Slammed

by Skyla Madi

  I flick the towel through my hair, back and forth, until limited drops fly onto the mirror, then I drop the towel on top of my pile of disposed clothing and exit the bathroom.

  In the main room, Amelia rests against the bar with two drinks poured. The glasses hold my attention for the briefest second before regrouping on Amelia’s appearance. The little black dress with the tiny, gold belt is no longer. Instead, a white see-through blouse drapes her body, stopping well above the knees and exposing the delicate curves of her thighs. Ashamedly, my throat runs dry. Through the subtly transparent fabric, I see her black lingerie, and I can almost feel how soft they’d be to touch.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, barely managing to pull my gaze back to her face.

  Amelia rakes her fingers through her messy, high ponytail and the feigned innocence on her face doesn’t fool me for a second. “I thought we could share one drink before you leave and I go to bed.”

  I clench the strap of my backpack. “No, you didn’t.”

  Her perfectly plucked eyebrows straighten out. “You promised me a catch up and this is how we’re going to do it.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  Her facial features morph into an expression so dark and cunning, it makes me feel sixteen all over again.

  “No? Perhaps I should call Selena then and let her know where to pick you up.”

  I frown, unsure of her meaning.

  “You know, I’m kind of hurt my number isn’t saved in your phone. Do you hate me that much?”

  My heart stutters. She went through my phone while I was in the shower…and now she has Selena’s number. If Selena knew I was here there’s no way I’d be able to explain it. I watch her. That’s all I do, unable to come up with any kind of rational response. Amelia has fucked me over yet again. She presses her long, red nail to the base of one glass and slides it closer. “Bourbon. Your favorite.”

  Defeated, I drop my bag and amble over to the bar, watching her cautiously. When I reach out for my glass, she takes hers and saunters, with a sway in her hips, across the room and up three small steps to her bed. Suddenly, my heart begins to hammer in my chest as she sits down on the edge and pats the mattress beside her. “We can catch up over here.”

  Reluctantly, I join her. I sit with my elbows on my knees and my glass clenched tightly in my hands. Amelia chooses to sit in a more ‘relaxed’ position, leaning back on one palm and crossing her legs. Her white blouse slides higher up her thighs, but she makes no move to pull it down. It stirs something inside me, rekindling a passion I don’t want to feel. A passion I shouldn’t feel. Her amused stare burns holes into the side of my face.

  “I should put some cream on your lip.” With a sigh, she pushes off of the bed, setting her glass down on the white leather bedside table.

  She reaches out and pries my glass from my hands before setting it on the table beside hers. I keep my eyes on the floor as she strolls over to her little medical box and rifles around in it. A minute later, I hear the lid close and before long, her feet are the only things I see in front of me. Involuntarily, my jaw clenches as she runs an index finger under my chin, applying a small amount of pressure until I tilt my head up to look at her. I hate this. I hate feeling like a child. Amelia removes the cap of the salve and swipes the cream as she squeezes a small drop from its tube. I downcast my gaze as her finger reaches out and dabs, ever so slightly, over my cut.

  “Do you remember the first time I put salve on your lip?” she asks, smiling sweetly.

  I do. It was Christmas Eve and I was seventeen. Amelia and I were walking along a busy street in the heart of Seattle and someone stole an old lady’s bag. She screamed and he ran in our direction. I stopped him, but not before he managed to clip me in the mouth. Surprisingly, it’s not a terrible memory.

  “I remember.”

  She tosses her tube of cream onto the bed and continues to massage the remnants of the drop into my lip. “You were so brave.”

  I hold my breath as she shuffles closer, until her stomach grazes my nose. Despite myself, I inhale. Cinnamon. Through it all, she’s always smelled like cinnamon. A scent that usually makes me turn up my nose is drawing me in and, suddenly, every pore in my body becomes aware of it. Her nearness buzzes over the surface of my skin, just like it used to. I remain still as her finger slides from my lip and both her hands slide into my damp hair, squeezing slightly. Amelia slides herself onto my lap, adjusting slowly until her face is directly in front of mine. Her dark irises pierce mine and lock me in place.

  “You haven’t missed me? Not at all?”

  I swallow hard. I need to tread lightly. I can’t give her what she wants—not without hurting someone who doesn’t deserve it. “I missed you…” I say. “In the beginning.”

  “And now?”

  I glance at her lips. They’re parted, ready for something.

  “And now I have someone else.”

  “There’s no future with her. What about us? We have history.” She leans forward and plants a soft kiss on my bottom lip. “We’ve shared things you won’t be able to with anyone else. She can’t understand you like I can.”

  She kisses me again, more forceful this time. My head spins and my thoughts are clouded as she slips her tongue between my lips and touches mine.

  “Don’t you want that again?” she asks, breathing into my mouth.

  Without thought, my hands find her thighs, then her ass. She moans low and deep in my mouth, and the hormones that flood my body become frenzied, pooling in my cock. It wasn’t so bad, was it? Being with her, I mean. Has she changed? Could she finally want more? I crush my lips to hers, spurred by the moment and the desperation to see if any piece of the spark between us remains. I feel aroused, obviously, anyone who’d say otherwise in this situation is a fucking liar, but I don’t feel…‘more.’ I don’t feel love. I don’t feel passion. For the first time in my life, I feel awkward—guilty even. Her mouth trails from mine and down my chin. My mind begins to clear and my body tightens as she plants rough, desperate kisses along my jaw and up to my ear.

  “We can try again,” she murmurs, kissing the shell of my ear. “We can be a family…have that baby you’ve always wanted.”

  I still, my heart dropping into my stomach. We’ve never spoken about the baby we were meant to have together. We never saw each other again after that. “You already gave me the baby I’ve always wanted and then you took it away.”

  She freezes, her lips unmoving against my skin. Eventually, she pulls back and looks me in the eyes. “It doesn’t count, Jackson. I was barely eight weeks pregnant. It’s not a real baby until at least twelve weeks.”

  My chest aches as the words filter in through my mind and fail to register. Can she even hear herself speak? Can’t she comprehend how cruel she sounds? That baby—our baby—my baby—it didn’t count? I shove her off me and launch to my feet. It doesn’t count? It doesn’t fucking count?

  “Of course it fucking counted!” I snap, reaching for the bedside lamp. With a growl, I rip it out of the wall and throw it across the room. It hits the far wall and shatters, making Amelia jump. “When we decided to keep it, when you talked me into wanting to be a father and start a family, it counted!”

  “I wasn’t ready for it, Jackson. You can’t expect me to go through with something so big when I wasn’t ready!”

  “How was I to know? You never told me you weren’t ready!” Tears prick at my eyes, but I don’t dare let them fall. Not in front of her. I lean in close. “You convinced me that we could do it and I was happy, truly happy. When I woke up, you were gone.”

  “Jacks—”

  Her bored expression, the look of total heartlessness, fucking eats at me. “Tell me where you were.”

  I know where she was. I know exactly where she was, but I need her to say it. If she says it out loud, maybe she’ll realize how fucked up it was.

  “Jac—”

  I run my hands over my face, unfazed by the pain that stabs me so sharply.
The shock, horror, and anger I feel surges over me. “Tell me where you fucking were!”

  I need to get out of here before I completely lose the plot. I’m five seconds away from grabbing her by the throat and throwing her out the goddamn window.

  “In the hospital.”

  “Doing what?” I demand in breathless anger.

  “Recovering.”

  “From what?”

  She swallows hard, but no emotions register on her face. Does she even feel? If she does, what does she care about? Because it sure as hell isn’t me. She says something, but it’s too low for me to hear.

  I step closer. “I can’t hear you.”

  “I was recovering from a dodgy abortion.”

  I nod. “When I found you at 10:15 a.m. in room 317 at North Seattle Hospital. Do you remember what you said to me?”

  Her full lips purse and she shakes her head. Of course she fucking doesn’t.

  “You told me it was over, that things have gone too far and you’re done with me.”

  “I’m sure that’s not what I sai—”

  I grab her face, squeezing her cheeks in the palm of my hand. It takes all of my strength not to crush her jaw into dust and destroy her mouth from ever spewing another lie.

  “That’s what you said to me. I remember it like yesterday. After everything I had given to you, after everything I sacrificed for you, you sent me away like I meant nothing.”

  “I was confused,” she mumbles, muffling through squished lips and finally, she manages to squeeze a tear from her duct. Wow. Tonight must really be special. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry. “I wasn’t myself.”

  She wasn’t herself? That has to be the biggest copout I’ve ever heard. When Amelia is ripping hearts from chests and crushing them under her feet, that’s her being herself. When she’s crying and desperately trying to explain her actions, that’s her being fake. I’ve learned the difference and I’ve learned to walk away. With a gentle shove, I release her face and turn towards the door. I scoop up my bag and head for the exit. I won’t be here another second with her. I can’t.

  “Where are you going?” she demands, her voice thick with aggression.

  “Anywhere I don’t have to see your face.”

  “I’ll fucking kill myself if you leave!” she screeches and I look over my shoulder as she bunches her fists.

  She’s played this game before and too many times have I fallen for it, but not this time. I won’t let her manipulate me. Amelia loves herself and her life too much to want to leave it. That’s a conclusion I came to a long time ago. I almost smile at the dark curl of bitterness swirling somewhere inside me. “Don’t do me any favors.”

  And then, I open the door and fucking slam it behind me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jackson

  I stare at the wooden panels on Seth’s front door. He called me while I was in the cab on my way to Selena’s house and told me she was there. She’s locked herself in the guest room, but at least she’s surrounded herself with people who love her. Selena deserves that. She deserves a lot of things…she deserves flowers every day, with a cute little card that tells her how amazing she is. She deserves chocolates and the right to eat them all without going up a dress size. She deserves never ending happiness and someone who appreciates everything she is and everything she can be. She doesn’t deserve me. She doesn’t deserve to be the receptacle of my bitterness and anger. She is someone’s daughter, a beautiful female who deserves all the things she’s ever dreamed of.

  Not me.

  I bet she’s never dreamed of having someone like me.

  I lean forward, resting my head against the door, and contemplate going home. The thing is, I don’t want to be alone. I’ve always hated being alone. As the thought finishes, the front door opens and I straighten my posture. The first thing I see is Seth’s bare chest. Oh joy. A half-naked dude isn’t the nicest thing to be greeted by at this time of night, in my opinion. I look at his face as he analyzes my brow.

  “Good to see you had enough sense to drag your ass to the hospital.”

  I nod. The hospital. Yep. That’s where I went. “Right. Olivia and Chloe?”

  “Asleep.”

  “Selena?”

  His dark, tired features soften. “Upstairs in the guestroom.”

  I drag in a slow inhale before expelling it. Seth steps to the side to let me pass and as I do, he stops me by placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “Anything you need to get off your chest before you go up there?”

  I could tell him where I was tonight, but I don’t have the energy to rehash it to him, not when I’m about to pour out my entire soul and lay it at Selena’s feet. “Not tonight, bro.”

  With a simple nod, he lifts his hand and I continue on down the hallway. I pass a huge, open living room first and my sights immediately zero in on the colorful box in the corner, spilling with toys. I can’t help a small smile as I picture the three of them playing after dinner. Seth’s always been the lucky one. My sights are pulled to the couch then and a topless, sleeping Darryl shifts uncomfortably. It kind of makes me feel like shit. Everyone was obviously waiting around on me.

  I push forward and find the stairs. I move slowly, unsure which room Chloe is sleeping in. I reach for the first door, but Seth stops me.

  “No,” he says quietly. “That’s Chloe’s room. The guest room is down the end.”

  As slowly as I can, I lift my fingers from the handle and softly tip-toe down the hall. I glance over my shoulder as I reach the last two doors and see Seth slip into the room across from Chloe’s. Before the door closes, I hear Olivia’s voice mumble something and I hope it wasn’t me that woke her. I turn back to the two doors. The one on the left is labeled ‘bathroom’ so the other must be the guest room. With trembling hands, I open the door and slip inside the pitch black room. As I shut the door, I hear a stirring on the bed.

  “Jackson?” comes the inevitable whisper after it.

  “Yeah.”

  I drop my bag on the floor, kick off my shoes, and slip out of my socks. The room is silent and my nerves are heightened. I can’t determine if the silence is a good one or a bad one, but I get the feeling I’m about to find out. I walk over to the bed using my shins as a guide. When the mattress presses against my legs, I stop and pull my shirt off over my head. I barely have time to lower myself onto the bed before I feel warm hands press against my abs. I jump slightly. I didn’t realize she was so close. She snatches her hands back.

  “I’m so sorry. Are you sore?”

  I reach for her hands and put them back on my stomach. “No. Just got a fright.”

  I inch forward until I’m kneeling on the edge of the bed and I shut my eyes as her soft, caring hands trace the lines on my stomach. I feel the very tips of her nose next as it grazes along my collar bone and into the curve of my neck.

  “I was worried about you,” she whispers against my skin, sending awareness searing over the surface.

  Those are the exact words I need to hear after the night I’ve had with Amelia. “You were?”

  “Yes.” Her minty breath blows across my cheek until, finally, her lips graze mine.

  She pauses and I tightly squeeze my eyes shut, dreading the next question that will undoubtedly fall from her confused lips. “Did you go to the hospital?”

  Fuck. I search my brain, trying desperately to come up with a decent explanation. All I manage is a shake of the head.

  “You have salve on your lip,” she states, trying to piece it together. I feel the very tip of her finger brush delicately over the dressing on my brow. “And you’re all patched up.”

  Silence falls and grows thick until I can’t bear it anymore.

  “Amelia fixed me up,” I tell her, my voice hoarse and thick. The words I chose sound strange falling from my lips because Amelia didn’t fix me up, not really. She may have stitched my brow, but she destroyed my soul.

  Selena’s touch falls from my skin and I drop my head.

/>   “Amelia. Your ex-girlfriend.”

  I nod, even though she can’t see it.

  “She was the first person you decided to see after your fight? After you walked out on Darryl, Seth, and me?”

  Her pain is clear in her voice and there’s nothing I can do to help it. Whatever I admit to from here on out will only hurt her more. I can try to explain, but I don’t have much of a leg to stand on. It’s not as black and white as she thinks. Still, I doubt I’ll be able to get any of it across to her.

  “No, it wasn’t like that, she—”

  “You refused to be seen by a certified doctor, but you let her touch you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  I hear Selena’s flesh slap together as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “Why does this woman have such a hold over you?”

  I groan. This is not the conversation I want to have. I want to apologize for being an asshole after my fight and cuddle, that’s all. I want to leave the rest for another day. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Why doesn’t it matter?” she demands in a harsh whisper. “This woman has everything to do with the person you are, but you refuse to let me in on it.”

  “Can’t you just trust me?”

  “How can I trust you when you keep so much from me? Am I not good enough? Do I need to dye my hair red and wear tight black dresses? Do I need to ruin your life? Just tell me what I can do to make you feel even the tiniest shred of love for me like you so obviously do for Amelia.”