Chasing Perfect (Someday#4)

by Melanie Shawn

  Even if it killed me.

  But, to do that, I was going to need to be on my own. I couldn’t very well forget about Hunter with him trailing me around like a little duckling all night.

  I turned around to tell him this, and my unexpected stop caused him to bump into me. Case in point. I steeled my will and tamped down all the adrenaline that came with finding myself pressed up against his chest.

  Lifting up on my tiptoes, I leaned up to his ear and said, “It’s tough for the heart to grow fonder without absence.”

  He pulled back and gave me a puzzled look. I didn’t know if he hadn’t heard me or if he just hadn’t gotten the joke, but I figured it was probably a good idea to be clearer and more concise either way. I stood on my tiptoes and put my mouth near his ear to try again.

  “We already know each other. Let’s meet new people. I’m going over there. You go mingle.”

  I melted into the crowd before he could protest. Or, you know, before I lost my resolve. Whichever.

  *

  Hunter

  I swear to God, if he lays a hand on her, I’m going to fucking strangle him with my bare hands.

  Sandy wanted to be on her own at the party, and I’d kept my distance, but you bet your ass I’d been keeping an eye on her. If she wanted some time alone in the crowd, to think, to hang out with other people, whatever—that was fine. But if she expected me to turn her loose in a crowd of drunken morons—especially when she was downing shots like there was no tomorrow—and not keep watch to make sure nothing happened to her, she was out of her fucking mind. That was not happening.

  I’d watched guys come up to her and hit on her all night, both alone and in groups. That was to be expected. She was fucking gorgeous. While watching guy after guy make passes at her bothered me on a jealousy level, it didn’t worry me as far as her safety was concerned. Sandy could handle herself. She’d been artfully fending off unwanted advances since she was twelve years old. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t intervene.

  The guy who’d come up to talk to her during the last song though—he was different. I didn’t like the way he was invading her space, not leaving her an easy escape route if she wanted to end the conversation and take off. He had her backed into a corner like a predator with his prey.

  I also didn’t like his overly put-on air of casual charm. All it took was one glance at his steely eyes to see that the outward amiability was just a cover. When he looked at Sandy, he didn’t see the beautiful, fragile, intelligent, complicated, funny girl she was. He saw meat, and he wanted to devour her.

  Lastly, I didn’t like the undercurrent of menace that floated below his smile. When it came to this frat boy douchebag, I could tell that it wasn’t so much that he was willing to use manipulation and force to get what he wanted—it was that he was looking for an opportunity to do it.

  I wanted to respect Sandy’s independence, since she’d specifically told me to stay away. But…if that fucking douche-bro laid a hand on her, he was going to the fucking hospital.

  My jaw clenched as he leaned in to her face and laughed, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes. I moved towards them as my stomach was tying itself into knots that would make a Boy Scout proud. I paused when I was close enough that within two or three fast steps, I could be right next to them. If he did something that caused me to move, he would be flat on his ass before he even knew what hit him.

  From that vantage point, I could see Sandy’s face more clearly, and what I saw made me glad I was near enough to intervene. Her eyes had the too-bright glaze of someone who’s three or four drinks past “a few too many.” The girl was gone. She was in no shape to deal with this asshole. And he had clearly zoned in on her because his instinct had told him that she was an easy target. Well, he was in for a helluva wake up call. This conquest wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought it was going to be. In fact, it wasn’t going to happen at all.

  I walked up to the two of them, keeping a lid on my seething rage. I didn’t want to unleash on this fucker unless there was no other choice. So, when I spoke, my tone was low and controlled.

  “Sandy. Time to go.”

  I reached out to put a hand on her shoulder and guide her away from the guy, but he angled his body so that he was between Sandy and me. He smiled a slimy little grin and reached his own paw out to clap on my shoulder, effectively blocking me from getting to her.

  Yeah. This fucker was going down. He was a dead man walking; he just didn’t know it yet.

  His voice was condescending and fake-friendly, like the politician his daddy probably was and he probably aspired to be one day. “Hold up there, man. The lady’s with me. It’s not time for her to go anywhere, unless it’s up to a room with me. But that’s really none of your business.”

  I’d heard the phrase “made my blood boil” before, but I had thought that it was just a euphemism for feeling angry. Nope. Not true. In that moment, I could feel the bubble and pop of my blood hitting a boiling point in my veins.

  “Hunner…dijou mee’ my fren?” Sandy stood on her tiptoes and grinned sloppily at me as she slurred out a sentence that I thought, if the Drunk-to-English translator app in my brain was working correctly, was, “Hunter…did you meet my friend?”

  “He’s not your friend,” I said flatly.

  The asshole with his hand still firmly latched on to my shoulder, used his other arm to snake around Sandy’s waist and pull her to his side. “Oh, yes I am,” he smiled sleazily. “We’re good friends. And, in about twenty minutes, we’re gonna be real good friends.”

  Sandy put her hand against his chest and pushed, trying to wriggle away, but he tightened his grip.

  “No…stop…” she protested, but it was weak, just as her struggles were, because of how drunk she was.

  “Take your hands off her. Now.” My voice was low and menacing.

  But the asshole was too distracted by Sandy’s movements to pay much attention to me. He leaned in towards her malevolently, the cold sharkiness now fully evident in his eyes.

  “Oh, you like it rough,” he grinned, then he grabbed her ass hard.

  Sandy threw her drink in his face at the same time I wrapped my left arm around her waist and shifted her so that she was behind me, while my right fisted and connected with this fucker’s jaw. I felt, more than heard, the strong crack as my knuckles connected. I must have blinked because I didn’t see him go down, but the next second he was laid out flat on his ass.

  “I warned you.” My tone was still flat and controlled.

  He tried to get up. But when he did, some unwitting partygoer stepped on his hand and he squealed like a pig.

  Why do people think Karma was a bitch? She seemed pretty fair to me.

  When he tried again to put weight on it, he cried out and collapsed back on the ground. Looking up he roared, “You bitch! You fucking little bitch. You’re gonna pay!”

  I didn’t know if he was talking to Sandy or me, but I wasn’t about to stick around and find out. While he was still flailing around on the ground, I grabbed Sandy around the waist and ushered her out of the party. It wasn’t easy. In her drunk state, she’d actually gotten distracted by something on her phone.

  When we got outside, the fresh air seemed to revive her. She wasn’t fully back to her senses, but she had more clarity behind her eyes. The main thing was that she was walking without a wobble.

  “Come on,” I urged. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  She nodded her agreement, and we left, not stopping until we walked back through our hotel room door.

  Chapter 10

  Sandy

  Clang. Clang. Clang.

  The sound blared in my ears, tearing me from sleep—where I’d been quite happy, thankyouverymuch. It didn’t rip me from unconsciousness all at once though. In the beginning, it was simply a dull distraction from my convoluted dream world, a muted and vague noise, like a foghorn far out to sea. It gradually grew louder and louder, until finally it was screaming in my head, boring i
nto my brain with the power of a thousand tiny knives.

  Still half asleep, I wrestled my arms out from underneath the sheets and blankets I was tangled in. “Frickin’ frackin’… Dammit… Make it stop!” I groaned as I pressed my hands to my ears, trying to block out the insistent clangor.

  I opened my eyes, immediately realized my horrible mistake, and clamped them shut again. Oh, shit. The morning light filtering in the window through the cracks in the drapes sent fresh new blades of pain slicing through my brain. I doubted that even vampires could’ve hated light as much as I did in that moment.

  Still, the speed and pressure with which I had squeezed my eyelids shut, had hurt like a mothuh lovah, as well. DAMMIT! I couldn’t win for losing.

  “What in the name of all that is pure and holy is that noise?” I moaned, drawing the words out.

  “It’s your text message notification, I’m pretty sure.”

  I jolted upright in shock, the adrenaline and movement sending new waves of pain and nausea through me. I slit my eyes to see Hunter sitting in one of the room’s armchairs, which he had angled towards the bed. “Oh, shit! You scared me. I was still half asleep and I forgot you were here.”

  “So, who exactly were you complaining to just then?” His amused tone set my nerves even more on edge than they already were.

  “Nobody. I mean…myself.”

  “Do you often sit in a room alone and just bitch about shit, out loud, to yourself?” It seemed he wasn’t planning on abandoning that damn infuriating amused tone any time soon.

  “I mean, I was just thinking out loud, smart ass. What the hell,” I rasped. “Why is it so bright in here? And why are you yelling?”

  “It’s not. I’m not.”

  “It certainly is, and you certainly are!”

  “Nope. I think that’s your hangover talking.”

  “Hangover?”

  “Yeah. You had, um, a little bit too much to drink last night. To put it mildly.”

  Shit. I was quiet for a moment, trying to concentrate. Bits and pieces of the previous evening flew into my mind in small shards. Nothing cohesive, just snapshots. But I was starting to put the puzzle pieces together, and I didn’t love the full picture.

  “Oh, God. We went to that party. Right? I remember that.”

  “Yep.”

  “And…”

  “I’ll wait. It’ll come to you.”

  “I remember…shots?

  “Yep.”

  “A lot of shots.”

  “Yep.”

  “Table dancing?”

  “Most definite yep.”

  “Oh, God. Please tell me I didn’t flash anyone.”

  “It never got that far, and I never would’ve let it.”

  I grabbed my phone to make the text message notification stop sounding. I scrolled back through the texts I had apparently been sending Brandy all night long last night—to which she was just now replying in typical blasé-Brandy fashion. Wow. I really was wasted!

  “Um, Hunter?” I asked in disbelief, “Did you…uh…kick someone’s ass last night?”

  “I warned him first.”

  That made perfect Hunter-sense. I nodded, but was brought back to shocking reality when starbursts of agony exploded inside my cranium at the movement. “Awww…fuck…” I moaned as I grabbed my forehead, my voice low and drawn out.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hunter shift uncomfortably in his chair, and when I looked up, I could see that his forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He cleared his throat.

  Yeah. I guess my groaning had sounded a bit sexual, come to think of it, and he was clearly affected. Shit, I thought. I’m doing a crappy job at keeping things platonic between us.

  Except—and maybe this was the hangover lowering my defenses—in that moment, I was having a hard time remembering why it was so critical that things stay platonic.

  I sighed. Hunter was such a great guy, and he’d been there for me through thick and thin. Last night included, apparently. And right now, right now, he looked so damn hot it should be illegal. He was wearing baggy black sweats, a white t-shirt that was doing all kinds of things for his muscular chest, and his scruff had grown out to that sweet sexy spot that made me want to run my fingers through it.

  When I realized that I was just sitting there, ogling him shamelessly, I figured I should say something. Anything. “I can’t believe you really took care of me all night.”

  He leaned forward, a small but sincere smile on his face, and looked right into my (almost certainly bloodshot-to-hell) eyes. “I’ll always take care of you, Sandcastle. Always.”

  Those words immediately thrust me back into a memory as clear in my mind as if it’d happened yesterday.

  I’m eight years old. I come in from school to find my mother sitting on the couch. This is bad. It’s so bad! She’s supposed to be at work, so this must mean she got fired. Again. Also, the bottle of vodka sitting on the table in front of her is half empty. I know that it must’ve been new when she started drinking it, and that must’ve been today, because Brandy and I know all her hiding places, and we look in them every single day.

  She promised she was going to stop drinking. She’d gotten drunk for the last time on Christmas, and that was two months ago. She had burned our presents in the fireplace, right in front of us, and then slapped us when we cried. The next day, she had felt so guilty that she’d started going to AA meetings and quit cold turkey.

  It wasn’t the first time she quit, and it wasn’t the first time she promised. But this time was two months. Two months! It was the longest time ever, and I’d just started to hope. To trust.

  And now, I walk in and see her drinking.

  I turn around to find Brandy. Looking for Brandy is the first thing I always do when I get scared. Brandy is smart and tough. She’s calm, and she always knows what to do.

  She’s not there beside me, and I remember that it’s her day to sharpen the pencils in Ms. Pemberley’s class after school. That’s why we didn’t walk home together. But Hunter is there. He walked me home.

  My eyes fill with tears and my cheeks flame with embarrassment. I never, never, never, never would’ve let Hunter walk me home if Mommy hadn’t been doing so good! I forgot that it’s dangerous to let people get close. You never know if she’s having a good day or a bad day! There’d been too many good days, and I forgot to be careful. I forgot to be scared.

  Before I can grab Hunter’s arm and hustle him back down the driveway, he steps past me as if everything is completely normal.

  “Hi,” he greets my mom, and I cringe and rush inside, wanting to head off any catastrophe that might be in the works.

  My mother glares at us without speaking, then reaches out and takes another swig directly from the bottle on the coffee table.

  Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no. That’s bad. She’s not bothering to mix it with juice or even pour it in a glass before lifting it to her lips. That’s bad. Bad bad bad bad bad.

  “Mama, me and Hunter are going to his house,” I say in a rush, trying to push him back out the door, hoping to be gone before she really even notices we’re there, and for sure before she says something.

  “Why don’t you want to play here?” she sneers.

  My shoulders slump as I freeze in my tracks. Too late.

  This is going to be so bad, and Hunter is going to hate me and think I’m the weirdest kid in class once he sees what my mom is really like.

  I slowly turn around, tears already spilling from my eyes although I’m trying to hold them back. I shrug, not trusting my voice to answer her. If she hears anything in it that sounds like “sass” or “whining,” it’ll be so much worse.

  “Is it because you don’t want your little friend to be around your mother? Your drunk, worthless, and now unemployed mother? Oh, yeah. That’s right. They fired me. No warning. Jim just called me into his office this morning. ‘We’re going to have to let you go,’ he says. ‘So sorry,’ he says. Well, I’ll show you sorry,
you motherfucking piece of shit.”

  She stops to take another drink. I’m trying harder than ever to control my tears, but it seems like the harder I try, the harder they fall. Now, my shoulders are shaking and I’m hoping with everything in me, that she doesn’t see.

  She looks at me and glares so strongly that it’s obvious how much she hates me. Most of the time, its floating right there under the surface, but at least she tries to hide it. Other times, like now, it’s so powerful that it comes right out—out of her eyes, out of the look on her face, and out of the words she says. I hate those times more than anything. Maybe even more than the fact that she hates me.

  “Do you want to know why Jim fired me? Do you, you little brat?”

  It’s not one of those questions that people just say into the air because they want to say it. I’m supposed to answer, and she’ll wait until I do. I nod, hoping that will be good enough.

  It’s not.

  “Well, then say so, damn it!”

  “Yes, Mama,” I spit out, and to my shock, I’ve managed to push down all but the tiniest tremble in my voice.

  “It’s because of you,” she grits out through clenched teeth, her voice full of venom. “Because I was late too many times. Because I can’t drop you and your worthless sister off at school before eight o’clock in the morning. Well, let me ask you this. If I’m supposed to be at work at eight, and I also can’t drop Dumb and Dumber off until eight, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

  She stops her raging for a moment and laughs. “Ha! That’s a good one. Dumb and Dumber. I’ll have to start using that one. I usually call you little brats Thing 1 and Thing 2.”

  I feel Hunter slip his hand into mine. He knows he can’t say anything, and he knows he can’t move in case she gets even madder, but he wants to show me that he’s there and make me feel a little better. He’s the sweetest boy in the whole school.