The Not-Outcast

by Tijan

  “Was he right about what he said about you?”

  A whole new beast came over Chad. A new scowl, but this one had more heat to it. “Fuck no, he wasn’t.”

  “That’s Deek and Cheyenne, and man, Deek is so far wrong about her, that it’s not even sad. It’s just wrong. And you’re wrong for taking up his side.”

  “Deek’s been there for me.”

  “So have empathy for the kid he hasn’t been there for, and you know what? If you can’t see the similarities between your dickhead dad and how Deek is being regarding Cheyenne, then I don’t know what to say or do.”

  “Does she want him to grovel or something? He paid for her college.”

  I stilled, giving him a whole new look because was he actually being this stupid on purpose.

  I said, going with him on this one, “You’re right. I mean, he bought her off in a way. What right does she have to push for a relationship with her brother? Her college got paid off. How dare she?”

  “Exactly!”

  I stared at him. Hard.

  Chad frowned, and I could see the thoughts going on in his head.

  He said a second later, “You don’t actually believe that.”

  “Not a fucking chance in hell.” My blood was boiling.

  I never wanted to put hands on my best friend, but I did tonight.

  “My parents paid for my college, too. They’d never think of using that as a string to control me.”

  “Well, Deek isn’t—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Maybe he had a moment of conscience when Donna was in rehab? Maybe that’s why he let her move into the house? Maybe he decided against it later? I don’t know. I’m just looking at a guy I thought was like a brother to me, referring to someone I’m falling in love with as ‘that,’ and he’s got no clue why I’m not down for it.”

  He closed his eyes, his body weaving backwards a little before he opened them again.

  “Cut,” a raspy whisper from him. “I’m thinking I might have gotten a few things wrong over the years.”

  I leaned in, done with this conversation. “No. Shit. Me too.”

  I headed back to my box and over to the booth where Cheyenne was sitting. Her gaze found mine instantly, and her eyebrows pulled together. She looked behind me, then back to mine.

  I turned, too, but the box was empty.

  The door was just closing.

  Chad had bounced.

  I went over, thinking what a shittastic ending it was to this whole day, but Hendrix got up. He held out his fist to mine, a drunk smile on his face, and I met it with mine before he did what I thought he would. He moved in and he was all in Sasha’s area.

  But she was for it, judging from how she snuggled into his side.

  I slid in and Cheyenne moved over to me. “You okay?”

  I didn’t respond. Too much shit was upside down, and I didn’t care who saw us. I lifted her up, sitting her on my lap, and she leaned back against me.

  This made the shittastic day a helluva lot better.

  37

  Cheyenne

  I was feeling all warm and toasty, and that was because of Cut.

  We stayed at Bresko’s for two hours, and he held me the whole time.

  Warm. Toasty. So Cut.

  Sasha had been flirting with Hendrix all night, and there was some sadness in her eyes. I dubbed them ‘Chad eyes’ because she only looked that way when he was around or when he was supposed to be around. By the end of the night, I was noticing her ‘Hendrix eyes’ were a whole lot happier. She was giggling, and Sasha never giggled.

  Ever.

  This was secret agent-like Sasha. Strip club, no-nonsense business owner Sasha. Giggling was not in her list of abilities until tonight. And she blushed. I never saw that. Melanie blushed. I got flushed sometimes, but that was the extent. Russian-like Sasha, no blush.

  The world was officially tipped upside down.

  But then there was Melanie.

  After the tense talk between Cassie and Melanie, the two were good. They were holding hands, sneaking kisses, and they were laughing at whatever Hendrix was saying.

  It was a good night. For me. Not for Cut.

  I waited until we got to his house, and we decided on his house because we were already outside the city limits. A quick swing around and we were closer to his place than going into downtown for my apartment. I was also secretly planning on stealing another one of his hockey shirts, and by stealing, I meant to say that I would ask which one I could have because keeping a boyfriend’s shirt—especially a pro-hockey player’s shirt—was every girl’s age-old tradition. That or a never used pair of his boxers.

  Heading inside, he waited until I went past to put in the alarm code.

  “You want a water or anything?”

  I shook my head, biding my time.

  His jaw was clenched.

  He had held me most of the night, but he was tense, so I knew something was up.

  Letting out a sigh, he took my hand and led me upstairs. We went to his second floor, and once in the room, he let go of my hand and went into his closet.

  I went to the bathroom, taking my time to do my business and wash up.

  When I opened the door, he had a shirt on the bed. “If you wanted to wear that to bed?”

  I took it, seeing it was one of his muscle shirts and squeaked on the inside. Of course I’d wear this to bed.

  I took off my clothes, leaving my underwear on and pulled on the shirt.

  He came back out of the closet, and his eyes darkened when he saw me. “I, uh…I bought a toothbrush for you. It was in the bathroom.”

  “I saw it, figured it was for me.”

  “Good.” He was only wearing some sweatpants, and they were of the softest material. I’d seen him wear them before, and my hands itched to feel them every time since. I was also itching to feel them because I wanted to take them off of him.

  He was standing in the room, half-torn between his thoughts and whatever he was about to do now.

  No shirt.

  Barefoot.

  His hair all sticking up and messy.

  And those pants riding low over his V…my mouth was watering.

  He was so not only an idea to get me through life. Not because of his outsides, but I was just enjoying those right now. A lot.

  I really did love Cut at first sight. I’d just been too young to know what to do about it.

  “Cut.”

  “Hmmm?” He blinked, refocusing on me, and those eyes fell to my legs. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  Warm. Toasty. Again.

  But I had to focus. He’d been tense for a reason.

  “What happened tonight?”

  “We lost a game.”

  “Cut.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, and I moved up behind him. My legs went around him, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, looping over the front of him. I propped my chin on his shoulder. “I saw Chad show up. I saw you guys going to the other box for a talk, and he didn’t come back with you.”

  His head lowered, resting on my arm, and he reached up to lace his fingers with mine. His thumb started rubbing back and forth over my palm.

  “Can we just leave it how it is?”

  “You know anything he said won’t hurt me.”

  He drew in another breath of air, going rigid.

  I moved my legs so they were completely around him, and he hunched forward. I was fully plastered against his back, and his other hand went to my legs. He began running his finger up and down on the underside of my thigh.

  Tingles were following in his trail, but I was holding my response back.

  I knew that he needed to get this out, whatever it was.

  “Cut.”

  Another sigh. “I might be losing my best friend.”

  My eyes closed.

  Sadness billowed through me, and I rested my cheek against the back of his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” He squeezed my h
and a little. “But that’s on him, not you and not me. And honestly, this could’ve come out later down the line.”

  “This?”

  “Whatever kind of thought process he’s got inside of him where he couldn’t see you were a fucking person.”

  “Oh. That.”

  “Yeah. That.”

  Damn.

  I didn’t want Chad to hurt anyone I cared about because of me, but it was happening.

  “I’m sorry again.”

  His hand stopped and then flexed over my thigh. “It’s nothing for you to be sorry about. It’s Chad.”

  “You can’t make him think a certain way.”

  “It’s a bit more than that. He needs to see you as a person, and he doesn’t. I don’t understand why he doesn’t.”

  “I know people think certain ways about people who come from my beginnings, but I can’t explain the reason why they think like that.”

  “Yeah.” His back rose and fell again, and he went back to rubbing the inside of my palm against his chest. “We’ll just deal with it, whatever happens.”

  There were no words because I couldn’t take away his pain, like he couldn’t take away how I was raised. But I could do other things and I could say other words to maybe replace the hurt. My cheek against his back, I whispered, “You weren’t an idea for me.”

  Saying it in person was a whole lot different than saying it over text. He needed to hear me say it tonight.

  He sucked in his breath, his hand holding mine in an almost cement grip.

  I kept on, “I think I did love you when I saw you.”

  I didn’t think. I knew. I know.

  “Are you telling me you love me now?”

  My hand flexed under his now, and I went rigid, my thighs gripping him hard. And then, my eyes closing as I said it. “Yes.”

  Please don’t leave me now.

  Please don’t— He twisted, his hands went under my arms and he lifted me clear. He stood, but he was moving us back on the bed. His eyes were hooded and dark, and he didn’t want any more words.

  I was laid down. He came down on top, his mouth was on mine, and he was hungry.

  He was commanding.

  He was demanding.

  Oh yes, I definitely didn’t think he was going to leave.

  Then, I answered him back.

  His tongue swept in, and my toes curled.

  There were no words to process this.

  None at all.

  He was touching me. He was kissing me. Loving me. And it felt like, finally.

  Finally we were one.

  Finally we were whole.

  Finally I was with who I’d been waiting for all my life.

  Finally.

  I was lost in every touch, caress, whisper, every sensation. All of it. As the clothes were removed. As he moved over me. As I felt his arms, his chest, his hands. As I felt him slide a finger inside of me.

  Our gazes were locked as he thrust inside, out, back in, and he moved his finger around. A second finger. I wanted him, but I was also helpless against the sensations he was building inside of me, and it was only after I climaxed that he repositioned and reaching down, I caught his hands.

  I laced our fingers and he pushed inside.

  I moaned, my head falling back. My throat was exposed and as he began moving in and out, his lips fell there and he was kissing me, tasting me all over again.

  Every move, we were together.

  My legs were wound around his waist.

  Our hands stayed together, and he pinned them next to my head.

  As he lifted himself up, going for a deeper angle, going harder, my eyes opened again. He was right there, staring into me. He was seeing me, all of me.

  I was splayed out for him, for him to take, freely and willingly, and his eyes darkened as he began moving harder, faster.

  It was building. Building.

  Priming.

  I was right there.

  Then, he held a second, and I cried out.

  Another thrust, slower and farther than he’d been and I was pushed over. I fell over the edge, my entire body exploding in his arms. The edges of my eyes blurred, but I kept seeing him. Watching him. He held my gaze as he waited for me, then he moved in and out until he groaned, his head falling to my shoulder as he was coming with me.

  I couldn’t move.

  I didn’t want to.

  We were in a cocoon and it was perfect.

  Then I heard against my neck, his breath tickling me, “I love you, too.”

  38

  Cheyenne

  I wasn’t a snack person, but I woke up with racing thoughts a couple hours later and I knew I was done for. I had to get up, eat some sugar, and head back to bed. Sometimes it was the only thing that worked. Cut’s arm was laying over me, so I slid out, felt around for my phone and found the rest of my clothes.

  I’d learned that Cut didn’t usually sleep hard, but he always did after a game. I wasn’t too worried about waking him up as I slipped into some clothes and padded barefoot across the room.

  A few steps creaked and the door squeaked a tiny bit, but I waited, and he didn’t wake up.

  I was good to go, and speaking of that, I had no clue where to go. I thought he kept a kitchenette on his floor, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to go searching around with my phone lit up, feeling like the criminal my father and Nut-Brother thought of me. I headed downstairs to the actual kitchen.

  Flipping on the lights once I was in there, I knew I was far enough away so I wouldn’t wake Cut up. After that, it was snack time.

  They had pizza.

  Chips. Old nachos—gross.

  Then there was a ton of salad, green vegetables. Yogurt. Chicken. Lots of chicken. Some seafood in the freezer. Lots of fruit. Protein powder on the counter.

  A container of old sloppy joe.

  I was sensing a theme, and I was pretty sure I could identify which was Chad’s, and which food was Cut’s.

  Finding some whole wheat bread, and some natural peanut butter and honey, I was making myself a sandwich when a car pulled up outside Chad’s side of the house.

  A car door slammed shut.

  A stifled shout, and then the car backed up and headed back where it came from.

  I sighed.

  That was Chad, and he’d had to get a ride home.

  That meant Drunk Chad was coming inside.

  The door opened. I heard a series of beeps and then a long beep.

  The lights switched on after that, flooding the hallway that connected the two homes.

  I heard some keys being tossed somewhere.

  A yawn that grew louder as he came down to the kitchen.

  His hand was in his hair as he stopped, and he had to blink a few times. His whole body swayed back and forth from the effort.

  He scowled. “You.”

  I scowled back. “You.”

  He frowned, blinking a few times. He rubbed at his eyes. “Are you real?”

  Oh...kay. This was too good not to play along.

  “No. Are you?”

  “What?”

  “What?” Me.

  “You’re Cheyenne.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Another frown, and he shook his head. “Wait. What?”

  “What?”

  He looked around. “What’s going on here?”

  “What’s happening here?”

  He pointed at me. “You’re fucking with me. Stop fucking with me.”

  “You’re fucking with me.”

  Another frown, this one deeper and he rubbed at his eyes. “I’m so confused. What’s going on here? Why are you here? Wait. You’re banging my best friend. That’s why you’re here.” He lumbered over, walking like he was an overgrown zombie, and he threw open the fridge. He stared inside, and spotting the pizza, he grabbed the whole container.

  Then, we had another moment.

  He stared at me, him still holding the pizza, and he didn’t know what to do.


  I could see the confusion on his face.

  Giving in, I took the container and motioned to the table. “Go and sit. I’ll heat this up.”

  “I don’t heat up my pizza.”

  “You eat it cold?”

  He scowled again. “What? No. Who said that?”

  So drunk. I motioned to the table again. “Go. Sit. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  But he sat and I didn’t answer. No way I was going to have a talk with him at this hour of night, and when he was this wasted.

  “You took my best friend from me.”

  Apparently, he wanted to have this conversation.

  Ignoring him, I put his pizza on a plate and put it in the microwave. A good fifty seconds would heat it up, but not too hot for him. After that, I spotted a canned coffee in the fridge and poured it into a glass. Taking that, along with a bottle of water, I put both in front of him.

  He scowled at those, too. “I don’t want those.”

  “There’s alcohol in them.”

  “Oh.” He grabbed the coffee first.

  The microwave beeped, so I grabbed the pizza next and put it beside the bottled water.

  He was finishing the coffee, all in one go, and put the can in the middle of the table. He motioned to it. “Those are my favorites.”

  I stood there, uncertain what to do.

  He paused, stared at me, then looked back at the kitchen. “Go get your samich. Sit wid me.”

  I did, more because I wanted to see what else he’d say. I wasn’t sitting here because I cared about Chad. Because I didn’t.

  I didn’t care. At all.

  I was just curious. That’s it.

  I barely touched my samich, I was so engrossed in what he was going to do.

  He picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite. “Damn. That’s good.” He scowled at me. “You werrright. The pizzaisbedderheaddup.”

  Uh-huh. I had no idea what he just said.

  But I took a bite of my samich.

  They’d forever be samiches in my mind now. I’d share that with Chad someday, probably on his deathbed.

  He went back to scowling at me. “Why’d you take my best friend away? He was mine. Not yours.”

  I sighed. He was a confrontational drunk.

  “Arend you gonna answer me back?”