Lost In Mr. Parks (Park #3)

by Lilly James

  Moving back to Steph’s wasn’t so bad. I missed my crazy, junk-collecting scrap queen. I missed our morning conversations and TV marathons. But since moving back, I had all eyes on me. Mathew had moved in, and I knew he was told to keep watch if Steph wasn’t around, which was hardly ever because she’d given up work, saying her pregnancy made her tired. Typical drama queen.

  What was also annoying was the constant wooing and oohing over baby clothes. Mathew and Steph would sit for hours scrolling the Internet and cooing at what they found. I almost felt selfish rolling my eyes at how happy they seemed whilst I sat on the opposite sofa like a spare part. I felt selfish from feeling jealous of their happiness. Resenting the way everyone around me seemed just…happy. Why were they not hating life like I was? Why didn’t they have worries like I did?

  I missed Wade. I missed Parks. I missed my partner in crime. I missed everything about him. My heart felt so heavy, and my stomach so full that it was almost impossible to eat. How could my insides feel so full when I was so empty?

  Parks told me it was only going to be temporary, but how long was temporary? It had already been four lonely weeks. I was exhausted from lack of sleep. Exhausted from thinking about him and missing his entirety. The small conversations we had, the banter and laughs just rolled around in my mind. And the sex. Jesus, did I miss that. Parks had a way of touching my body and making all my hairs stand on end and goose bumps cover my skin. An ache would start up between my thighs from his looks alone. He was beautiful. So beautiful. Inside and out. But the man he turned into when he lost control was not the man I fell in love with. Understanding that when control slips from your grasp you can turn into someone you’re not is one thing I know personally. So I understood his reasons and was prepared to fight for him. Prepared to stay with him and help him just like he helped me. But how could I help a man who kept pushing me away?

  I took the train down to Hyde Park, bumping into almost everyone on my way because I wasn’t concentrating or looking where I was going. I plugged my earphones in to drown out any background noise and pressed Play on my iPod to listen to an Ed Sheeran song called “Photograph.” Parks sent it to me, and I already knew the lyrics. Knew he was asking me to wait for him to come home. But how long would that be? I stared out the window until the train screeched to a halt at my stop, then made my way to Hyde Park.

  Finding a lone bench when I got there, I pulled out my headphones again so I could soak up the calm and serenity of the park. It seemed so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city where you had no time to think. Here you could find peace in the middle of the craziness of London, and peace was what I needed.

  I pushed my hands inside my coat pockets, stretched out my legs in front of me, and mindlessly watched a couple manoeuvring their boat with ease on the nearby lake. My gaze then slowly wandered to a man throwing a ball to his little, yappy dog. Was I selfish to hate these people for seeming like they had no worries in this life? Maybe. But I didn’t care.

  Sitting alone also gave me time to do something I never liked doing—thinking. It was better than drinking away troubles, though. I knew that then. And just because Parks wanted a temporary breakup, that didn’t mean I was going to run back to a vodka or wine bottle. I was past that, getting better at moving forwards. My focus wasn’t on myself anymore.

  After ten minutes of peace, my smartphone began to ring. My heart fluttered every time it rang because I hoped it was Parks. But no. As always, it was Steph checking up on me, so I humoured her.

  “Steph, I’m drunk in a pub, and I need you to leave me alone.”

  She gasped. “You’re what?”

  “Joking.” I yawned.

  “Evey, don’t do that. Where are you?”

  “Where am I?” I asked myself rather than her, glancing all around the open park. “Thinking,” I chose on a sigh.

  “Thinking’s dangerous for you. Come home,” she whined. “We’ll watch Game of Thrones and girl-crush on Khaleesi.”

  Rubbing my forehead with my fingers, I tried to ease the headache and tension that had formed from talking to her. “I don’t want to watch any more TV, Steph. Just let me be.”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “I know. But don’t be.” I pushed up from the bench and hung up before she could say anything else. Shoving my phone into the back pocket of my ripped jeans, then placing my earphones back in, I decided to make my way around the park. It was a grey, dull day, but I wasn’t wearing any makeup and had my oversized sunglasses on to hide the fact that I had been crying.

  Strolling through the park mindlessly, I was disturbed again by my smartphone. I rolled my eyes because I thought it was Steph, but I was wrong. It was a text from Parks.

  Wade: Those jeans were to be thrown away! I do not approve.

  My head swung left, causing my earphones to pull out of my ears as I looked around the park. I couldn’t see him anywhere. How the fuck did he know I had the jeans on that he hated because they showed too much leg, courtesy of the rips?

  After scrolling over every inch of the park with my eyes and scanning every tree, I spotted a large man in a suit walking away from me in the distance. He was holding an earpiece and seemed to be talking to himself. It was Nixon, and he was following me. What the fuck? I punched in my reply.

  Me: And I do not approve of Nixon following me.

  Wade: Your safety is precious to me, Princess.

  I scoffed out a laugh as I texted back.

  Me: How can I be so precious to you when you keep leaving me?

  Wade: Give me time and remember, everything I do is for you.

  If Parks thought being absent from my side where I needed him most was for the best, then he was more fucked up in the head than I thought.

  Me: If you don’t want to be with me then you don’t get the right to tell me what to do.

  His reply was instant.

  Wade: Don’t push it, Princess.

  That gave me an idea. A stupid and reckless idea. Stupid, reckless, and impulsive was starting to become a thing of the past for me, but Parks leaving me had me on the verge of doing exactly what I had tried to step away from. If he wanted to pay Nixon to follow me and report on my actions, I’d give him something worth reporting.

  Before the adrenaline wore off, I scrolled through my contacts list and found Travie’s number. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the green Call button and waited.

  “Yo,” he answered.

  “Travie, it’s Evey. Are you free?”

  “Evey?” He laughed, mocking me. “Am I free? You gotta fucking cheek, girl.”

  He was about to hang up, so I quickly tried to change his mind. “Stop being a pussy. I really need a tattoo.”

  I heard him swallow his pride and groan. “What kind?”

  “A sleeve,” I told him hastily and picked up my pace. My walk took me out of the park, and it would be clear to Nixon that I was heading for the city.

  “A sleeve? Okay. Call by my shop. I’m free.”

  “Thanks.” I hung up and starting jogging up the street, quickly flagging down a taxi because I couldn’t be arsed fighting the crowds on my way back to the Tube station.

  Travie’s tattoo parlour was in Camden, a place I spent most of my drinking days. The mix of different styles and cultures, the pubs, the live music, the busyness, and the people were all reasons I loved being surrounded by the madness and warmth Camden gave off. However, my heart was racing as I threw the driver the fare and climbed out outside the tattoo parlour. I couldn’t help look over my shoulder continuously to see if Nixon had followed me. I couldn’t see him, but I bet he was near.

  I came to a stop outside the shop. The blacked-out windows with amazing graffiti designs all over the glass made it impossible to see inside. Plucking up my courage, I pushed open the door and got hit with Chris Brown’s seductive voice blasting from hidden speakers.

  “Chris Brown’s “Sex.” Great song, don’t you agree?”

  I did a double take
as Travie came into view. His tattooed muscles were all on show under a barley-there, blue tank top. He had on cargo pants, and his afro was braided under a snapback. He was gorgeous. A man who turned women’s heads. But he was not my Parks.

  “So.” His eyes racked down my body, filled with greedy desire he always had for me. “You just wanna tattoo, huh?”

  “That’s what I said.” I sauntered over to the tattoo bed, catching Travie watching me suspiciously. He knew my behaviour was offish. Motive driven. He knew my dark side better than anyone. “Would you lock the door?” I asked, knowing that when Parks’s Rottweiler caught up to me, he wouldn’t hesitate to come into the shop and take me outside.

  “You expecting to ride upon this?” He winked, grabbing at his cock.

  I rolled my eyes. “Why do you always think with your dick?”

  He shrugged a tattooed shoulder and laughed all throaty. “It has a better imagination than I do.”

  My smartphone buzzed in my hand, helping me ignore Travie, and a broad smile crept upon my face in satisfaction as I read his text.

  Wade: Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.

  I bit my lip to suppress my grin, and not being able to help myself, I pushed off the tattoo bed and walked to the door. I opened it slightly, peered around, and saw Nixon climbing out of a black car and making his way across the road. He had on an earpiece and his lips were moving frantically.

  “Miss Banks, I have orders to remove you from this store.”

  Stupidly, it made me laugh when he shouted orders across the road.

  Travie was behind me in an instant, looking over my head to see who I was laughing at. He grabbed hold of my arm, pulled me into the shop, and slammed the door closed.

  “Who the fuck is he?” He flipped the lock before turning back to me.

  I bit my lip to suppress my grin again, loving how this had spiked Parks’s attention. Parks was one big fucking control freak, and he would be over here himself if his bouncer couldn’t get to me. Goal achieved.

  “He’s nobody. Relax.” I ignored Travie’s glare and glanced at my smartphone as it bleeped.

  Wade: I’m warning you!

  Travie spun on his Air Jordan trainers to look at me. “This is fucked up. Evey, you have a way of fucked-up things following you around. Does he work for The Suit?” I guessed that’s what his term for Parks, so I nodded, biting my lip to hold back another grin. “Fucking ’ell, Evey. The way you’re laughing at someone following you is exactly what I’d expect you to do, but he’s not the man I thought you’d end up with.”

  His random comment halted my laughter, and a frown replaced my expression. “Why? Because he’s rich and I’m not?”

  “He’s squeaky clean. You like them rough and ready, don’t you?” He winked.

  “That’s the past.” I bowed my head. “And I don’t want my past to shape my future.”

  Travie wasn’t buying it, but I didn’t care what he thought anymore. He was very much part of my past, and as the adrenaline wore off, I was starting to realize why I was keeping past and present separate.

  “Hey,” Travie called me back from my thinking as he pulled out a chair and sat on it backwards. “You know when you kicked me in the nuts outside the pub a couple of weeks back?”

  “Hmm.” I nodded. I already apologised, Jesus. Oh did I not? Oh well.

  “Well, after that, a woman came up to me, asking me how I knew you. I was drunk. I thought she was coming on to me, but really all she wanted to know about was us.”

  “What woman?” That spiked my interest. “What did she say?”

  Travie waved it away. “To be honest, Evey, I can’t remember what she looked like. I was off my face.”

  “Bullshit,” I yelled, knowing full well when Travie was lying. He just liked to rile me. Get me angry. We used to have the worst fights, seriously bad arguments. But that was what we both craved from each other in those dark times. “What did you tell her?”

  Travie scratched the stubble on his chin, smirking. “I think I told her about Amsterdam, about the money you blew, our threesomes.” He laughed at the horrified look on my face. “Don’t worry, it was all fun.”

  I slapped him across his face, but he groaned, relishing in the sting I left, just like he always did. “Are you fucking insane? You told a random woman about our lives? About a past I am trying to get rid of? You fucking idiot.”

  He held on to my raging hands, preventing me from hitting him even more. “Does it really matter?”

  “It matters to me.” I pushed him away from me and turned my back on him. “What if she was a reporter, Travie?” The thought of an utter stranger knowing anything about my life without my knowledge sent a sick feeling straight to my stomach and notched my anxiety up a thousand levels.

  “Calm down. If she was, wouldn’t it be in the papers already? Jeez, since when do you care what people think about you?”

  He wasn’t getting the seriousness of it. “I do now that I’m with a man journalists crave to have a slice of! Fuck.” I raked my fingers through my hair. The situation was out of my control, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

  “Why?” He stood up and edged towards me. “I have no loyalty to you, just like you have none to me.”

  Shoving his shoulder, I hissed, “I’ve always had your back, Travie.”

  “Yeah?” He stepped closer. “Until it was turned and you fucked my brother.”

  His words were like a slap in the face, and I knew I couldn’t stay around the moron a minute longer. “Get the fuck out of my way.” I shoved him in his chest, but he stopped me midstep by grabbing my arm.

  “Thought you wanted a tattoo?”

  I stared into the eyes of a man that was looking at me like he wanted to take me to bed, and threw him off. “I don’t want anything from you. I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “Well, you’re being typical Evey,” he called to my back as I stormed to the door. “Doing something to piss someone else off. Don’t make me some fucking guinea pig just to make your new fuck buddy jealous.”

  I opened my mouth to fire out verbal abuse, but a violent banging on the door startled us both. The bang was followed by the roar of a voice.

  “Evelyn, open the fucking door.”

  Travie stormed his way over to the door and yanked it open. “She’s here! You know falling in love with this woman will fucking ruin you, right? She will cut you open.”

  “Then let me fucking bleed,” Parks snarled, forcing Travie to back off as Travie’s eyes scanned the incredible body of the Incredible Hulk that stood in the doorway.

  Travie turned to me, nostrils flaring, temper rising, then he turned back to Parks. “I hope you know what you’re dealing with here. This bitch is fucked up and uncontrollable.”

  Parks’s jaw tightened and the fine angles of his face sharpened in anger right before he swung a right hook to Travie’s jaw, making him stumble backwards.

  Travie knew better than to retaliate, so he held his hands up in surrender. “She’s all yours.”

  Parks marched towards me, his stride fierce and primal. His presence stopped my heart. I knew he was about to explode, but I couldn’t help but notice the way my chest had tightened as soon as he walked in. The way the heat between my legs soared and ached as I watched his long legs coming towards me, knowing damn well what he was packing between them. It was the wrong moment to be thinking with my lady organ, but fuck me, I wanted to ride his cock the moment I saw him. At first it was tough to accept or believe that Parks affected me so vigorously. However, I had accepted it and loved it. I craved the way he made me feel.

  I never even got to defend myself as Parks grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled me out of the shop. I tried to move in the opposite direction so he couldn’t get a good grip on me. “Let go,” I yelled, yanking on his arm, but he wouldn’t relent. We were moving closer to his Jaguar that was parked bedside the kerb, so I pulled harder.

  “You forge
t the part where you are mine,” Parks yelled back, yanking the passenger-side door open and pushing me into the car.

  “I’m yours?” I scoffed as I glared at him, but instead of answering he slammed the door on me. I waited until he got into his side of the car, then punched him in the shoulder. “If I belong to you, then why are we not together? You can’t tell me I’m yours when you don’t fucking want me. If you don’t want me, then someone else will.” I yanked on the handle, trying to escape, but he pulled me back in and locked the doors.

  “No one else will ever touch you. Ever. Your hear me? Everything about you belongs to me. For as long as I live, I will make sure you never go near any man that isn’t me.”

  “I can fuck who I like. You don’t want me,” I screamed, getting in his face. I was beyond exhausted, furious, and turned the fuck on by his presence. I ached for him in ways I shouldn’t have ached.

  Parks’s jaw tightened again. “Don’t fuck with me, Evelyn. You’re really pushing me.”

  “Good,” I spat insolently. “Maybe I wanna fucking push you. Because it’s better to get a reaction from you than get nothing at all.”

  He gripped hold of me by the tops of my arms. “This is why you did this? To push me?”

  I ripped away from him. “To gauge a reaction. I need you, Wade. I really fucking need you, and you’re not there to hold me at night. You’re not there to be my safe. I thought you loved me.”

  He punched the steering wheel again. “Evelyn, I love you more than anything on this fucking planet.”

  “Then love me,” I screamed.

  A car horn made us both turn our heads. It was a police car, waving us on from the illegal parking spot.

  “Fuck’s sake.” Parks turned the ignition on and pulled out into traffic without looking, driving fast and furious. I thought the police officer was going to pull us over, but he didn’t.

  However, Parks’s driving and his temper never bothered me, and I continued to try and get a reaction from him. “You told me you needed time, but how much time do you need? You’ve had a month! What do you expect me to do, Wade? Sit and wait patiently?” I slammed my head back into the headrest in frustration. “God, I fucking hate you.” I pushed his shoulder hard enough to make his other shoulder hit the window to his right. “I hate you. I love you and I fucking hate you.”