by Kady Hunt
So I wouldn’t fail before I even started.
Somehow, I’ve reached her and when I say hi she turns to me.
When she does, I think everything in the room just stops for a moment. When the world goes back to moving, she’s still there but I’m not sure where I am.
“Did you want to say something?” she asks.
There’s innocence in her voice, a chaste purity that’s almost angelic and touches me in a strange way. I have barely known her a few moments but I’ve already started falling for her. “I…uh…I’m Daniel,” I say, and wonder why I’m stuttering. I never stutter! Not in front of women at least! “Daniel Reeves.”
She smiles. “Hi, Daniel.”
“I noticed your date seems,” I didn’t have the right words to curse him the way he actually deserved, “busy.”
She looks embarrassed but tries to cover for him. “He has a lot of friends,” she says, and then turns to me. “You know me?”
“No,” I say. “It’s the first time I’m seeing you but you know my friend.”
“What friend would that be?”
“Holden? Holden Danvers?”
“Oh,” she says. “Right. Are you two close?”
“Well,” I say. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
She smiles. “Your friend is…interesting.”
I check for any signs that she might be more into Holden than she’s letting on but once again, I’m clueless. Besides, it was obvious from their exchange earlier, that they were simply acquaintances. Not to forget, Holden actually has someone—and I hate to admit that it’s Natalie but Holden is so smitten he won’t listen to reason. Teague and Sebastian stopped trying a long time ago, and I’m starting to think they were right. Holden and Natalie have been going out for a year now, and their relationship has changed Holden, even though he doesn’t like to admit it. And though he goes out with the occasional hot chick, simply to prove that he’s still the womanizer he always was, we all know that’s not true. I’d claim that I don’t know what it is about Natalie that he can’t resist but I have a vague idea. She’s gorgeous and with that body, of course Holden thinks he’s in love.
“Daniel?” Her voice pulls me away from my thoughts. “Were you saying something?”
“Uh…no…I was just…wondering if I can buy you a drink. I mean, that is if your date won’t mind.”
She sounds a little dejected. “I don’t think he will.”
She covers up that sadness well.
“Well then,” I say, excited.
It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve been excited about a girl in that way. We head over to the bar and she buys one of those blue girlie drinks with barely any alcohol and I get myself a glass of Wild Turkey. There is so much noise in the bar, I know we’re never going to be able to hear each other, so I take her hand and lead her through the crowd towards the stairs. From there we head to the second floor of the building and I lead her to the open terrace that I have visited often. She seems surprised a place like that even exists in the club building, but she’s having fun now at least and doesn’t look so hung up on that guy like she did a while back. She sips her drink slow and twirls the cute straw the entire time. She’s probably nervous. Everything she does, every gesture of her hand, the way her eyes timidly look around and stop at me in between—it’s like being hit with a full size Mack Truck but being blinded first by its harsh headlights so you can’t do a thing about what is about to happen.
The same way, I can’t do much but wait for the collision.
“Well,” Jamie says, barely looking at me. “This place is amazing.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I come here sometimes, when I want to be alone.”
“Alone?” she eyes me skeptically. “That means I’m the first person you brought here?”
I hadn’t even thought of it that way. In fact, I hadn’t been thinking at all, I’d simply brought her up here on autopilot. But now that she mentions it, it’s all I can think about—subconsciously, I must have felt like she was the only person I could let in.
“I guess.”
“Are you having second thoughts?” she asks. “I could always leave.”
I look at her; her beautiful face looks prettier in the moonlight and I have this strange urge to kiss her. “No,” I say quickly, trying to focus my attention towards anything but her face but the more I try the more her eyes keep me paralyzed and unable to do anything. “Not at all.”
“Okay,” she smiles. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Well,” she says, looking up at the stars. “For letting me in I guess.”
Suddenly, I don’t feel so clueless.
Suddenly, I feel like the collision course that I’ve been on ever since I saw her, might have just become my destiny.
Suddenly, I’m not afraid to crash.
5.
TEAGUE
Have you ever wished for the ground to burst open so wide you can’t keep standing anymore? Have you wished for molting earth to make you disappear so you can never be found? I don’t know why I’m still thinking about all this when Mia’s already on the bed and all I have to do is get on top, do everything I know she wants me to do, everything that I want to do to her, and it will keep going—the charade, the travesty that is my life, the sham that is our ‘relationship’ if you can even call it that. Is it a relationship when you’re the only one giving a shit? Teague, I love you but you can’t own me. But hey, nobody’s perfect. No relationship ever satisfies two people the same way.
Everybody’s got their demons, right?
I certainly hope so, because otherwise I’m screwed.
I know I have the looks, because I know women who are willing to do anything for me. I’ve been told my light brown hair and sea-green eyes are an irresistible combination along with my smile.
I can bring any woman down on her knees.
Well, anyone except Mia apparently.
My dad used to say that the things you do end up becoming you. And you don’t realize it until it’s too late. He said that every time he did something wrong, which was often because my father happened to be a rich douche who played with other people’s money, but he would always own up to it. Sure every kid with a father like mine idolizes him, and you want to do things differently, if not for your own sake then for your parents’, but my situation is going in a direction I never thought it would go. So naturally I’m not exactly proud of the way my life seems to be unfolding. Am I really the person I’ve become? Is this who I want to be in the next five years? Ten years? Will there even be five years or ten years or one year for that matter? How can you even trust anything when you can’t even trust life? Or death?
But despite the mistrust, despite the travesties and the charades, I find it hard to stop. I would like to think that this isn’t who I am, that I can stop if I want to but that would be fooling myself because I haven’t stopped yet. I keep going, and I don’t even know where I’m headed. Well, maybe I do know where and that’s what makes me so afraid of the future. It’s like I’m having midlife crisis in my twenties and I don’t get it. And if it was just my other…well let’s call them ‘excesses,’ I wouldn’t even be so worried. I’m twenty-two, the guilt trips should not be this bad but they are and even though I can’t help myself at times, my conscience won’t stop hating me for my transgressions. It’s like I have a moral compass, but at the same time I’m too obsessed with having fun and too busy being impulsive to really give a damn about change.
And then there’s Mia—alluring, fascinating and completely out of her mind with anticipation and so full of life you don’t know what to do with yourself when she leaves. All I know, is that I’m not one of those guys you know, the kind who throw their heart away every time a hot body walks by; I used to be okay with one night stands—I used to be okay with living my life my way until her—until Mia.
She changed me.
And then she wanted to date other men and it felt lik
e she didn’t care anymore. And that just doesn’t sit right with me.
I want Mia to care; I want her to tell me her life is with me and no one else. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I used to like a good screw as much as the next guy until I found Mia but what Mia and I have is special. It’s enough for me, and it should have been enough for her, but it’s not. I used to hate myself a lot more than this, when Mia told me she wanted to be free to see other men. When we spent an entire weekend in my parents’ Hamptons’ beach house and I thought we had something. But apparently, she didn’t feel the same way.
But I had to make a choice. I could choose to be in an open relationship, or miss the chance to be with her forever, so I chose her. Honestly, that wasn’t even that hard of a choice. Living with it, now that was something I still haven’t gotten used to. When she said it, honestly, I thought I could do it. I thought I would be fine with her going on dates, but turns out that’s not true. These days, people do it all the time. I’m from the same generation, dammit, why can’t I be okay with this setup?
“Teague,” Mia says, as we make-out and she’s already breathless. “Where’s your head?”
“Right here, baby.”
I try to cover up the fact that I was preoccupied with destructive thoughts by making more of an effort towards the foreplay. She doesn’t even notice something’s wrong when the foreplay gets intense, and she’s moaning and clutching at me. “Fuck, Teague!”
I won’t lie. Sometimes, I feel like I’m competing with all those other men who sleep with her but I’ve known her long enough to know how to satisfy her so that’s never been a real problem. Yet, every time I do bring her closer to the brink, to the point of no return, well lust and love coincide to make a blissful explosion of pleasure and when I can hear her calling out my name because there’s just the two of us on the entire planet and nothing—nothing can come close to this feeling.
She’s still gasping for air when I’m done.
“You’re a total screamer,” I say, going towards her lips and kissing them while she’s still breathing hard.
“I know,” she says, laughing. “It’s embarrassing!”
“No,” I say as I nuzzle her neck. “It’s hot.”
She grabs me and pulls me up and we kiss hot and heavy. Her lips taste like the strawberry lip-gloss she always wears and even though it’s been over a year, I feel something strange happening inside me every time I so much as get a taste of it. Of course Mia’s more than happy to reciprocate and she’s no longer submissive. She tackles me to get on top and forces me to lie back down and her tongue makes wet trails on my bare chest. I’ve got an erection the size of a New York City skyscraper and she giggles when she unzips my pants.
“Hey,” I say. “Giggling while unzipping is rude!”
“My bad,” she says, and her hand reaches places I didn’t even know existed. “Didn’t know you were so sensitive,” she says when I make those sounds that are beyond my control.
“God…Mia!”
“What is it, Teague?” she says playfully. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” I almost yell. “If you stop, I swear to God I’m going to kill you.”
She does something with her tongue that makes me moan even louder. “Who’s the screamer now?” she beams.
“Fuck, Mia!”
I can’t believe I’m about to come so soon. I know, it sounds pathetic but no matter how much I try to hold myself back, it’s impossible.
She’s too damn good. “Mia,” I say. “You need to stop.”
But she won’t!
“Mia!!! Fuck!!!” I can’t even laugh now.
And then I have to forget about stopping because everything goes to a place where nothing is in my control any longer.
6.
HOLDEN
It’s like I’m chasing fireflies.
Every time I think I’m getting close to her, I’m dragged back into some hole. When I’m with her she acts like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her but the minute she’s out of sight and with him, I become a stranger. Even now, I’m watching Natalie, sitting on one of the booths with her friends and that guy is there sitting right next to her. From where I sit on the bar counter, I can see him running a hand up her dress and she makes no move to stop him. She’s wearing a really tiny dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, but there’s no doubt that she can pull it off. She’s hot—and her husband, Pierre, he’s a pretty regular looks-wise and unless he’s packing more inches than he shows, I can’t think of a reason why he’s so popular with Natalie. What a guy like that is doing with a woman like Natalie, I will never know. Well, he’s got to be loaded, that’s the only explanation. From what I know of Natalie, she has expensive tastes. No way, could she be married to some trash unless that trash had an enormous bank account.
I down my bourbon in huge swallows but no amount of alcohol is enough to kill the pain I’m feeling inside.
“She’s a looker,” a man says, and it’s the first time I notice him sitting next to me at the counter. “You have good taste in women, I’ll give you that.”
I silently swallow more of the bourbon.
“Next round’s on me,” the man says, and turns to the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Dude,” I say, a little angry. “I can buy my own booze.”
“I know that,” the man says. “But I insist.”
He’s got a smile on his face. Upon close inspection, he looks like he’s in his forties and loaded, not unlike Natalie’s husband. And not unlike Natalie’s husband, he also looks like he’s wearing a suit for the first time. Regardless, he’s wearing a designer suit and he’s alone. “Are you sleeping with her?” I ask and realize it was highly inappropriate and none of my business. In my defense, I might be a bit too drunk.
The man laughs as our drinks arrive. “No son,” he says. “I’m just here to meet some friends. Besides, she looks like she has a full plate and I’m not talking about the sushi.”
So he’s seen it too.
Pierre’s hand under the table.
I want to break the glass in my hand into a million tiny pieces but I don’t want to get kicked out of this place.
“Is that the boyfriend?” the man asks.
I down almost half of the new drink before I can respond. “That’s the husband,” I say. “His name’s is Pierre.”
“Pierre?”
“Yeah. Some kind of old French lineage but his family’s been living in Pasadena for at least two generations. He doesn’t even speak French, not even a little. His name is pretty much the only French thing about him.”
The man is still smiling. “I take it you’re not fond of Pierre.”
“No, I am not.”
“How long have you two been screwing around?”
“Dude. Now you’re really being intrusive.”
“I apologize for my forwardness,” the man says. “It’s just that I happen to know a little about heartbreakers like her.”
“You don’t know her like I do. No one does.”
“My name’s Harlow,” the man introduces himself, clearly to change the subject. “I’ve recently joined a company in New York and they sent me here to deal with some pissed off clients. Needless to say I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Holden.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name,” I say, finishing the drink in one go. “It’s Holden.”
“Nice to meet you, Holden.”
“Sure,” I say, and suddenly I feel warm. The alcohol seems to have hit me faster than I realized and it scares me a little because I feel dizzy and strange all over. I lift my hands, and see about six of them which I know is wrong. A feeling of panic is slowly beginning to get a hold of me, and all I want is to get away from this place. But before I can get up, I see the bottom of my empty glass. In it I see the remains of what must have been a white pill, or several white pills. Suddenly, I realize my mistake. “You drugged me.”
; I’m trying to say more but no words will come out.
It’s like they’re stuck in my throat.
I get up but I’ve barely moved a few inches away from the counter when my knees give up and I fall to the floor. Harlow, if that’s even his real name, is there and he helps me up, almost carries me away from the bar.
“You drugged me!” I keep saying but I don’t even know if I’m speaking aloud or it’s just in my head because the world is just a big blur and I’m trying to find something to focus on but I can’t. I can feel Harlow’s still around, and he must be fucking strong to be carrying me around this way because I know I’m no longer able to stand on my own two feet.
“Is this your room?” Harlow’s voice comes from out of some tunnel and I can’t tell if he’s actually there or if it’s all just a dream. That warm feeling hasn’t gone away, in fact my heart is racing, and my whole body feels like its burning up.
I feel something soft, under my back and under my head. It’s a bed, a pillow maybe. I can only guess. And then I feel a female’s presence in the room. Chanel. Natalie.
“Nat…”
“Baby,” she says, and I feel her long nails going over my face. “I’m right here.”
“That man,” I say. “He tried to drug me…Nat…”
Natalie unzips me and I can feel her yanking my pants off. When I glance to one side, there’s a silhouette; a male, for all I know it could be Harlow; I have no idea because all I can see is a vague shape of someone watching from the shadows. The room is dark and when Natalie unbuttons my shirt, she digs her nails into my chest, a bit too harsh and I groan. But then she’s trying to get me off and I can’t help but feel the insane pleasure that she’s giving me and I know I’m going right over the edge…