by Lucy Harvey
Looking into the mirror I trailed my index finger along the plushness of my bottom lip. It was swollen and red from all the kissing and sucking of last night’s passionate affair. Closing my eyes I bit down on my lip picturing the fierceness of Romans gaze when he would lean in to take me.
How I felt in this very moment I did not know whether to laugh and smile or cry and cower away. Smile because of what we shared or cry because it was all we would share.
As I opened my eyes I lowered the robe hiding my torso scanning the marks he had left to taint me. If you were to drag a sharpie from one bruise to the other and so on until you reached the last at the bottom of my legs you would create a masterpiece of swirls, I was well and truly covered in Roman.
I wish he had said goodbye.
It was needy of me and I knew that I just needed constant reassurance that he would be back.
Opting for breakfast before I showered and prepared for the day - I stumbled towards the kitchen careful not to step on scattered items of clothing and knocked over ornaments - evidence of us. The fact it was all there was a reminder of how Roman was with me. I smiled as I noticed every item out of place, he really was here.
In a past life my councilor would label these habits as triggers. If I was showing signs of being needy or clingy then I should seek help, that was phase one - that was how it started. I reasoned with myself confirming that I would eventually destroy the evidence because deep down I knew I didn't need it. Roman would be back. I was sure of it.
I was raised to believe the way in which my mind worked was a gift. I guess it was my mother’s way of soothing her own guilt.
They said the way I calculated life was a powerful tool that would enable me to make the world a better place. Interpreting body language and reading minds became second nature to me. I knew how people felt, I knew how to read them, I knew how to help them and I knew what they expected of me.
From a young age I excelled with grades. I was popular by nature, I was popular by nurture.
I do not know how it happened or when exactly it did but once the realization came to light I decided I never wanted to be that way a day longer.
I could not change the world or save the people that roamed in it. I was only open to breathe in everything bad about it. In reality I could not help anyone battle their own demons, all I could do was sit in agony as I watched this life slowly brake them and feel every agonizing detail of their downfall.
I was smart but not wise. I fall hard and way too often. Having the knowledge to make a greater difference but lacking the power to do so was not a gift. I was cursed and eternally would be?
This was not phase one, this was not a trigger. This was simply me appreciating the connection between Roman and me.
Once entering the kitchen I switched on the black stainless steel kettle and began pouring coffee granules into a mug Roman had put out for me - a white mug. A gentle breeze blew in through the kitchen and something began to flap in the corner of my eye.
"And the end comes too soon
Like dreaming of angels."
Gentle flutters began to grow in the center of my chest. I was not sure if this was a simple "I had a great time, sucks that it's over" or "the end". I charged back into the bedroom trying to locate my phone. As I snatched it from under my pillow and attempted to hit the call button I screamed and threw it at the head board - of course in moments of need it would be out of charge.
Calm down Lily.
But I was fine? This was not needy this was simply wanting to know where I stood.
I am a strong independent woman there is no harm in having some sort of control. I plugged the apple charger into the socket closest to my antique dressing table and took refuge on the stall as I impatiently waited for my unreliable phone to turn on.
He would like this, me showing some sort of control or authority. This was a good thing I convinced myself. If I moped around wondering and overthinking that would be a trigger, that would be needy, not this. I had this under control, if anything I should be proud at how I was taking charge.
Repetitively tapping my fidgety fingers against the wood of my table I hummed a tune trying to block images of Roman out of my head.
'I'm just a little bit caught in the middle life is a maze and love is a riddle'
Lyrics were the best substitute to thinking.
My phone chimed twice and the screen lit up as it came to life. As soon as I was able to unlock it I dialed Roman's number but hung up before I had chance to answer. I repeated this seven times whist pacing my bedroom floor, appreciating the softness of my purple rug underneath my feet softening my stamps. When I finally let the call connect I was only met by his answering machine.
“Hey you, so I just wanted to say thanks for last night and I guess I will see you around. Oh this is Lily by the way so yeah bye.”
I was a loser. An absolute loser. Lily by the way? As though he had been in multiples of women’s beds. That was a thought I would not even let myself ponder on.
An hour went by and I still had not heard a response. This was okay. He was at work, he was most likely one hundred percent busy. Or maybe his answering machine was playing up, from personal experience I knew voicemail was not always a reliable messenger. So I opted with the next best thing and sent him a text.
Hey Roman, I did ring but could not get through... Hope work is not too busy, or maybe you’re one of those people who prefer busy days so that they go faster? Either way I hope you have a good day. Thanks for last night, I definitely needed that workout. What are you doing tonight? Don’t worry if you are busy but just in case you wondered I’m not so feel free to pop over. Unless you don’t want too. Shit now I am rambling so I am just going to hit send *laughing face*
Twenty four minutes ticked by with still no response. The reality of how stalkerish my morning antics had been began to sink in, slowly, making every article of my body cringe with realization.
I share the night with a guy who has been firmly implanted in my brain since the word go and what do I do, I show a glimpse of my former broken self just making sure he has no desire to come back.
Before sending another embarrassingly stupid message I thought of a task to occupy me from my stalkerish tendencies still convinced I was not being clingy. This was not a trigger. He would appreciate this, it would show him I was genuinely committed and maybe even nudge him into wanting to reveal himself to me. If he took anything from my deranged outburst I pray that it is nothing other than the fact I’m a girl who sticks – in a good way.
Wandering into my study I booted up the laptop about to search for anything Roman.
For someone that appeared determined to keep his persona exclusively private Roman had no trouble divulging his scandalous affairs through the watchful eye of the media. Since our first encounter Roman and I had participated in many texting session almost always ending in a seductive cliff hanger.
I was forever trying to fish for more information about the illusion of Roman Court. The desire to get to know him burned deeper every passing moment but all he was interested in was diverting my attention to the sexual arousal he so easily caused me.
It was apparent he was in no way trying to get to know me as a person or in turn let me discover the truth of him. He was trying to keep me at arms-length but I knew his attraction to me ran deeper than just his evident need to own my body, so why was he acting so strange?
As I scrolled through Google the knot of jealous anxiety in my chest constricted a fraction more at every sordid headline involving even an initial of his. My personal favorite being the one in which he and his alleged girlfriend at the time went on a date and whilst the poor girl was dining alone Roman was caught having a passionate rendezvous with an ex. Odette. Her name seemed to be popping up everywhere attached to Romans in some way.
Was this a cause for concern?
I wasn’t sure what detail I was more annoyed with, the fact the victim was listed as his girlfriend when he made it
perfectly clear for me that girlfriends were a hard limit or the manner in which he behaved.
‘Backstabbing Bonking Behind Bathroom Doors.’ –Catchy to say the least. Come to think of it nothing could outshine the following headline in which he was photographed participating in an orgy involving a varied guest list of the most degrading women I had laid eyes on. The compromising positions they were held in made me squirm. To my surprise it was jealousy igniting inside me rather than disgust and I pictured him taking me in these dirty ways.
‘Romans STD platter – we have heard of trying before you buy but of course our eye candy king takes the phrase to a whole new level Roman style.’
The creativity behind these titles were truly admirable I say to my computer with the highest level of sarcasm detectable.
With every discovery I made I questioned how I had never heard of him before. Roman was everywhere. But since our childhood I was careful not to waste time searching the internet in case I was met of chilling reminders.
Nausea overwhelmed me but I forced myself to continue reading through the personal affairs of Roman Court. This is what I needed, the worse I felt about him the less I would want him. In no way did I want to be associated with someone so shallow or be known as his next toy only moments away from being discarded into the mountain of has-beens rotting in his closet.
“I thought you said you weren’t interested.” I was locked so deeply in a disturbing trance over the dark mystery that I failed to realize that Peyton had arrived and was leaning over my shoulder. I seriously needed to start locking my doors.
“I’m not I was just curious, there is a difference.” I averted swiveling in my desk chair.
“Umm actually I don’t think there is, I mean either way you want his pork sword in and around your mouth and every other available hole so I would say they are pretty similar.” She stated.
I swatted her on the arm, she looked deceivingly smug and giggled. My reaction only stimulated her more and we both knew she was right. Peyton’s play on words caused even the most serious to loosen up and enjoy the rarity of humored crudeness that was my best friend.
“Okay fine, I cannot get him off my mind but ugh Pey, half of these stories I’m sure are illegal not to mention disgusting. I am not being one of those girls, not to someone like him.” I proceeded to rant with my heavy head rested in the palms of my hands.
She studied my discomfort and I nervously began to shift in my chair under her scrutiny.
“True, I mean you have had long enough of being one of those girls but I guess the majority of the time you’ve been in charge or at least equal in whatever fucked up game you were playing.” Peyton stated through a smirk at her slight dig then paused as though deciding whether or not to carry on with her train of thought.
“Somehow I think no one could have control over him, not even the boy’s mother for crying out loud.” It appeared as though she had been doing her research too. “But hey – we all have a past, I’m sure if the paparazzi were to capture some of our sleazy memories he would be just as disgusted. Stop over analyzing beautiful girl, but at the same time we both know why you need to be careful. We both know what psycho control freaks can lead too.”
I paused for thought, for someone so mundane and raw she had perfected the art of putting life into perspective, she was as right as ever.
I was not prepared to lose myself over someone so insignificant to my life, I had come so far and mind games were a thing of the past. If all of Pamela’s hard work was wasted time there would be one constant lesson resounding in the back of my mind. Purposely hurting, changing people or even manipulating life will only create a false sense of happiness.
Setting fires to innocent souls would get me nowhere and for once the flames were at bay. The scars were still evident on my over bearing heart. I had too much in line to perfect normality, this was no time to lose myself.
Roman Court was not an item on my to-do list nor was he ever going to be a willing captive of my tortured heart. The more I argued with my own mind about the pros and cons of the enchanting dirt bag I deflated – Roman Court was not going to be easy to forget.
Peyton scrambled through her overly large satin purse for her car keys, she couldn’t have been going home seeing as she lived in the same street, any bets she was on route to Tristan’s. I slumped off my chair and pulled her in for a tight hug. She was my conscience, mine had abandoned me long ago and Peyton was always there for clarity.
“You changed, so maybe he can?”
With that she left.
I had changed.
But could he?
It had been precisely one hundred and forty six hours since the fiasco of trying to convince myself I had to steer clear of Roman. Just six days later and here I was once again anticipating his arrival. I was weak and one look at him would make it all worth-while.
That night as soon as I received Romans message every ounce of fight fled my body and I was filled with an anticipating flood of excitement. I am a mature level headed femme fatale capable of captivating a man as seductive as Roman Court.
Angel.
That’s what did it. The affectionate overuse of my awarded endearment, every single time he used it I could feel myself liquefying into his clutches letting his control fully absorb me.
After what seemed like hours of nervously pacing my homely sitting room I headed for the bedroom checking my appearance just once more, as though the previous seven times were not solid confirmation I looked presentable.
It was not a date because of course Roman did not associate with those kind of labelled meetings but I still wanted to make an impression without portraying myself to be too desperate. If he wanted willing easy girls then he could get whichever one he wanted at the snap of his fingers, I needed to prove I was more than that.
The bitter sweetness of knowing he wanted to spend time with me yet making sure that I knew it was in no form a date did not sit well with me, instead I was even further over the edge contemplating how I should act. The only dependable factor was the thought lingering in the back of my mind confirming I would not be able to resist him if he was to try and pursue me again.
My high wasted ripped at the knee black jeans hugged my figure teasingly highlighting the curved plumpness of my behind. I coated my toe nails in a sparkly midnight blue and repeated the process with my finger nails, the love I had for colors as dark as my broken soul was no secret. I purposely decided to go with an oversized band t-shirt Harley had altered for me to make it appear socially acceptable for a girl to wear in her eyes.
The t-shirt was a perfect blend of slutty and sultry. What was once a melting logo for ‘The XX’ was now a half assaulted logo that came drew in by an elasticized material beneath my breasts exposing a sliver of skin between the meeting of my top and jeans. Consciously I knew there were two reason I had chosen this particular t-shirt, the first being the off the shoulder feature once again attempting to entice Roman. The second being that this was the very song oozing through the speakers as our paths first crossed.
Angel.
That word again.
Ultimately I assumed that was the reason why Roman had called me angel, because of the very song playing.
To complete my look I left my hair in natural waves framing my light use of makeup. The most noticeable asset on my face being my over glossed lips, just try to deny those I thought to myself.
I hate it.
After studying myself further I concluded my appearance in actual fact resembled a fourteen year old alternative emo boy. From hours dedicated to stalking his life I had good knowledge of the kind of girls Roman dated, they were your typical Regina George / secret slut next door masked by a borderline classy portrayal. He was going to take one look at my childish appearance and laugh.
The clock read 7.45pm he was not due for at least another fifteen minutes rewarding me with enough time to change into one of the summer dresses I had borrowed from Harley for our most recent holiday
.
BANG BANG BANG.
Crap he was here. I hurried for the door abandoning the idea to change, I could just pretend I had come from a fancy dress parade or something perhaps more believable and then change after. Roman banged at the door once more, everything about him screamed masculinity.
I couldn’t believe I was actually going to let him see me like this, what if he really hated it or I disgusted him. Wait – why should I even care? Roman went to extreme measures to make it perfectly clear this was not going to be a date. I took in a deep steadying breathe and released the one I seemed to be holding for the last ten minutes and let him in.
“Wow, evening Angel.” Roman greeted me.
I didn’t care if this was or was not a date. I didn’t care if Roman used girls and tossed them aside like scraps from a meal. The look in his eyes of pure admiration was undeniable making me heart dance. He actually liked what he saw. He glanced up and down my poorly dressed physique not taking his eyes off me as I in turn mentally began to undress him.
Standing on my door step was a six foot two shell of perfection. His plump lips curved into a sly smile conveying his pleased welcoming. I was stuck to the ground; mentally I started to scold myself. My house was in no measure small but Romans presence made my confiding escape appear tiny as it framed him.
‘Invite him in you imbecile, great Lily, now he is going to think you are mentally challenged as well as a fourteen year old boy.’
Almost as though he could hear the thoughts rattling around in my own brain he glided past me taking my hand in his leading me straight towards my bedroom.
Wait. What?
“Roman what are you doing?” Lily enquired, she was taken back by my controlling force leading her to the bedroom.
“Trust me Angel, believe me when I say that I know what you need.” I said in attempt to sooth her.
I had just arrived and I was already affirming authority over her. Seeing her dressed like that, she looked like a fallen angel. A bad, naughty angel who needed to be punished. Dressed in all black with salacious rips throughout her outfit, it was as though she had just fell from heaven itself. My cock began to angrily twitch and grow. Never had I been so turned on by a girl fully clothed.