Tough to Love: Saving Avery

by Ava Catori

  Crawling onto my mattress, which was basically a box spring and mattress tossed on the floor and shoved into the corner, I pulled a blanket up over my head. Martha Stewart would be less than impressed with my cheap sheets from the thrift store. They’d never win any luxury thread count awards, but they were practically free.

  I thought about the football player again, wondering if he’d be back. Drifting off to sleep, I was woken with a start. Somebody was banging hard on my door. I pretended not to hear, and eventually they wondered down the hall and found their way. The floor consisted of five rooms; all rented out like some damn dorm. The worst part was sharing the bathroom with the others. These were not the sort of folk my mom would be inviting home for dinner anytime soon. Most were drunks or strung out on some drug, and looking for a cheap place to call home. People pissed all over the toilet seat, and I took to holding it in as long as I could and using every other bathroom I could find during my day. That place was nasty, but it was all I had currently. One day I’d afford a nicer place, maybe a studio with my own bathroom, but for now it had to make do.

  I crept into the shower in the wee hours of the morning, when most of the other tenants were out cold. Barricading the door the best I was able, I quickly washed and headed back to my room. I longed for the days of a clean bathroom, and long, hot showers. This was still better than living under the same roof as my step-brother. Fuck him – I could deal with crappy bathrooms if I had to.

  The bar was painted barn red, though the white on the sign was worn and held shades of dirt and smudge. It sat wedged at a fork in the road. The place hasn’t had a new coat of paint in ages, and looks tired. Named after its owner, Phil’s isn’t exactly listed as a place to visit when you come to town. It had seen better days – about twenty years ago.

  Hops and Scotch is bigger and has better food, and The First Down pulls in the sports crowd. We get the others, the ones who don’t want to be noticed, the ones who are tired of life, and the people who aren’t here to socialize – only wanting to drown their lives in the cold brew. At least the beer is cold, we do that right.

  When he came back into the bar, I wasn’t expecting him. “Your name,” he asked and then ordered a longneck.

  “Avery,” I answered, sizing him up. I flushed, worried he’d realize I looked him up and knew who he was now. Should I play dumb?

  “Yours?” I pretended not to know.

  “Steel.”

  “Interesting name,” I commented, pretending it was new to me.

  “My mom gave it to me. She taught me more about strength than anybody ever could.”

  “Was,” I realized the past tense.

  “Accident, I lost her two years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks, it happens.”

  “Do you miss her?” What kind of stupid ass question was that? Of course he misses her. Weren’t you listening to his tone earlier? I wondered if I’d miss my mom – I didn’t talk to her much, but I didn’t want her gone.

  “Yeah, a lot.”

  I didn’t have anything left to say. I didn’t want to stare, but after having taken the time to look at his pictures so closely, I realized just how handsome he was. I finally asked, “Why Phil’s?”

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. Good enough. He’d fit right in at Hops and Scotch, and they’d love him, hell probably toast him and put him on a pedestal over at The First Down. At Phil’s he was nobody, a no name, just another face that blended into the paneling. I didn’t realize he liked it that way.

  “You want to get something to eat later?”

  “What?” It’s not that I couldn’t understand the words he said, it’s that they weren’t registering. Not the way they were supposed to.

  “Food, do you want to go eat later.”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks.”

  “Have it your way,” he grunted, but he wasn’t used to being turned down. His good looks had landed him plenty of pussy in his day, but something drew him back to the angry girl behind the bar.

  I’m not sure why I turned him down. I think I was afraid to be alone with him. I was feeling stirrings inside and that frightened me. I hadn’t felt anything in over a year, hadn’t wanted to, and yet as Steel Brickman sat before me, my body was coming back to life.

  Chapter 5

  He asked me four more times before I finally said yes. I didn’t know why he kept asking. What did he see in me, what was it that brought him back? It’s not like he couldn’t get any piece of ass he wanted – and I was certainly not the thing that dreams were made of, but something kept bringing him back.

  I finally admitted to knowing who he was, but not to staring at his picture on the web for longer than I should have. The more he showed up, the more I was drawn to him. His dark eyes hungrily owned my body from a safe distance, but he never said what he was thinking. I went from not liking his stare to craving it. I think I liked the attention, something I wasn’t used to liking. I’d be so closed down this past year, not wanting people to look at me, that it flustered me when I realized I wanted his eyes on me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him when he wasn’t looking. If he caught me, I’d turn away, pretending like it wasn’t real.

  After my shift, I followed him outside. On seeing his bike I hesitated. I’d never ridden on one, and I’d have to sit close, too close. Climbing on, he waited for me to join him. I stood looking, perplexed, almost afraid to press my body to him. I’d have to cling to him, my thighs parted and pressed against him, and right now I didn’t trust myself.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I started to back out.

  “Get on,” was all he said, his tone firm and in charge.

  Taking a deep breath, I lifted my leg over the seat and slid into place. Pressing my breasts to his back, I was grateful his leather jacket acted as a barrier between us. Leaning in, his cologne filled my nostrils. I inhaled, realizing how close we were for me to be able to take his scent in. Steel’s aroma filled me, and I wanted to breathe him in even deeper. My loins ached, and as he revved up the bike the vibration of the seat didn’t help matters.

  Holding fast, I pulled my legs up tight against him. Backing out of our spot, I realized there was no changing my mind.

  I barely breathed as we rode down the street. It felt like we were flying, but I knew we weren’t – the speed limit was only thirty-five. Once we hit the highway we’d flash like lightning.

  As our speed crept up, I clung tighter, my arms wrapped around a solid wall of muscle. Fearing the worst, I refused to loosen my grip.

  Steel pulled into an all-night diner, parking off to the side. It took me a few minutes to let go of him. Finally peeling my hands away, I warily stood. I was shaking from the ride. It was exhilarating and scary at the same time.

  He simply laughed, “First time?”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s go eat.”

  Following him into the diner, we were seated at a booth with a mini jukebox. I nervously flipped through the songs, not wanting to look into his eyes. I was afraid if I looked at him, I’d stare, unable to look away.

  “What are you in the mood for?” He was glancing at the menu.

  “I was thinking pancakes, maybe with some fruit on them.” I didn’t know what to talk about. I was afraid I’d ask all of the wrong questions, and honestly I was afraid what he’d ask me in return. We didn’t talk a lot at the bar.

  “Sounds good,” he said folding his menu. When he waitress came and he placed his order, I was amazed. He ordered enough breakfast food and meats for an army of ten. I wondered where he put it, because he barely had an ounce of fat on him – that boy was solid.

  He stood over six feet tall, was broad and strong, and from what I’d seen his arms were massive. His thighs were thick and meaty in his jeans. If all of him was built that way, I was sure other areas would be large too. I felt dirty for having the last thought, and then slightly amused that I’d thought about a man’s penis for the first
time in ages.

  It’s not like I’d want to touch it, or let him touch me. As much as I found him attractive, I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I didn’t trust anybody anymore. I’d talk with him, maybe give him a detail or two, but I’d never let him in. I knew that already. It wasn’t his fault; my walls were too thick.

  “So the Red Hawks,” I finally said.

  A grin spread across his face, “I wondered how long it would take for you to say something.”

  “I didn’t know until somebody saw you and commented.”

  “You don’t watch football?”

  “Not often,” I said, picking at the napkin and wringing it between my hands.

  “It’s all new to me. I wasn’t supposed to go pro.”

  “Why did you?”

  “When they throw that kind of money at you, it’s hard to turn it down.”

  “What were you going to do?”

  “Business,” he said with little detail.

  “Football is a little bit different.”

  “They say I can throw a ball pretty good,” he grinned.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave Seattle. I have family there, or what’s left of it.”

  I nodded; the word family still had a way of making my stomach sick.

  “My sister talked me into taking the contract.”

  “You had to be talked into it?”

  “Life is more than what you do for a living,” he answered.

  I was grateful when the food arrived. I guess the cook didn’t have a ton to do at this time of night, but at least it gave me something to focus on besides the insanely attractive man across from me. My body and mind were sending mixed signals. I was more than aware women throw themselves at men like Steel, but I didn’t have it in me anymore. I knew that as much as I was drawn to his good looks and his solid and strong body, my mind wouldn’t let me leisure in it. I don’t even know why I agreed to come here – this was a mistake.

  The waitress dropped our plates off at the table, my pancakes, and his fifty versions of breakfast meats along with everything else on the menu. Both reaching for the syrup, our hands brushed against one another.

  The electricity that ran through my body wasn’t grounded and buzzed through me wildly. Glancing up and pulling my hand back, “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “No, you go,” he said. His eyes locked on me, those dark pools of liquid I could get lost in forever. His stare was intense, and told me he wanted to take me, possess me, and make me his own. Another day, another time, I’d probably let him – but those days were over. Nobody touches my body anymore.

  I could feel his heated stare as I drizzled syrup over my food. Most people look away, break that tension, but he kept looking – he apparently wasn’t done yet. Flushed crimson filled my cheeks, feeling his eyes on me.

  “So, do you like Pennsylvania so far?”

  “It’s fine. I’m still learning my way around, but don’t have much free time. When the season wraps, I’ll poke around more. The rest of the guys are fine, but I’m more of a loner.”

  “I’ve never been to Seattle,” I said, pushing food around my plate. If I kept the conversation on him, he wouldn’t ask me questions I didn’t want to answer. I liked my fortress; it kept me safe from feeling things.

  “What’s your story?”

  “My story,” I looked up, wondering what he wanted from me. “I’m just a girl, no fancy story for you.”

  “There’s something in your eyes,” he said.

  I wouldn’t look at him; he was reading me, trying to figure me out. I took another forkful of pancakes, and then declared I was finished.

  “I’m not done,” he said, making it clear we weren’t leaving yet.

  Sucking in my cheek, I turned away. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to get to know you. Is that such a horrible thing?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.”

  “I just want to know you.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s something I see in your eyes. It tells me I want to stick around a little longer and see who you are. And let’s not avoid the fact that you have an amazing body,” he grinned, “and are gorgeous.”

  “I’m plain, average at most, and I’m not that hot. Surely, you’ve got groupies throwing themselves at you. Why waste your time on someone like me, or at a place like Phil’s?”

  “I make my own choices.”

  “Whatever. I’m not a choice.”

  “You’re the only option I’m interested in right now,” he countered, refusing to look away.

  “I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I answered flatly. “And, I’m not looking for a good time. It seems our journey has ended.”

  “It’s only beginning,” he answered in return.

  I shook my head, he wasn’t getting it. Why did I even come out tonight, I should have said no like every other time he asked me.

  “Steel, you seem like a nice enough guy, but I’m just not interested.”

  “Why did you come out with me tonight?”

  “Because you wouldn’t take no for an answer,” I fibbed.

  “That’s a lie.”

  I looked away.

  “You’re here because you want to be.”

  Steel watched her squirm, and wasn’t sure why he was drawn to the dark haired girl. There was something vulnerable yet strong and guarded about her. He wanted to crack the hardened layer protecting her and see who was beneath it. Maybe she reminded him of his sister, or a friend back home, he wasn’t sure, he simply knew that for some reason he kept coming back to see her. He hadn’t intended on being drawn in, but when he saw her that night at the bar on Thanksgiving, something told him he needed more. She sat across from him, trying to be smaller, take up less space. She was almost shrinking before him. Why was she so uncomfortable?

  “Can we go now,” I asked, seeing him lowering his fork. He’d consumed more calories in that one meal than I had all day.

  “Yeah,” he said, putting his hand up to wave down the waitress. “Let me in,” he said quietly.

  Biting my lip, I looked away. Why did he want in so badly? There was nothing left inside. I was a shell, and my insides were no more.

  Climbing onto his bike, my body pressed to his, I didn’t feel the same things I did on the ride over. I was only uncomfortable and wanted to be as far away from him as I could get. I counted the seconds until he brought me home.

  “You can drop me at the bar,” I said before we left.

  He nodded, realizing I wasn’t taking him home. He didn’t realize the bar was my home, in some crappy, small room upstairs. He didn’t know I shared a bathroom with strangers, and that the sink was old and crusty, with a rust ring around it. He didn’t know that I pulled the covers over my head every night trying not to think about what my step-brother did to me, and he didn’t know that I stared at his picture for hours one night, wondering what it would be like to touch him – wishing I liked to be touched. I don’t – not anymore.

  Pulling up to Phil’s, I climbed off of his bike. “Thanks for the food.”

  “Sure thing,” he didn’t make a move. Maybe he finally took the hint.

  “You can leave, I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m waiting for you to get in your car,” he said frankly.

  He didn’t realize I lived here. Do I get in my car, put on a show, pretend that I live somewhere else? Fuck that. “I’m home.”

  “What?”

  I pointed to one of the second floor windows above the bar. “That’s home.”

  “Then I’ll walk you in,” he said turning off the engine.

  “It’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

  “I’ll walk you to our door,” he repeated.

  Sighing, I shook my head. “Whatever floats your boat, you’re not coming in.”

  “Understood.”

  We went in the side entrance and climbed the stairs. The weathered w
ainscoting along the wall was in need of repair, and the white paint above it was now gray and brown from handprints, time, not being cleaned in ages, and the carpet on the stairs was covered in stains.

  Embarrassed, I walked forward like I didn’t care or didn’t notice. I was certain he would.

  “This is me,” I said, pointing to my door.

  “Can I come in? I have to take a leak.”

  Great, now I get to admit I don’t have a bathroom. “The bathroom’s over there,” I said pointing to the open door down the hall.

  He stood waiting for me to open my door.

  Unlocking the door, I went inside. Looking over my shoulder, he could see my mattress pushed in the corner, a beat up chest of drawers, shredded curtains and a blind with creased slats. It wasn’t pretty, but it was all I had.

  “Happy now,” I was angry and ashamed. He wasn’t expecting this, but now he knows my truth. I live in some hole in the wall dump, and can barely afford this. I didn’t even have my own bathroom.

  Only he wasn’t commenting, instead he was inspecting the lock on my door. “I’ll come back tomorrow and install a stronger lock. This won’t do.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I said, resenting that he felt the need to play some superhero. “I don’t need your help.”

  “I’ll come back tomorrow with a stronger lock,” he repeated. Apparently it wasn’t up for discussion.

  With that he headed down the hallway to use the bathroom.

  Knocking gently at my door, he opened it before leaving, “Goodnight, Avery.”

  “Night,” I said, closing the door behind him. Locking it, I pressed by back to the door and slid to the floor. I was embarrassed by my living conditions. Crying, I let out the bits of ego that were squished. I didn’t have room for emotions, I’d finally shut them all out, and I didn’t need them creeping back in.