Between Hearts: A Romance Anthology

by Alexander, Erica

  “Well?” he shouts.

  “Well, what?” I’m finding it difficult to have a rational, calm conversation with Eddie when his limp noodle is still hanging out of his open jeans. At least that means it’s game over for sexy times, which is a small relief.

  “Are you gonna give me what you owe me or not?”

  I’m not sure, but I think my eyeballs just popped out of their sockets. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yeah, I heard you. I just can’t believe you said it.”

  “What is this, huh? Why are you stringing me along like this?”

  My rage is replaced with a blanket of guilt. Stringing him along was the absolute last thing I intended.

  “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. I thought we were just having fun. I mean, do you really want to get serious with me? Come on.”

  My attempt at placating him falls embarrassingly flat even to my own ears. It’s amazing, the lies we tell ourselves to justify our bad behavior. Hearing my own rationalization out loud is a definite wake-up call that the ends, in this case, absolutely do not justify the means.

  “You know what? No. I didn’t want to get serious with you, but it felt like that’s what you needed to give it up to me and I was trying to be a nice guy about it.”

  And…right back to rage. “Is that all I was ever worth to you? An easy lay? Am I the basketball team’s bet? The football team had so much success in the fall trying to see who could lay their chosen target first, so you guys figured you’d do a replay? What do you win if you fuck me, Eddie? If I announce to everyone at school on Monday that we’re not dating anymore, is another player gonna try to shoot and score in your place?”

  “No!”

  That’s the only denial he gives, which doesn’t make me feel a whole lot of confidence that this isn’t a replay of the football team’s fall project. We geeky girls who don’t fawn all over the jocks are nothing more than a dare to them. Prizes to be won and deflowered in the name of sowing their wild oats and making themselves feel like no female can resist them. Just the thought of potentially being used for that game fires up an unholy level of righteous indignation in my veins.

  The silence between us stretches on in the night. Snow flurries dance outside the warm cab of the truck, creating a dichotomous peacefulness outside while tension brews between us. It’s strangely poetic.

  “Eva, I’m sorry.” He reaches for me and, because there’s nowhere to escape from him in his truck, pulls me against his side.

  I dart my gaze in every direction but at his crotch, which is way too close for my comfort.

  “Let’s just start over?”

  Nope. Game over. I cannot hear one more single question that isn’t really, endure one more night of making out with him while thinking of someone else, or put down one more attempt to have sex. I can’t do it. The fluctuations between guilt and annoyance are simply too exhausting.

  “I don’t think so. Can you please just take me home?”

  “Aww, come on, baby. Don’t be that way. Think of it as our first fight. Now, we get to have make-up sex.” He grabs my jaw, pulls my face to his, and slobbers all over my mouth.

  I shove him and scramble away as quickly as possible. My options are limited, but my choice is clear. I open the passenger’s door and then climb out of the truck, fumbling in my purse for my cell.

  “What the hell, Eva? Get back in the truck?” Eddie tears around the front of the hood and then stops just inches away from where I’m shivering in the biting winter wind.

  “No. Go home. I’ll get my own ride.” I’m too busy scrolling through my contacts and deciding who to call for rescue to pay attention to what Eddie’s up to.

  He grips my arm to the point of pain as he drags me back towards the royal-blue Chevy Silverado.

  Panic is a healthy emotion, contrary to popular belief. As long as it doesn’t overwhelm, a person can channel that terror into action. Most of the time in a fight-or-flight situation, people allow fear to consume them to the point of paralysis. After years of group-therapy sessions for abused kids and some personal training from Mike, I’m practically a pro at replacing terror with fury. Survival of the fittest: adapt or face extinction.

  Eddie turns to me as he hauls me towards that metal sex trap. “Baby, get back inside. Let’s just talk it—”

  He doesn’t get another word out, as my fist makes contact with his left eye socket.

  The vibration of impact sends pain skittering up my forearm and into my elbow. Mike always says that’s how you know you’ve landed a solid blow to your opponent.

  Sure enough, Eddie sinks to his knees, clutching his face. “What the fuck, Eva?”

  “No means no, Hinton. I’m not having sex with you. I asked you to take me home. You didn’t give me any other choice.”

  Seconds ago, I was completely sure of my actions. Totally convinced that I was being threatened to the point of needing to protect myself. But, now, with Eddie rocking back and forth and pretty much crying on the ground, I feel like I might have overreacted. Second-guessing my actions seems to be my calling in life.

  Still, when he leaps to his feet as only a basketball player with years of experience can, I take a healthy step away from him.

  “You know what? Fuck you, Eva,” he grinds out before storming around to the driver’s side. “Not even your golden pussy is worth this bullshit.”

  He tears away into the night, leaving me stranded on the side of a deserted back road. Tears slip down my cheeks, blurring my vision, as I tap the one number in my phone of the person who will answer and come get me without question or judgment.

  Mike.

  He answers on the third ring, panting for breath. “Yeah?”

  “Um, are you busy?” My sniffle betrays me, but there’s no help for it. Even if I weren’t crying, it’s freezing out here and my nose is running double time from both.

  Some muffled sounds in the background turn into silence.

  “Evie? Where are you? What’s wrong?”

  “Um, I’m not quite sure where I am. Can I text you my GPS location?”

  “What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know where you are? Where’s Eddie? I thought you two had a date tonight?”

  “We did, and now, we don’t. Can you please come get me, Mike? I know it’s late and you’re probably busy, but I’m really cold and I didn’t…” My stupid voice breaks as the first sob escapes my throat.

  There’s no point fighting it. He’ll know I’ve been crying when he sees me. Dammit, I wish I’d have thought to grab my coat before jumping out of Eddie’s truck.

  “Are you outside?”

  The sound of his engine turning over filters through the speaker.

  “Yeah. We were parked…”

  In spite of the bitter temperatures, my cheeks heat with embarrassment. This is not the type of conversation I ever pictured having with my friend who’s more like my brother.

  “I’m on my way. Text me where you are. I’ll come to you. And stay back from the road. If any cars go by, hide in the brush until I can get there. Don’t take a ride from anyone no matter how cold you feel, you hear me? If Eddie comes back, you call me.”

  “Okay.”

  He hangs up before I can get in another apology.

  The only thing to do now is wait.

  The longer I sit in the frozen gravel, the more guilt, shame, and embarrassment eat away at me. What the hell was I thinking by dating Eddie? I wasn’t, and that’s the truth of the matter. The idea that desperate times call for desperate measures is ludicrous and clearly not applicable to every situation in life. My desperation got me into this mess.

  I tried everything I could think of to get Rob to notice me. To pay attention to me. I watched how the other girls did it. I made mental notes on what worked and what didn’t. And I adapted, creating a method of catching his eye that was carefully suited to Rob’s particular tastes and dislikes.

  The only thing I coul
dn’t ever attain was being unobtainable or having enough experience with boys to make him think I’d be a good choice. That seemed to always make the other guys drool. For as much as they claim to love virgins, they always brag about girls who know what they’re doing too. It doesn’t make any sense, but then again, the male brain is a total oxymoron. The grass is always greener, and boys tend to want what they can’t have.

  We all do.

  It was so foolish to think that dating Eddie would affect Rob’s interest. Not only has he never seen me as anything more than an acquaintance, but it wasn’t fair to Eddie to use him that way. Not that that asshole should be dating anyone, but still.

  I’m such a fuck-up.

  Headlights gleam in the distance, accompanied by the faint sound of an engine and gravel being kicked up on the back road. Heeding Mike’s advice, I step back into the line of trees, hidden until the sight of his old, red Civic is unmistakable. Just to be sure, I wait until he pulls over to the side of the road and steps out of the car, frowning at his cell in his hand.

  The moment I step into view, he’s on me faster than a freight train. His strong arms band around me, reminding me that he’ll always be my rock.

  “What the fuck happened? Did he hurt you?”

  I shake my head and retreat from his embrace, wiping my snotty nose on my arm. No point trying to look cool and put together now. I’m fucking falling apart. Mike would be able to sense it even if I didn’t show a thing wrong.

  “He, uh… Let’s just say we had different views of how the night should have gone.” I peer around Mike’s solid form to his still-running car, only to see Chelsie glaring at me from the front passenger’s window.

  Mike sighs and wraps an arm around my shoulders to steer me towards the vehicle. “All right. I’m just glad I found you. Let’s get you warmed up. Then we can talk.”

  The heat is blessedly cranked on high in the little sedan. My skin burns with the thawing process. As we travel through the labyrinth of back roads to reach civilization once again, my eyelids droop and my body melts into the worn upholstery of the car. The unmistakable scent cocktail of latex and sex that hangs heavily in the interior isn’t enough to keep my drowsiness at bay. Only enough to make me feel even guiltier about ruining someone else’s night. Chelsie hasn’t spoken a word to me since I climbed in.

  “Well?” Mike prompts from his seat. “You going to tell me what happened, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?”

  “Can we talk about it later, please? I just wanna go home and forget this night ever happened.”

  Chelsie shoots me a look of irritation that solidifies my game plan to maintain radio silence in the car. Her lips are kiss-swollen, her usually neat, dishwater-blond hair a mess around her heart-shaped face. If the aroma in the air weren’t enough clue, her freshly fucked look definitely lets me know I interrupted their evening in more ways than one.

  Mike is either oblivious to the tension radiating from his girlfriend, or he’s just not willing to wait to find out why I summoned his ass out here in the middle of sex. “We can do this either the easy way or the hard way, Evie. I know damn well you didn’t get out of his truck in the middle of nowhere over a simple disagreement.”

  “If she doesn’t want to talk about it, then don’t force her, Mike. Jesus,” Chelsie grumbles.

  For once, she’s taking my side. If only it weren’t because she really doesn’t care to hear my pathetic, little sob story. Chelsie has hated me since she and Mike got together.

  At first, she used me for intel since we’re both in band, and everyone at school knows how tight Mike and I are. She acted like the ultimate ass-kisser all during freshman year when I spoon-fed her anything and everything she wanted to know about her crush. As soon as Mike took the bait? She grew to hate me because Mike wouldn’t let their new relationship get in the way of our bond.

  Her resentment towards me escalates every year. She’s apparently of the mindset that a guy shouldn’t have any friends if he has a girlfriend. I’m pretty sure she dislikes his best friends, Rob and Alex, nearly as much as me. The only reason she gives them some small leeway is because neither of them possesses a vagina. It’s like she expects Mike to cheat on her with me or something, which is just ridiculous. Our being involved in a romantic relationship is only a stone’s throw away from incest.

  I gag in the back seat at the thought.

  Mike’s gruff voice filters through my disgust. “Either you tell me what happened or, the second I drop you girls off, I’m calling Rob and Alex and we’re gonna go find Hinton and beat it out of him. So, what’s it gonna be?”

  I roll my eyes. Mike may be a lot of things, but physically violent isn’t one of them. He’s a lover not a fighter. The man lives and breathes football because it’s the only place he feels appropriate to release his pent-up aggression.

  “I promise it was no big deal. Eddie’s just a slimy asshole. There’s no need to call anyone and definitely no need to beat anyone’s ass.”

  “You should listen to Eva. I refuse to be the girlfriend of a thug,” Chelsie pipes up. “If you so much as lay a finger on Eddie, we’re through. Besides, Eva’s a big girl. She doesn’t need you constantly defending her. Let her clean up her own messes.”

  My hackles rise with each snide word that escapes her putrid, jealous mouth. It’s one thing to dislike me, but whatever happened to chicks before dicks? What if something worse had happened to me tonight? Lots of girls in my stupid, stupid position either wouldn’t be able to defend themselves or wouldn’t know how to say no to something they didn’t want. Her behavior is beyond rude. It’s downright heartless and purposefully obtuse. How utterly fucking ridiculous is it that this pretty girl who has one of the best guys I’ve ever known eating out of her hand should feel threatened by geeky, undesirable me to the point of not caring if I might have been raped tonight?

  And that’s the crux of the whole matter, isn’t it? I could never hope to land a guy like Mike for myself. Up until freshman year, I never even wanted to. I was raised by a single mother to be an independent, self-sufficient young woman. Boys were only trouble, as my father had so graciously taught me. And, after my whole family splintered apart when my father left, my mom also learned the hard way that you can’t count on anyone but yourself—a lesson she’s hammered into my and my sister’s heads over and over again. When will I ever learn?

  “Do you two even hear yourselves right now? Evie, I know there is no way you left that truck without good reason. And, Chels, put yourself in her shoes. What could I possibly do to you to make you think stranding yourself on a deserted road in the middle of winter was your only option?”

  When neither of us offers any response, Mike fishes his cell from the cup holder.

  “That’s it. I’m calling Rob.”

  The brain is a mysterious organ. It has the uncanny ability to see things exactly as they are and to play horrible, horrible tricks on us. It can lock up and cease to function due to disease or injury, or it can spur us to respond by bypassing learned neural circuitry and tapping into the survival-based reflex system.

  My brain goes offline and my self-preservation kicks in as I lunge forward and grab the phone out of Mike’s hand before he can react.

  The faint sound of Rob’s voice filters into the otherwise silent cabin of the car. “Hello? Mike, you there? I’m out with Sabrina right now—”

  I end the call with a jab to the screen that would have shattered it if it weren’t for the protective cover.

  The thought of Rob having a nice date and maybe getting some from a very willing female while I froze my ass off in the cold for twenty minutes turns my embarrassment over the night’s events to violent anger. If it weren’t for his stupid, perfect ass, I wouldn’t ever have been in this situation. Obviously, I’ve been a fool all of this time to think he could possibly reciprocate the feelings I have for him. Tonight was a mistake I allowed, even created. But I’ll be damned if I don’t learn my lessons when life hands me
shit.

  Never. Again.

  “Mike, thank you for picking me up. And I love you—”

  Chelsie scoffs aloud, but I ignore her and continue on.

  “But we are never speaking of tonight. Ever. I swear to you that nothing happened. Listen to your girlfriend and let it go.”

  “Evie…” Mike’s tone is soft, with a hint of worry.

  “No. I’m fine, thanks to you. And I’ll stay that way, thanks to me.”

  Five

  Biding my Time

  Junior Year, Rob

  The weekend has arrived. Sunlight beats down on the blacktop of the student parking lot, making the temperature feel warmer than it really is. The excited chatter of students spilling out of Ironville High rivals that of the birds chirping. Spring is in the air, and all is right with the world.

  Mostly.

  “Hey, Falls.” A skinny arm snakes around my neck, pulling me down a few inches to the left. “Heard you bagged Jackie Miller last weekend. You gonna tap that hot ass again tonight?”

  I cut my gaze to the side and find Josh Duncan staring back at me, a smug grin plastered on his stupid face. This kid has balls of brass—I’ll give him that. And that’s all.

  Since he got named to the varsity baseball team this year, his sophomore ego has grown about fifty sizes too big for his lanky body. Even though he’s a good six inches shorter than I am, he puffs his chest out like a damn peacock as we head towards our cars. It’s like he expects his status to rise just by being seen talking to me as if we’re friends. He’s constantly pushing himself into the inner circle of varsity jocks, convinced that his obnoxious jokes and constant pussy talk make him one of us.

  A fucking joke is what he is.

  Shaking free of his hold, I remind myself that he isn’t important enough to correct. “I have other plans tonight. Jackie’s all yours if you want.”

  It’s not a total lie. It’s also not the truth I should be telling him.