“Didn’t sound like a joke,” I sneer.
He rolls his eyes and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “Whatever, your sense of humor obviously sucks, by the way.”
“Maybe you just aren’t good at telling jokes,” I tilt my head to the side, watching as he lights up the end of his cigarette, a bright cherry appearing at the end. Sucking in a deep breath of nicotine, he holds the air inside his lungs for a moment before releasing it, a pillar of smoke snaking out of his nose and into the chilly night air.
“Did you miss me?” he asks, his eyes piercing mine before I break the connection and look away.
“No, I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t remember you.”
“I can help you remember me…” his voice trails off, “I mean if you want me to.” I know I should be shoving my foot up this guy’s ass by now, but my curiosity outweighs my need to hurt him.
“Did we ever… you know?” My cheeks start to flame as the question rolls off my tongue.
“Fuck?” Matt hisses into the air, “No, you never let me inside those cotton panties of yours.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke, before rubbing the end against the bottom of his shoe. His insult doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s clear to me that I was a good girl before all of this happened, or at least somewhat of one if I held onto my v-card.
“Why the hell are we engaged then?”
Matt smiles again, and I swear the brown in his eyes grows darker, “’Cause it makes sense. It will be good for both of our families and good for business. So, let’s just get it over with. You did agree to marry me at one point, that’s the truth, and I think we still should, we don’t have to be in love for this to work. We don’t have to hate each other either. This could be a mutual benefit for both of us, so let’s just be adults here and do what’s best for everybody.”
I’m left speechless by his admission. That’s a lot to take in, and I need a minute to actually grasp onto everything he just said. Even though his confession hurt, in a way, it was also honest, and after feeling like my parents have been hiding stuff from me, I do appreciate that honesty. Still, hearing that I agreed to marry for reasons other than love makes my chest ache.
Was I really that kind of person?
“How would it benefit us to get married?” I ask after gathering my thoughts.
Matt shrugs, “Mostly because our fathers do a lot of business together, and they are planning on merging their companies after our marriage. It would show the board members that this would still be a family business, which your father has always claimed it to be. Also, my father wants me to take over the company in a few years, and I might have a bit of a wild side. Hookers and partying all night. It’s kind of a turn off for some of the investors, getting married and settling down, would ease their minds.”
“So, what you’re saying is, we’re getting married for show, to boost our families images?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. I mean, I do like you… you’re really pretty,” he says, his eyes briefly scanning my body.
“Ah… thanks.” I guess he said that to compliment me, but it feels more like an insult. Are my looks all he likes about me? Is that what he bases my character on?
“We could have a good life together, and I would take care of you. I mean, I’m an asshole, but I protect what’s mine.”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember you, or anyone for that matter. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”
Matt nods as if he understands, “I see that this is something you need to think about. If you could do me a small favor and not tell your parents that I told you the truth about us, I would appreciate it. They asked me to tell you we were in love and all that shit. Just a precaution in case we do get married. I don’t want to piss off the in-laws right off the bat.”
“I won’t tell them, and thanks for being honest with me. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem, here is my number. Call me if you want to talk more.” He hands me a business card. I take it and hold on to it tightly like it’s a lifeline. I feel like I might need his honesty in the future.
Turning around to leave, something dawns on me, I have one more question burning in the back of my mind, and I want only an honest answer.
“Can I ask you something else and you be honest with me?”
Matt stares at me, his face blank, “Ask away, sweetheart.”
“Do you know Sullivan Bishop?”
At the mention of the name, Matt’s face scrunches up like he just caught a whiff of something nasty. He leans forward on the bench, staring up at me, “I know the Bishops alright, and so do you, well, did. Your family and the Bishops’ have been enemies since forever, for as long as I can remember. It’s funny you ask that actually because you and Sullivan have history.”
My eyes widen, and I wonder for a moment if that’s why I felt so connected to him. As if Matt can see the wheels inside my head spinning, he continues, “Not that kind of history. I think you would much rather kill each other than screw. You two have hated each other since you were kids, and senior year you planted drugs in his pocket at a party. Got him arrested and kicked out of school. They did an article in the paper about it, plastered the Bishop family name everywhere. Sullivan lost his scholarship to play ball, but their family lost much more than that. They’ve since disappeared from town.”
“I… I destroyed someone’s life?” I blink, not even sure I believe what he’s saying. Why would I do something like that? What caused me to hate this family so much?
“You act so surprised?” Matt’s brow furrows with confusion, “I know you don’t remember stuff, but I’m sure you can still tell who you are inside, right? Plus, it’s not like they didn’t deserve it. Your father has reasons for doing the things that he does.”
There’s a gnawing in my gut, something that tells me if I look deep inside myself, I won’t like the person I find, the person I was before the accident. I don’t want to be her...I don’t want to do whatever my father had me doing.
“I don’t care what his reasonings are, that’s not me. That can’t be. I don’t want to hurt people, deserving or not.” Matt scrubs a hand down his face and lets out a frustrated sigh.
“The damage is already done, Princess. Sullivan Bishop has been out for revenge for a long time, so don’t be surprised if he comes for you next.”
“What does that mean?” I ask because I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything, and the frustration over it grows inside me the roots sinking deeper and deeper. It’s like everyone is speaking in tongues, a language I used to know but no longer understand.
Matt gets up from the bench and walks toward me, he stops a foot away, leaving just enough space between our bodies, so I don’t feel suffocated by his presence. Still, his body towers over mine, and I don’t like it. I don’t like the fragileness I feel. There’s a sweetness to his scent, and it tickles my nostrils. His fingers lift my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes as he speaks.
“It means if he or his brothers fuck with you, there will be consequences. Your father just got you back, and I doubt he’s going to let anything happen to you again.”
When he releases me, I feel compelled to ask him what he means about my father getting me back? Is he referring to the accident? Or is he referring to something else? Matt doesn’t give me a chance to digest my thoughts fully before he takes hold of my hand, tugging me back the way we came.
“It’s time for the Princess to go to bed.”
“I’m an adult you know, not six-years-old, and I’m not a princess, stop calling me that,” I growl under my breath as he leads me back into the house.
He stops once we reach the grand staircase, a tight-lipped smile on his lips, “You might be an adult, but you’re fragile, like the most beautiful piece of sea glass, and right now you need your rest. You are still recovering, and if you don’t take care of yourself, you will never fully recover and come to remember the life you lived.
”
I guess I can’t argue with him there. I’ve been exhausted, my headaches have been more constant than normal. It’s like my memories are trying to come back, pushing against the barrier my brain has put up. I want to remember, no, I need to remember. I need all the missing puzzle pieces so I can figure out what the hell is going on.
“I want to kiss you, Harlow,” he murmurs, and before I can object, he’s leaning in, cupping me gently by the back of the head, his fingers threading through my hair. His lips descend brushing against mine in the faintest way, but it’s still enough to send an electrical shock through my body that sparks something inside my brain.
A memory, a thought… the barrier separating the two spaces, my past, and my present, cracks a little and I push through the crack grabbing onto the thought with two hands, letting it drag me into the darkness.
“Okay.... A kiss… A kiss would be okay, I mean,” I whisper right before he brushes a strand of hair from my face. His thumb brushing against my cheek leaving my skin tingling beneath his touch. He leans in, eyes open wide, as if he doesn’t want to miss the chance to see my face when our lips touch.
Then our lips touch, pressing together and my eyes close on their own. Tingles of warmth ripple through me. Everything around us fades out as if we are the only two people in the world. All I feel are his soft, full lips against mine. The kiss is gentle, heart-warming, and I lean into him while our lips melt into each other.
I give myself this one second to forget everything, the reason I am here and the reason I should hate him. Butterflies flutter around inside my stomach igniting a deep tremble in my core. A warmth seeps into my bones, melting me like an ice cream cone sitting in the afternoon sun.
I want to get lost in that feeling, feel nothing else beside it, but my father's voice rings in my ears right then. I need to remember what his family has done, the pain they’ve caused.
With a heavy heart and an unsteady hand, I grab the small plastic bag from my pocket and slip it into his before I pull away breaking the kiss.
Try as I might to hold onto that memory it slips between my fingers like tiny bits of sand, the kiss with Matt ends as well and I’m left wondering what the hell just happened.
“I’ll see you later, and like I said...call me if you need anything.” Matt trails his thumb over my cheek, and I turn on my wedges, damn near falling on my face, as I do.
Thankfully, I catch myself against the railing and start up the stairs, all but racing toward my bedroom. By the time I reach my room, I’m panting, my chest rising and falling in such a manner, I wonder if I’m going to have an anxiety attack.
Slipping inside the room I close the door behind me and turn the lock into place. Then I slide down the door, my ass hitting the floor with a hard thud. That was definitely a memory from my past, and it was obviously with Sullivan, and it proved my biggest fear. I had hated him, but not enough to not give in to the temptation of kissing him, and if that’s not the scariest part of all of this, I don’t know what is.
If Sullivan was supposed to be an enemy, if we were fated to hate each other, if I hurt his family, and him, then why the hell were we kissing each other? And why did he find me and say he wants to help me? None of this makes sense, and as badly as I want answers, I know I won’t get any unless I dig deeper, unless I find them out for myself. Pushing up off the floor, I get ready for bed, putting my PJs on, and washing my face.
By the time my head hits the pillow, I’m partially asleep. My mind drifting to someone I shouldn’t have anything to do with.
18
Like every morning, for the last few weeks, I wake confused. It takes me a while to grab onto my bearings and make sense of anything first thing in the morning. I’m always looking around the room for something familiar…something that makes me remember this place, but it never happens.
Each day I wake up here, I feel like a visitor, a guest staying in a five-star hotel. Still in my jammies, I wander around my room, having the sudden urge to find something, anything that looks or at least feels familiar.
Walking over to my bookshelf, I let my fingers trail over the spines of the books, there are countless books, some of which I’ve read and loved, but nothing seems recognizable. Pulling the nearest book out, I search between every page, looking for something, anything, but nothing comes up. I do it with each of the books, but the outcome is the same.
Frustrated, I move to my desk and start to go through all the drawers, old notebooks, and pencil cases, but again, nothing worthy of investigation. I scour through the rest of the room meticulously, before I move on to my closet, touching every piece of clothing, every pair of shoes and accessories inside the large space. Nothing. Always nothing.
Tears prick my eyes, the frustration inside me boiling over. All I want is a thought, a memory, good or bad, it doesn’t matter. I just need something to keep me going. God, please give me something to show me that I’m not going crazy.
With my head hanging low, I exit the walk-in closet, but as I cross the threshold, I spot something out of the corner of my eye. A backpack. It’s thrown carelessly in the corner beside the door. It’s hidden in plain sight, and I wonder why I’ve never noticed it before.
Bending down, I pick up the old worn backpack. It looks nothing like the clothing and purses that adorn the hangers in my closet. It looks like… me. Urgently, I move to my bed and unzip it, pouring the contents out on my comforter.
Books, papers, folders, and loose pens fall haphazardly onto my bed. This must be my high school backpack. At first glance, nothing out of the ordinary sticks out to me, and I start to feel depressed again, but when I start to put all the contents back inside, something slips out of one of the books and lands on the floor at my feet.
My gaze darts to the rectangular laminated Student ID card. I know it’s mine because there is a picture of me on it, and my name is printed across the top right corner, below the words: Bayshore University.
Picking it up, I inspect it further. Written next to my picture is my name, my birthday, and my Student ID number. I realize then that this isn’t my high school backpack. It’s my college one, but if I wasn’t in college, then why do I have a student ID for one? Turning, I sit down on the edge of the mattress.
Flipping the card over there is an address, phone number, and website link.
My eyes dart to the sleek cellular device sitting on my nightstand. Since coming home, I’ve looked at it a handful of times. There’s nothing on it. I’ve looked through it, it contains a few numbers, but that’s it. It’s practically brand new, and I’m doubtful it has ever been used.
Grabbing it, I decide to make a phone call to the University just to make sure that I was attending college there. My fingers shake as I dial the number, my heart beating wildly in my chest. If I was really going to school there, then why am I at home right now? Why didn’t my parents tell me?
Pushing the thoughts away for a moment, I press the green call key, and the sound of the phone ringing fills my ears.
“Bayshore University Admissions, how can I help you?” A woman greets joyfully.
“Hi, yes, I was wondering if you had a student by the name of Harlow Lockwood in attendance there?”
“Hi, and who am I speaking with?”
“Harlow Lockwood.”
“Umm,” she pauses, obviously confused.
“It’s a long story, but I can confirm my date of birth and possible student ID number if that helps any?” The click of fingers on a keyboard fills the speaker of my phone.
“That would be great. Whenever you’re ready.”
I recite the information on the card back to her, and within seconds, she confirms what I had suspected.
“Okay, Harlow, I can confirm that you were a student here. It looks like you’re still enrolled but on a leave of absence. Was there anything else that you wanted to know?”
Leave of absence?
“No, thank you.” I hang up the phone catching the beginning of her wishin
g me a good day, knowing damn well that won’t be happening.
My hunch was spot on, my parents have been lying to me, and have definitely been hiding stuff. The question is, why? Whatever their reasoning, it had better be good because no longer will I stand by and be made a fool of.
With my ID card in hand, I storm out of the room and down the hall heading toward my father’s study. I need some answers, and I need them now. As I get closer to the door, I notice it’s cracked open, Dad’s voice filtering from within. He’s either on the phone or talking directly to someone. Since I’m barefoot I’m able to creep closer without making a sound, at the door, I peer through the slit into the room.
From what I can see he’s alone, no one else is in the office with him. Thankfully he’s turned toward the window, his back to me.
“I told you that I would meet you tonight at the hotel…”
The person on the other line must say something because a moment later he answers with, “Yes, wait there, naked on the bed, like always, and please next time don’t call my office. Anyone could answer. I have to get back to work, I’ll see you later, baby.”
Blinking, I try to absorb what I just heard. My father is… is he having an affair? It sure sounds that way. I know I should be angry, maybe even sad, but it’s almost like I have no emotion toward it. It’s like… I don’t care. Which is strange, because I should definitely care.
Impatiently, I wait another minute before entering the room. I don’t want him to know that I heard the conversation. Shoving it to the back of my mind, I concentrate on the anger boiling in my veins over him lying to me about college. If he lied about this, then what else has he lied about?
Certain that enough time has passed, I march into the room without knocking. My father’s head snaps up from the papers he is working on at my appearance.
“Harlow?” Shock fills his features. Why is he so surprised to see me? I don’t dwell on the thought for long since there are other pressing matters.
“Why did you lie to me about college?” I bellow, getting straight to the point. Walking up to his desk, I toss the ID card at him. It slides across the polished wood, coming to a stop right in front of him. As if he had this all planned out, his lips part, and he looks up at me, shame flickering in his eyes.
The Bayshore Rivals: The Entier Series Page 17