I look past him toward the car, and my eyes widen. “I don’t need a ride.”
A head pokes out of the window. “Who is she?” he yells.
I squint, taking in the people in the vehicle before dragging my eyes to Sam. I’m just as confused as the voice asking who I am. “Who are those people?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he barks. “Now, do you want a ride or not?”
My lower lip trembles, and I want to wrap my arms around him. I want to tell him how terrible my night has been because Sam is my only friend. But I don’t. I don’t because, right now, this isn’t the Sam I know, and I’m not getting into a car with those people.
“No, I’m okay.”
“Chloe,” he warns.
“I’m fine,” I snap.
He stands tall. “This is the last offer I’m giving you.”
“I appreciate the offer, Sam, but I’m okay.”
He leans down to whisper in my ear, “Don’t say a word about this. You never saw this. You never saw me or them. Do you understand me?”
I nod, and the tears continue to fall.
I don’t start walking again until he pulls away.
When I get home, I throw the dress in the trash.
When I return to school, I’m no longer the class loner no one pays attention to.
I’m the joke. They laugh and point at me. I’m called the same names my sister is called. A photo of yours truly is plastered against my locker. The pain hits me as I take in the picture of me on the football field, and I cringe at the horror on my face in the photo.
“Chloe Fieldgain gave pussy on the football field,” is chanted down the hallway.
I slam my locker shut and flee to the restroom, locking myself in a stall as I cry again.
I’ve lived up to my family name because of him.
After the bell rings, I wipe my eyes and leave the restroom, unsure of what my next move will be.
Do I leave or cut class?
I round the corner to find Kyle waiting for me.
He’s in his football jersey, his hair is messy, and his green eyes are wide. He halts, glancing to each side of the hallway, and then moves closer.
“Chloe,” he draws out.
“You stay away from me,” I warn.
He takes another step until he’s standing in front of me. “Let me explain …”
The few people lingering in the hall gasp when I smack him across the face. “Go to hell, Kyle.”
I whip around and start walking away.
“Dude, she smoked you!” I hear a guy say to him in the background.
“She came to me, begging for a second round, and was pissed I told her to kick rocks,” Kyle says. “They always come back, wanting more.”
I freeze in my step, and my heart nearly explodes out of my chest. Is he kidding me?
“Dude, you’d better go get checked after that one.”
I hear someone smack him on the back.
“I always wrap it up,” he replies.
I cringe and ball my knuckles into fists while I talk myself out of turning around and punching him in the face this time.
I go home and vow to hate Kyle for the rest of my life.
As time passes, I learn to ignore the names, the rude gestures, and the condoms stuck to my locker.
I’m now known as the girl who gave it up to Kyle Lane on the football field.
14
Kyle
I admire Chloe in my bed like a stalker from a Lifetime movie. The sheet is pushed up her chest as she faces me, sleeping. I’m pushing a strong eight on the creep scale. I don’t stare at women like this.
She’s beautiful—drop-dead fucking gorgeous.
The first time I saw her was in elementary school. She was front and center of the classroom, sitting there before anyone else arrived, with her attention on the book sitting on her desk. She was a stranger. I’d never seen her at any birthday parties or playdates. I was nervous when I took the seat next to her, but she never once glimpsed in my direction.
Her social isolation continued into middle school. Anytime I attempted to strike up a conversation, I was given short responses, and then she would go back into her shell of solitude.
Then, high school hit, and she talked to me. It wasn’t the conversation I had been hoping for. It was about grades. We held the top GPAs in our class, and grades were something she took seriously. She studied her ass off. Her attention was always focused on school, and everyone knew her end game was to be valedictorian. She wanted it enough to step out of her comfort zone and ask me to compare test grades.
She needed to become valedictorian more than me. You didn’t need to know her backstory to know she wasn’t as fortunate as I was. She walked to school, her off-brand sneakers were always in poor condition, and she never attended a field trip. She needed the scholarships more than me. I was headed to college whether or not I had them, so at times, I’d answer questions wrong to lower my test scores.
I liked her. I wanted to know more about her. She was naturally beautiful, both inside and out, and intelligent. She was kind to everyone, not just to those she deemed worthy, like most kids in my circle.
I finally gained the courage to ask her to the dance after Gage told me to stop pussyfooting around. He knew I crushed on her, and like me, he didn’t give a shit about outside influence. When she said yes, I was ecstatic. Sure, a few assholes made snide comments, but I didn’t care. I wanted to know more about Chloe Fieldgain, about the girl who seemed to be a shining star among others who dimmed with nothing.
Then, everything fell apart. I hate myself for how it went down.
After the dance, I had no way to contact her. She had no phone or email, and all anyone knew was that she lived in a trailer court on the west side.
It got worse when she came back to school and gave me the smack I deserved. I was pissed, my friends were making fun of me, and I was a stupid-ass teenager, so I lied. I joked at her expense because of my embarrassment that she wanted nothing to do with me.
Over time, we became rivals. I led her to believe I was vying for valedictorian while still throwing tests. On the day of graduation, when she shyly gave a short speech, I grinned.
Chloe isn’t just an attractive woman. I liked her before I knew about sex or relationships or status. I wanted her to be my girlfriend then. Now, I want to make her more. After having all of her, there’s no way I’m letting her go this time.
I’ve never touched skin as soft as hers or experienced a connection so strong with someone—both inside and outside of the bedroom. I’ve never had sex without a condom or wanted to keep a woman in my bed, like I do her.
Fuck me. My feelings for her are stronger than I thought.
She stirs when I press my lips against her cheek.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
Her eyes don’t open, but she releases a sleepy laugh. “Fuck off.”
“As much as I love our porch routine, I love this one so much better. Say fuck in this bed as often as you like.”
Her eyes stay closed, and she grins.
“Call into work today,” I say when her eyes flutter open. Correction: I fucking plead.
She yawns and keeps her head rested on the pillow. “As much as I’d love to, I can’t. Neither can you. You need to stop the criminals.”
We’re facing each other, our eyes locked and cheeks against pillows.
“I work second shift,” I say, stretching forward to brush back a strand of her hair. “Did you decide about hanging out with Gage and Lauren? They’re going to the city for a night and invited us.”
“Are you sure they didn’t invite you, and you’re asking me to tag along?”
“Babe, I doubt they’d invite me out on the town as a third wheel. They want you to come.”
She pulls in a breath, and I take in the beauty of her blonde hair against the pillowcase and the light freckles sprinkled across her nose. “I don’t know.”
“Give me your reasons for
not wanting to go,” I challenge.
“People are already gossiping about us hanging out. Imagine what they’ll say when we double date with your best friend.”
I want to say, Let them talk, but don’t. She’s Chloe, and Chloe overthinks.
“It’s out of town. No one will know us. Trust me.”
She bites into her plump bottom lip.
“Come on,” I tease. “It’ll be fun.”
She throws her head back. “All right, you’ve talked me into it.”
My eyes widen. “You do know all right means yes?”
She laughs. “Yes, I’m well aware of what all right means. Why are you so shocked?”
“You said yes to double-dating with me.”
She points her finger my way. “No, I agreed to double hanging out with you.”
“It’s a date. Admit it.”
She holds in a smile while shaking her head.
I slide out of bed. “I’m going to shower. Care to join?”
She turns on her back and stretches. “A hot shower sounds amazing right now.”
I walk around the bed to her side and hold out my hand. “I’ll be nice and share my shower with you on one condition.”
She rises up. “What’s that?”
“Admit we’re going on a date. I’ll share my shower, wash your hair, and then, if you’re good, give you an idea of what to look forward to on our double date.”
She sits on the edge of the bed and stares up at me. “Maybe I’ll shower when you’re done.”
“I’ll be sure to run all the hot water out. If you like taking cold showers, it’ll be all yours, babe.”
She stares at me with reluctance.
“Say it,” I tease. “You know you want to.”
“Fine. I’ll go on a double date with you.”
I grab her around the waist and throw her over my shoulder. “All right, since you insist, I’ll go on a double date with you!”
“I told you I’d make you breakfast in bed one day,” I say, shooting a glance over at Chloe. “I have a future breakfast lover in my bed.”
Plates with pancakes and eggs are balanced on our sheet-covered legs, and our backs are resting against the headboard.
“Maybe I don’t want to be a breakfast person,” she comments, turning to grab her cup of coffee from the nightstand and taking a drink.
“What’s your beef with breakfast, huh?” I ask. I cut into my pancake, smother it in syrup, and take a bite.
She sets her cup down and shrugs. “It’s not my thing. Sometimes, I’ll grab something while on the go, but it’s not a meal I’ve ever looked forward to. My mom didn’t bother with feeding us well-balanced meals, and we were stuck with what the food pantry handed out. Most of the time, it was plain, generic cereal that I grew tired of.”
If there wasn’t a plate of food on her lap, I’d drag her to my side and collect her in my arms. I wish I could’ve helped her when we were younger, given her someone to ask for help when she needed a cheeseburger or a friend. I should’ve never taken the broken girl to the football field and shattered her more. I never planned for us to hook up, and contrary to what Chloe believes, I never meant for anyone to follow us. All I wanted was to kiss her, but one thing led to another, and the horny teenager in me was game for whatever she’d allow.
“I will make you breakfast every morning in exchange for you not telling me to fuck off.” I playfully elbow her. “Deal?”
She glances at me sideways and points to me with her fork. “I’ll get back to you on that, Officer.” She takes a giant bite and nods while chewing it up. “And, since you’re always asking me for favors, I have one to ask of you.”
“Lay it on me. Getting a yes from me will be more effortless than getting one from you.”
She nervously looks away.
“Spit it out. You asking for my firstborn?”
I’ve come to realize Chloe never asks anyone for anything. This must be important to her.
She takes in a quick breath. “Trey has a football game tomorrow. He asked me to invite you.”
That’s it? She’s nervous about a football game? The fuck?
“I’ll be there.”
She squints at me. “What? That was too easy.”
“Did you want it to be complicated? He has a football game. I don’t have plans. Why would I say no?”
She shrugs. “Kent never wanted anything to do with Trey or Gloria.” She frowns. “Sometimes, he acted like they were more of an inconvenience.”
I like kids and consider myself a good big brother. Trey seems like he can use a good big brother influence.
“You still haven’t realized that Kent is an asshole? Him bailing on Trey’s games isn’t a surprise,” I say. “I don’t blame him for bailing. He didn’t like being reminded of how he couldn’t catch a football to save his life.”
“Oh my God, you’re terrible!”
A piece of pancake falls from her mouth when she snorts, and I laugh as she stares at me in horror. I shrug it off, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable about it, and she grabs her napkin to clean up her mess.
“In the beginning, it was a healthy relationship. He was a good boyfriend,” she says. “He wasn’t a cheater or so self-centered. Maybe it was a game to him. Men seem to enjoy games.” She throws me a dirty look.
“A boyfriend who can’t give you an orgasm isn’t a good boyfriend,” I counter.
“It wasn’t like that every time, only a few. Women don’t always get off, Kyle. Google it if you doubt me.”
I grab her empty plate, set it on top of mine, and place them on the nightstand. I don’t regularly leave dirty dishes in my bedroom, but I’ll take care of them as soon as we’re done with this stupid conversation about her lame-ass ex.
“A few times he didn’t give you an orgasm or a few times he did?”
She scowls and folds her arms across my tee she’s wearing. “I’m not talking about my old sex partner with my new sex partner.”
I hold my hand up. “Please do not refer to me as your new sex partner again.”
“Then, what would you like me to refer to you as? My booty call? My neighbor dick?”
I start counting out the names on my fingers. “The guy who gives you the best orgasms. Your favorite dick. The guy you are kind of dating but don’t want to admit it. Refer to Kent as your sex partner all you want—your inadequate sex partner—but not me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so mean.”
“Don’t defend a chump, and I won’t be.”
“He was the only guy who’d speak to me after what you did, you know.”
I gape at her. “Wow. Did you know he never once stood up for you in the locker room? In fact, not to hurt your feelings, but he cracked plenty of jokes at your expense. Plenty.”
She waves off my information. “He was a stupid high school boy. We didn’t start dating until after college.”
“He gets to be a stupid high school boy, but I’m fucking Satan?”
“The rumors started because of you.” She fixes her stare on me but isn’t as pissed as she normally is when we talk about this. Hurt is clear on her face, but now, there’s a thin layer of understanding. She’s lowering her walls, trusting me, and finally giving me a chance to explain myself. “You could’ve changed everything and stopped your friends and girlfriend from making my life miserable.”
I suck my cheeks in. “You wouldn’t speak to me!”
“Why would I?” she snaps. “You set me up!”
I repeatedly shake my head. “I never set you up. That’s bullshit.”
She snorts. “Oh, come on. We’re hooking up, and then, boom, your asshole posse of friends shows up to take humiliating pictures of me. I used to think you were this amazing guy. I can’t even explain how excited I was when you invited me to the dance. It was my first dance and turned out to be utter hell—because of you, Kyle. I was stupid enough to believe you liked me.”
Whoa. What?
I glance
at her and refuse to continue our conversation until her eyes meet mine. Hers are sad. Understandably, this conversation hurts her, but I’m glad we’re finally talking this out. There’s a thickness in my throat when I respond. Even though I couldn’t stop them from finding us, she’s right that I could’ve attempted to stop their teasing. Chloe hurt me, and I let my stupid male ego stand in the way of realizing I could’ve stood up for her.
“Chloe,” I gently say, “I would’ve never asked you to the dance if I didn’t like you.”
She scoffs as an attempt to hide the hurt. “You invited me as a joke, as a prank.”
I wince. She thinks it was a prank?
“Chloe, I swear to you, me inviting you to the dance was not a prank. Should I have taken you to the field? No. I wanted to kiss you, and it sounded better, maybe even romantic in my teenage eyes, than in some supply closet or a bedroom at an after-party where my friends were taking their dates. I never brought you there to put on a show for the school. They also took pictures of me with my pants down.”
“Which made the girls want you more,” she cuts in.
Shame fills me. It’s true.
“Why would I take you as a prank? I could’ve had anyone go with me.”
She throws her hands up. “Oh, wow, everyone. Let’s welcome Kyle’s ego to the conversation.”
“I didn’t say it to brag but to make a point. I sincerely liked you. You intrigued me. You were smart and fucking gorgeous, and your personality was genuine. You never said a distasteful word about anyone, and you worked hard for everything you had.” I blow out a stressed breath. “Did it piss me off when you wouldn’t even let me explain myself? Yes. Did it piss me off when you slapped me in front of my friends? Yes. So, I decided, Fuck it. If she wants nothing to do with me, then it is what it is.”
“You let them make my life a living hell,” she grinds out.
I situate myself, so I’m sitting in front of her when I notice tears slipping down her cheeks. Shit. I don’t want to make her cry, especially in my bed.
She attempts to look away and hide her swollen face and tears, but I don’t allow it. Her eyes dart toward the bathroom door and then the hallway, searching for an escape plan so that I don’t see her without her armor on.
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 33