Scars of my Past

by DC Renee

  I had been relieved to see she was simply helping the guy out. Actually, I was more than relieved. I liked that about her—that she would help out a stranger just because. She was different, refreshing. Maybe it was the girls I hung out with, maybe it was the majority of college girls, but they were ready to party and get down, and I was okay with that. I didn’t do relationships, so fun was all I was ever looking for. After just an hour in class with Genevieve, and I knew she wasn’t that type of girl even though we barely talked. I knew I should stay away from her and keep her safe from all that was me. I couldn’t do that, though. Call me a masochist. I just didn’t want to have absolutely no contact with her. So I found an excuse to get her number.

  Once I had it, it was almost like I had a safety blanket. I could step away.

  Then I saw her at the party.

  We only talked for a few minutes, but I wanted to stay there and talk for hours. A voice inside said I should back the fuck away before it became too much, but I dismissed it.

  And then Tarryn snapped me back to reality. I’d come with her, hoping she’d be an easy lay, and she was. They all were with the right lines. Except I was more than positive Genevieve wasn’t. She was an all-in type of girl, and once again, I didn’t do all-in. I took Tarryn’s break as a small reprieve from my potential to make a big mistake. I actually thanked the universe for the interruption until I saw the disappointment on Genevieve’s face. I tried to block it out, and after a few more drinks and Tarryn’s hands roaming my body, I succeeded.

  Then I walked into class, and I just gravitated toward Genevieve.

  It wasn’t her looks; although, I couldn’t deny they were a major fucking bonus. She was beautiful; the beauty that made guys do a double take. Dirty blond hair that fell in waves, bright green eyes you couldn’t miss with a glint of humor in them, and a little something else—vulnerability maybe? Pouted lips that just begged to be kissed, and a lean body that accentuated her curves. That alone would have made me pant like a dog in heat. Right after I saw that douchebag practically assaulting her the first day of class, and she let it go like it didn’t affect her, I knew something was special about her. I couldn’t help but pay attention to her, and the more I did, the more I realized she drew me in.

  When the professor gave us a partner assignment and told us to pick partners, I literally took a moment to thank the heavens. It was a sign if I ever saw one.

  So here I was sitting with her virtually alone in the library. Not too many students were milling about since school had just started, and the closed door in the study room gave us a sense of privacy. She was too fucking adorable as she rattled off books I’d heard of but had no interest in ever reading. Each time I said no, she scrunched her face up in frustration. It took everything in me not to kiss the tip of her nose every time she did that or, at the very least, not to laugh.

  All the while, I kept imagining the way her lips would feel pressed against mine. The way she would respond to my touch and moan into my mouth.

  And suddenly, we found the topic we’d use for our assignment, and the conversation turned deeper. I thought about my own past—the scars that ran too deep for anyone to see, the revenge I had wanted for myself, and the pain inflicted on me. I guess I technically got my revenge. I wasn’t the one to dole out the punishment, but I got retribution. But it didn’t make me feel any better. It didn’t change the filth that lived inside me. It didn’t change the baggage buried deep inside my soul.

  I understood Edmond’s need for revenge, but I also knew it didn’t make a difference if you couldn’t find it within yourself to let it go. The emotional scars we inflict on ourselves as a result of what we go through—those are worse than the ones put there by others.

  I realized I was no good for Genevieve. She was so pure, so innocent, and so full of life. I couldn’t tarnish her with what I carried. But I didn’t want her out of my life either. I vowed we’d be friends. I’d use this assignment to my advantage and make her want my friendship as much as I needed hers. I wanted her bright light in my life, but I had no desire to snuff it out.

  So … one way or another, she’d be my friend.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Present

  Genevieve

  “YOU’RE ALWAYS WEARING those bracelets,” Cam pointed out one day while we were working together. We were at the coffee shop on campus at a table near the back. We had both brought our laptops and were sitting side by side. Working on our portions, we’d then switch laptops to review and provide feedback. It was actually a fairly effective method.

  “Hmm?” I asked, caught slightly off guard.

  “Those bracelets ... do they mean something? I mean, I’ve never seen you without them.”

  He wasn’t the first one to ask about them, and I had a standard answer I usually responded with, but he was the first person I had the urge to give an honest answer to. I didn’t know what it was about him. I didn’t know if it was the amount of time we spent together lately; I didn’t know if it was how strangely comfortable I was around him; I didn’t know if it was how he seemed to listen to every word I said; I didn’t know if it was how familiar he felt. I just knew I wanted to share a little bit about me with him. I was growing closer and closer to him every day. He was starting to become a good friend … and good friends shared things, right? Yet … we hadn’t really shared anything significant with each other.

  I mean, we’d talked casually about ourselves, and I learned a few things this way. Like that he was an only child, he’d played football since he was a kid, and he played video games whenever he got a chance. Aside from small chitchat, I hadn’t learned all that much about him. I knew a couple of things from observation. He liked strong, black coffee; he clearly liked the San Diego Chargers because their logo was his laptop background, he lit up when he talked about football, he garnered plenty of attention, and whenever I was with him, I did too. It was mostly from girls, though. They looked at him like they wanted a piece of him, and they looked at me like they wanted to get rid of me. Little did they know that Cam had no interest in me, and they had no reason to be jealous.

  He didn’t invite me to socialize outside of working on the project. He didn’t call me or text me if it wasn’t related to school. We didn’t even run into each other whenever we were out. There hadn’t been any more parties on campus, but you can bet Amanda dragged me to a few bars and clubs. We were under twenty-one, but fake IDs were easy to get if you knew the right people, and almost everyone on campus knew the right people. I just hoped that Cam thought of me as a friend like I was thinking of him.

  “Oh … uh, I guess you could say that,” I finally responded.

  “Present from your boyfriend?” he asked.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “I just … I figured they must be sentimental. Maybe an ex you’re not over?”

  Was he fishing? Did he think I was taken? Could that be why he’d shown no interest in me? “No, nothing like that,” I told him. “They’re kind of like my badge of courage,” I admitted. “Some people have things in their past they want to hide. You can call these bracelets that for me.”

  He looked at me not with pity, or confusion, or even disgust. He looked at me like I’d just said something profound, something that called to him. I wondered what he was hiding because only someone who was hiding something would see through me the way he did. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, and once again, I had to remind myself he wasn’t Tyler. Then he opened his mouth to speak but closed it as if he didn’t know what to say.

  “And besides, they’re pretty cool,” I added, trying to lighten the mood. “They make me look kind of badass,” I said with a smile.

  “I don’t think even chains and whips would make you look badass,” he said with a chuckle, the heavier tone officially broken. I had a feeling he wanted to get back to the conversation, say something, talk more about what I had meant, but I didn’t want him to, and he obviously didn’t push. I probably wouldn’t have shared m
uch more anyway. At least not at this point.

  “You saying I’m not cool?” I teased.

  “Yep, pretty much,” he responded with a glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips that said he was joking.

  I opened my mouth to rebut when we were interrupted.

  “Hey, Cam.” I heard the rugged voice, and we both turned toward the owner of the voice. I had to look way up. He was tall and handsome, and his build was similar to Cam’s. He eyed me up and down while I did the same. He wasn’t as cute as Cam, but he was definitely a head-turner, and from the smug smile playing on his lips, he knew that.

  “Hey, Sam,” Cam responded. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just came to grab a cup of coffee. Having a hard time staying awake after last night,” he said, and I had a feeling Cam knew exactly what he meant about “last night.” If I had to guess, I’d say some kind of party. “You?”

  “Working on a project. Sam, this is my friend, Genevieve. Genevieve, Sam.” I had to bite back a small gasp at his use of the word “friend.” That had been the first time I had an inkling he might view me as more than just a study buddy. I also liked the way he had emphasized the word, and I had noticed that, like it meant something to him, like maybe it was a warning for his friend Sam.

  “I didn’t know you had such beautiful friends,” Sam responded as he held out his hand. The way he said “friends” made me almost cringe. I knew what kind of guy Cam was—a player. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. And a girl “friend” of his was probably an anomaly.

  “Charmer, I see,” I said as I took Sam’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You should come around sometime. Have some fun. Although, I can see why Cam’s been hiding you.”

  “I … uh … thanks.”

  Suddenly, I felt Cam’s hand on my arm. It was a comforting gesture, one that said he was sorry for his flirty friend, reassuring me that he was there for me if things got awkward.

  I spared a glance at Cam, and his jaw was set tight. He looked like he was just seconds away from hitting something or someone.

  “Well, we have a lot of work to get done today. I’ll see you later?” Cam asked Sam, effectively dismissing him. Sam took the hint. We said our goodbyes, and I turned to Cam.

  “Friend, huh?”

  “Yeah, sorry about him,” he responded.

  “No, I mean you introduced me as your friend.”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “That’s what we are, right? Friends?” He suddenly looked unsure of himself like maybe he was nervous about my response.

  So I put him out of his misery with a wide smile on my face. “Yeah, Cam, friends.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Past

  Cameron

  Thirteen years earlier …

  “SWEETIE, WE NEED to tell you something,” my mom said as I walked through the door after David’s mom dropped me off. It had been my first game of the season. When Charles moved in, they enrolled me in football. Charles said I had a good arm, and something should be done about it. I had appreciated his words then; I loved the praise, felt my chest expand with pride, and a tiny part of me was excited about the small connection football had with my dad.

  I didn’t realize it until later that part of the reason Charles had convinced my mom that I should participate in football was so I could be out of the way. I heard him telling my mom once that the cost of my football was worth the price because it gave them a lot of time without me.

  I was six when I heard that. That was a year ago. When I heard him, I admit I went to my room and cried. I didn’t understand why he’d be happy when I was gone, why he’d like it for me to be away so much. I didn’t get why he didn’t love me the way I wanted to be loved or why he didn’t want to be my dad the way I needed him to be.

  But all that only made me want to try harder. I actually enjoyed football more than I did just a year ago. It was a part of me. I was only seven, but I felt like I was a teenager with experience and feelings beyond my age. And part of that was the discipline of the sport—even at such a young age. Another part was becoming somewhat independent by circumstance. It wasn’t that my mom didn’t make sure I had a ride to school and back or that I went without food, or even that I didn’t feel loved. It was just that a sort of isolation—call it a void—had sprung up between me and my mom and Charles. I didn’t even know how to explain it; it was just a feeling. You either felt like everything was right in the world, or you didn’t. And I didn’t.

  I didn’t feel like I was part of the family. I wasn’t my mom’s whole world, and I wasn’t that for Charles.

  So I tried to keep to myself, tried to do my own homework without asking for help, asked my parents’ friends for rides so my mom or Charles wouldn’t have to, and I stayed in my room as much as possible. I couldn’t say exactly when this shift occurred, but I know it was after the wedding—probably after that first big fight I’d heard. It had been a few months, and I felt like I’d grown several years.

  “Hi, Mommy; hi, Charles,” I responded after my mom’s announcement.

  “Did you have a good time at football practice?” she asked. I bit my lip to stop the trembling disappointment. She didn’t even realize I’d had a game instead of just practice. I almost told her I had a game, but I stopped myself. She was never the same after my dad’s death, but for a time, Charles made her smile. I hadn’t seen her smile in a while now. All I saw were dark circles under her eyes and haunted shadows in the lines and wrinkles on her face.

  “It was a lot of fun,” I responded with as wide of a smile as I could muster. I glanced at Charles, and he nodded with a smirk on his lips. I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t think I’d ever understand Charles.

  “Good, good,” my mom said. “Come take a seat,” she said as we all reached the couches. I sat on the big one, my mom took a seat next to me, and Charles sat in the chair beside her. She turned to face me, and the way we were angled, I felt like I was on opposite ends of her and Charles. I’d been feeling that way a lot lately. “We have some great news to share with you,” she said and looked at Charles. He smiled encouragingly at her.

  “Most of your friends have siblings, right?” she asked. I nodded. “And they like having someone to play with, right?”

  Before I responded or nod, Charles raised his voice, “For God’s sakes, Jessica, just tell him.”

  I saw my mom jump in her seat at his outburst. She nodded more to herself than to him.

  “Well, what Charles is so excited to share with you is that you’re going to have a sibling of your own. You’re going to be a big brother. Isn’t that great?” she asked, practically pleading for me to say “yes.”

  I actually thought it was cool. I didn’t mind having a baby brother or sister. And I thought maybe the baby would be able to make my mom happy again, and maybe make Charles more caring.

  I couldn’t help the smile that broke out on my face. “Yeah!” I yelled, so they knew exactly how happy I was. “I’m going to be a big brother,” I announced and hugged my mom.

  “Whoa there, buddy,” Charles said, his tone lighthearted—the first time I’d heard it that way in a while. “You have to be gentle with your mom from now on.”

  I pulled back shyly, a little scared I’d hurt her. My mom cracked a smile at my antics.

  “I love you, Mommy,” I told her.

  “I love you too, kiddo. And no matter what,” she whispered, holding my face in her hands, “you’ll always be my number one guy.” She said it low so that Charles wouldn’t hear, but I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, and the look on his face said he’d heard her, and he didn’t like her words.

  I got up and walked over to Charles, trying to make him smile again. I wrapped my arms around him and whispered, “Thank you.”

  And when he patted my back, I thought everything would finally be okay.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Present

  Genevieve

  “HOW WAS PR
ACTICE?” I asked Cam when we met up; his hair still wet from his shower. He looked refreshed, younger even. The season would not start until the next semester, but he still had training.

  “Good. I’m starting to get a good feel for the guys on the team.”

  “What about the ones who come in next semester?” I asked him.

  “They’ll start earlier, and we’ll train before the season starts.”

  “That makes sense,” I responded with a nod.

  “So you like football?” he asked with an amused smirk.

  “Uh …” I trailed off.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you,” I said with a wink.

  “You wound me,” he said, feigning shock by clutching his shirt over his heart. “Please tell me you’ve at least been to a game. I mean, you can’t attend this school and not go to a game.”

  “I went to most of the games actually,” I told him. “Don’t get too excited, though; it wasn’t fully by choice. Amanda refuses to let me skip a game unless I have a valid excuse.”

  “Well, next semester, when I’m playing, you’re definitely going to come to every game.” His words were final and more like a demand than a playful statement. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. I liked a lot of things about Cam actually. And even though we got closer each day, saw each other more often than was necessary, and considered ourselves friends, I didn’t really know him, and I doubted he really knew me. It didn’t stop my heart from fluttering whenever he said things like that.

  “Deal.”

  “Okay, so if no football, then what sports do you like?”