In my fury and grief, I decide to call Derrick.
“Sav? Hello?” He answers immediately. No surprise there.
“Hey,” I keep walking toward my house. “Do you want to talk?”
It’s decided that he’ll come get me. I stop at the corner of Leafling and Pallow, the streets just outside my gated community. Then I wait for Derrick to come.
***
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he nearly shouts at me as I hop into his black truck. “Like, man. Sometimes I swear I’m so stupid. I should have been more considerate.”
I don’t mention the fact that he held onto me far too long and that he threw me on the bed and I’d seen the desire in his eyes. He wanted to climb on top of me, and he almost did. What stopped him, I truly don’t know.
“Yeah. Well. Maybe I should have just believed you,” I grumble, clasping my hands in my lap.
“Olivia’s a huge skank,” Derrick states as if this is factual, and he in fact knows that there have been studies produced on the girl. “She’s just jealous.”
The urge to roll my eyes is persistent, and instead, I pinch them shut for a few seconds so that he doesn’t notice my irritation or disgust. Because both of these emotions are like beacons in my chest, shining on despite my peachy serene face and fake attempt at smoothing things over. Why do I do this? Because I know I have no other choice. This is the bullshit of life. The nightmare we all must live.
“Yeah. She must be,” I agree softly, then I blurt: “Why do you think we haven’t had sex?”
Derrick is clearly astounded, and he shakes his shaggy hair, his eyes wide as he stares at the nicely paved road ahead of him, the sunset casting shadows from the spiny trees crowding around. But all I can think is about Wyatt’s expression when he realized that I was a virgin. The utter horror that crossed over his roguish features.
“Every Time we’ve gotten close you’ve had an excuse,” he says quietly.
I wonder if this is a touchy subject for him. Does it make him feel like less of a “man” that his girlfriend doesn’t want to spread her legs for him? Is that why he’s maybe, probably, cheating on me? Is that all that matters to him? Sex and football? I’m curling up at the edges at the thought of this, but I have no one else. I deserve no one else. Wyatt is more of a man than I could ever belong with. His rawness delivers an impactful punch to everyone around him. He’s above them in his lofty silence, yet they speak low of him because they can’t pin him down.
“What if I told you I don’t have any more excuses?”
His silence is telling. I don’t know why I’m doing this, I just can’t handle the pain anymore. I can’t handle Wyatt’s rejection. We haven’t even kissed and it’s the most discouraging thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
“You mean…”
“I’m not saying I want to do it right now in the back of the truck,” I say, reaching out and smoothing my hands over my legs.
He nods emphatically, and I know I’ve made his night. He doesn’t even care to ask or even wonder if it’s something I really want. He doesn’t pull back or shy away from the thought of it. He asks no questions, only takes what I say as bible truth. Because why would I lie? Why would I tell him I want to have sex with him now if I didn’t really mean it?
Wyatt
A few weeks have passed since Savannah showed up on my doorstep, and I can’t live like this. I’ve been battling myself, I hate every minute I’m alone, and Jade has been pissing me off. She arrives almost every night to make me dinner, and although I know she means well, I’m just stringing her along.
I crush my body with hers just to feel alive. I take her during the night because I need to feel like I’m still among the living. Because I’ve realized that I feared that I would destroy Savannah, but the reality is that she’s ruined me. I’m a fucking wreck, and I hate admitting it. In fact I’d never admit it out loud.
Jerry comments on my extreme terseness and jokes that ‘I should be in a better mood now that I’m getting laid,’ not the other way around. But this just makes my blood boil more.
Offhandedly, I hear bits and pieces about about Savannah and Derrick through Krista, and then Derrick on the weekends I get to have him stay at my house. I ask him nonchalant questions, like if they’re still good, and then go to his games and practices on the weekends. At the games, I can’t help my eyes from drifting toward her as she executes the cheers.
Jade’s always one step behind me, watching me, waiting, hoping. But the more she pushes me, the harder I push back. I’ve been ignoring her phone calls and texts, but then there is the random fuck here and there that keeps her coming.
Draper Auto Shop has been busier than usual now that fall is here. Everyone’s getting their cars detailed and purchasing new tires. I’ve made about a thousand orders, log our parts, and then send all of the information to my accountant like I do every month. Then he sends out digital paychecks and separates my money into specified accounts. I have two retirement, the trust for Derrick, a separate immediate savings, and then a checking account everything else rolls over into. When I look at the numbers in all of my accounts, my boots kicked up on my desk, I realize that the sad truth is that I have money, but no one to spend it on. I could have a full life if I wasn’t so fucking stupid.
If I wasn’t such a damn scumbag.
When I come home one night, I’m sore, pissed, and tired. I head upstairs to the shower and wash myself of the day’s grime. I leave my phone on my bed with Nuke. While I’m washing I hear Nuke bark a few times, but then quiet. I’m guessing it’s just Jade here to spend the night, and when I come out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and walk into the bedroom, water dripping from my legs.
“What are you doing?” I ask, staring at Jade who is sitting cross-legged on my bed, my phone in her hands.
“Who’s Savannah? Isn’t she your son’s girlfriend?” She asks curiously. She tilts her head up at me, shiny black hair swooping around her pretty features. She’s clad in puffy night pants and a band t-shirt. She’s nearly gaunt beneath so much fabric.
“Uh,” I twist my fingers in the towel at my waist and grip there so that it doesn’t fall. “Yeah.”
“Why is she texting you ‘We need to talk?’” Jade asks, cocking one perfect black brow.
“Hm,” I grunt, going to my dresser and tossing my towel aside so that I can jam my legs into my shorts and a loose white shirt. “Probably because I worked on her car a few weeks ago. It must be having problems again.”
I swallow hard, hoping that she doesn’t realize that I’m extremely uncomfortable. How dare she even speak Savannah’s name? How dare she make me feel guilty? I’m protective of Savannah as the secret light in my mind, the hidden angel that both inspires and motivates me to be better. And I don’t like the way Jade is eyeing me suspiciously.
“It must be that,” she sniffs and tosses my phone aside. “I would assume her dad would deal with that stuff. It’s just a little weird, isn’t it?”
“No. She’s family,” I explain, trying to pass it off as nothing special.
Jade smiles and then sighs, stretching out on the bed.
“Rough day?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she swipes a hand over her dainty features, then drags her thin fingers through her shiny black hair as she lies on her back. “I’m following a case right now and it’s really giving me hell.”
“Sorry,” I grunt. “I thought you were a cop, not a detective?”
“I’m in training. I’m sick of driving through the streets dealing with minor parking infractions. The main criminal activity in Thornwood comes from things happening under the table. You’d be surprised by the dark shit that happens behind closed doors.”
“I believe it,” I tell her, and come to hop in the bed next to her. “What kind of dark shit?”
“Ooh, I have your attention now,” she snickers, leaning toward me and nuzzling her face against my chest, something that makes me tense immediately. I feel my muscles
clench against her touch, and I wonder if she ever notices my resistance. “We have a local mafia stirring up trouble, some government officials involved in blackmail, murders, kidnappings...it’s just you don’t hear about it often because everything is swept under the rug.”
“Interesting,” I grumble and then move away from her. This feels too familiar. Too intimate.
“Wyatt, don’t,” she says, reaching out for my arm. But I pull away from her and stand. “Please. I’m so sick of this. I don’t understand what your problem is. You want me here and then other times you’re throwing me out the door. I consider myself a patient woman, but this…” she sighs, and I hear the bed creak as she sits upright. “Is there someone else?”
“No,” I growl hoarsely. Yes, oh yes, there is someone else. A woman a whole sixteen years younger than me. A girl who makes me fucking weak, who dictates every choice I make.
“Then what is it?” she argues.
I spin around, anger rising. My temper has always been short, and I try to calm myself before reacting.
“I told you when we first started this that there was no room for a real relationship. I’m not looking for that,” I explain, voice bristling with irritation. I drag a hand up over my short brown hair and then lay my hands low on my hips. “You were fine with that before.”
“Okay,” she nods, eyes searching the space before her as if she’ll find something different, something new to say that will change my mind. “But why. At least try to explain it to me.”
“I did explain it. That day on the bleachers.”
“No,” she shakes her head, shunting that response. “That was the preconceived speech. I want the truth.”
I shrug, not knowing what else to say.
“If you’re not happy with this, then you know what to do.”
“No, you know what I think?” She ignores my words, continuing with vehemence narrowing her eyes. “I think you were married and then you cheated on your wife, and now you can’t forgive yourself. You feel like a fuck-up. Well, guess what? I feel like that too. Maybe we have more in common than you know or want to accept. But, I do know if you gave this an actual chance that we could make it.”
What she doesn’t know is that I won’t go there with her because I want something that she can’t give me. I have an emptiness inside me that only one woman can complete, and I think I’ve realized that more now that I’ve felt her skin against mine. The fact that Savannah has texted me has me itching to grab my phone and obsessively text her back. I want to know how she is, what she’s doing, how every day has been since I’d talked to her last. I want to apologize and tell her how huge of an ass I was.
“Jade,” I sigh. “Listen. You don’t know me well enough to say if we could or couldn’t. And it doesn’t even matter because I don’t want to get to that point with you.”
“But, you do with someone else?” she questions hatefully, drags herself from the bed, and panders toward the door. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve met. At some point, everyone you know and love will turn on you because you, like every fucking man I’ve met in my life, keep people at arm’s length. I’ve never seen things work out for people like you…they always get what’s coming. I wanted to believe that you would eventually warm up, Wyatt. But the truth is that you’re just like all the others. Pathetic assholes.”
Her words sting, but I can’t care too much. All I can think about is Savannah. Jade will never understand, and that’s fine. Maybe I shouldn’t have even had her here in the first place. What was I doing except for trying to fill a Savannah-shaped hole?
Jade leaves my house in an echoing silence. A silence that shakes me to the core with relief.
Fuck. My dick is already hard thinking about Savannah. Maybe she’s laying in her bed, her fingers playing with her clit. Maybe she wants me to steal into her room and do things to her she’s never even imagined. Maybe, just maybe, we’re supposed to be fire and gasoline, letting our explosion light up Thornwood and everyone in it.
Savannah
“Will it hurt?” I ask, laying completely naked and defenseless beneath his heavy body. I try not to look at his dick because every time I look at it I seize up with fear. I have no pleasure in my body, no excitement for this experience. This experience that is supposed to be so perfectly beautiful. Mutually satisfying. But it’s nothing like that, and sickness ripples in my gut as I screw up my face and lock my legs.
“No. It’s not painful,” Derrick smiles down at me, his hair hanging down over his face. “You’re going to feel so good, babe.”
He pushes the condomed tip right up against my entrance, and I know that he’s lying. It’s going to hurt like hell. I’m gasping, holding my breath, squirming beneath him as he pushes into me.
“Ouch!” I groan. “Stop!”
“What?” he asks, voice drunk on lust. He moves inside of me, and I feel the burning pain radiate through my pelvis. Tears stipple my lashes, and I try to put on a brave face. Because maybe this is what it’s supposed to be. Is this what the girls are all talking about? Is this the glorified “sex” everyone hypes up? Because this doesn’t feel remotely good on any level.
“Oh, Savannah...oh,” Derrick moans in my ear as he shoves himself deeper, moving in and out of me in jagged humps. My voice is trapped in my chest, and coldness rushes through me as I lay there. Defeated. Dejected. Ruined. Body torn. Mind fractured.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he praises and leans down to kiss me. His lips mesh with mine in a spasmodic motion while I lay completely still. I don’t dare move. I don’t even try to kiss him back. “Do you like it?”
I’m not really sure what sort of noise I release from my throat. It’s a mixture of a stifled scream and a pretend gladness. A fake affirmation that I’m also enjoying it. But if he were actually listening, he’d hear the frozen terror crawling on my tongue. Maybe if he stepped back for just one second, he’d even smell it.
“Babe,” he grunts and then begins to quicken his pace, tearing me, stretching me. “Oh, my fucking…” Then he comes, withdraws, and smiles at me as if this is the best he’s ever had. His happiness only makes me sicker, and I roll over in his bed, darkness shading my face, the space between my legs now an empty aching pit. I hold back the tears as he cleans himself up and gets rid of the condom.
That was it. Now my virginity is gone, and I am worse for it. I don’t understand the way I feel. I don’t even know why the tears arrive and my throat lumps thick. But when he’s asleep, I let the tears fall. I mourn the loss of something that wasn’t his to take. And I shake, all night, from the pain that lingers deep in my pelvis.
I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.
***
I’m sitting in my car, phone in hand. Waiting. Watching. And then…
I’d rather talk in person. His text comes, and my chest floods with savage gratitude. It’s been nearly three weeks since I ran to his house. I need to talk to him. I can’t accept what he’s said.
Halloween is almost here, and from my parking spot on Main street I can see the orange lights strung across the old-style street lamps, restaurant signs lit up, everything a little hazier because of the rain pattering down. Raindrops slide over my windshield and windows, and I blast the heat as I think about what to say next.
Do you want me to pick you up? Or should I come there? I ask.
Won’t your dad be worried that you’re gone?
He thinks I’m staying at Derrick’s.
And I suppose I should be. But tonight, everything is different. It’s the day after I gave myself to Derrick, and my body feels mutilated in all senses.
I can’t make sense of any of it. I’ve gone to school pretending everything is fine, planning the parties, making my A’s, doing my homework, keeping my head down when around my dad, never skipping, never doing anything out of character. I cheer and then I gossip with my friends. We go to the Diner and the Cafe wearing our thick leggings and boots, scarves tossed around our necks to show off
the low-cut of our shirts. We never step out of the ordinary.
But, now I’m fully, completely sick. I don’t want to look at Derrick. I don’t want to pin my eyes open and stretch a smile on my lips to keep him satisfied, because there’s only so much I can do before I break. I need a minute to recuperate. To build myself back up again so that everyone can believe the act.
You can come here. The text illuminates my face in the dark car, and I close my eyes briefly before kicking on the ignition and starting the drive.
By the time I get there, it’s seven-thirty-four. I park outside and glance around to see if anyone is looking. Wouldn’t that be great? The cherry on top of Senior year-- being labeled as a slut for my boyfriend’s dad.
I grip my dark brown jacket close around my body as I hurry up the walkway, dodging weeds as I go. I hear Nuke barking just beyond the front door and see the warm light coming from within the house. Something about this place is calm. Relaxing. Unassuming.
The door opens when I reach it, and then he’s standing there. Wyatt is dressed in gym shorts and a loose t-shirt, and I am jarred by how erotic he looks. I never knew a man could look this outrageously sexy, but if anyone could ever pull it off it’s Wyatt. He fits the description fully, with his dreamy eyes, his gem-cut features, broad shoulders and trim waist, thick calves, and short brown hair I want to run my hands through.
“Savannah,” he says in welcome, inclining his head.
“Mr. Draper…” I start to say and then don’t know how to continue. My heart is in my throat, a beast reminding me that everything I am, everything I want, is within him. I want to shed yesterday with Derrick from me like a second skin. I want to be born again in him, to let the ragged memories of every foul fake foolish choice die with us.
He closes the door behind me and I go to him. I step forward in bravery, allowing my body to connect to his, and then wrap my arms around his waist. He is hesitant, and his cock butts against me again, but I don’t mind it because I know he’d never force me into anything I didn’t want. Slowly, his arms find their way around me, and he lets his chin rest on the top of my head.
The Prom Queen's Sinner: Thornwood Small Town Forbidden Romance Book One Page 9
