by Sky Corgan
When the movie was over, Colton asked if I wanted to go to out for ice cream. I agreed, since the night was still young, and I didn't want to go home. Eating ice cream would be quick and fun. Besides, it had been forever since I'd gone to an ice cream parlor.
He offered to carpool, but I insisted we take our own vehicles.
At the ice cream shop, I made a real pig of myself, ordering double fudge ice cream with brownies mixed in, whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate syrup, and a cherry on top. Colton laughed at me as I dug in with fervor, moaning from the rich taste.
“Wow, you really like ice cream.” He grinned.
“It's good,” I said with my mouth still full.
He ordered boring old butter pecan. A small. Making me look like a whale with my heaping seven servings of ass-expanding chocolatey goodness.
“Are you having fun?” he asked.
“Yeah. I'm having a great time.”
I was having a great time, wasn't I? If it was true though, then why was I thinking about Damien. Perhaps it was just remorse for blowing him off. It was so rare we got to see each other. Couldn't I have picked a school night to disobey?
“You seem kind of out of it,” Colton commented.
“Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About Damien,” I replied guiltily.
“You're not going to see him tonight? I thought you spent time with him on the weekends.”
“I blew him off to come hang out with you.”
“Oh.” He seemed genuinely surprised, and pleased. “Well, that makes me feel special.”
I didn't know how to respond, so I said nothing. Colton was special, in a way. There was no way I'd take a punishment for just anyone. How special was he to me though?
We spent the rest of our time at the ice cream shop in almost complete silence. I was too busy stuffing my face to say anything, feeling bad I had ordered a mountain of ice cream while he had only ordered a little. Unfortunately, ice cream doesn't keep well, so I felt like I had to eat as much as possible so it wouldn't go to waste.
By the time we were done eating and started out to the parking lot, my stomach was beginning to ache. I had eaten too much too fast, and I was certain I'd be paying for it later—was already starting to pay for it.
“Do you want to do something else?” Colton asked.
“No. I think I best get home.”
He looked at his watch. “But it's only seven. We still have the whole night ahead of us.”
“I know, but that ice cream really did me in.”
“Maybe we should go do something to work it off.” Colton gave me a devious look, and my mind instantly filled in the gaps. “I mean, like playing pool or bowling or something,” he continued, trying to play innocent. That was so totally not what he had meant.
“No. I'm too full. I should really go.”
“Well, you're no fun.” Colton frowned. “Tomorrow then? We should hang out tomorrow.”
“No. Tomorrow I have to see Damien.”
He sighed, “Well, I suppose I can't horde you to myself all the time, though I'd really like to.” A smile spread across his lips, that same charming smile I was growing to love, though there was something different behind his eyes. “I had a really good time.”
“Me too.”
That's when he stepped up to hug me. His embrace was tight, and it lasted for far too long. It reminded me of the way Danica hugged Damien, and I didn't like it.
When he pulled away, his face was close to mine. Dangerously close. I could feel his breath on my skin, and then I realized what was happening. His actions were fast, but everything seemed to be going in slow motion. It was the moment of truth. What did I want? What would I do? I only had a fraction of a second to decide.
Before his lips could reach mine, I turned my head. The kiss he placed on my cheek was lingering, but when he pulled away, I could see the hurt in his eyes.
“I'm sorry. I thought . . .” he stuttered.
“I should go.” And with that, I rushed to my car.
While I wasn't mad at Colton, I really didn't know how to handle the situation. Me leaving was the best course of action. We could discuss what had happened later, when we were both more level-headed, if he even wanted to discuss it at all.
For the rest of the night, I worried over whether I had done the right thing. Should I have let him kiss me? Maybe it would have helped me to sort out my feelings. I think I knew deep down what my feelings were though. Colton was cute and sweet, and maybe he was the better choice for me, a better fit for my college lifestyle, but I loved Damien, and as strange as our relationship was, I wouldn't trade him for the world.
Still, it didn't hurt to think about what might have been. The night could have progressed in a totally different direction if I had allowed him to kiss me. We might have even ended up sleeping together. Mmm.
Thoughts of sex filled my brain, causing that annoying itch between my legs that I wasn't allowed to scratch. When I got really sexually frustrated, I rolled around my bed and rubbed my thighs together, hoping for any small amount of stimulation. Was it still masturbating if I didn't use my hands? Damien would think so. All I could do was groan and wait for Sunday. Even though I would be punished, the night would still end with me getting off, and that's all that mattered.
Half the time, when I went over to his house, we didn't even have sex, but he always made sure I had an orgasm before I left. At least one, sometimes more. Now that I thought about it, I really would like more sex with him. It was strange to think he'd go the whole week without sex and then not be rabid for it on the weekends. Suspicion returned to my mind. Maybe he did have something else going on behind my back.
I huffed at the thought, trying to blow it away. No. He had said he was mine. But then, why wasn't he more upset about me going out with Colton?
Maybe I should have kissed Colton after all.
When I showed up at Damien's door the next afternoon, it was confusion city all over again. My mind had poisoned my emotions all day, questioning why Damien and I didn't have sex more frequently. I would have to ask him about it before it ate me alive.
He had barely opened the door to me when he said, “Go home.”
My heart sank to my feet, and I just gaped at him. “What?”
“Did I stutter? Go home and spend the week thinking about how you upset me. When you come back on Saturday, your day will start with punishment.”
“Are you kidding me? You just made me drive all this way to see you, and now you're turning me away? You couldn't have sent me a text or something? Gas isn't free, you know.”
His expression betrayed no emotion. “You couldn't go a full week without seeing him. I couldn't stop it. But I can keep you away from me. This is the first part of your punishment, if it even matters to you.”
Was this really happening? I couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth.
“So, since I blew you off yesterday, you don't want to see me at all this weekend?”
“Go home, Cheyenne,” he said, closing the door in my face.
Anger welled up inside of me, and my body went into emotional overload. I had been good. I had deflected Colton's advances, and this was how I was being repaid. No. He was going to have to deal with me whether he liked it or not.
With a scowl, I pounded on the door. The gloves were about to come off. Fur was going to fly, and by the time we were through, everything was going to be laid out on the table. I wanted him emotionally stripped bare, as I had felt all week long. I wanted to know if this was worth it.
His footsteps retreated, and it only made me knock harder. “You get back here!” I yelled at him through the door.
The footsteps didn't return.
“God damn it, Damien! Stop being a brat. You get back here right this instant, or I'm breaking this fucking door down!”
My knuckles ached from rapping on the door. When I felt like I couldn't knock on it anymore, I began kicking
it, leaving black scuff marks on the paint.
For all of my threats and kicking and thrashing though, the door would not budge, and Damien wasn't coming back. His stubbornness enraged me even further, but there was nothing I could do about it. Words were my only weapon. If I screamed loud enough, he could hear me, so as a last-ditch effort, I yelled, “Fine. I hate you. I never want to see you again,” and walked away.
The second I got in my car, I regretted it. What had come over me? What was wrong with me? Part of me wanted to get back out, run to his door, throw myself against it and apologize. But would that make him any more likely to come out? I doubted it. The damage was done, and to save my pride, all I could do was scurry off with my tail between my legs.
And so I left, sobbing the entire way home, to the point where I could barely see out my front windshield. If I get into an accident and die, it will be his fault. I hope he knows that. And if he didn't, I would haunt him for the rest of his life.
I spent the rest of the afternoon hating myself. Hating Damien. Regretting. Regretting. Regretting.
At one point, I thought about calling Colton, about telling him what had happened and going over to his apartment for comfort. I knew where that would lead though, and for as horny as I was, having sex would only make me feel worse. Not because having sex would be bad, but because my mind just wouldn't be into it. Damien would be on my mind, and that wasn't fair to Colton.
Did it really matter though? Were Damien and I over? Had my hateful words put the last nail in the coffin of our dark relationship? And should I even care? Anyone who made me feel that shitty didn't deserve my love. Did he?
Even though alcohol wasn't usually my thing, I raided my father's liquor cabinet and got couch-sloshing smashed in front of the television, constantly flipping channels to find something happy to watch. It seemed like every damned channel was playing some sappy bullshit romance movie, to which I yelled “Boo!” at the television at the top of my lungs. The neighbors probably thought I had gone insane, and they wouldn't be far off the mark.
I woke up in a puddle of vomit on the living room floor the next day. How I had survived the night, I didn't know. My father's bottle of tequila was halfway gone, and I didn't remember much of what I had watched. Class had already begun, and I was far too ill to attend.
I spent the day curled up in bed, nursing my hangover, drinking water and vomiting stomach acid. The vomit could wait to be cleaned up until later. It wasn't going anywhere, and neither was I.
Colton called to ask why I hadn't been to class, sounding genuinely worried. When I told him that I was hung over, he asked if I needed him to come take care of me. It was a sweet thought, and while it certainly would have been nice to have been pampered and cared for, I really didn't feel like being around anyone. At least, he didn't seem upset about my rejection on Saturday. He never brought it up, so I figured everything was okay between us.
That night, I stared at my phone, wondering if I should even bother sending Damien his nightly text. If I did, and he didn't respond, that meant we were over.
Did I even want a relationship with him anymore? When I had been with Colton, I was confused, but I knew where my heart was. Now, I wasn't so sure. This fight had provided me with an opportunity, an easy out, if I wanted to take it, if I hadn't already taken it. Besides, who was the one willing to rush to my side and take care of me? It wasn't Damien. That was for sure.
Against my better judgment, I did text Damien, telling him I had stayed home from college, and I was sorry for the way I had acted. Then I stared at my phone until I passed out, waiting for him to respond.
In the morning, I had zero text messages. There was my answer. It was over between us.
I went to school with a heavy heart and a tear-stained face. My mind was filled with regret, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and die. If I hadn't taken Monday off of school, I would have definitely stayed home, but I couldn't afford to get any further behind. Between classes, I cried in the bathroom. During lunch break, I sobbed over my sandwich. The day was absolutely miserable.
When I blew Colton off to hang out after school, he looked concerned, but didn't press me. Part of me was thankful, since breaking down in front of him would have been embarrassing. But the other part of me just wanted to be held and comforted. I wanted warm arms around me and a soft voice whispering in my ear that everything would be alright.
For that, I went to my mother's house. When I showed up at her door in all of my miserable glory, she embraced me immediately, and when I told her what had happened, she said all the things I wanted to hear, that Damien wasn't good enough for me, that there were other fish in the sea, that my heart would mend with time. How much time? How long would it take? I had suffered heartbreak before, but it had never felt so horrible. Maybe it was because Damien had been out of my league from the beginning. It wasn't natural for us to be together. I never should have had him.
My mom and I ate ice cream and watched Animal Planet together until it was so late she practically had to kick me out. We exchanged a lingering embrace before I finally left and headed home, feeling a little better. The uncontrollable sobbing had stopped, and the tears had dried on my cheeks. At least, that was an improvement.
Before I fell asleep that night, I sent Damien another text, though I didn't know why. In the morning, there was no response again, which only made me cry some more. He was avoiding me. Knowing that hurt.
While I was still upset, I was able to keep the sniffling to a minimum. Occasionally, a happy memory of Damien and I together would invade my brain, and I could feel my eyes watering, but I would quickly push it to the back of my mind, trying to regain my focus on school work.
Colton asked me if I wanted to talk about what was wrong, but I told him no. I wasn't at one hundred percent yet, and I didn't want to chance getting overly emotional. It made me happy to know he wanted to be my friend though—that he was still an option.
I continued to text Damien every night, though I knew it wasn't healthy. By Thursday, I felt considerably better. Him not responding wasn't bothering me near as badly as it had. I even got a slight kick out of thinking he was probably considering changing his number since I wouldn't stop harassing him.
That night, I hung out with Colton. We studied and watched television together, and I was thankful he didn't hit on me. While I was attracted to him, and would probably eventually act on it, I still needed time to heal. When the moment was right, I would tell him that my relationship with Damien was over, and we could take things from there. Until I was ready though, it was best for him to think I was still off-limits.
On Friday night, we went out with Tanya and Vinny to a restaurant. When they asked me questions about Damien, I was vague with my responses, though I knew Tanya could see the pain behind my eyes. I couldn't hide anything from her, and when we went to the bathroom together at one point, she managed to worm a partway confession out of me. All I could tell her was that there was trouble in paradise, but that I'd figure everything out, and she didn't need to worry about me. She simply said that she knew Damien, and I would fall apart sooner or later, which didn't make me feel any better. In fact, it bugged me so much that I reflected on it for the rest of the night.
Had our relationship always been set up for failure? Did relationships between students and their professors ever work out? Or had it been the BDSM that finally did us in? I chose to believe the later of the three. If he hadn't been so damn strict, this never would have happened.
Before we left the restaurant, I gave Colton a gentle kiss on the cheek. He smiled warmly at me, his eyes flooding with excitement. I couldn't help but grin at the fact that he was so easy to please.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“Just for you being here for me. You're a really good friend. I'm glad we met.”
“Me too,” he paused for a moment, his expression suddenly darkening a little. “So, are you going to see Damien tomorrow?”
“I ha
ven't decided yet.”
It was strange, but I hadn't really thought about it. While I was sure that we were over, it would be nice to hear something definite from his lips so that I wouldn't feel so guilty about moving on with Colton. Then again, hearing something definite would probably make me cry again.
“Well, if you don't go, then we should hang out together, maybe catch another movie,” Colton offered.
“Alright. Sounds like a plan. I'll let you know what I decide to do.” I gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and then got in my car.
That night, I thought about masturbating. Lately, I hadn't really been in the mood. Yeah, I got horny, but my body had been trained to resist, so pleasuring myself wasn't that important anymore. Now there was no reason for me to resist. Was there?
I sneaked a hand between my thighs, allowing my fingertip to caress my pleasure button. It perked from the stimulation. No matter how much I rubbed though, my heart just wasn't into it. You'd think that after going two weeks without getting off, my body would have plummeted over the edge in half a heartbeat. My emotions dulled my senses though, and I kept thinking about how I needed the finality from Damien to move on—with everything. It would be hard, but I needed to see him. Or not see him. If he didn't answer the door, then that would be as good of an acknowledgment of the end of our relationship as anything.
“I'm coming over tomorrow,” I told Damien in a text before I went to sleep.
In the morning, there was no response.
My day was pretty dull. I cleaned the house and recited in my mind what I would say to Damien when I saw him—if I saw him. The odds weren't good. In fact, now that I had warned him I was coming, he would probably either leave the house or just not answer the door. It was bratty, but whatever.
At four o'clock, I pulled up in his driveway. Instinctively, I opened up my console, staring down at the training collar that was curled up like a silver snake at the bottom. The sight of it made me sad. With a sigh, I closed the console.
When I went to the door to knock, the butterflies in my stomach took flight. It wasn't the happy fluttering that usually came from seeing him. Today, it was more of a panic. The butterflies were trying to escape, not wanting to witness the emotional meltdown if the door did happen to open.