I twist slowly, trying to peek around my hair. I don’t want him to see me. Bruised and smeared make-up. I know I look hideous and he’s the last person I ever want to witness me like this. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower first?”
“And then we’ll talk, right?”
I close my eyes again, this time to pinch back tears. I nod. “Okay.”
He holds out his hand, offering me my cup. I take it with a trembling hand, ignoring the dried blood caked on the top of my fingers.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He doesn’t step back. He does nothing to move out of my way and my stomach twists with alarm. I know—I know Chase would never hurt me, but it’s engrained in me now. Etched into my body. Tattooed into my muscles like second nature. My physical reaction is not my own. No matter what I tell myself, it responds out of habit.
“Can I…?” He lifts his hand and I step back quickly, but he keeps coming, slipping his fingers under my hair to push it out of the way. His eyes meet mine and hold them. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters gruffly. “I just want to see.” His thumb trails over my cheek like a first kiss—cautious and gentle, and asking for permission. I don’t give it. I can’t. I don’t even know how right now.
As much as I’d like to stay here all day with his fingers soft and light on my face, as much as I’d love to invade his space and press myself into his arms, I just can’t do it. I take another step back and hurry around him. I hear him say my name like a question, but I keep going until I’m on the other side of the bathroom door.
~*~
After a long shower where I’m forced to use generic boy shampoo and community bar soap, which is gross, I put on my same dirty clothes. And that is even grosser. I try to not let this bother me, and maybe it wouldn’t have, but there are stiff spots of brown along the collar of my shirt. I pretend it isn’t blood.
Luckily I carry a brush and emergency make-up bag in my purse. Unfortunately, I left my purse in Chase’s room.
I keep the towel close to my face, pretending to dry my hair as I make my way back to Chase’s door. I don’t even consider knocking because he knows I’m here. I turn the knob and he’s standing at the foot of his bed, back—toned and tan—to me. And he has a sexy back. Lean with a defining line running the length of his spine. His jeans, low on his narrow hips makes my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. I’ve seen all this more times than I can count over the years, but it always makes my insides quiver. He somehow manages to get better looking with each passing day.
I pause, my eyes glued to his back, and wonder how messed up I have to be to feel so much desire after what happened last night. I should be completely turned off by men—I know I can’t think about Loden in any way without feeling nauseated—but I’m not getting that same feeling with Chase. I never have. But I thought Loden was going to kill me. I honestly believe he wanted to. And here I am, just hours later, wanting to jump Chase.
That’s crazy, right?
No, there’s crazy, there’s fucked up, and then there’s me. I’m all alone on this level of insanity.
I push the door, letting it shut a little louder than I normally would. Chase glances over his shoulder before pulling a new tee shirt on. Finding my purse, I take it over to the bed and begin the process of concealing Loden’s handiwork. Hand, fist, whatever.
Cover-up doesn’t quite cut it, so I add a layer of base, which I typically stay away from because it clogs pores, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. I bought this bottle after the first time he hit me. I look down at it now and promise myself after my skin heals, I will never use it again.
By the time I’m finished, you can’t even tell my face is bruised. There’s not much I can do about the lip. The swelling isn’t too bad, and hell, I don’t mind a fuller lip, but the split is ugly and noticeable. Lipstick stung when I tried to apply it, so I decide to forgo that idea.
I click my little compact mirror closed and find Chase watching me.
“If I didn’t know it was there already, I wouldn’t ever have noticed,” he says, motioning to my face. “How many times have you done this before? Covered it up.”
“You don’t want to know,” I murmur dismissively because, truly, he can’t want an answer to that question.
“Yes,” he clips out, “I do.” I watch him cross the room to me. He locks his arms over his chest and puts one damn determined expression on his face. “How many times has this happened to you?”
Some people—probably most people—wouldn’t notice the slight distinction of his words. But I notice. He doesn’t care if Loden’s done this a hundred times. He just wants to know how many times he’s done it to me. Such a small difference, but it means something so enormous. At least, to me, it does.
“Do you want the number of times he hit me or just the number of times I had to wear an extra layer of cosmetics?” I’m circling around the question, I’m fully aware of this, but the ugly truth is, I don’t know the number. I know when it started. I know it happened a lot. And I know last night is the last time I’ll let him do it. I can’t believe I ever considered telling Chase all this. It’s too hard.
Chase’s jaw tightens. I hear his teeth grind against each other and it makes me cringe. “Don’t do this. Don’t pull this shit with me. I want to know everything he ever did to you.”
“Why?” I ask. “What does that accomplish?”
“I don’t…I don’t know. I just need to hear you say it.”
“What? That Loden likes to beat the shit out of me? There. It’s been said. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We need to call the cops.”
My head snaps back. “What? No.”
“Yes. He can’t get away with this.”
“I can’t go to the police. I don’t want to. He has money. Lawyers. It’s pointless. I just want to move on and forget it ever happened.”
“Are you going back to him?” he asks, his voice lowers in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s not anger. It’s something deeper. Scarier.
“No,” I breathe.
His eyes flick over my face, searching. “How can I trust that?”
“You just have to. I’m done letting Loden control me.”
“You have to understand I’m uncomfortable taking you at your word. You lied to me before. You can’t pretend like it never happened this time. I’ll tell Guy if I have to.”
“I’m not going back to him,” I say adamantly.
“What makes this time different than the rest?”
“Because he did this after I broke up with him,” I explain, the words bursting from my lips. “I told him I didn’t want to be with him anymore and I meant it this time. I told him it was over. Really over. Because I deserve better. And he wasn’t happy about it.” I point to my lip, not needing to emphasize it for Chase, but giving it to him anyway.
“Fuck,” he hisses. He lowers his head and works his fingers through his hair. “What happens now?”
It’s a fair question, but I’m sick of not knowing the answers. I shrug, shoulder my purse, and push myself off the bed.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“I need to change and study.” And cry.
“I’ll come with you,” he says, plucking the keys from his desk. “You wanted to talk about something yesterday before all this happened.”
“I don’t know if I can right now, Chase.”
He steps closer to me and I want to back up, but there’s nothing but a bed behind me. His eyes move over my face once again and I notice the way his throat shifts when he swallows. “Well I don’t know if I can let you out of my sight right now, Annie.” He touches his fingertips to mine and I’m caught off guard by the contact. My head snaps down quickly, gazing at where each point of his fingers connect to mine. I’m so lost in the emotions that attack, I almost don’t notice when he adjusts his hand, cupping mine in his palm.
“I wanted to tell you about all this. I wanted to tell you I was bre
aking up with Loden… I just can’t have this conversation now.”
He closes his eyes a little too long to be considered a blink, but when he opens them again, he smiles. “Let me come over,” he says, his voice taking on the usual playfulness he typically uses. I realize it’s been a while since I’ve heard it. And I miss it. “We don’t have to talk. I’ll just be decoration. A sexy decoration for you to look at.”
I roll my eyes, trying not to laugh. I nod my head at the door and he grins. I’d smile if my face didn’t hurt because, even though I can’t tell him, I feel better knowing that I won’t be alone today.
30
Everlong
Chase
I see missed calls and texts when I grab my phone on the way out, but I slip it into my pocket without a second thought. Anything I missed last night can wait.
I follow Annie back to her dorm. It takes a little longer than usual because apparently it snowed sometime during the night. I love snow. Not just looking at it, but the idea of it. It blankets everything, making it new. Cleansed.
That’s how today is going to work, I decide. It’s a new day. A fresh start. For Annie. For me. And maybe, just maybe, for Annie and I together.
I’ve only been inside Annie’s dorm room a couple of times. And on both occasions, I was in and out pretty damn quickly. As I step inside this time, I take a minute to look around. It’s clean in here. Organized.
“You know,” I say, “if you ever want to come clean my room, you’re more than welcome.”
She snorts, ignoring me. I slide a book off her shelf and flip through it quickly before putting it back.
“That’s not where it goes,” Annie says. I regard her with a cocked brow and she sighs. Leaning around me, she shoves the book back into its designated space.
Ohhhh, this could be fun.
I step around her and pluck another book out. I skim it with mock interest then drop it purposely onto the wrong shelf.
Annie makes a noise in her throat that I pretend not to notice as I run my fingers over her small DVD collection. She might be anal, but Annie has a pretty nice array of movies. And they’re all in alphabetical order. I wiggle Easy A out, glance over the case, and then slip it in between Wall-E and Zombieland.
And then I lie back on her bed and watch as she fixes what I messed up.
“Don’t touch anything else,” she commands. “And get your shoes off my bed.” She slaps my feet and I let them fall to the floor as I grin at her.
“So what do you want to do?” I ask, slipping my hands behind my head so I can see her better.
“I want to change my clothes.”
I toe off each shoe and prop my feet on the bed post, crossed at the ankles. “Oh, go for it,” I encourage with a smirk. “I don’t mind.”
Annie laughs and my smile turns into the real thing. I like seeing her happy, even if it’s only fleeting. “I bet you don’t mind one bit, but I’ll just get dressed in the bathroom.”
“I’ll close my eyes.” I make a show of placing my hands over my eyelids. I feel like I’m ten again, playing Hide and Seek. I always peeked back then. I’m not sure I’ve matured much.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she says as she pries my hands from my face. “Don’t do anything while I’m gone.”
My brows crinkle and I let out an insulted huff. “What do you think I’m going to do? Steal your panties? Find your sex toys? Or…maybe I’ll reorganize.”
“Stay out of my panty drawer,” she hisses as she rips a shirt off the hanger in her closet. “I don’t have sex toys, so don’t go searching for any. And if you try to reorganize my stuff, I’ll murder you.” She pauses at the door, glancing at me over her shoulder. “In fact, just…don’t touch anything.”
I bite my lip, holding back a satisfied laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
Annie rolls her eyes and disappears out the door. I jump up and start looking for sex toys—obviously—but I’m quickly disappointed when a thorough examination of the nightstand turns up nothing more than hand sanitizer, a bottle of lotion, some chick magazines, and random pens that she stole from every bank, grocery store, and gym in town.
I just close the drawer when she comes back in. Her eyes narrow on me and I hold up my hands in defense. “Don’t get all crazy-eyed with me. I’m not the klepto.” I slide the drawer back open and pull out a handful of pens as evidence.
“I didn’t steal those.” Annie tosses her dirty clothes into the hamper. All except the shirt. She puts that into a plastic shopping bag then shoves it into the trash. “They expect people to take those. That’s why they put their logo on them. It’s advertisement.”
“I’m sure the people at…” I choose a random pen from my hand and hold it out. “At Huntington Bank put this pen out on the counter for you to take home and keep hidden in your nightstand.”
“That’s my favorite pen,” she says seriously. “It writes better than any other pen I’ve ever used.”
“Are you joking?” I really can’t tell.
“Not at all.” She sits down on the bed and takes the pens from my hand. “And this one—it writes purple.” She waves one in front of me, but I can’t read where it’s from.
I cannot believe I thought she might have sex toys. Her dirtiest secret is an odd obsession with stolen pens. I chuckle and settle in beside her. “You’re very disappointing, you know?”
I’m only kidding—I find Annie anything but disappointing—but she winces and drops her head as she sets the pens back into the drawer. “Yeah, I know.”
“Hey.” I touch her chin, meaning to raise her head, but she jumps back, her eyes wide, and I freeze. Every time she reacts to me like this, it makes me want to hurt Loden so badly I can almost taste it. Her cheeks turn pink, even through all the extra make-up. I act as if I don’t notice.
“You’re not a disappointment. I was joking.”
She nods and I sigh because it’s the weakest agreement I’ve ever seen.
“I’m serious. You’re pretty—more than pretty. You’re smart and funny as hell. And you’re the perfect mix of mean and nice. You don’t disappoint.” I reach for her again, slower this time. I lift her chin and meet her eyes. “Well, I was a little saddened when you wouldn’t let me watch you change, but I’ll get over it.”
Annie smiles then presses her lips together, trying to hide it. “The perfect mix of mean and nice?” She shakes her head lightly. “Is that even a real thing?”
“Absolutely. Smartass female with a heart of gold, that’s you.”
She laughs through her nose and leans back on the pillow. “My heart isn’t gold. Nowhere close. It is a rock though.”
“Is it?” I ask doubtfully. “The Annie I know wouldn’t let some dickhead with a temper take something like that away from her.”
“Maybe I’m not the same Annie,” she whispers. “But I want to be.” She sits back up, her eyes locking on mine with determination. “I don’t want to be like this anymore, Chase. I know I’m fucked up and bitchy. I need perfection—spend so much time searching and reaching for it. I just want to be happy with who I am. Whatever that is.”
She speaks with so much passion—fierce and desperate at the same time. It causes the hairs on my arms to rise and my pulse to race. She has no idea she’s flawless. By my definition, the girl is the epitome of perfection.
“You’re perfect, Annie. To me, you’re perfect.”
Something flickers in her eyes. A mixture of pain and happiness. Maybe more. Maybe I’m imagining the whole thing. But then she leans forward, not a lot, just enough that I notice the movement. Her gaze drops to my lips as she wets hers. Then she moves in again, inching her body closer to mine. I feel the warmth of her skin, her heat hovering right in front of me. My hands clench into fists because I want to pull her across the little remaining space. Annie’s chin lifts, shifting enough to bring her lips even with mine.
I don’t know if it makes me a good guy or a fucking lunatic, but after one long, agonizing beat, I pull back, a
nd take her hand in mine. Standing up, I bring her with me and then I hug her. She’s so surprised by it all that she lets me.
“I want to know you’re okay,” I murmur into her hair. “When you’ve had more time—”
Annie jerks out of my arms, stepping back as far as she can go. “I need to study. Thanks for making sure I got home all right.”
I raise my eyebrows, watching her, but she doesn’t notice because she’s staring at the floor. I feel like the biggest asshole because I wanted to kiss her—I still do. I want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss her. I was just trying to do the right thing. I don’t want to take advantage of her when she’s been through so much shit lately. But now she’s acting like I was turning her down. The flames in her cheeks are proof that’s exactly what she thinks.
“Annie…”
“Just go. Please. I’m fine.”
“I—”
“Just fucking leave, Chase,” she yells as she shoves past me and drops into the desk chair. I watch her open her laptop, making it evident she’s ignoring me. Dismissing me.
I hesitate for a few more seconds, not sure what the hell I should do. Finally, I sigh and walk to the door. And then I turn, spin her chair around to face me, and kneel in front of her.
“I’m not putting up with your bullshit. Not about this. Not anymore.” Her eyes are wide, her knees shaking. I may have scared her, which wasn’t my intention, but I’m not backing down now. “I didn’t kiss you just then because I fucking care about you. I’ve cared about you for a long time. When I kiss you for the first time, it’s not going to be overpowered with grief and trepidation. And you aren’t going to jump when I touch you.” I bring my hand up, grazing it along her cheek. She trembles and I don’t know how to take that.
“You can be pissed at me all you want—I’m used to it—as long as you understand that I wanted to kiss you. That it’s a struggle, even right now, to keep myself from tasting you. Shit, Annie. It’s always been a struggle with you. But I want your lips healed. Your heart whole. And I want you to be sure I’m who you want. Because I’m not playing around here. I’m all in. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, and I’m at the point that I don’t really give a shit anymore. But I’m putting it out there so at least you understand how I feel.”
I push myself up, look at her for a second more, making sure every word I’ve wanted to say for so long, but never had the balls to express, has sunk in. She blinks, dumbfounded and I’m satisfied I’ve accomplished my goal. I spin on my heel and open the door.
“Don’t forget to call tonight,” I add. Then I leave before she can find some kind of valid argument that I don’t want to hear.
31
Alone Together
Annie
Overpowered with grief and trepidation.
It keeps running through my mind on repeat.
When I kiss you…
When.
Over and over I hear his voice in my head, strong, but gentle. Fierce, but soft. Chase was resolute. His decision unwavering. As if he had thought of these words before. As if he had this speech prepared for a long time now. Obviously not all of it—he didn’t know I’d have a split lip—but I wonder if he’d been feeling the confusion—the ache of the draw—all this time, the same as I have.
When I leaned in to kiss him, I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t thinking at all. I just wanted to touch him. Feel him against me. Soak up his comfort.
I know there’s an attraction between us. But “all in” is big. And scary.
The day passes like this. My mind reeling as I try desperately to make sense of my life. To start sorting through the chaotic mess it’s become. I pick at the bagel Chase got me and around nine when my stomach won’t stop growling at me angrily, I order pizza, which I eat every last bite of by myself.
By eleven, I’m debating making myself puke. For one thing, I feel disgusting—puking might occur all on its own. For another, gaining ten pounds over this breakup isn’t on my to-do list. And lastly, I’m so pissed at myself for putting something like greasy pizza into my body when I’ve been so careful to keep myself healthy.