Wicked Thing

by Angeline Kace

  “Ava would’ve been a girl I could’ve had fun with.”

  He drops his hand off my waist. “Don’t start this again.”

  “You told me once in passing that when you were younger, you always wished for a brother. Well, you have one.”

  “You have to understand that my dad and I were really close before Denton came around. We used to go camping and fishing and hiking and to basketball games and football games. Everywhere together. And then Denton showed up, and I never got another day alone with my dad. It was always Denton and Dad. And if I didn’t want to be around Denton, Dad would take Denton to the game instead of me.”

  I step to the side so I can meet his gaze better. “Yeah, but how is that Denton’s fault?”

  He frowns at me. “Never once did he offer to stay home so it could be just Dad and me.”

  “Dallas, he was only a kid.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t like him. And you can’t be mad at me that I didn’t want to invite him tonight.”

  “No, it’s not that you just didn’t invite him to come to this party, or any other Fiji party. It’s that you have banned him from coming. Period.”

  He steps farther away from the physical wall, replacing the invisible one between us.

  And just when I thought we’d managed to take it down.

  “You just don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I empathize with you, but I don’t understand.” He’s putting all the hurt and pain from losing his family onto Denton. He’s blaming him unfairly. How is it any different than how my mom blames me?

  We go back into the foam, but it’s not the same. We’re both distant and frustrated with each other. If he would only give Denton a chance, I know he could see him beyond the one who took his dad away. They could have a real relationship and ease a lot of the pain they both carry.

  “You can’t make someone love you. Love is given, not taken.”

  —Dallas Brown

  A WEEK after the foam party, Carmyn and I have managed to get things mostly back to normal. She hasn’t pushed me about Denton, and I haven’t pushed her about the way I feel. We’re lying in bed after amazing sex in which we say all the things with our bodies that we can’t say with our mouths because she’s too frightened to face it or allow it.

  I run my fingers through her hair; she’s outlining the dragon on my arm. “Why the dragon? And why here?” she asks.

  “I’ve always thought dragons were majestic and powerful. They can either represent destruction and horror, or good luck and fortune. I choose to see the side of life that offers good luck and fortune.”

  “And why the arm?” she asks lazily.

  “Because I thought the arm would showcase the badass scales best.”

  She laughs, her breath fluttering across my chest. “It does do that well.”

  “The only other spot was my back, but I didn’t feel right about putting it there.”

  She glides her fingers from my arm to the tat on my side and rib with the cards, dice, and darts. “This one is easy. Because you love darts. And most games where you can win people’s money.”

  “That,” I say and push her hair off her neck, “and because everything in life is a gamble. Nothing is certain.”

  She lifts her delicate fingers from my skin as she thinks about that, and then moves to trace the words below my collar bone. “I think this one’s my favorite.”

  “It is?” My voice is raspy and deep. We’re supposed to go out to the Rusty Nail to see a band tonight, but I’m fighting to stay awake.

  “Uh-hm. Because it reminds me how you’re aware that things you let in can hurt you, but you let them in anyway.”

  I kink my neck to look down at her. Did she say she admires me? I think she did.

  “Well, except for Denton,” she says almost as an afterthought, but it’s like sandpaper across my nerves.

  “Why do you have to keep bringing him up?” I growl.

  She sits up. “I just think you’re punishing him unfairly.”

  I crawl out of bed and put my pants on. It doesn’t stop. “I told you to drop it with him.”

  “Do you know he looked up to you when you guys were young? And you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Still won’t. You guys are brothers. You’re not meant to hate each other.”

  She empathizes with his pains from what “I’ve done to him.” But what about all the shit I’ve dealt with because of him? It’s almost as if she’s putting Denton’s feelings above mine. “Leave it, Carmyn,” I say and walk out to take a shower. I’m annoyed and want out of this conversation.

  I rub my cold hand from our icy glasses down Carmyn’s bare arm and she looks at me startled. I hand her the Long Island she asked for, and she takes it with a smile before turning her focus back to the band. It’s the same band who played when Carmyn and I came here our first time together.

  Carmyn sways her hips to the music and rolls her shoulders to the harder beats, our earlier argument forgotten.

  I step behind her and wrap one arm around her waist, moving with her.

  The Rusty Nail’s got a good crowd tonight, and the bodies are building the heat. Carmyn pulls her hair over one shoulder and airs her neck. A small trail of perspiration glistens in the red glow from the stage lights above. I watch until it reaches the spot where her neck and shoulder muscles meet and blow along the wet line.

  She shivers and pushes her body flush against me. We dance to a few songs, and then play a round of darts.

  We’re sitting at our table waiting for Gina to bring another round of drinks when Denton and Ava walk over. “Hey,” Ava says.

  I glare at Denton. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Carmyn squeezes my shoulder. “Dallas, that is so mean. This is a public place, Denton is here with Ava, and it would mean a lot to me if you were civil.”

  Anger spikes in me all over again. “Why do you have to keep pushing it, Rafferty? I told you how I felt, but you just don’t quit.” I glance from her to Ava and Denton.

  How’d they know we’d be here? And if it was a coincidence, why come to my table?

  I lock eyes with Carmyn. “You set this up, didn’t you?” I’m stunned by how betrayed I feel.

  “I just thought you should at least give him a chance.”

  Bullshit. “After everything I told you, after all the times I told you how I felt about it all. You did it anyway?” She’s pushed me too far this time, and I can’t hold it back any longer. “What gives you the right? We are not together. Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  Carmyn’s forehead creases in pain before her face flushes with anger. “You’re right, Dallas.” Her words are clipped and cold, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her. She scoots off the stool. “We’re not together and I had no right. I’m sorry.” She snatches her purse from the table and turns to Ava and Denton. “Will you please take me home?”

  “Of course,” Ava says like I’m the bad guy here, and the three of them walk away from the table.

  “Carmyn, wait.”

  She stops but doesn’t turn around.

  I don’t know what to say. She won’t let me tell her how I feel, but I’m supposed to allow her to fix the most broken part of my life? A part of me wants her to. For her to be the one who makes the broken things work. But not like this. Not when she insists on keeping things the way they are. I can’t give myself to her if she won’t accept my heart, let alone give me hers.

  She marches away from me.

  I want to tell her to wait, but I’m still at a loss for words. I got what I wanted; she won’t try to push me about Denton anymore.

  Was it worth losing whatever part of her I had, though?

  I’m not sure it is.

  “The one thing my mom taught me that I haven’t been able to break is that when I’m hurt or scared, I avoid it.”

  —Carmyn Rafferty

  I WAIT all weekend for Dallas to call me, but he doesn’t. Not even a tex
t.

  Okay, maybe he needs some time to cool down, chill, forgive me, whatever. I can deal with that.

  Tuesday in class, I don’t talk to Dallas. I want him to at least start the conversation, break the ice, something. But he doesn’t. Class rolls by and he leaves without a peep.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have set up Denton and Ava to come to the bar, especially not after the argument Dallas and I had about him before we went. But the plan was already in motion by then. It’s just … I know it pains Dallas, and it doesn’t have to. I know how to fix it. It’s more easily fixed than the situation with my mom. And maybe that’s why I did it, to try to fix something painful somewhere.

  Thursday class comes, and when I still don’t acknowledge him first, Dallas sits in the back. That tiny action hurts so much. I’m being petty and stupid, and I want to talk to him, but now I’m really hurt. And now I don’t know how. Like a manageable situation has just flipped into unmanageable territory for me.

  When Friday night rolls around and still no word from Dallas, I email him my section of the class project so far. He still doesn’t call, or even reply to the email. If he really cared, he would have called by now.

  It hurts, so I tell myself it’s no big deal, that I really don’t care about him after all. It was just a rebound thing. A college fling. Everyone has one of those, right?

  “Well,” Ava says, “if you’re going to sit here and sulk instead of calling him, you might as well come to the party with me tonight.”

  “I’m not sulking.”

  She eyes me, brow raised. “You so are. You’ve fallen for him hard.”

  “I have not.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more—her or myself. And because I’m not sure, I have to go to the party and get out of here.

  Despite everything reminding me of Dallas, Ava and I have fun. We’re dancing and drinking, hanging out like we haven’t in a while.

  James Bennett, Denton’s friend with him that night at the fountain, keeps checking me out. He’s pretty cute too. He has hazelnut eyes with dark, long lashes. Plus, he wears shirts with collars. Which is so unlike Dallas I’m walking over to him to prove something to myself. That I’m not in love with Dallas, that I don’t need him. The whole time we’ve spent together was only two college kids having a good time.

  “James,” I say sitting next to him.

  “Carmyn,” he says, grinning at me. He must’ve thought he’d have to come to me. Well, I’m doing things a little differently tonight.

  “What are you drinking?” Lame question, but it works.

  “Jack and Coke. You?”

  Dallas likes rum and Coke. Well, he likes a lot of drinks, but that’s his favorite.

  Enough about him. This is about James. “Vodka and OJ.” Which I hate, but it’s getting me drunk, so whatever. I take another sip and scrunch my face.

  James laughs. “You don’t like it?”

  “Uh-un.”

  “Come on.” He stands and pulls me with him by my wrist. “Let’s get you something else.”

  I follow him toward the kitchen and pass a group of guys playing quarters.

  James appraises the stash of liquor bottles. “What’ll it be? Looks like there’s Jack, tequila, vodka, gin, rum, and this bottle of,” he holds it up to read the label, “raspberry Schnapps.” He turns to me with an agreeable look, like the Schnapps is probably what I’ll like best.

  I don’t think you should mix different liquors once you’ve started with one, but I glance down the line of bottles and grab the tequila anyway.

  “Attagirl!” James says, surprised, and takes it from me. He grabs a cup, salts the rim, and pours the liquor. “Hmmm.” He looks around the kitchen for what to mix it with and opens the fridge. “Ah! Perfect.” He comes back to the counter with a bottle of lemonade. “Now this is called a Salty Chihuahua.” He mixes the lemonade and grabs a lime, slicing, and squeezing it into the cup.

  He hands it to me, grazing my fingers before letting go, and I take a tentative sip. “It’s good!”

  “That was a popular one at the bar I tended during the summer.”

  I tilt my head at him. “You were a bartender?” I figure he’d work an office job. Not a bar.

  “Sure. It was more money than anything else that would hire me for only the summer.”

  “So what other good drinks do you have up your sleeve?” I ask with a flirty smile.

  He goes through each bottle and tells me the best stuff to mix with it. Some of the drinks take more than two ingredients, so I forget them real quick. But some sound pretty good, like the one he calls the Tropical Hooter. It has cranberry and pineapple juice, coconut rum, and melon liqueur. If I can remember all of this until next weekend, I’m making some for Ava and me.

  I engage James in conversation as much as I can without thinking about Dallas, laughing at his funny jokes, until he leans forward and kisses me.

  I let him. It’s like some kind of challenge I have with myself; if I can do this with James, then Dallas and I were only a fling.

  James doesn’t kiss nearly as well as Dallas does—his tongue is floppy—but it’s decent.

  He pulls back and tilts his head over to the hall with the bedrooms.

  I smile and follow him.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Do I really want to do this?

  Before I make up my mind, James opens the door and waits for me to step inside, closing it behind us.

  His lips find mine again and he backs us up to the bed. He lays me down and crawls on top of me, continuing the search of my mouth with his tongue. He’s heavier than Dallas. They’re about the same height. He must not distribute his weight as well as Dallas does.

  I let him kiss my neck and rub my chest, but when his hand slides up my shirt, it makes this all very real, and something I very much do not want to do.

  At all.

  What the hell am I thinking?

  I push him off of me. “I’m sorry. I just … I can’t right now.” I pull my shirt down and hustle out of the room.

  I run all the way back to the dorms. Stopping halfway there, I’m winded, bent over and resting my hand above my knees. As my pulse pounds in my head from the blood and alcohol, it dawns on me.

  “I really am in love with Dallas.”

  “Now I remember why I don’t do relationships.”

  —Dallas Brown

  IT takes me all weekend to cool off. To get over the fact that Carmyn finds it okay to meddle with my life but not be a real part of it, the fact that she seems to care more about Denton’s feelings than she does mine.

  By class on Tuesday, I’m ready to talk to her again, but when she gives me the cold shoulder, I know she’s not ready to apologize. Because she never really did apologize. She said she was sorry before she stormed out, but it wasn’t sincere. It wasn’t a real coming together of minds or realization of the impact of her actions. She only said it to get out of there.

  Thursday’s class is more of the same, so I sit elsewhere. It hurts sitting next to her without her so much as looking at me. And it angers me she’s acting like I’m the one who did something wrong, as if I’m the one who should be apologizing. All I did was speak the truth.

  On Friday, I finally hear from her. It’s an email. I open it, anxious to put all of this behind us.

  The email reads:

  Here’s what I have so far. When you get your section done, please email it back, and I’ll proof it before sending it to Keating.

  And that. Is. It.

  Cold.

  Brutal. Heart-rending.

  She did the first half and fucking emailed it to me. Not a word about us, what she did, how am I doing, or anything.

  It’s too late to request a partner switch, but I’m sure she would if it weren’t.

  She called me last night but didn’t leave a message. Probably about the assignment anyway. If she needed something else, she would’ve left a voicemail.

  I stay in all day Saturday, working on the o
ther half of this stupid damn paper.

  Howie calls me around the time the sun goes down. “Hey, bro. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but someone’s got to.”

  Shit. What now?

  “Fuck, Howie.” I scratch my nails along the scruff of my chin. “Yeah, whatever it is, I’ll hear about it eventually.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger and all that shit.” He’s stalling.

  “Carmyn?” He has to know she’s the only thing that would throw me off so easily.

  “Yeah. She was at the Beta frat party last night. She and James Bennett were flirting and drinking together, and the next thing I know, she’s following him into one of the back bedrooms.”

  I blink.

  Fucking shit.

  This is not happening.

  I swallow deep. “Do you know how long they were in there?”

  “No, but a while later, James comes out, so they didn’t leave at the same time.”

  Typical for when you don’t want people to know what you’ve been doing and with whom. “And you saw this? With your own eyes?”

  “Sorry, man.” That’s the answer.

  A fucking punch to the gut is what it is. “Well, I appreciate hearing it from you.”

  “Yeah, hit us up later if you want to go out.”

  “Sure,” I say, but I’m not going anywhere. I feel like shit.

  I can’t fucking believe it. I thought I’d give her time to cool off. To think about how much she really cares about me.

  Carmyn isn’t one to sleep around. What she did with me was a fluke. She either really doesn’t care about me, or she wanted so badly to sever herself from me that she’d go and fuck James. And that hurts more than the fact that she slept with someone else.

  I don’t realize it until now, but I’ve kept myself celibate, waiting for Carmyn to come back. And for what? To find out that within a week of us not talking, she’s already fucking a new guy?

  Bullshit.

  I call Vicky.

  “Well, hey there, dah’lin’,” she purrs. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”