right. Until he learns to open up, we’re always going to be a recipe for disaster. But it feels so final, so permanent. He’s taking the option away without my consent. All that does is make me want it more.
I have no idea how much times passes before he speaks again.
“It’ll happen for us one day, Rave. I promise.”
Part of me resents him for thinking he’s the one who gets to call all the shots in this relationship. I’m not implying I should have all the control, but neither should he. He’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to sit on the sidelines and wait while he partakes in all the action.
“What does this mean for us? And where do we go from here?”
He shrugs. “We do what we’ve always done.”
Catching Raven Page 10