Catching Raven

by Smith, Lauren

  When I’ve had my fill, I wander off the dance floor and seek refuge in the girl's bathroom to purge my trapped tears. The chick in the stall next to me is puking. Every time I sniffle, she hurls. Quite melodic. What really sucks is I can’t even get drunk to numb the pain. Can’t a girl catch a break?

  Why do I always let Eric get the best of me? And why can’t I get him out of my head? Short of cutting him out of my life, I’ve tried everything. Nothing helps. Every guy who waltzes in and challenges that is nothing more than a temporary replacement. Terrible, but true.

  Drunk Girl flushes the toilet, the stall door swings open, and she stumbles into the sink. This saves me from my own pity party; I should check to see if she’s okay. Just as I decide to unlock my door, I hear, “Rave?”

  I place my hands on either side of the stall and tilt my head back to stare at the ceiling, mentally cursing the sound of Mia’s voice. I hate it when people see me crying like a hot mess. So not cute.

  “I know it’s you in there. I’d recognize those Brian Atwood knockoffs anywhere. Open up,” she demands.

  Time to woman up. “These are not knockoffs.”

  “Like I’d know. Got ya out here,” she smiles.

  Damn, I love her.

  Drunk Girl slinks past Mia and exits the bathroom, leaving us alone to talk.

  “What happened between you and Eric?”

  “Which time?”

  “Any time.”

  I sigh and glance at my haggard reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl staring back. Since when is vengeance in my repertoire? I’ve always considered myself a lover, not a fighter. Maybe I’m not as wholesome as I thought.

  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she reassures. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “No, I’m not. But I’m working on it.”

  “Have you guys hooked up?”

  My eyes find hers. I swallow and nod.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Long story. I swear I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, but I can’t tonight. I’m drained.”

  Without saying another word, she walks over and pulls me into a tight hug. I close my eyes to keep from crying all over again and squeeze her back.

  “You know I’m here for you. You can talk to me about anything. Even Eric.”

  My body relaxes.

  “I know. And I love you for it, baby girl.”

  She releases me and turns to grab the handle on the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here and go home. I’ll ride with you.”

  “Did you and Chase work everything out?”

  She bits her lip suggestively. “Maybe. You cool if he comes back to our place tonight, or do you need some space?”

  “Depends. Is it going to be a chill session, or a Do Not Disturb session?”

  She shrugs. “Haven’t decided yet. Probably both.”

  I laugh and follow her out, feeling eternally grateful that friends like her exist in my life.

  After a twenty-minute car ride filled with 19.5 minutes of boy bashing and thirty seconds of self-reflection, I’ve decided not to go down without a fight. Eric doesn’t get to have the final word, or in this case, the last kiss (with some random blonde bombshell). I’m determined to settle the score by racing over to his apartment, breaking down his door, and beating the living shit of him.

  The moment I hear Mia hop in the shower, I grab my keys off the kitchen counter and beeline toward the front door to avoid an inquisition. If she knew what I was up to, she’d stop me. Especially after the way Eric treated me tonight. All the more reason to keep it moving.

  Just before I reach the doorknob, three loud knocks resonate, scaring the crap out of me. I fling it open and come face to face with Chase.

  “Mia’s in the shower. She’ll be out shortly. You can either hang out here or head into her room and wait. Either way, don’t be a pervert about it.”

  I slip past him without waiting for a response.

  On the way over to Eric’s apartment, I rehearse all possible conversation starters—assuming he’s home. Going in blind is risky business. I haven’t even thought about how I’m going to react if Sasha’s there. If I know him like I think I do, he’ll already have her stripped naked and spread-eagled. Marvelous. Cockblocking is worth extra points.

  I park the car and jump out. My heart is racing. I tell myself it’s adrenaline leftover from my rage. It definitely has nothing to do with nerves or anticipation.

  I bang on the door like a cop searching for a criminal. I hear shuffling sounds, followed by the deadbolt unlocking.

  Eric opens the door and glares. “What do you want, Raven?”

  He’s fully clothed. There’s no sign of Sasha, or any other girl for that matter.

  Thank God.

  I shove my hands against his chest.

  He stumbles back a couple paces, then looks me up and down, angry and confused.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  “You,” I hiss, slamming the door shut behind me.

  Before he can react, I push him up against the wall and seal my mouth over his.

  There. That’ll show him.

  He secures my face between his hands and kisses me back, no holds barred. This kiss is ten times more potent than the one I watched earlier—one part hate, two parts love. And it’s the best kiss I’ve ever experienced.

  We stagger toward the bedroom, but don’t make it out of the living room. Best decision ever. His bedroom is a whole ’nother twelve steps away. Might as well be twelve miles.

  He breaks the kiss to ditch his shirt. He bunches it up in his hands and throws it at me. “You’re such a fucking pain in my ass.”

  I resist the urge to slap him and drag his face back down to my lips. “And you’re completely hopeless,” I tell him.

  He boosts me up. My legs reflexively wrap around his waist. We fall backwards into the couch, his weight nearly crushing me. He kisses me ardently and reaches down to massage me between my legs at the exact same moment his tongue plunges into my mouth. I moan appreciatively and grind against the pressure.

  “Jesus Christ you’re wet.”

  “Years of foreplay,” I say breathlessly.

  “I’ll say.”

  Itching fingers slip into the waistband of my jeans and tug. “Take these off.”

  I offer my hips to him as an invitation. “You do it.”

  He runs a finger straight down the seam, making me squirm.

  “Gladly.”

  My shoes slip off. The jeans are next to go. He hovers over me and fists the hem of my cami in his hands, dragging it over my head. I’ve never felt so desirable. Leave it to Eric to make me feel two polar extremes in one night.

  He grabs my hips and brings me up so I’m straddling him. I brace myself against his chest to keep from falling over.

  “Sit on my face and ride it,” he commands.

  My breath hitches.

  “Shouldn’t we establish some boundaries first?”

  “What have I told you about boundaries?” he growls.

  Without giving me a chance to think, he slides my panties down just enough to expose me. The sultry, primal look on his face causes my sex to clench. I lift my hips and allow my eyes to close while he continues to push the delicate fabric down my thighs. Once it’s out of his reach, I stand and shimmy the rest of the way.

  He groans and slaps his forehead. “You’re going to give me a fucking heart attack, woman.”

  I smile wickedly and climb back on top of him. I use my knees to inch forward and align the most intimate part of myself with his mouth. His hands grip the backs of my thighs. Slowly, deliberately, he eases me down onto his face. The moment his lips touch mine, I gasp.

  He moans deeply and I feel it travel all the way up my spine. Sensory overload. He’s ravenous. The more he devours me, the faster my head spins.

  My hips begin to move, desperately seeking that release. He slows his pace, keeping me on th
e brink. I reach for my clit but he blocks my advance and lifts me off his mouth. Before I can process what’s happening, I’m on my back.

  He stares down at me earnestly. “When you come, you’re coming with me.”

  His body abandons mine and I make a frustrated noise. A chuckle escapes him as he deftly unfastens his jeans, then pushes them down and kicks them to the floor. He repeats the process with his boxers.

  I swallow thickly. Even though we’ve done this before, it feels like the first time all over again. He hovers over me and presses the tip against my entrance. His eyes shift to mine, his face becoming serious.

  “I’m clean, I swear. Haven’t had sex in six months.”

  “Six months?”

  He nods. “Been too busy pining for a girl who’s had me from the very beginning.”

  “Really? Tell me about her.”

  He gradually starts to sink into me. “She’s smart, beautiful, and annoying as hell.”

  “Keep talking like that and I won’t let you put it in,” I threaten.

  He grins and pushes himself to the hilt. My back arches in response. Vivid memories come rushing back. I’d forgotten how amazing Eric feels inside me.

  “Are you on the pill? Or do I have to pull out?”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  He visibly relaxes.

  “Best news I’ve heard in six months.”

  His torso begins to move fluidly, expertly. I succumb to the pleasure and ignore the small voice in the back of my head warning me this will never last. I’m not expecting anything beyond casual sex. I’ve learned my lesson. Eric may be the person I trust most with my body, but he’s the person I trust least with my heart.

  “Your head off somewhere else?”

  Our gazes collide.

  “Not at all.”

  “Better not be. I was prepared to kick this up a notch.”

  “Well, in that case…” I wrap my arms around his neck and pretend to drift off again.

  “That’s it. You asked for it.”

  He abruptly pulls out and flips me onto my stomach, then yanks my hips up and swiftly buries himself inside me again.

  “Oh, God.”

  One of his hands grips my hip while the other one fists the back of my hair, keeping me right where he wants me. “You have a phenomenal ass. One day, I’m going to take that virginity too.”

  He eases back and pushes inside again, making me groan. I meet him thrust for thrust, establishing a rhythm.

  “Are you close, baby?”

  “Almost,” I respond.

  He increases the pace, causing my entire body to erupt in chills. We’re determined to cross the finish line together. And when that glorious moment finally arrives, we fall apart in one spectacular piece, just like he promised.

  THIRTEEN

  e r i c

  We’re curled up on the couch watching American Beauty on Netflix. Her head is resting in my lap. My fingers are idly stroking her hair. Solid recipe for romance, right? Think again. Miss I Have A Ball Busting Opinion Every Two Seconds has been uncharacteristically quiet. We should’ve completed round two by now, but something’s up. And I don’t want to fuck this up again. Instead of spending another thirty minutes decoding the warped female psyche and coming up with my own assumptions, I go direct.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  Easy question guaranteed to warrant a simple response.

  “Life.”

  Or not.

  “That’s broad. Care to clarify?”

  She shakes her head and keeps her attention fixated on the screen. This blasé attitude is getting on my nerves. Did I miss something? Just once I’d like to have sex when it’s not precipitated or followed by an argument. Or in this case, both.

  I reach for the Xbox controller and pause the movie.

  “Are you having regrets about what just happened between us?”

  “Not at all,” she insists.

  My fingers stop stroking her hair. Before I can call bullshit, her attention drifts to the wall where my mom’s portrait is hanging. I study her reaction closely, searching for any sign that will clue me in to what she’s thinking. She opens her mouth to say something, but ultimately decides against it.

  “I don’t have many photographs of her, so I drew one.” I offer up.

  “Why don’t you have many photographs?”

  “It’s hard to capture meaningful moments when there weren’t many to document in the first place.”

  She glances up at me. “Do you miss her?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Are you angry?”

  I mull that one over.

  “Not as much as I used to be. I’ve come to accept that she’s the best version of herself she can possibly be.”

  She’s quiet for a moment.

  “How often do you see each other?”

  “Not as often as we should,” I admit.

  “What about your dad?”

  “What about him?” I say, brushing a stray hair away from her forehead. She closes her eyes, relishing the contact. When they reopen, there’s a depth of yearning, a hunger for more information.

  “Why isn’t there any trace of him in your life?”

  “Well, for starters, I’ve never met my biological father. The only semblance of a father I’ve ever known was my mom’s boyfriend who helped ‘raise’ me. He ended up skipping out when things got rough.”

  “Do you know anything about your real dad?”

  “Other than him raping my mom and leaving her pregnant with me at sixteen, not a thing.”

  “Jesus,” she gasps, horrified.

  “Yep. Now imagine being raised by a woman who never wanted you in the first place, who had absolutely no choice in the matter, and who had to constantly be reminded of that reality every time she looked at me—at you. One of the most traumatic experiences a person could ever survive resulted in my conception. In a weird way, I’m responsible for ruining her life. Combine that with a pseudo dad who had no legal or genetic claim to me, and a bunch of other dysfunctional shit, and you’ll wind up with one really confused kid and two equally resentful parents.”

  She’s silent for a few beats. I get it. I mean, what do you say to something like that, anyway?

  “Eric, what happened to your mom was horrible, but if she truly didn’t want you, she had alternatives. You have to believe you were wanted. All parents love their children. Some just have better ways of expressing it than others.”

  I laugh sardonically. “She tried to have me aborted, Rave. My grandparents wouldn’t allow it. That’s why she doesn’t speak to them anymore. She was underage, and she needed parental consent. They refused to give it. Lucky for me, right?”

  “Hey, stop it. None of this is your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this to happen to you.”

  “Neither did my mom. She was a kid too. One with a bright future ahead of her until some asshole came along and raped her at a party.”

  This is such a bizarre situation to be stuck in. I can’t be grateful for my own existence and still sympathize with my mom. Doesn’t work that way. Being happy I’m here makes it seem like I’m condoning what happened to her. Then I feel guilty and worthless all over again. Such a mindfuck.

  Raven sits up and swings a leg over to straddle me. She cups my face between her hands and forces me to meet her gaze. The level of intimacy being shared between us is uncomfortable. I don’t bother to say anything, though. It’s a better alternative to the blatant indifference she was giving me before.

  “Listen, you may think you are the worst thing to happen to her, but you are without a doubt one of the best things to happen to me. And Chase. And Mia. Just because your parents failed to recognize how amazing you are doesn’t mean no one else sees it, cause we all do. Having you in my life has made me a better person. Albeit, a crazier person, but a better one.”

  “Did you just crack a joke during a serious conversation?” I reach up and feel her forehead. The woman must be sic
k if she’s using my favorite defense mechanism to lighten the mood.

  She slaps my hand away and wraps her arms around my neck. “I took a chance and it paid off. Happens a lot with you.” Her arms squeeze me tightly.

  “Mmmm.” I lean forward to kiss her soft lips. “Not always.”

  I’m not trying to kill the vibe, but I want her to notice I’m owning up to all the shit I’ve put her through over the years. No one has tugged her back and forth more than me. I’m aware she’s put up with more than anyone should, but I’m so glad she has, because even though I don’t deserve her, I still maintain nobody is capable of loving her more than I am.

  She leans back, her face serious. “Why are you sharing this all of a sudden? What’s changed?”

  “Me. I’m sick of carrying this burden alone. I can’t do it anymore and there’s no one I trust more than you. Plus, I know how badly you’ve wanted me to open up. Figured I’d start tonight and see how it goes.”

  “You know you can tell me anything and your secrets will be safe.”

  I flex my fingers into her hips. “I know. But now do you see why I’ve been so reluctant to share all this?”

  “I do,” she acknowledges. “But I’m glad you did. It helps me understand you better. Certain things make more sense now.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why you are the way you are. I’ve always known about your abandonment issues, but I never really understood the self-destruction and the obsessive need to distract yourself with anything and everything. It helps keep the darkness at bay, doesn’t it?”

  I nod.

  Her fingertips slide through my disheveled hair. “Am I a distraction? A temporary filler for a void?”

  “You’re much more than that,” I assure her. “But you’ve been used for that purpose, yes.”

  “Sexually?”

  “Yes.”

  Her face falls with disappointment.

  “Aye,” I tilt her chin up. “You have to bear with me. I’m not good at this stuff. You’re not going to like every answer that comes out of my mouth, but my honesty has to count for something, right? Otherwise, this is all for nothing.”

  “Fine. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”