The Road Without You

by H. M. Sholander

  Everything in me hummed alive when she was near. Something foreign coursed through me, like I’d been abducted by some unknown force that had to know everything about the girl who was unintentionally drawing me in.

  I watched as she fell to her chair and nervously played with her blonde hair, twirling the same strand around her finger until class began.

  I was able to draw my eyes away from her during the lecture, only stealing glances at her when the professor went off on a tangent. She sat high with her head hung low, and I had the strangest desire to wrap my arm around her shoulders and comfort her.

  How did I go almost two months without noticing her?

  Truth is, I’ve had my head stuck so far up my own ass, I’m surprised I know what day it is. I’ve been focused on classes and getting laid. I haven’t for one second thought about anyone else.

  I did look at the paper our professor had passed out, and a pit settled in my stomach when I saw her last name next to mine. Why couldn’t the professor have picked anyone else? Anyone besides the beautiful creature who has taken me captive.

  When Raegan stood in front of me, full of attitude and annoyance, I thought I would push her buttons and see how she reacted. But the truth? I know I’ll get lost in her if given the chance, and right now, I can’t. It’s the reason I don’t want to work with her, so I threw a side of myself at her that I knew would drive her away. Cocky and above everyone else.

  Then, I turned my back on her without giving her my number. I knew I was being a dick, but I had to get out of her personal space. The warm vanilla scent emanating from her was intoxicating, and I had to force myself not to groan when the smell wafted up my nostrils. I knew, if I didn’t run, I’d kiss her.

  And that was exactly what I did. I ran, blending in with the other students and out of sight.

  I’ll let her think I’m an ass, so neither of us does something dumb—like fall for each other.

  My phone beeps with a text as I walk down the sidewalk to my next class. I fish it out of my pocket and see Graham’s name flash on my phone.

  Graham: Wanna go out tonight?

  Just what I need.

  Me: Count me in.

  I shove my phone back in my pocket and try to forget all about the blonde who has me twisted in a mess from only a few spoken sentences.

  “Which one do you want?” Graham asks, motioning with his beer bottle to the two girls eyeing us from across the bar. “I’ll let you pick first since you’re being pissy.”

  Neither, I want to tell him, but I don’t.

  “The one in the purple,” I say for no other reason than she has long black hair—the opposite of Raegan. Her face has flashed through my mind more times in the last twenty-four hours than I care to admit.

  I need the distraction tonight, and I know I can find it with the girl across the room, the one watching me like she wants to eat me alive.

  Graham heads toward them, and I follow behind him, ready to forget all about the blonde with a mouth that’s not afraid to say what she’s thinking. The music blasts through the speakers, doing little to quiet my mind.

  The crowd parts for Graham, his broad build causing people to step out of his way. If you don’t know him, he might seem a little intimidating. He’s over six feet tall with shoulders wider than a linebacker, but appearances aren’t everything. He’s one of the nicest guys I know. Even his one-night stands would say the same.

  I stroll up next to the girl with black hair, dropping my elbows on the table she’s standing at, and appraise her from head to toe. The purple dress she’s wearing complements her olive skin tone, and her legs go on for days, accentuated by a pair of black studded heels.

  I wonder if Raegan has a pair of heels like that.

  What is wrong with me?

  I push the thought out of my mind, forgetting about the feisty blonde.

  The right side of my mouth tips up as I meet the girl’s eyes. “I’m Jax. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to tonight?” I ask.

  “Jasmine.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, giving me a view of her long, lean neck and the curve of her breasts.

  I smile appreciatively. “How ’bout a dance?” I ask, holding my hand out to her.

  She leans in close, her mouth hovering next to my ear. “How about we skip to the end instead?”

  My eyes widen, as I’m taken off guard. It’s not every day you meet a girl who wants to cut out the foreplay and move to the finale of the night before it’s even started.

  “If that’s what you want,” I say, informing her it’s her call. I’m perfectly fine with playing the part, dancing and drinking before the real fun begins.

  Grinning, Jasmine grabs my hand and drags me away from her friend and Graham without a word. I turn to look at him, but he’s in a lip-lock, not paying me any attention, the girl’s hands fisting in his shirt.

  I follow behind Jasmine, letting her take charge while I enjoy the ride.

  We wind through several halls before she stops at the women’s restroom. She steps inside, hauling me behind her, not caring that two other women are inside. She stands next to them, waiting for them to take the hint and leave, as she grips my hand like she’s afraid I might bolt.

  The two women walk toward the door, mumbling under their breath, as they narrow their eyes at me and the girl attached to my hand.

  Once we’re alone, Jasmine locks it, and all bets are off the second her mouth crashes into mine.

  My hands roam down her body as her mouth unapologetically attacks mine, her tongue snaking between my lips before I’m ready. Her hands wind through my hair, latching on to my head, like she can crawl inside my mouth if she gets close enough.

  I don’t know why she’s in such a hurry, but maybe this is the way she likes it—rough and out of control. But there’s wild, and then there’s sloppy. Jasmine is teetering on the line, falling closer to the sloppy side.

  I back her into the counter and hoist her body on top, situating her between the two sinks. She hastily undoes the button of my jeans, and my body tenses when she grabs me in her hand, hoping she’s not as untamed with it as she is with my mouth. Her hand moves up and down, squeezing, and I relax, pushing my hips forward, knowing I won’t end up with a fingernail through my dick.

  I hike up her dress, shoving it out of the way, noticing she’s not wearing any underwear. She was a woman on a mission tonight. She knew exactly what she was doing when she set her sights on me.

  She removes her hand from my pants and pulls down the front of her dress. I appreciatively glance down at her chest as my hand flies to my back pocket to pull out the condom I have for instances just like this. Not that I’m in the habit of screwing girls in restrooms, but I’m always prepared.

  After I roll on the condom and wrap her legs around my waist, I fuse my mouth to hers, wishing she smelled of warm vanilla instead of a sweet flower. I groan, mad at myself for thinking of a chick I don’t even know, but Jasmine takes it as a sound of pleasure as her hand moves under my shirt.

  I clear my mind, my thoughts slipping away, as I enter Jasmine, feral and all at once.

  I move fast, not bothering to take my time because she hasn’t since we stepped foot in the restroom. I unfuse my mouth from hers. I hold her by the back of her head, lightly tugging her hair, as I repeatedly slam into her. Her breasts bounce in my face, and I’m thankful she took her top off, so I can watch the show.

  I feel her body convulse around me in no time, so I let go, moving faster than before, searching for my own release. It takes longer than it should, so I close my eyes as my hips swivel into her, and the image of a pesky blonde pops in my head. Her beautiful eyes that shine like the sea and unruly hair that I’d love to sink my hands into. The smell of warm vanilla takes over my senses, and before I know it, I reach my climax, releasing everything I have into a random girl while thoughts of Raegan invade my mind.

  My hips slow as the last of my release spills out of me, and I open my eyes to see the wron
g girl—olive skin with long black hair. I should feel bad that I pictured another woman while I fucked Jasmine, but I don’t.

  I pull out of her and clean up as she rights her dress and jumps off the counter. Once my pants are zipped, she places a chaste kiss on my cheek.

  “That was fun. Thanks.” She unlocks the restroom door and walks out without another word.

  I’m not sure what just happened, but if I could find a chick like that every time I needed to get laid, I’d be more than willing to go a few rounds with her, knowing she’d up and leave without a fight.

  I squint my eyes as I stare at myself in the mirror, and my stomach rolls. I don’t know the exact moment I turned into the guy who used women to escape his own problems, but I pray the girl I would give my life for never finds anyone like me. Because I would kick his ass faster than he could blink.

  The door swings open, and three women walk inside. They stare at me with their mouths hanging open and eyes wide as I move around them and out of the restroom.

  I head back out to the main dance floor and try not to think about how I got off while I was fantasizing about Raegan.

  This really doesn’t bode well for me staying away from her.

  As I move through the crowd, I notice Graham leaning on the bar. I maneuver around the mass of people and stop next to him.

  “Where’s your girl?” I ask, looking back to the table I left him at before I disappeared.

  “Dancing with some guy.” He grunts. “She was the wingwoman.”

  “Weren’t you making out with her?” I chuckle.

  He huffs, quirking a brow. “All for show, my man.” He takes a gulp of his beer and places the empty bottle on the bar. “I have to hand it to her. She’s a better wingwoman than most guys. How was your night?” He smirks.

  “Got what I needed.” But did I really?

  “Bet you did.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Ready to head out?”

  I nod my head, and we leave the loud club, making the half-mile walk back to our house.

  I run a hand over my short brown hair before letting it fall back to my side. I sometimes wonder if I’m putting my best foot forward. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I am. I feel like a fraud, pretending to be a guy I’m not.

  I don’t spend enough time with the girl I love more than anything in this world. I screw women I don’t know. I let people think I’m the guy who has it all, but I’m not. This isn’t who I thought I would be nor is it how I thought I would be living my life.

  I blow out a long breath and stare up at the night sky.

  My mind is even more of a jumbled mess than when I started out this night.

  Raegan

  “You should have seen this guy,” I say to Arya as we watch television on the couch.

  “Was he hot?”

  My head swivels in her direction, and I give her a death glare.

  “Sorry,” she whispers under her breath.

  Yes, Jax is hot, but looks don’t matter when you’re being graded on a group project. He could look like a zebra, but if he executed a decent paper, I would be ecstatic. Too bad my partner can’t really be a zebra.

  “What am I going to do?”

  Group projects are like being stuck in an elevator with someone who won’t stop whistling as you travel ten floors. It’s annoying, and it tests your patience.

  “Three options. You can do the project on your own. Or drop the class, and take it next semester. Or hunt his ass down and harass the shit out of him until he gives in to your every demand.” She shifts on the couch, looking directly at me. “Personally, I think you should go with option number three.” She winks.

  “I think you might be right.”

  “It’s about time you listened to me.”

  Arya doesn’t say she means all the unsolicited advice she gave me regarding Travis, but I know that’s exactly what she’s referring to. I let out a long sigh and shrink into myself.

  “Sorry,” she says, only half-sounding like she means it.

  “It’s fine.” I wave my hand, letting the comment fall away.

  She jolts from the couch, outstretching her hand toward me. “I can’t stand looking at you in Travis’s sweatshirt any longer. We’re going to get your shit.”

  I place my hand in hers, and she hauls me from the couch, being the backbone I don’t seem to have.

  I grip the steering wheel, staring at a house I despise. My stomach rolls, vomit threatening the back of my throat at the thought of going inside.

  What if Blondie is there? What if she’s already taken my spot, her belongings infiltrating a life I once had?

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I say, voice shaking, while I hold back the bile rising in the back of my mouth.

  “You can,” Arya says, unwavering, briefly squeezing my hand for support. She hurries out of her seat but sticks her head back inside before closing the door. “Get your ass out of the damn car.”

  Tough love, it is then.

  I inhale and exhale, letting my thoughts drift away, as I unbuckle my seat belt and jump out of the car.

  I slam the door, and an overwhelming feeling of guilt bogs me down when I see the tennis ball in the yard along with a bowl of water next to the front door. I shake it off, knowing I can rectify one bad decision I’ve made lately.

  I pray Travis isn’t home. Deep down, I’m scared he could convince me to take him back—that, on some level, I want him back.

  That’s the problem with being in a relationship so long. It’s hard to break it off. It’s comfortable, something you know. After all, most people aren’t a fan of change, and uprooting your life isn’t as easy as you’d like to think it is.

  I use the key on my key ring to unlock the door, and when we step inside, we’re greeted with deafening silence. I let out a sigh of relief, thanking the heavens Travis isn’t here. I don’t have to worry about fending off his advances or about my defenses collapsing around him, letting him smooth-talk me the way he always has.

  I notice a rawhide bone next to the coat closet when I shut the front door. A heavy weight falls on my shoulders as I bite my lip. It’s too quiet. I don’t hear the faint sound of paws hitting the hardwood floor or barking in the distance.

  “I have to look for her.” I walk around the couch, searching for my black fur ball.

  “Wait…what?” Arya watches as I throw pillows off the couch.

  “Stella. I’m taking her with us.” I drop to my knees and peer under the coffee table. “Help me look for her.”

  “Okay, I’ll start in the office.”

  I stand up and look behind the television stand, recliner, and side table, but she isn’t there.

  I race to the kitchen. Stella’s bowl sits on the floor, and her favorite snack is lying by it with teeth marks in the plastic bag, like she was trying to rip it open.

  Arya and I sweep every square inch of the house, opening each door and searching under the furniture, but we come up empty.

  My shoulders slump as I lean against the wall across from the pictures of me and Travis.

  There’s only one place she could be, and that’s with him. It’s almost like he knew I would come back for her, that he knew I loved Stella more than I did him. And it’s the truth because Stella has been by my side since the day we brought her home from the Humane Society. She’s my companion and my heart, all rolled into one.

  Arya stops in front of me, and her face falls, as she touches my arm, like she can feel the hurt rolling through me. “We’ll get her back, Raegan.”

  “Yeah,” I mumble under my breath.

  “For now, let’s get your stuff.” She drags me down the hall, and I follow her with a hollow chest.

  When I step over the threshold into the bedroom, memories assault me—and not good ones. I still see Travis screwing Blondie against the wall, and hatred bubbles up in me, making it that much easier to collect my belongings and march out the door, never looking back.

  I hastily throw all my clothes
in two huge suitcases I had in the closet, anxiety clawing at my throat.

  Arya gathers everything from the bathroom and shoves it all in a black duffel bag, making as much noise as someone hammering a nail into a wall.

  I cringe at the sound, my hands making quick work of the zipper on the suitcase as I sit on the top, keeping it closed. “Arya, be quiet,” I hiss, as if someone might be sneaking around the corner.

  She walks out of the bathroom, hauling the bag over her shoulder. “Don’t be so dramatic.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re alone.”

  I pout, standing from the suitcase and yanking the metal handle out. She stalks ahead of me as she heads out of the room with the other suitcase.

  We wade through the front door, leaving behind a person I despise and another I love more than words can express. It’s an odd feeling—wanting to run the hell away and stay forever. It’s like my emotions are at war, and I’m waiting to see which wins out.

  Once everything is thrown in my car, I slouch down in the driver’s seat, no longer sick to my stomach from nerves. I feel empty, my insides carved out.

  When I walked out on Travis, I left something behind I never thought I would. In my haste, I forgot Stella. I forgot my short, scrappy dog who loves to head-butt my face until I pet her.

  “Come on, Raegan, cheer up.” Arya rifles through her giant purse in her lap. “If you smile, I’ll give you something that will make you feel better.”

  I give what is possibly one of the most atrocious smiles known to man. It’s more along the lines of a grimace, but it’s all she’s going to get.

  “We’re going to have to work on that.”

  She waves around a small piece of chocolate she pulled from her purse, and I snatch it out of her hand.

  “Guys want a girl who can smile without looking like a rabid dog.”

  I tear open the wrapper from the piece of chocolate, flinging it at her feet, and toss the chocolate in my mouth. “I don’t want a relationship.”

  “Who said anything about a relationship?”

  “You said—”

  She holds up her hand to silence me. “You don’t have to be in a relationship to date. You’re a senior, and you’ve spent almost your whole college career with Travis. Play the field. Date a guy or two or maybe three at a time,” she quips. “Live a little.”