Even Wilder

Home > Other > Even Wilder > Page 4
Even Wilder Page 4

by Bria Leigh


  I sat up. Suddenly highly aware of where I was and what I was doing. I was letting my sadness win, and I was about to make a foolish decision.

  Mac was a nice guy. But he wasn’t Wilder. And doing anything with Mac wasn’t going to help me feel better. I was going to feel worse.

  Mac didn’t know what was going on inside of my head. He went in for the kiss. His lips crushing mine. I pulled away. “I can’t do this.”

  “I see that.” He recovered quickly. “I think I read this wrong.”

  “I met my best friend when I was six years old. He’s been everything to me. I can’t act crazy because I’m angry with my best friend.”

  “I’d like to say I understand, Violet. But I honestly don’t. You don’t want to kiss me or anyone because you’re mad at your best friend. But you two are not dating?”

  “He gets me.”

  “Okay.”

  I got up. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have freaked out and called you. This isn’t your problem.”

  He shook his head, disagreeing. “I don’t mind. And I’m not saying this because I want to get in your pants. I really don’t mind. You are the first real person I’ve talked to since I moved here.”

  How could I hate him? I plunked down next to him. Dropping back, I let out a big sigh. “You really are a good person.”

  He smirked. “So are you. And that friend of yours is an idiot not to know that.”

  WHEN I GOT BACK TO the apartment, I fell asleep on the couch watching an old movie that Wilder and I watched all the time. I needed something to do, so I didn’t cry—again.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Kat came home. I heard the door open and thud against the wall, and then I heard her shut it and drop her heels by the door.

  I remember Kat tapping me on the arm and telling me she thought I looked uncomfortable, and I should go to bed. I was too exhausted to get up. Before I fell back into a heavy sleep, she told her friend to take me to my room. And whoever the large muscle head was did what she said. He picked me up like I was a sack of feathers and placed me gently into my bed. He even was kind enough to throw a blanket over me.

  I’m not sure who he was, but he smelled like old car parts and expensive cologne. But it didn’t matter, that was soon all forgotten when I fell asleep.

  I had an awful dream that I took things too far with Mac. He believed we were an item, and I was choking—literally in my dream. Suffocating because I was so fucked up over my stupid decision to forget about Wilder and move on with someone I hardly knew. And no matter how hard I tried to tell Mac I didn’t want to be with him, that I wanted Wilder—the words would never come out.

  I missed him so fucking bad. Sleep wasn’t even an escape from Wilder. He was in my every thought. That had to mean something.

  Wilder

  “I NEED TWENTY ON PUMP six,” I told the gas station attendee. I handed over my credit card and gave the old lady behind me a polite smile heading back out to my car. I checked my watch for the fifth time. If I didn’t hurry my ass up, I was going to miss Violet all together.

  I wiggled the nozzle to the gas and thought about the look on her face when she saw me for the first time. I imagined her sweet smile and her perfect white teeth that she only showcased for me. It wasn’t hard to make her smile, but to get her laughing, that was something else. But I mastered it over the years. I missed hearing it.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket — another call from Amber. I rolled my eyes. The girl was relentless. “What?”

  “I told you, I’m out of town.” I stuffed the nozzle back in its holder and bit down on my lip, irritated in the matter of a minute talking to her. “Because I have plans. Yes, plans with a girl. Saint’s right.”

  I walked around to the driver’s side. The old lady gave me a look, climbing into her little station wagon. “I don’t care what you think, Amber. Look, I got to go.”

  I climbed in my car, shaking my head. According to Amber, I was the biggest sleaze in the entire town. And I didn’t give a flying fuck about anyone but myself. I started up my car. What Amber thought about me didn’t matter. I gave no flying fucks about what a girl who slept with my entire friend's list thought about me.

  I cared about people, one to be exact because she was a good fucking human, and she never let me down like everyone else in my life.

  I looked away from the scar on my arm, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.

  Another ten minutes driving through the city and winding around all the little diners and shops I pulled into the parking lot of Violet’s apartment complex. My truck came to a slow stop right in front of the brick building.

  I shot her a text letting her know I missed her and asking her what she was doing. It took her a couple of minutes to respond.

  I smiled, knowing she was still home. I jumped out of my car, filled with anticipation. And then I backtracked and went to my back seat. I pulled open the door and grabbed the gift I got for her. I knew it was stupid, but it reminded me of her.

  My fingers curled around the soft lion’s head, and I walked towards the door. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection and stopped long enough to run a hand through my hair, making sure I looked alright.

  Two girls pushed the door open, spilling onto the sidewalk, laughing and talking with one another. When they saw me, they stopped and smiled.

  “Hey,” I said, being polite. These were possibly classmates of Violet; I needed to be on my best behavior.

  “Are you new?” The slender redhead asked, looking me over. Her green eyes went from the top down to my shoes. She smiled, pleased with what she saw.

  I shook my head. “Visiting a friend.” I squeezed the lion’s head feeling stupid holding it.

  “Aww. We are so sad. How long are you going to be in town?” The blonde chimed in.

  “A day or two.”

  “There’s a party tomorrow. You should come.”

  Her friend nudged her in the side. “You and your friend.”

  “I’ll see what she wants to do,” I agreed. “Where’s this party at?” I couldn’t see Violet wanting to go. But I was always down for a party.

  The redhead pulled a sheet of paper loose and handed it over. “Here’s the address. It’s a costume party. We’re off to hang flyers around campus.”

  They resumed their chatter heading down the sidewalk away from Violet’s apartment. And I was free to surprise her again. I hurried inside and headed up the stairs. Violet always complained about walking up two flights of stairs to get to her place. It wasn’t so bad.

  Music fluttered through the hallway. A mixture of many kinds coming from all directions—I wasn’t sure how anyone got any decent study time. Coupled with a flickering hallway light and the smell of Chinese takeout, it was everything she said it was—it was not home.

  I kept moving down the hall looking for apartment thirty-seven. And right at the end of the hall, I found it. I took a deep breath and let it out. Surprising Violet was the moment I had been waiting for. I hadn’t hugged my best friend in weeks. And my miserable attempts at talking to her went unnoticed.

  I smoothed my t-shirt and made a fist and wrapped on the door three times. I couldn’t contain the smirk on my face or the excitement that was filling my gut knowing she was on the other side of the door without any idea I was there.

  Someone twisted the lock and opened the door. A girl with dark hair and a big set of tits was staring back at me. It had to be her roommate. She had that death stare Violet mentioned.

  “Can I help you?” She craned her head, looking all the way up at me. “We didn’t order anything. It’s probably the people down the hall.”

  I shook my head. Lion still in my hand. I couldn’t see Violet anywhere inside their small apartment. “I’m Wilder. I’m here to surprise Violet.”

  Now she was really looking at me. “Oh. You’re Wilder.”

  “Yeah. Violet’s here right?”

  She allowed me past her and shu
t the door behind her. “Yep. I believe she’s in the shower. Do you want me to get her?”

  “No. I can do it.”

  She raised a dark eyebrow. Pursing her lips, the red lipstick on her mouth making her even scarier like Violet said she was. “I hope she’s happy to see you. I have to run. I have Pilates in fifteen minutes.”

  “Alright. Thanks. Nice to meet you...” Shit, I couldn’t remember her name. And she didn’t look like the type to do Pilates. Maybe Violet was way off about her.

  She collected her things from the counter. “Kat. And same to you.” She slipped out of the door, and I headed down the hallway.

  I could hear the spray of the water against the shower curtain, and the door was open a crack letting out the steam. I smiled, listening to her voice. She would never admit it, but she wasn’t a bad singer. I listened to her for a little longer and finally pushed the door open just enough to get inside the bathroom.

  “Did you forget something?” Violet asked, her tone flat and emotionless. My heart sinks a little. “Kat?”

  I stayed still clutching the lion, waiting for her to realize the person standing in her bathroom wasn’t her roommate but me.

  “This isn’t funny,” she griped, her hand reaching out and yanking the curtain just open enough to see what the hell was going on. She peeked her wet face out from behind the curtain, and her eyes immediately sailed up the length of me finding my grinning face. She was at a loss for words. Her big green eyes pinned me in place, and her mouth fell open.

  “Surprise,” I said softly, giving her half a grin.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you.” I wiggled the stuffed animal. “I saw this at the store, and I had to give it to you.” I pointed a finger at the mane. “It reminded me of you.”

  She shut the water off and stretched out a hand. “Hand me a towel.”

  I did what she asked, keeping my eyes away from her parts. Knowing she would slap me if I tried getting a peek. She stepped out, wrapping the towel tightly around her curvy frame.

  “Are you happy to see me?” She was hard to read. And then suddenly she wasn’t, and she was jumping into my arms.

  “I’m so happy to see you. You don’t even know how much.” She melted against me and squeezed me tight, her arms holding on to my neck for dear life. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  I kept hugging her for as long as she wanted. It was the best place to be, the only place that filled me with something other than sadness.

  She kissed my cheek and finally let go. I let go, and she slid back down on her feet. The memory of her body pressed against mine still infused in all the threads of my shirt and pants. And with one kiss, my dick went from unaware to involved, and I had to head for the door before she noticed how turned on I was by a simple kiss on the cheek.

  I ran a hand through my hair.

  “I like your hair like that,” she reminded me. “Our entire lives, I told you to let it be.” She opened the door to her bedroom.

  “I know you did.” I looked around her room. Her bed was tidy and that didn’t surprise me. Her desk overflowing with books and magazines didn’t either. But the giant collage over her desk did surprise me a bit. “Holy fuck. It’s like every picture we ever took.”

  Our entire life from childhood until months ago was on display. The centerpiece of her life away from home.

  “We were stupid kids,” I laughed, staring at a picture of her standing on the seat of her bike while I pushed her down the street. Her hands stretched out at her sides like she didn’t have a care in the world. She didn’t know she was about to fall on her ass and eat shit.

  “I think that was the day I broke my arm, wasn’t it?” She looked from the picture to me.

  I nodded. “Yeah. And I fed you ice cream for a week. Because you demanded it.”

  She walked to her closet and brought out a light pink tank top and little jean shorts. I watched her go to her dresser and mull over her underwear for way too long.

  “The pink ones,” I said with a smirk.

  “I don’t have pink ones.” She found a pair of black ones and shut the door. “And I probably won’t ever.”

  I took a seat on her bed. “Good, it’s better that way. Stick to the basics.”

  “Turn away,” she told me. “So, I can get dressed.”

  “I’ll shut my eyes.”

  “Fine. Shut your eyes.” She went silent.

  I dropped back on her bed, falling into her pillows, inhaling her scent. I could have laid there for the rest of the day. “These girls outside your apartment said there’s a party tomorrow night.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  I rested my hands across my stomach. “Yeah. It sounds like it could be fun. You can introduce me to your friends.”

  “I don’t have friends,” she insisted. She plopped down on the bed. “You can open your eyes now.”

  I did, admiring her damp hair. It was a lot longer when it was wet, almost to her ass. But as soon as it dried, she had beautiful curls dancing all around. She called it shrinkage. I just called it hot.

  “Maybe you can make some,” I told her.

  “I made one, actually.” She got up and grabbed her brush off her dresser, and started working it through her hair.

  “Where at?” I could watch her all day.

  “At an art show outside down the street.”

  “What’s her name?”

  She turned away and finished her hair before she would look at me. I could see in her eyes when she turned around. She wasn’t particularly happy to be having the conversation. That told me all I needed to know. She met a guy, a fucking guy.

  I had to remain calm and not act like it was a big deal. But the way I shot up, I was sure I blew any chance of that.

  “Just a guy named Mac. He was nice.”

  “Was?”

  “He tried to kiss me, and I shut him down.”

  The blood pumped through my ears and raced through my system faster at the mention of someone else putting their mouth on her. Pull it together.

  She and I talked about everything. It had been this way our entire lives. Nowhere in any of those conversations did she tell me she would ever want to kiss anyone. She never had any interest. Guys didn’t kiss girls for no god damn reason.

  I didn’t want to be that guy. I liked to think I wasn’t jealous at all. But at that moment I wanted to yell at her for making such a wrong choice. She was far away from home and had nobody to protect her if something went wrong.

  How did I voice that without coming off as a condescending asshole? How did you tell your best friend that the thought of her dating anyone else made you want to punch holes in the wall?

  I acted like an idiot, letting her take off on my birthday. Maybe she was paying me back for that. She couldn’t possibly really like this guy. And who the fuck named their kid Mac?

  I didn’t want her being with anyone else. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I stood up, ready to come out of my fucking skin. “Do you want to get Chinese or something?” I rubbed a hand through my hair.

  “I want you to tell me what is wrong.” She knew me better than I knew me.

  I hate you for making me feel this way. “I’m happy for you.”

  She furrowed her brows, staring me down. “You’re happy for me?” She didn’t believe it, but she was playing an angle.

  “Yeah. I’m happy for you. You made a friend. Fingerbanged in the park. You’re making progress.” I sighed, letting it out into a room of silence. I played it cool.

  “I didn’t get fingerbanged in a park. Maybe that was you and Amber last weekend.” Ouch. She had that one locked and loaded.

  “Then why did he kiss you?”

  She laughed, finding me ridiculous. “Is it so hard to believe someone would want to kiss me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know you’re beautiful. Shut the fuck up. Guys don’t just kiss girls for no reason. They sense it. They make sure they know what they are d
oing.”

  She thought about it. And then she shrugged. “It doesn’t matter because I shut him down.”

  She picked up the lion I got her and ran her fingers through its hair.

  “You hungry?” I couldn’t just remain an asshole. I had to get over it. But if I saw Mac strutting around campus after making out with my friend, I was going to shove my fist down his throat and rip out his small intestine.

  Violet

  HE HAD THE CUTEST SNORE when he was sleeping. It wasn’t annoying, and it wasn’t loud. It was just this content breath escaping him, and I liked the sound of it. I always liked the sound of it since I was little.

  Many nights throughout our lives, Wilder spent the night on our couch. His mother was too drunk. Her boyfriend was on a rampage with him in his sights. Whatever the issue it never mattered. Mom always had a pillow and blanket ready for him.

  Some nights I would sleep on the floor below him. And when his hand fell off the edge of the couch, I’d admire it for a while and then put it back on his chest.

  Now he was huge and took over my bed with his legs and arms and muscle. He was everything a father wanted in a kid. He could play sports. He was handsome. Not too bad in school. But nobody noticed that. And the only thing he ever received from his mother or her boyfriend was pain.

  My head fit perfectly against his bicep, his arm my pillow. His warm skin my comfort; it was so much better falling asleep with him. I felt like me again.

  He said the same thing himself right before he planted a kiss on my cheek and started playing with my hair—it was normal for us. We always took turns as he liked to put it, giving each other “head.” And no matter where we were in life, he never forgot who gave head last. He told me as his fingers slipped through my hair how much he missed everything. He missed us.

  And I fell asleep in his arms, the best sleep I had since I moved there. I rolled over and shut my eyes, enjoying the closeness.

  “We need to find costumes,” Wilder said rolling over. His body was pressing against mine. “And pancakes.”

 

‹ Prev