Knockout
Page 10
It was almost laughable to me that Kellen praised me for being so mature and wise, then crippled me with his rejection. I know that's not exactly what happened. I know he had his reasons and they were solid because deep down they were my reasons too. I knew what he was capable of and what he wasn’t capable of, and even if I didn't understand yet the impact sex could have on two people, he did. He knew better and thank God for it. I would have lost him. 100%, all the way, he'd be gone from me.
And Laney! What a nightmare that would be. She'd never forgive me. She'd accuse me of stealing him even though that wasn't what happened either. At the end of the day, I was pretty sure I knew up and down, inside and out what hadn't happened but I was surprisingly fuzzy on what had happened. There’d been a moment where a barrier had been breached, but couldn't we rebuild it? I had hope that we could and it seemed that Kellen did too because just a few days after, he and Laney were back together.
The morning after it happened he and Laney went to breakfast before I got up. I got a text from her saying thanks for leaving her water and a bucket. She'd needed it. Apparently what she didn't think she needed was to clean it out before she left. That was fun for me. I got her text telling me she was at breakfast talking with Kellen just as I was dumping the cold contents into the toilet. I was so annoyed, frustrated, angry and down to the bone jealous that I almost tossed my phone in after it.
Instead, I'd called Devon. We hung out that night. Just a movie, nothing physical. It was nice. Fun. Then Laney told me she and Kellen were a couple again and I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Of course I was hurt, but I was also relieved. I felt like it was a resetting of the clock. That Kellen was turning back the hands and maybe we could all go back to the way it was before. Or maybe that was as dumb as sleeping with Devon.
"You gonna tell me what happened?" Sam asked.
I shook my head as I bit into my sandwich. We were sitting in the courtyard at school eating lunch in the last of the sunshine before winter hit. Of course Sam could tell something had happened but I refused to tell her what. I’d told her I had sex with Devon but she knew that wasn't what was bugging me. That was a symptom. She wanted to diagnose the disease.
"I think I'm failing Chemistry," I lied.
"Hmm," Sam replied, not believing me. "Maybe you should get another tutor."
"No way. No more tutors."
"So it is about Kellen."
"What's about Kellen?" I asked wearily.
"This," she said, gesturing to my face. "This attitude and this frown you've got going on. What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"Can't we talk about something else? How's Mark?"
"Mark and I haven't dated in months. I'm with Eric now."
"Cool. How's Eric?"
"Eric is stupid, I miss Mark. I don't want to talk about it."
"And I respect that."
"Thank you. I still want to know what happened with Kellen."
"No."
"You're not saying 'nothing' anymore, meaning something did happen but you don't want to talk about it."
"Oh my God, Nancy Drew, leave me alone!" I cried, exasperated.
"Never. How's the job?"
I grinned, happy to talk about something solid. Something I was sure about.
"It's great. I love it."
"That Bryce guy is hot."
I laughed. "He's thirty-two and married."
"He's still hot. Besides, you have a thing for older men. Like Devon."
"That's over."
"It never started. And it's because you have a thing for Kellen."
"Ugh!" I groaned in annoyance. "Can we not?"
"I wish I could, but as your friend I have to make you talk about this."
"You really don't."
"Because I love you, I do. What happened?"
I sighed then mumbled, "We kissed."
"Yes!"
I looked at her in surprise. "What the hell?"
"Well it's about time. You're into him and he's been into you for years."
"What are you talking about? We've been friends since I was a kid. We're not like that."
"Clearly you are."
"It was just a kiss. Just one."
"Only one?" she asked skeptically.
I rolled my eyes. "Okay more than one and some groping, but it stopped when he told me I was too young."
"That's it? You're too young? That'll be fixed in a few months."
"Well I'm sure everything will work itself out then."
"Come on, Jen. If that’s the only problem, then why is he back with Laney and not waiting for you? He can't keep it in his pants that long?" she asked doubtfully.
I sighed. "It's because he doesn't do relationships. He said I deserve better than what he could give me. And yes, I know he's in a relationship with Laney and has been for years, but how healthy does it seem?"
"Not at all. I think they're in lust and they're calling it love."
I chewed on another bite of my sandwich. "Do you think so?"
Sam snorted. "Please. They break up all the time and when they get back together they're all over each other like rabbits. It's all physical. He's a cold guy, Jen. A good guy, a really super nice one if he's not dating you, but if he is, he's a cold one. I've never seen him get mushy with Laney. I've never heard you say he did anything sweet for her birthday or Christmas. Do they celebrate anniversaries?"
"They break up so often I don't think they even have one."
"See?” she said proudly. Then her tone softened as she touched my arm. “Hey, at least he was honest with you. You don't want what he has with her. In fact, I bet there are a lot of girls out there that would be jealous of what you have with him."
"What I had," I corrected glumly.
Sam frowned. "Are you guys not talking?"
"I haven't heard from him in weeks."
"Have you called him?"
"No."
"Then what the hell?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you giving him the silent treatment?"
"I'm not, he's the one— Oh shit."
"Works both ways, idiot."
"Shut up," I told her as I fished out my phone. "What do I say?"
"What would you normally say?"
I thought about it for a minute before sending a quick message.
So a donkey walks into a bar...
My heart was racing in my throat as I waited. And waited. And waited some fucking more. It killed me when lunch ended and I hadn’t heard back from him yet. I got to my English class feeling morose and my gray cloud of suck stayed with me the entire time. When I was mercifully released and I knew I was done for the day, I sulked to my car. Sam called me Eeyore and I worried the superpowers I’d dreamed of had finally kicked in because as I headed out to Bakersfield to work, it started to rain. I was starting to feel angry at Sam for making me hope. I was angry at myself for not saying something meaningful like 'I'm sorry' or 'Or we ever going to be friends again', but I knew better and that simply wasn’t me. It wasn’t us. So I tried to let it go and as the rain pelted my windshield and the miles passed under me, wet and shining on the black asphalt, I reined it in and told myself it wasn’t the end of the world. Just the end of something wonderful.
Suddenly my phone beeped. I didn’t take my eyes off the road to look at it and I didn’t get my hopes up. But as I pushed the button to have my phone read the message to me, I worried.
"Message from Kellen," my automated buddy told me robotically. My heart rate spiked. My palms were sweating. "And the bartender asks, 'Why the long face?' You’re a dork. Thanks for the smile, Nonpareil."
I smiled the rest of the way to work.
***
It was almost a month later before I saw Kellen again. He came to a cocktail party at my parent’s house with Laney. She looked like a pastel carbon copy of my mother and Kellen looked annoyed and uncomfortable in a suit. I was unsympathetic, thinking that if he was going to be a lawy
er he better get used to them. I was trapped in a black dress with a black cardigan covering every inch of my arms, chest and shoulders. Mom was hiding my tattoos from dad’s colleagues and her society friends. I didn’t even care. I was too bored to be mad.
“You must be Jenna,” a voice said beside me.
I glanced over to find a guy just barely my height and a good six years older than me coming to stand beside me. He was good looking. Clean cut. Collegiate. Professional. Rigid.
“I guess I must be,” I replied.
He grinned. “Your sister tells me you’re an artist. What medium do you use?"
“Skin.”
His grin faltered. “Skin?”
"I'm not allowed to talk about it."
“Whoa, no way. You can’t drop a bomb like that then give a mafia follow up."
"My mom is Tony Soprano. It’s not a safe topic for either of us."
"Is it porn?"
"Excuse me?" I asked sharply.
"Skin industry. I can't imagine why she'd make you keep quiet about it unless it's porn. Even then, I'm not gonna lie, I'm still a fan of the art form."
"It's not porn."
He whipped out his phone. "You're telling me that if I Google your name right now, I won't find at least a dozen videos of you?"
I glared at him. "I'd never use my real name."
"Okay, so hypothetically, if you were a porn star," he said giving me an exaggerated wink, "what would your name be?"
"Is this how you talk to women?”
"Not all of them, but you seemed like you could take the joke. How far off am I? Kick in the balls or drink in the face?"
I showed my empty hands. "I don't have a drink."
"I better guard my balls then."
"You're saying 'balls' and 'porn' a lot for a stuffy cocktail party."
"I've gotta make my fun somehow, right?"
I grinned. "Tattoos."
"Right, okay, what about them? Oh, that's what you do! You're a tattoo artist."
I cringed, looking to see if my mom heard him. "Keep your voice down, but yeah."
His green eyes went saucer wide as he stepped closer, hushing his tone. "Shit, you were serious. Your mom really doesn't want you talking about it?"
"Apparently it's inappropriate for the occasion."
"No way. I just heard Tom Jennings talking about his colonoscopy. Inappropriate left the building three drinks ago."
"You didn't hear a colonoscopy story."
"Not all of it. Why do you think I came over here? I was running away."
"Well, I'm glad to be your refuge."
"Thank you,” he said, hoisting his drink to me. “How many tats do you have?"
"Only a few. You?"
"Two.”
“Are they tribal?”
“Maybe,” he replied cautiously.
“What tribe?”
“What do you mean?”
“If they’re tribal, what tribe are they from? What region? What do they mean?”
“You’re a little ink elite, aren’t you?”
I grinned. “Maybe a little. Sorry. It comes with the job. My boss is anal about making sure people understand the ink they’re getting. He likes to make sure it means something to them. That it’s not just a fad they’re buying into at the moment.”
“Because you used the word ‘anal’ I’ll forgive you. I’d also love to show you my tats to prove I'm legit, but they're on my shoulder and back. I'd have to strip down and I think that'd get us both in trouble."
I smiled. "Another time then."
He smiled as well, his eyes lighting up. "Definitely. Maybe you can do my third."
"Call the shop, make an appointment. Black Ink in Bakersfield."
"I'll look it up. Can I get your number in case I have any questions beforehand?"
I gestured for his phone, feeling my cheeks flush slightly as he handed it over. I was just handing it back to him, realizing I hadn't even learned his name, when I felt someone come to stand beside me.
I knew him from the feel of him. The power of his presence, the scent of him in my nose, the feel of him in my lungs. My blush faded from my cheeks as all of the blood drained from my body in a reaction that shocked me. It felt like dread.
"I see you've met Alexander," Kellen said deeply.
I nodded my head, unable to look at him. I was afraid of the look that might be on my face. I was afraid it was fear.
"We just met," I said, trying to give Alexander a warm smile.
He noticed the tension between Kellen and I. I could see it in his eyes as he looked between us and I hated it. I felt like it told him everything. All of the things I tried to forget but remembered in vivid 3D the second my head hit the pillow.
"Jenna's going to give me some tattoo advice. Has she done any ink on you, Kellen?"
"No. I don't have any."
"I'm surprised. You're a fighter, right?"
"Boxer," I corrected instinctively.
"Oh," Alexander said, giving me a curious look. "Still, though. I would have thought you had something."
"I'm not good with commitment," Kellen replied vaguely.
Alexander laughed. "I would hope that's not true. Aren't you en--"
"Do you mind if I steal Jenna away for a second?" he interrupted, taking my arm at the elbow. His hand felt cold.
Alexander nodded. "Sure, of course. It was good to see you. Jenna, great to meet you."
I managed a smile for him. "You too."
Kellen pulled me gently to the edge of the room until we were nearly tucked in the shadows, hidden from the hustle of the room. It made me nervous being in this secluded area with him, as though everyone would know what we'd done (or almost done) just by us being here like this.
"That guy is a douchebag," Kellen muttered when he let me go.
I shrugged, rubbing my arm where his hand had touched me. My skin felt frozen. "I liked him."
Kellen shook his head, his eyes looking beyond me a little unfocused. I eyed him closely then. To the casual observer, nothing was wrong. But to me, to someone who had known him for years, it was impossible to miss.
“You’re drunk.”
He snorted but he didn't deny it. I noticed a glass of wine in his hand. White wine.
Kellen hated wine.
“Is that vodka?”
His eyes snapped to my face. “What are you? A witch? How could you know that?”
“Because I know you. Why are you drinking like this tonight? Are you okay?”
“I am what I am and that’s all that I am.”
I scowled. “What is that?”
“The words of a brilliant man.”
“I am what I am…” I muttered quietly, trying to recognize the familiar phrase. “I’m Popeye, the Sailor Man?”
“Nailed it,” he said, leaning in closer. “You know everything."
"That's simply not true."
"I could say anything to you and you’d get it, wouldn’t you?”
I stared at him for a moment before answering softly, “Not everything, no. Some things you say stump me.”
He focused up on my face, his eyes growing serious. “I don’t understand it any more than you do. I don’t like it any more either.”
“But you are who you are and that’s all that you are,” I sang quietly.
“I’m the Tin Man, Dorothy,” he agreed, beating his hand over his heart. “I’m running on empty.”
“We’re mixing a lot of genres here.”
He nodded, taking a drink. “Life is messy like that.”
“Can I have some?”
He looked at me in surprise, but then he smiled wickedly. “You’re only seventeen.”
I glared at him, yanking the glass from his hand. “Too soon to be funny.”
I took a quick sip before handing it back to him. Yep, vodka. The good stuff. It went down easy, burning slow and even. It felt good. It felt different than the empty hollow in my stomach that I’d been dealing with for days.
r /> “Are you okay?” he asked, taking his glass back.
“I’m great. What time is it?”
He lifted his arm to look at his watch but he struggled to shake it out from under his jacket sleeve. I finally grabbed his hand and spun the watch until I could read it. 8pm. My midnight.
"Pumpkin time," I said victoriously, unbuttoning my cardigan.
Kellen's eyebrows shot up. "Are you stripping?"
"What is it with guys tonight? Porn star? Stripper? I gotta work on my vibe."
"Who called you a porn star? Douchebag back there?" Kellen asked hotly.
"Don't worry about it. I'm off the clock. Mom gave me the okay to leave after eight which means I can get clear of this crowd, ditch the death black clothes and salvage this Saturday night." I gave him a small salute as I went to step around him, heading for the door. "Good luck. Lay off the vodka, you're one drink away from sloppy."
"Wait," he said quickly, grabbing my arm again.
"What?"
“There’s something I need to tell you before you go,” he said, suddenly looking tense.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, frowning with worry.
“Kellen!” Laney called. She waved from across the room, her face all light, laughter and excitement. Mom and dad were standing beside her. Mom was glowing as well.
“Shit,” Kellen groaned.
My heart felt tight. The thin air in my lungs had evaporated. “What’s happening?”
“I wanted to tell you before it happened. I wanted to be the one.”
My eyes went wide. Part of me knew, but I wasn’t ready to know. To understand what this party was really about. What was scheduled to happen at eight.
“No,” I breathed, staring at my happy family. My happy family standing there without me.
“Jenna.”
“Oh, Kel, no,” I said sadly. Not sad for myself, but for him. For Laney. This wouldn’t end well. Either that or it would never end and it would be a nightmare of a ride to watch, let alone live.
“Wait, just wait,” he said, taking hold of my shoulders.
His glass sloshed. Vodka soaked the left arm of my sweater. I didn’t care. I could only stare up at him in amazement.
“Kellen!”
“Just wait!” he called back, less kindly than he should have. Heads began to turn toward us.