I should fucking hope not. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a bad idea.”
“Because why?”
I laugh nervously. “Because it’s you.”
“And? Can’t an old friend take you out for a kickass breakfast?”
My stomach pangs with hunger and I consider it despite all the alarm bells ringing in my head.
His chuckle sends a shiver down my spine. “You’re thinkin’ about it.”
“Kane… we can’t.”
“Why? Because of Webber?”
“That and because I’m not the girl you knew.”
“Seen it, don’t believe it. You were the girl I knew when you cussed out your mee-maw in front of the entire congregation. You were the girl I knew when you sprayed me in the eyes with that fucking mace.” His voice rolls through me like warm, liquid silk in my veins. “Why won’t you tell me why you left, Imogen? The real reason.”
“Because it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It’ll always fuckin’ matter!”
I press my lips together and rest my head on my hand. “Why do you need an answer so badly?”
“Closure,” he snarls. “I need fucking closure. I deserve it after all that time I spent looking for you.”
Did he really? I can hardly believe it. I don’t know if it’s true at all but would he lie?
“What if the closure doesn’t bring closure?”
“What does that mean?” He goes silent and I just know he’s drawing his own conclusions. I’m waiting for it, waiting for what his mind conjures. “Did you fuck somebody else? Is that what it was?”
I open and close my mouth, unable to find the words and because of my hesitation to reply, I hear the phone crack. He’s squeezing it way too hard.
“Was it somebody I know?”
“I… I don’t know what to—"
“Did you fuck one of my friends, Im?” he demands, his tone strained and angry. “You better answer me.”
“Would you hate me if I did?”
“Yes,” he replies, sounding as hoarse as I do. “Who was it? Which friend?”
“It wasn’t a friend,” I whisper.
His silence drags on for an age, though his hoarse breathing can be heard loud and clear.
“Marshall,” I add, feeling my chest crack open and spill me heart right out of it. “I had an affair with Marshall.”
I hear him beat the receiver against the desk three times before the line goes flat. Disconnecting the call on my end, I stand and move towards the stairs and just look at them to help take my mind off this pain I feel. I stayed on the sofa last night. Unable to venture up to my old room, my prison, my old life. I don’t want to get transported back to that time.
“Why did you tell him that?” Mom asks me, sneaking up behind me with a coffee in her hands. “What’s the point in hurting him after all these years?”
“He asked for it, Mom. He wants to know why I left. He wants closure. I’m giving him closure.”
She squeezes my shoulder and nods sadly until I push her hand away.
“Oh don’t try and love me now you phony ass bitch.”
Her hand slaps me across the back of my head making my ears ring, though I’ll not give her the benefit of a reaction. “I am still your mother!”
Rolling my eyes, I leave the room before I punch her in the face for hitting me first. I stare into space for a while and reply to the messages on my phone. There aren’t many, most of them are from Webber, some are from my friends in the city, one is from my client.
Around twenty minutes later there’s hammering on my door so loud the house shakes.
I freeze because I know it’s him and I don’t know what he’ll do now that he has his “closure”.
“I’ve got it,” I say to that bitch and move to the door quietly.
He keeps hammering on it until I open it and the moment I do; he shoves it so hard the handle bangs on the wall behind it. I see a sprinkle of plaster hit the wood floor and frown. I just mopped there yesterday.
I’m about to tell him to calm down when he holds my car keys out to me and drops them on the floor between us with a clatter before I can grasp them. He kicks them further into the hall and I watch them go, following the movement with my eyes and head.
I inhale sharply when he tangles his fingers in my hair and rips my head back. His lips slam down over mine so hard my teeth mash against the satin underside. I taste blood and feel bruised as he crushes our mouths together in a punishing kiss.
Releasing my lips but not my hair he hisses, “Fixed your car.”
“Meaning you’re the one who fucking tampered with it,” I argue, I don’t know why I’m surprised. “All that about not keeping me pinned was just for show. You knew I’d be coming back.”
“Biggest mistake I’ve ever made, not includin’ fuckin’ you to begin with.”
“Excuse me while I pretend that hurts.” My bravado means nothing, he can see I’m feigning strength, and my lip trembles as I realize what this means. “Thank you.”
He pulls harder on my hair and pangs of pleasure tingle up and down my spine making me whimper. “Now get in it and get the fuck outta my town.”
I fall back when he releases me and watch him through tear filled eyes as he walks away, slipping on shades as he goes and lighting a cigarette when he hits the end of my long driveway.
It’s funny, I’ve been gone for so long, yet it hurts just the same as before.
“Kane,” I call, choking on a sob as the reality hits me.
“Fuck you, Immy,” he states, giving me his middle finger over his shoulder. But then he turns and raises his hands to the sides. He wants to be finished but he’s not. “You know what’s worse is I knew. Deep down I knew. And I asked you and you made me feel bad for not trusting you. You were nothing but a lying coward. You still are.”
He’s right, I was a coward, I still am a coward, but he’ll never understand why. Not until he walks a day in my shoes with my memories and the pain I keep locked tight.
“I’m so sorry, Kane.”
“Bite me,” he replies, shaking his head. “Never want to see you again, Imogen Hardy.”
“Didn’t I already try to make that happen?” I snarl back, feeling defensive because his words hurt despite the fact I deserve them.
“Then you’ll do a great job the second time around.”
I watch him go until I can’t see him anymore and then I close the door and lean against it, rubbing my chest as though that will take away the painful throbbing of my heart.
“I’ll get the gin,” Mom utters softly but I shake my head and look for my keys.
“No. I need to leave.”
“Don’t rush off.” She reaches for me but thinks better of it. “Stay. Please.”
“You never stayed when I asked,” I snap, scooping them up off the floor and swinging them around my finger. “I can’t be here. Especially in here. I don’t know how you can stand it.”
“Imogen.” Her tone is pleading but I’m not interested. I stopped being interested a long time ago. That’s the funny thing about relationships like this, people only start to care when you finally stop.
Without a goodbye, I leave. I’m not about to hang around. Not again.
15 years old
I’ve never owned a bra before, not like this. Mee-maw gets me those girly vests with the little bow in the middle, but this is unreal. I’ve never felt so supported and had better looking cleavage.
I laugh with my best friend as we try on outfit after outfit, bra after bra, walking in and out of the changing rooms, looking sweaty and disheveled from the workout. That’s one thing they don’t show you in movies, how much effort it is to keep getting changed.
I see myself in jeans for the first time, high-waist jeans that hug every inch of my curves, a grey crop top only held up by my boobs and shoulders. I test it out, raising my arms to see if my nipples appear at th
e bottom but there’s a fabric insert that keeps them safe.
“These are so comfy,” I say, turning every way, looking at how the dark blue denim really accents my figure. I’m finally getting a figure. Seemed unfair that I got my period before I was hit with a womanly body, but now I have the body I always desired. I don’t look like a little girl anymore.
“Buy it,” Poppy urges, resting her chin on my shoulder. We look at each other in the mirror and grin. She’s so pretty and she’s always been there for me even when Mee-maw wouldn’t let us play together. She got over that with the influence of our local reverend, thankfully.
“She’ll never let me wear it.”
“It’s your body, it’s your choice.”
“I know.” I inhale for courage and let out the breath, praying it takes away my nerves with it. “I’m going to buy it. I’m going to wear it to the patch tonight, and I’m not going to let Mee-maw hit me.”
“YES!” Poppy cries and rips the tags off the clothes before I can stop her. “No use in getting changed to get changed.”
“I want to shower,” I whine.”
“We’ll shower at mine, don’t worry.” She tosses some bras into the fabric basket and all but drags me to the till. “You look amazing.”
“I feel amazing.” I also feel terrified, nauseous, sick, and guilty, but feeling like my own woman for the first time, trumps all that.
We meet Matthew outside and Poppy immediately takes the joint from his lips and takes a long pull of the peculiar smelling smoke. She offers it to me but I shake my head. “I prefer alcohol. Weed makes me tired.”
“When have you tried weed?” Matthew asks, laughing like I’m hilarious.
“I haven’t, but you keep smoking it around me and it always knocks me out.”
Grinning, he walks us to Poppy’s car and opens the trunk. I chew on the inside of my cheek when I see the bottle of vodka, half a bottle of whiskey, some flat looking soda and a crate of beer bottles. “You gonna party as hard as we do tonight?”
Nodding, I pick up the vodka bottle and untwist the cap. “Shall we start right now?”
I take a gulp, choke, spit it on the ground while laughing and then take another gulp before high-fiving my brother. We all pile into Poppy’s car and Matthew and I don’t stop drinking until we reach her house where we take it in turns to shower, apply makeup, do our hair, and then finally walk to the patch with our alcohol.
“I love your hair,” Poppy tells me for the hundredth time.
“You’re only saying that because you tamed it,” I reply, hearing myself slur and hating it immediately. It feels weird and I want it to end, but then I also want another drink to make it worse. My hair has always been naturally curly and wild, thick ringlets if it gets too short. The longer it is the less of a twist it has but it’s so thick and heavy that I usually just braid it. Today Poppy convinced me to leave it down and she blow-dried it for me after my shower and used some kind of sweet scented oil through the ends.
Also, I found a body spray that smells like salted caramel. I never want to smell like anything else!
Music plays from a huge portable speaker, I sway my hips to it and close my eyes. I’m not one to dance but the alcohol has made me feel as though dancing is a great idea right now.
“FRESH MEAT!” somebody yells, I think it’s Ren who must have just arrived. And it is very rare to see Ren without Kane.
Great, just what I need, Kane Jessop.
I open my eyes while wondering why that sounded more like excitement in my head. It was meant to sound like bitter hatred.
“Oh my God,” Poppy says and starts laughing hysterically.
“What?” I ask, snatching a beer from my brother.
“They’re talking about you! They don’t know it’s you.”
My cheeks heat as I feel Ren approach and Matthew glares at him over my shoulder.
“Who’s the new girl?” Ren asks as I turn. “Great ass—oh my God it’s Prudence.”
“Prudence?” I question, frowning at him as he circles me like a vulture and whistles long and low.
“As in you’re a prude but damnnnn… look at this tight body.”
Gross.
“Don’t be a fucking pervert,” Matthew admonishes and squares up to Ren. “That’s my sister.”
“It was a complimentary observation.” He raises his hands in defense and backs up with a huge and playful grin on his face. His black hair is getting long and shaggy. I wonder if he’s copying Kane. Nobody can pull off long hair like Kane. “On a less skeevy note, you look beautiful, Immy. You should dress like that more often.”
“Where’s Kane?” Poppy asks, knowing I’m secretly dying to know. Not because I want to see him but because I need to know if I’m going to.
I need to mentally prepare myself for his insults.
“He’s somewhere knocking about.” He puts one finger to his nostril and sniffs dramatically.
“He’s not on the heavy shit is he?” Matthew asks and I’m still wondering when they became pals. He looks genuinely concerned. “Has he got any Es?”
My eyes go wide as I take in what my brother just asked for.
“It’s not a big deal, Immy,” Poppy whispers, sliding her hand around the bare skin of my back. “It’s all fun and games.”
“Until somebody dies.”
Poppy lifts a shoulder. “That’s not gonna happen. Come on. I need to pee.”
I leave them to their drug dealing and follow Poppy around the bonfire.
There’s an old abandoned trailer at the very tail end of somebody’s property. We all use it for the plumbed in toilet and the owners stopped trying to tell all the local kids no because they all started egging their property. So now they simply leave it open with notes asking us to keep it clean, which the majority of us do. The boys piss outside, usually in the lake or bushes and the girls use the trailer.
I finish my beer and toss it into the pile of glass bottles about twenty yards away. My nose is starting to tingle.
“Do you need to go?” Poppy calls through the wall as I lean against the side of the trailer.
“Nope. I’m not breaking the seal.” I don’t want to pee all night.
I hear the door to the toilet creak shut and lock and laugh to myself when she turns on the tap so I can’t hear her relieving her bladder. I don’t know why people get so amused or embarrassed by toilet related sounds. We all have to do it. It’s a natural thing.
As I’m contemplating weird things through an alcohol infused haze, A footstep crunches behind me seconds before a large, warm hand slams over my mouth.
I scream against the palm until Kane laughs in my ear like my reaction is hilarious. I was terrified.
“Show me your panties?”
“Get lost, Kane,” I snarl, turning and shoving him so hard he goes back half a step. Well don’t I feel weak. Half a fucking step. That’s it. Because he’s a wall of muscle and I hate him for it. “That’s not cool. You freaked me out.”
He takes me in, eyes lingering on the bare strip of skin at the top of my jeans. Then he strokes my arm from my shoulder to my elbow. “If you want me to stop, you know what you’ve got to do.”
“Show you my panties? You’re sick.” I push his arm away. “Stop touching me.”
“Why? You like it.” His grin is arrogant and gross but it also makes me feel warm inside.
“I do not,” I lie and we both know it’s a lie. I hate Kane Jessop but his touch has my entire body trembling every single time.
With a lingering look he points out, “You’re drunk.”
“A little bit,” I admit, looking at Poppy when she stumbles down the stairs of the trailer and falls onto her knees.
I forget about Kane as I laugh so hard I can’t see straight. I bend over and try to tug her up but she almost pulls me down with her.
“Everything hurts,” she says around a hoarse laugh. We can’t control our hysterics. That was too funny. The little eep noise she made, the s
queal that sounded like a pig in fear.
I’m genuinely laughing so hard I cannot breathe. I hug my stomach, still reaching for my best friend when two other girls step over her to enter the trailer. They’re laughing too.
My brother who appears out of nowhere, scoops her up, lifting her until she’s standing and pushes his grinning mouth against hers. They make out with tongues, still laughing which makes it look gross and messy. And I back up directly into Kane who I had completely forgotten about.
“Hi,” I utter turning to face him, still giggling and out of breath. His hands come to my hips to steady me, large and strong and so hot through my jeans. “That’s so gross, right?”
I make a noise in my throat when Kane’s hand tangles in my hair at the base of my neck and yanks. He towers over me, bending my head back, exposing my throat and forcing my lips to part. With hands splayed against his chest I remain still, like a deer in headlights, like a possum before it plays dead.
His eyes hold mine which must be wide like a startled animal. The blue in his glows in the dark and his lower lip shines from where he just licked it. It gives off a menacing glint, like a weapon in a movie, except this weapon isn’t deadly. No, not deadly. This weapon is soul destroying.
“You’re hurting me,” I lie, still startled but unharmed. In fact my entire body is a live wire right now. I’ve been plugged into something powerful and I’m tingling all over. I’m glowing from his touch so bright they could probably see me in space.
“No I’m not,” he replies on a whisper, still holding my eyes. “Wet your lips,” he breathes and I immediately comply, feelings twisting in my stomach as he watches my tongue roll over them before they roll together. He groans, going slightly cross-eyed. “Do it again.”
Once more my tongue tastes my lips and then roll together and he backs me up into the trailer side. It’s cold against my shoulders through the thin fabric of my shirt. His hand presses against the curve of my spine, against my bare flesh. He holds me in place, just in case I run.
“And again,” he orders, watching my face with furrowed brows and a pained expression.
I can feel him against my hip but I pretend I can’t. He’s rock solid and I can’t breathe.
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