Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1)

by Chanse Lowell

  Mari kept quiet to see if he’d order a soda. He asked for a water. Was it because of their conversation a few moments ago? Was he trying to prove he had some self-control, and therefore, she could quit smoking, too?

  Seemed like something he’d do.

  She flashed a smile at him before ordering herself a water as well with some lemon.

  “What’s the lemon for?” he asked her after the waitress was gone.

  “For my salad. I use it as dressing.” She tried to push down that sudden lump in her throat by swallowing hard, hoping it would go back into her gut, because, dammit, she was broaching the topic of food. It was coming—she could feel it. He was going to ask question after question and would be relentless until she satisfied his curiosity.

  “Are their dressings gross?” His soft blue eyes were melting that lump right out of her.

  “No, they’re fine. I’m just . . . Most dressings have sugar in them, and since I don’t want to raise too much of a fuss with my picky eating habits, I figured I could make things easy on them. A lot of people order lemon with their water. I’ll use it on my salad instead.”

  The water arrived, and she could see the burning questions in his eyes.

  “Do you think you have to be skinny like a model?” he asked, moving his water over a little from where it was set.

  It had been obstructing the path for his hand he now had extended out on the table.

  She took it gratefully. If she had been him, had been brave enough, she would’ve asked for a hug right then, because vulnerable didn’t quite explain how she felt. More like trapped and skinned alive as wolves circled.

  “I don’t care about that, really.” She wet her lips—they were so dry. “I’m foolishly trying to get back to what I once was. I guess I’m thinking if I look like that girl I used to be, then maybe I can start acting like her too and trick others to believe I’m good again.” She tucked her hair behind her ears with her uncommitted hand.

  “I don’t like telling you what to do, but I’m gonna this time. More than the smoking, this has to stop.”

  Her eyes went wide, and she extended her neck back, then focused her gaze more intently on him. It was a snap impulse, because this wasn’t the Adam she knew.

  “Why would you say that?” Her insides were shredded, more so than that skinned-alive-on-the-outside feeling.

  “Because you’re beautiful as you are.” She started to protest, but he cut in. “It’s more than that, though.” He leaned forward, his eyes ablaze with power. “I get out of control—you already know this—and when I do, I use all of my body weight. That’s not normal. Dr. Harkham says people will use some restraint automatically—it’s ingrained in them. I don’t. If you get smaller, how will you be able to stop me or cushion the blow if I accidentally ram into you, knock you down or fall on you?”

  Her mouth popped open, and her eyes were drying out from the lack of blinking. Where did this come from?

  “My mom was little like Sam. When I knocked her down, she went flying. Same with Sam. I want better for you. I’ll try to never hurt you, but it’s probably not a promise I can keep, because I can be dangerous at times.” He stroked the outside of her hand with his thumb. “I like you too much to want to see you get hurt badly. Please, for me . . . We need to be together, and you need to be safe.”

  “But I’m supposed to keep you safe,” she said in the tiniest voice possible.

  “I want to share that responsibility and protect you, too. Let’s watch out for each other. That’s what best friends do.” His eyes twinkled like brilliant flashes of light.

  Her whole insides dissolved into her seat. “I . . . I don’t know if I can do that. There’s a history of morbid obesity in my family, and I used to weigh over—”

  He dug his thumb into her wrist, making her flinch. She looked down, and when he saw it, his mouth opened and he released the pressure. “Sorry, I . . . The numbers were there . . . Shouting so loud I could barely hear you. I was making sure you were really here with me . . . I didn’t realize how hard I was pressing.”

  “It’s okay.” She took a drink. Had he heard the part about what impacted her eating decisions? She hoped not. Maybe they could change the subject and move on.

  The waiter returned to take their order. She realized they were both so engrossed with their conversation they forgot to look at their menus.

  “What’s the special for today?”

  The waitress rambled off some fish and lamb dishes.

  Adam winced a few times at the mention of both.

  In the end, she ordered a big platter of chicken kabobs cooked in various spices, jasmine rice with almonds and seasonings, salads on the side, pita bread and hummus.

  This way he could pick what he liked, and she’d eat whatever he was uncomfortable with.

  “Please stay the way you are. No more trying to lose weight. Just stay like this—it’s perfect.” He blinked, his eyes scrunched and he wore a giddy smile as he shifted a little in his seat. “It’s really hot too—the way you’re round in places I like to look at.”

  She burst into a chuckle. “Zach told you my boobs would shrink if I kept losing weight, didn’t he?”

  He nodded and hid his quirky grin.

  She grabbed her fork and said, “I may have to stab him in the nuts for that.”

  His smile dropped. “No! That could hurt him bad! He won’t know I told you, and he won’t tell anybody else, and I won’t mention it ag—”

  “Relax. I’m only kidding. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a fork-killer. I leave that to the truly devoted wackos.” She put the utensil down. “Now a spoon . . . Maybe . . .” She laughed.

  He sighed and uncurled in his chair.

  “Your mom’s not fat,” he said out of nowhere.

  “Huh?” Her eyes scrunched.

  “You said there was morbid obesity in your family. I heard that part.” His eyes shifted down to the table. “I saw your mom—she looked fine to me.” He glanced up and eyed her fork.

  She smiled at him. “No, she’s in good shape. It’s other members of my family.”

  “Your dad?”

  She tensed and answered, “Yeah.” It sucked telling the truth sometimes, but she had to start answering his questions if she wanted him to answer hers.

  She changed the subject quickly. “When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?” Besides devastatingly gorgeous? Her eyes roamed his body a little. She rarely did that—it was too painful—and only when he wasn’t looking. It was probably a nuisance to him to be ogled all the time and have women hit on him merely for his looks. She never complimented him on his appearance, partly due to her fear he might reciprocate. No—they had so many other points they could dwell on when it came to each other.

  But did he have to be so stunning and ooze masculinity without even realizing it? He was a walking turn-on anytime he was near. He had no idea what he did to her. And it was getting harder to ignore now that they were so physically comfortable around each other—constantly touching.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

  She coughed. “Like what?”

  “Like I’m a piece of a plump donut?”

  She laughed hard, rocking the table a little. “Maybe you are. Maybe you’re the sugar I crave and can’t have.” No question—he was exactly that.

  Their food came, and she was able to avoid discussing the unguarded look she gave him.

  Once through with their meal and adequately stuffed, she paid even though he insisted on doing it. He frowned as they left. It made her smile.

  Pouting Adam was even more endearing.

  He promised to have so much cash with him next time, she’d have no choice but to let him pay for it.

  She assured him she didn’t mind and it wasn’t his job to take care of the bill, but he seemed torn up inside over it.

  His manners were probably kicking him in the sack, telling him he was supposed to be manly and provide
the funds for this date.

  He brooded in the car on the way back to the school.

  Their timing was excellent. They took so long at their meal, caught up in their conversation, that by the time they got there, the Varsity game was just starting.

  She let go of his hand to pay their entrance fee. This time he didn’t bother to argue, just wore a glum expression instead. There was a nagging feeling she should let him get this one, but what was the point? It wasn’t like they were really dating, and she didn’t want it to feel like they were. They were friends and nothing more, and as his friend, she was happy to take care of expenses.

  He wandered a few feet and peered over the half fence. It was a nice view of the football field. Zach was probably out there, starting the game off.

  She felt him before she saw him return as she was handed her change. His hand slipped into the one at her side.

  “I wish I could play football, but remember how I told you about using too much of my body weight?” he said quietly in her ear.

  She turned, and they walked toward the bleachers.

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Well, I hurt Zach too many times playing it with him. I made him pull all sorts of muscles, even his groin. He was real mad about that one.”

  She rubbed his arm of the hand she was holding with her other hand. “I’ll bet he was.”

  “Not at me, though. He’s too nice to get mad at me. He was mostly mad it hurt so much.”

  They clomped up the metal ramp leading to the bleachers.

  Their eyes swept up to find an open spot.

  It was fairly crowded, and the only areas she could see available all contained people she wanted to avoid.

  Great.

  Most of them were people she had to cut off after her last relapse, to keep from becoming a full-fledged addict again.

  “There’s my woman,” Rory’s voice rang from over her right shoulder.

  Please, no! Her whole body froze, and her heart iced over.

  She dragged Adam toward an aisle so they could escape him.

  Rory pulled on her hair, yanking her back.

  She swung around and smacked his hand off her.

  “Don’t touch her,” Adam growled.

  “Or what?” Rory smirked. “I only wanted to talk to you for a minute,” he said to her directly.

  “No.” Mari glared.

  “Aw, come on . . . For old time’s sake.” Rory’s eyes were filled with confidence. She wanted to slap the smug grin off his face.

  “Whatever!” She rolled her eyes. “You’re old news to me, and there’s nothing here to reminisce about.” She edged closer to Adam. “What are you doing in the crowd anyway? Why aren’t you playing tonight?” What kind of quarterback sat out their game against the school’s rival team?

  “Hurt my ankle at practice yesterday.” He wiggled it around to show her.

  She kicked it with the toe of her shoe. “Sounds like a lame-ass excuse to me.”

  “It is. How else am I supposed to get you alone when you act in class like you don’t know me?” He licked his lips.

  “She said no—that means no talking to you,” Adam said. He pulled her arm back, and it moved her away.

  Rory followed. “Let me give you a tip, Ace—get her high before you do it. She’s looser that way, and gives better head. And make sure her fingers are—”

  “Ten minutes. That’s all you get!” She said in a rush, her finger stabbing in Rory’s chest. “And after, you don’t say a word to Adam about anything at all. Got it?”

  Rory gave a curt nod.

  “No, don’t go,” Adam whimpered in her ear.

  “Meet me by the boy’s locker room in two minutes,” Mari told Rory.

  He took off in that direction without another snide word.

  She turned back to Adam—his eyes were shut tight and he was mumbling advanced calculus formulas.

  Her hands were immediately cupping his neck and kneading a little. “Shhh . . . It’s all right. I’m gonna tell him I’m with you and for him to back off. That’s all. Then I’ll come right back here to you.”

  “You can do that with me at your side. I need to protect you. He’s huge.” His eyes stayed closed.

  “He’s gonna say some mean things first. They won’t hurt me, because you’ve already filled me up with so many nice words tonight at dinner.” She used the most soothing voice she could.

  A tear gathered at the corner of his left eye. “I don’t want him to say mean things to you. That’s disrespectful, and it’s not okay to treat women that way. Especially not you.”

  She leaned in and kissed his ear. “It’s okay. I’m gonna be right back.” She turned his head with her hand, he opened his eyes, then she pointed at the bleachers. “I see Samara up there at the top with a friend of hers. Go sit with her. That way I’ll know where to find you when I get back.”

  “Will you come back with a soda?”

  “Sure.” She inhaled deeply. He smelled better than any man should be allowed. Goose bumps ran down her neck.

  “Then I’ll make sure to be good . . . But if he hurts you—”

  “He won’t. He’s a marshmallow, and I roast those and eat ‘em for dessert.”

  “When you’re not sugar-free?” He rubbed his cheek against hers.

  “I’m not sugar-free starting now. Just for you—my best friend.”

  His stiff shoulders softened, and he took his first step toward the top. She waited for a second to make sure he wasn’t going to change his mind and bolt after her.

  His hands clasped together in front of him, and she heard him count each step he took.

  She waved at Samara to get her attention and motioned over to Adam so she’d see him.

  Samara popped up out of her spot and raced over to him.

  Mari knew he’d be in his comfort zone now, so she took off after that brain-dead jock.

  When she rounded the corner to the deserted boys’ locker room, he was smoking.

  “You’re not my dealer anymore,” she said right away.

  He propped up a foot on the wall and his arrogant, smirking, disgusting lips rubbed together. “Who is? I’ll cut you a better deal than they do.”

  “No one. I don’t have a dealer because I don’t make deals anymore. Period. I had those two relapses, and that’s it. Been clean ever since.” She kept her distance. “I’m sure you’re not hurting for clients.”

  “I’m not.” He pushed himself off the wall with his foot and propelled himself straight at her. “But nobody paid me the way you did.” He pulled several hundred dollar bills out of his pocket and wadded it into her hand. “In fact, I’ll pay you.”

  She pulled up her hand and tossed it in his face. “I’m not a hooker.”

  “You sucked me like one. What other girl your age knows how to do the things you did to me?”

  “I’m leaving,” she said, turning to go.

  He grabbed her right arm and yanked it up sharply behind her back, then pushed her up against the brick wall.

  Her arm groaned in protest, but her cheek was worrying her more. If she bruised there, Adam would go ballistic.

  “What. Do. You. Want?” she asked through gritted teeth, trying to see him over her shoulder.

  His legs were spreading hers from behind. “You know what I want. I want my whore back who sucks it like a goddamn black hole and milks that spot inside.” He licked the back of her neck. “And puts her mouth and fingers where no other girl will put them.” She heard him unzipping. “I made sure not to shower today so it’s nice and raunchy down there, just the way you like it. Open up and say ‘aaaasssss-hoooooole.’”

  “I’d rather eat your soiled jockstrap—it’s cleaner.” She chuckled, but it was strained since she couldn’t take in enough breath.

  The second he had his body pressed up against hers, she dropped all her weight and spun so her arm would slip from his grip. Once on the ground, she ducked down, jabbed him between the legs with all her force and then
she rolled backward. Being free of him, and having him disoriented while he sucked in gasps of ragged air to divert the pain made it easier for her. He couldn’t react fast enough, so she seized the moment and kicked him in the ass, pounding him into the wall in the exact spot she’d just been in.

  As soon as he was there, she jumped to her feet and rammed her body into his, her knee wedged in his lower back. She took a hard bite of his neck. He yelped.

  “You know I like this,” he hissed, taunting.

  “Oh, I know. Tomorrow you won’t be liking it so much when you can’t turn your head and piss. Now, stop coming around, propositioning me. I don’t have sex with anybody—least of all you!” She bit him again, harder this time, and in the same spot. As he cursed, she grabbed his hand that was reaching back for her and snapped his right pinky, breaking it.

  “Owwww! Goddammit, stop it!”

  “This is your warning. A small one. You stay away from Adam, his entire family and me. Otherwise, next time I’m gonna break an entirely different appendage—one that will hurt way more than this one.” She shoved off him, making sure her knee dug in before it broke contact.

  He turned to her, cradled his hand with the wounded digit and said, “I’ve already been warned by your stupid little bodyguard.”

  She leaned her head to the side and looked at him from the corner of her eye. “What are you talking about?”

  “Too good to do it yourself anymore? Need a little dark-haired munchkin to pull a knife for you?”

  “Samara?” Couldn’t be.

  “Yeah, that psycho took a knife to my junk. She said the same exact things you just did,” he said, trying to catch his breath. His thighs were pressed securely together. He hunched over like he was about to lash out at her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and stayed where she was. “Samara Latham pulled a knife on you? Where did she do this?”

  “After practice two nights ago. I figured you were high when you sent her after me, and whatever the hell she’s on, it makes her rage like a pit-bull. She slashed my jeans on the crotch and ruined them. She owes me seventy bucks for them. They were new!”

  “Oh, I see, so you dragged me over to exact payment tonight, is that it?” She shook her head and spit on the ground.