“Sometimes, the only way to go forward, is to take a few, careful steps back.”
C.M. Stunich
Sarian Royal
Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never
Copyright © C.M. Stunich 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
For information address Sarian Royal Indie Publishing, 1863 Pioneer Pkwy. E Ste. 203, Springfield, OR 97477-3907.
www.sarianroyal.com
ISBN-10: 1938623789 (eBook)
ISBN-13: 978-1-938623-78-3(eBook)
Cover art and design © Amanda Carroll and Sarian Royal
"Optimus Princeps" Font © Manfred Klein
"Conrad Veidt " Font © Bumbayo Font Fabrik
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses, or locales is coincidental and is not intended by the author.
for everyone who's ever fought to live, to love
to those who Never give up, even on the darkest nights
to the ones who know that after the blackness fades, the stars shine bright.
Author's Note
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for taking the time to pick up Ty and Never's story. This series has always been one of my favorites. I've always felt that this story was real somehow, that it was just sitting out there in the universe, waiting for someone to come along and tell it. When I originally wrote it, it was to be a trilogy, but after the first three books, I received so many encouraging reader messages and comments that I continued the series. This omnibus includes the first three original books as well as over 22,000 words of never before read bonus material. To those just starting on the journey and those reading it over again, I extend my warmest welcome and hope you enjoy the ride.
~CM
"Never Ross wants to be loved. It's that simple, but it's not that easy."
1
Rick is a perfectly nice guy.
But not for me.
Rick is the kind of guy you can take home to your family, show off, and know that at the end of the day, he'll be there for you. I'm not into guys like Rick. I should be, but I'm not. I think there's something wrong with me. I need a guy like Rick to put me on the straight and narrow, to help me stop doing the things I shouldn't be doing and start doing the things I should.
Right now, my back is to a wall and I'm kissing the neck of a guy I don't know. My therapist says it's because I have 'daddy' issues. Like that's supposed to mean something to me. How can I have daddy issues when I barely knew the prick? He didn't walk out on me and mom like my therapist thinks. She thinks that because I've never told her the truth. My dad died right in front of my eyes, called out my name seconds before the light went out of his face and left him cold. That's all I remember about him. Other than that, my mind is a blank, a series of shadowy pictures without words. They don't make any fucking sense.
The guy I'm kissing unbuttons his pants. I think about telling him to use a condom, but I just don't feel like it. I'm on the pill anyway. He thrusts into me while I'm watching Rick through a crack in the door. He's drinking punch, not alcohol, and smiling with big, wide teeth in a face that's handsome, but not too handsome. Rick's the kind of guy that your friends compliment you on, tell you he's gorgeous, but they never try to sleep with him. The ones they really want, the dangerous ones, the ones with pasts that burn like fire and melt everything around them … Those are the guys that I always seem to fall for. The one I'm having sex with right now is one of those. I don't even know his name.
“I love you,” the guy says over and over, and I roll my eyes. I've heard it before, a hundred times, and I just don't want to hear it anymore. I pretend to have an orgasm, moaning and groaning and scratching his back, and all the while, I'm watching Rick. We have a date tomorrow night that I think I'm going to cancel. I thought maybe I'd take Rick out, see how chivalrous he really was, but tonight, he's wearing khaki pants and a red sweater. I don't date guys like Rick.
The guy I'm fucking finishes and tells me how great I am. Then he disappears and I don't see him again, not that night or any other. I light a cigarette and leave the room before any of the drunken idiots at the party stumble in and find me there with my panties around my ankles. I step out of them and stuff them in my pocket, aware that my skirt is too short and that my ass is hanging out. I just can't seem to find it in myself to care.
“Hey,” Rick says, intercepting me before I can reach the front door. “We still on for tomorrow night?” He looks me up and down, and I can see that he's curious about my disheveled appearance, my mussy hair and my swollen lips, but he doesn't ask about it. I don't think he even gives it a second thought. Rick doesn't know that girls like me exist. He's heard about them on TV, maybe even masturbates to them, but he doesn't really believe that they exist in this world or any other. I really should keep my date with Rick, go out with him, and grow up.
“I can't,” I say, biting my lip seductively and touching his cashmere sweater with a shaking hand. I don't know why it's shaking, but I don't like it, so I pull it back and let it fall to my side. I blow cigarette smoke in Rick's face which is rude, but that I do anyway. There's a monster inside of me, eating little bits of me everyday, and I can't seem to stop it. It makes me do things I don't want to do, say things I don't want to say. It makes me tell Rick that I've got to study for a test that he really believes I have.
I kiss him on the lips and leave an orange-red stain before I walk out the door and down the front steps. People wave at me as I go by and say they'll see me around, but I don't really know who any of them are, so I avoid their stares and their friendly smiles. It's all fake, just a big load of shit that I can't buy into or I'll die. If I ever believe in something again, and it turns out to be false, then not only will my body crumble beneath me, but so will my soul. I'll disintegrate, disappear into the wind and blow away. I'll be nothing. I'll blank out and the energy of who I was will just go away, melt into the ground and come back as something unimportant, like a dandelion or a caterpillar. I can't find it in my heart to care.
I walk back to the dorms because I don't have a car. My roommate isn't home which doesn't surprise me. She's in love with another girl, one that's straight as an arrow. They have sleepovers in her dorm room and 'practice' kissing one another like they're in high school or something. That's fine with me because it means I have the room all to myself, gives me a chance to be alone. I feel most comfortable that way. When you're alone, there's nobody there to hurt you or let you down. It feels too good to have that guarantee of solitude.
I fall on my back on the bed and try to breathe through the tears that come to me unbidden. I don't want them, never asked for them. I couldn't even tell you what I was crying over or why. I just do. Every night, I lay here and I try to find something in myself to live for. Every night, I fail and wonder if I need a guy like Rick to show me the way. But then, I'm a big girl, and a feminist, too, so why do I think a guy could save my soul?
I never thought to wonder if I was looking at it the wrong way, if maybe it wasn't a guy that I was looking for, just a person. And maybe I didn't need them to save my soul, just to give me the other half of it. Maybe that was it?
2
The next morning I wake up and have to force myself out of bed. It's a weekend which makes things so much worse. On days when I have class, I have a purpose, an obligation that I have to fulfill. On weekends, I just wait around for something to happen. Today, my roommate comes home ea
rly looking happier than usual. I wonder if she scored with the other chick, but I hope not. If so, then she's setting herself up for failure because that girl, whose name I don't know, is the type that grows up and looks for a guy like Rick. They get married and have babies and think they're happy because that's what people like Rick and this other girl do. They think they're happy because they don't know any better. I do. Not because I know what it's like to be happy, but because I know what it's like to be miserable. If you live your whole life in the darkness, then you don't have any trouble recognizing the light.
“There's a party at one of the frat houses tonight, do you want to go?”
“Which one?” I ask. Lacey, my roommate, doesn't know because she doesn't give a shit about frat houses. She doesn't give a shit about men at all. I wish I was like her. Maybe if I was into girls, I'd have an easier time falling in love with someone that wasn't a complete piece of shit? But then again, Rick isn't a complete piece of shit, and I don't want to fall in love with him either.
Lacey shrugs and takes off her sweater, tossing it over her computer chair.
“It's tonight at six, do you want to go?”
“Any party that starts at six is a party that I'm not interested in,” I tell her as I stand up and stretch. Lacey gives me a weird look, and I notice that my skirt's ridden up a bit. I push it down and gather up some clothes. I feel disgusting. I didn't change last night, and I can feel that guy's sweat all over me.
“Come with me, please,” Lacey begs, and I know she's afraid to go alone because her girlfriend might ignore her and run off with some frat boy. It's happened before. “I'll give you twenty bucks.”
“Keep your money,” I tell her as I grab a towel and the basket that holds my shampoo. “I'll go, okay? I'll meet you here tonight.”
“Five thirty,” Lacey says to me with a smile as she brushes a comb through her pretty, blonde hair. “I don't want to be late.” I try not to roll my eyes and tell her that nobody gives a fuck if you're late to a frat party.
“Sure,” I say as I leave the room in a hurry, rushing to get to the bathroom before everyone else does. There's this communal atmosphere that descends over the room when there's more than three girls in the bathroom at one time. I don't understand it, and it makes me uncomfortable. I never join in the conversation and have to use the stall at the very end, the one with the broken faucet, so I don't have to look at them looking at me and wondering what the hell is wrong.
I get to the bathroom just in time and manage to shower, get dressed, and put on makeup before anybody else comes in. When they do, they're all wearing blue and yellow face paint and talking about the game. I don't know if it's football or basketball or baseball, but what I do know is that it's an integral part of their lives that I don't understand. I leave as quickly as I can and head back to my room, toss my stuff on the floor next to my bed, and stand there for a very, very long time.
When I spy the book on the desk next to my bed, I feel a sense of relief. Reading. I can get lost in a world and spend days there. Besides, reading a book gives me a goal. It's that sense of purpose that puts a temporary bandage over my uncertainty and lets me waste away the rest of the day without anymore negative thoughts.
3
I put on a red dress for the party, something that matches my hair and brings out the green flecks in my hazel eyes. I don't wear tights or underwear, just a nice set of heels and a coat that has a hidden pocket on the inside, somewhere I can put my wallet.
Lacey drives us which is nice because it's too cold outside to walk. When we get to the party, I see Rick standing out on the front lawn, talking to Lacey's girlfriend. It's too much for either of us to handle, so Lacey takes us to a bar instead.
I'm not more than three feet in the door when I spot him.
There's a guy standing in the back corner. He's wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of low cut jeans that emphasize the curve of his ass. His arms are covered in tattoos and his hair is black and spiky, gelled up enough that I know he cares but not enough that I think he wasted time slaving over it. This is the kind of guy I like. I know that before he turns around and sees me staring at him. His dark eyes and suggestive smirk tell me that this is the kind of guy that cheats on you when your back is turned and that spouts a lie with every other word he says.
Unfortunately, this is the kind of guy that I want. At least temporarily. I'm never looking for something long-term, usually just a few weeks or even a few hours. Thanks to my red dress, I don't have to think up anything to say. The guy walks right across the room and pauses next to me. Lacey is already gone, hitting on some chicks near the pool tables.
“Hi, I'm Ty,” he says and his voice oozes over me and fills all the little cracks in my psyche. If Rick were to do that, if he could ever even think to do that, maybe he could glue me back together, keep me in one piece? This Ty, this person with wicked sexy lips and arms that curve with gentle swells of muscle, fills my cracks with foam that expands and breaks me into a million pieces.
“I'm Never,” I say and do my usual explaining thing that people need when they hear my name. “Never is my first name. I don't give out my last name to strangers.” Ty smiles and I can't help but feel this surge of heat in my lower belly. The woman in me wants the man in him. She doesn't care why or how or if he'll even be there later. I hate her for that. I hate myself and my hormones, and I hate men. I hate everybody.
Ty reaches out and takes a strand of my hair between his fingers. His nails are rough and cracked like maybe he does hard labor or something.
“Do you want to dance, Never?” he asks me, and I look around him at the empty expanse of floor between us and the bathrooms.
“This is a bar, not a club,” I say to him as I reach inside my coat and find a piece of gum. I like to chew gum when I'm around other people. That way, if I run out of things to say then I can always blow a bubble or something, pretend that I'm busy even though I'm not. “You can buy me a drink though.”
“Are you sure you're legal?” Ty says, and I don't like his attitude. He didn't like that I turned him down for a dance. I bet that's his best pickup line. Girls probably think it's cute. I bet he scores a lot by using it. I don't need pickup lines to score, so if Ty doesn't want to play then I'll find somebody else. I shouldn't be thinking like that. I don't need to fuck somebody, but at least if I do, then there'll be one, tiny, little second where I feel like somebody cares about me, even if it isn't true. Plus, seeing Ty has made me horny and I can feel my thighs clenching in anticipation. They want him almost as much as I do.
“Cute,” I say as I shrug my jacket off and let him see my shoulders. I have nice shoulders, smooth and covered with a dusting of pale freckles. Guys go nuts for them. Ty sees them alright, and his eyes travel down to my chest, searing me with heat. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Maybe you're right?” he says, as he drops my hair and takes a step back. “Are you jealous?”
“Hardly,” I say as I try to move forward. Ty blocks my path.
“Want to go somewhere else, somewhere we can dance?” I stare at him, wondering if he's really serious. He's cute, but he can't function without his pickup line. That's a bad sign. Still, maybe he'd be interested if I asked him outside.
“We can go somewhere else,” I say to him, closing the distance between us and standing on my toes. I let my heels rise off of the dirty floor as I press my lips to the smooth line of Ty's jaw and put a smoldering kiss there. “But I don't want to dance.” Ty looks down at me and smiles. When he does this, he gets dimples in his cheeks that make my heart palpate painfully. Something about other tortured souls calls to me, makes me want them. When I look into Ty's eyes, I can see that we're exactly the same. He's as wounded as I am, and we're both bleeding all over one another. It's a recipe for disaster.
“No,” Ty says and although I can see in his eyes that he still finds me attractive, a light goes off somewhere in there. He isn't interested anymore. I've failed some kind of wei
rd, little test that he likes to give to girls. “But that's alright. Enjoy your night, okay?” I watch him turn away, dismissing me just like that. It turns on this faucet of rage inside of me, and I just want to throw myself at him, tear at his pretty hair and the earrings in his nose and I want to rip them out and smash them with my heels, grind them into dust beneath my feet.
“Yeah, that's alright,” I say, feeling so mean I can't stand it. I don't feel like myself when I'm acting like this, but I can't let him walk away from me like that. This is why I hate people, even when you have the lowest of expectations, they let you down. “Because I don't pay for it anyway.” Ty stops walking and turns around.
“Are you calling me a whore?” he asks and then just shakes his head. He holds up his hands which are so covered in rings and bracelets that they jingle. “You know what,” he continues as he opens his eyes wide and looks straight at me. “Just forget about it. You're not worth it.” Ty turns away again, and I let him go. My heart is pounding so hard against my ribcage that I can barely breathe.
I'm not worth it?
Why am I not worth it?
“Fuck you!” I call out, and then I'm turning away and pushing through the doors of the bar. I wrap my jacket tightly around myself and walk the four or so blocks to the convenience store. By the time I get there, the balls of my feet are on fire, and I have to pause outside and walk back and forth on flat feet for awhile. The guy inside the store is watching me like I'm a crazy person, but that's only because he's never walked four blocks in a pair of heels. If he had, he'd give me a free pair of shoe inserts and tell me to come on in.
When the pain subsides a bit, I slip the shoes back on and go inside. I don't know what I'm there to buy, so I walk around and don't even care that the employee is staring at me like I'm a thief. That's okay. If he wants to think that, I don't care. Tears are streaming down my face, and I can hardly breathe. I can't stop thinking about the words that Ty said.
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