by C. R. Jane
I'd tried to stop crying as we walked, but my stupid leg hurt so much that I was a crying mess by the time we made it. A concerned nurse quickly led me to a bed, and I laid there, cursing the world until someone from the administration came into the room.
From the look of her, she'd seen my file, knew exactly what kind of family I'd come from, and immediately decided that I was the trouble, somehow bringing things like this upon myself.
Fortunately for me, the nurse stayed hovering nearby, and so she had to pretend to somewhat give a shit. "So you're saying that you were walking around last night and you got thrown into the gardening cellar by an unknown assailant... Where were you walking to?"
Yes, I knew I was the dumbest girl on the planet before I even opened my mouth, because for some reason, I couldn’t tell her that it was Jackson. I didn’t know if it was pride in not wanting to tell on someone, or if it was a habit from years filled with always having Jackson's back. But I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I was supposed to be meeting him.
"I was on my way back to my dorm from the library," I told her, and the lie tasted sour on my lips.
She made a non-committal humming sound, like she didn’t believe me, or she thought that I had far more nefarious reasons for walking around last night. But she didn’t say anything more on the subject.
"Well, we will definitely look into this. Why don't you get some pain medicine now and take the day off from classes?" she suggested as she stood up and brushed non-existent wrinkles off her plaid power suit.
"Thank you," I responded listlessly as the nurse brought over some Advil. It would barely take the edge off the pain, but my pain relievers were in my room, so it would have to do for now.
I lay on that bed in the nurse's station for half the day.
I would've gone home if I'd had a home to go to.
Melanie was painting her nails with a friend when I finally made it back to my room. I needed to shower badly, but I wasn't so sure that a snake or something else wouldn't be released in my stall again just to torture me further, and I didn't have it in me to be brave.
"Where have you been?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.
I fell on my bed, not bothering to answer her. I listened to them whispering about me for about half a second before I fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
I hadn't meant to come to his room again. But like I said, habits are hard to break.
He lay there unchanged, and I sat there just staring at him, wondering what my life would be like right now if that summer had never happened.
He was still beautiful, even in his sleep. His muscles had shrunk from years of inactivity, but his face was still a work of art.
"You got what you wanted, you know. He hates me," I whispered to him as the machines around him beeped slowly.
But of course, he didn’t answer.
A part of me almost envied him. He didn't have to face any repercussions from what happened that night. He went from one of the state's football heroes to some kind of tragic hero while I was left in the ashes. What would it be like to avoid all responsibility for every flawed thing you'd ever done?
I didn't think I'd ever find out.
I got up from the chair I'd been perched on beside his bed and didn't bother to say goodbye, or that I wouldn't be back.
Because now it would be a lie.
I was never going to be able to move past Caiden and what I'd done.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I was going on a date with Landry that evening. We were in Lane's room to avoid Melanie, and Lane flitted around me like I was the Barbie doll she'd always wanted to play with. It was five days after the cellar incident. I'd done nothing but go to class and return to my room.
Lane had finally staged an intervention, bringing Chinese takeout and Steel Magnolias to my room the night before. I'd been avoiding her, but once she was there, the whole sordid story had come out. Well...at least some parts of the story. I'd never tell anyone what happened that night with Caiden. It was enough for her to know that I'd once dated him, and that Jackson held me responsible for his injuries. Lane had tried to press for more, but I'd already given her more than I'd uttered to another living person. She'd obviously been concerned about the fact that I'd been thrown into a cellar and wanted to call the police, but I'd convinced her not to. I didn't tell her that I'd had to buy a flashlight and keep it on next to me when I tried to sleep, because I was even more terrified of the dark than ever before.
She'd retaliated by forcing me to return Landry's call, and now here I was, getting ready to go on a date with him. My first date in two years in fact.
She had an entire basket worth of beauty products spread out on her bed, and I stared at all the items she was laying out, a bit terrified. I'd never had this kind of experience. You know, the one where you actually have a friend to talk about makeup and beauty tips with. Lane was trying to explain to me the art of contouring at the moment, and it was going straight over my head.
"Maybe we should just stick with some eyeliner and some mascara and call it good," I told her as she came at me with something she called a "blurring stick."
"This comes with the territory of being friends with me, babe," she snorted as she dropped the blurring stick and picked up a brush and some powder instead. I could do powder.
"I'm nervous," I blurted out. "I can't believe I'm doing this. What if it sucks?"
She set the powder brush down and went over to her cabinet where she pulled out a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. "You need a little of this to relax," she stated calmly as she poured the shots and handed one to me. Today, her hair was up in a messy bun that looked like it would be impossible to replicate. She had two chopsticks in it that were somehow holding it up, and she was wearing a black shirt with Thor on it that said, "You want me to put the hammer down?" over bright blue leggings and combat boots.
She was effortlessly cool, and I still didn't know what in the world she was doing hanging out with me.
"We're going to play a game—two truths, and a lie. We'll both offer up our truths and lies and if you guess wrong, you have to drink a shot."
"Pretty sure that you're not supposed to show up for a date drunk," I commented with a laugh, knowing that I was going to play the game.
"We still have two hours. We'll play for thirty minutes, and then you can sober up. Just try not to guess wrong too much," she giggled.
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, you go first."
"Okay," she said, pursing her lips as she thought about what to say. "Alright. My favorite color is black. I had a dog growing up named Barnie. And my favorite movie is Legally Blonde."
I scoffed. "Obviously, your favorite movie is not Legally Blonde."
A triumphant grin lit up her face. "Got you. My favorite color is actually pink. Everything else was true."
My mouth dropped open. "Your favorite color is pink? You're like, destroying your image right now."
She giggled. "Drink up, bitch."
I threw the shot back and gasped as it burned my throat. I was so not a drinker.
"Your turn," she sang at me. I cleared my throat as I thought about what I was going to say.
"I hate grape jelly. I sing in the shower. And I want to go to medical school," I told her.
She fiddled with some more makeup as she thought about my three things. "Ahah. It's that you want to go to medical school. That's the lie. You're in all English classes."
I grinned. "Nope, my lie was that I hate grape jelly," I said with a laugh as she grumbled and took her shot.
"But you love books," she pouted. "Why are you taking all college English courses if you're just going to take all science classes once you get into the college?"
I hadn't meant for this to become a deep discussion. "I want to be rich, and English majors don't get rich," I said lamely, even though that was a lie. I wasn't going to tell her that I wanted to be a doctor so that maybe I could help Caiden or others like him someday. I would never te
ll anyone that.
"Oh," she said, clearly disappointed in my answer.
"What are you majoring in?" I asked, cocking my head.
Her eyes lit up. "Oh, I'm a music major and an English minor. I sing and play five different instruments. The minor is to help with my songwriting. Someday, I'm going to make it big," she explained as her eyes went a bit dreamy.
There was silence for a minute, as if she was imagining her future, and then she snapped back to life. "Alright, we need to keep going," she said, bouncing on her toes.
And so we did. And I found out that I liked Lane even more after learning so many inane details about her, like the fact that she hated oranges, drank at least five cups of coffee a day, and had been to six of the seven continents.
She really was a crazy cool girl.
And I found out she was really good at makeup, even while tipsy. As I looked in the mirror, you couldn't even tell that I hadn't slept well in weeks. My eyes were artfully done in golds and browns, making my blue eyes pop. She'd managed to contour my face like a pro, and I felt a bit like Kim Kardashian staring at her work.
My phone rang. Crap, it was already time for Landry to pick me up. "I'll be right out," I rushed into the phone, before hanging up and throwing it onto the bed like a psycho. It was a struggle to put on the black mini dress that Lane had forced me to borrow. After the accident, I'd worn nothing but long pants due to the thick scar that extended from my ankle to my knee, but I'd eventually gotten over that. It wasn’t like I could hide the fact that I had a limp, so why should I hide the scar that showed the injury that made me limp?
I was definitely a bit tipsy as I left Lane's room to meet Landry in the common room where he'd texted he was waiting. It was exactly the liquid courage that I needed though.
He looked good. He was wearing a sage green button-up that made his eyes pop even more, with a pair of dark, fitted jeans. His russet-colored hair was done in that artfully messy way that all guys seemed to be able to master.
His eyes lit up when he saw me. "You look great," he stammered, and his cheeks got a little red as he looked me up and down. It was definitely something to see this striking, popular guy a little twitterpated because of someone like me.
"You don't look too shabby yourself," I said as I gave him a corny grin, and his whole face brightened with his megawatt smile.
He led me to his car, a shiny red muscle car that I couldn't name, but I knew was expensive.
I took a deep breath as I slid into the leather seat. I always got a little nervous in cars ever since the accident. It was better when I could drive and have control. I practiced my breaths so that I could stay calm and not let my freak flag fly so soon into the date.
"I made reservations at my favorite Italian place. Is that alright?" he asked, suddenly looking worried, like I was going to tell him that I hated Italian.
"I love Italian. I've never met a carb that I didn't trust," I told him seriously, and he laughed, sounding a bit awestruck at my comment.
We made small talk about classes and hockey as we drove. The restaurant was nearby, so it didn't take long to get there.
It looked like a nice place, one of those authentic Italian places that made their pasta from scratch. There was a line of people waiting outside to get in, and I was grateful for the reservation since we would have had to wait for hours otherwise.
A hostess who had all the eyes for Landry immediately seated us, and I teased him about it mercilessly after we were sat at our table.
The waiter suggested calamari for the appetizer, and we immediately dug in as soon it was brought to the table, finding lots to talk and joke about as we both ate.
It was shaping up to be a really good date.
But of course, really good things were never allowed to happen to me.
Jackson walked in with two of his football friends that I'd seen him with, and they all had dates. Jackson was with a tall, thin, red-headed beauty I immediately hated on sight.
The hostess showed his group to a table a few tables away from us, and I shrunk against my bench seat, praying that he wouldn't see me.
"You've got to be shitting me," muttered Landry as he angrily eyed Jackson's group. "Do we need to leave?" he asked, and I looked at him confused.
His face softened. “Everly, I’m not sure what kind of bullshit Parker was trying to play at the other day, but it's obvious that he not only knows you, but that you have quite the history.”
My lip quivered. “Quite the history” was an understatement.
“Whatever was between us is over now,” I told him, even though the statement felt hollow as it passed from my lips.
“Okay, I just don’t want to play a game where I don’t know all the players,” Landry said gruffly, and I smiled at his sports analogy.
“Let’s just have a good time,” I told him, and Landry smiled.
“Sounds good.”
Our entrees were brought to the table. I’d ordered chicken parmesan, and Landry had ordered baked ziti and Caesar salad. We continued to make small talk, but whatever easiness we’d had before was gone. At least for me.
I could literally feel Jackson’s hot gaze on me as I tried to eat. I swore he was talking louder than usual just so I could hear him. When I did happen to glance over to their table, Jackson made sure he was touching his date, who of course was melting from his attention.
I don’t know what I thought would happen when I came to Rutherford. But I hadn’t expected this. Was it always going to be like this?
I finally couldn’t take it anymore. It was like the air in the room had become suffocating. Landry looked at me concerned. “I just need to use the ladies’ room,” I said shakily, and he nodded, although I could tell that he was annoyed, there was a tightness around his eyes that hadn’t been there before Jackson had arrived. Jackson ruined everything.
Making sure not to look at his table, I all but ran to the bathroom.
The bathroom was blissfully empty, and I stood in front of the sink staring at my pale complexion in the bathroom mirror. I took a deep sigh, and then I turned on the water to splash some on my face.
The door opened behind me.
And then, there he was.
We just stared at each other through the mirror for a long moment. He was breathing heavily, like he’d just gotten done running.
I finally came to my senses and spun around. “Get out of here,” I hissed. “It’s bad enough you’re even in the same restaurant as me.”
“Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out that you were going on a date?” He laughed cruelly.
I groaned. “Why does it matter, Jackson? You hate me. So why can’t you just let me go?” The last part of my sentence comes out as a desperate, bleating, whisper.
Then, suddenly he was there, right in front of me. He pulled me toward him. The scent of him rushed over me, and I should’ve pushed him away.
But I couldn’t
This was heaven. This was hell.
This was everything.
“What makes you think that I’ll ever let you go?” His sensual tone and the seductive way he worked my body stole my gasp. He sucked and licked along my neck, my pulse careening out of control beneath his magical tongue. His touch burned through my veins, heating to a boiling point of lust. I was drunk with desire, whimpering as his fevered hot kisses on my searing flesh instantly spiked my need for him.
“Do you think you’ll ever get over me?” he whispered huskily, brushing past my lips with his to continue his teasing along my jaw, his hand slipping under my dress to slide along my saturated core. “Were you this wet for him?” he growled with a harsh grope of my sex. I moaned at the touch, my pussy clenching in desperate need for him, pulsing uncontrollably at the claim of his hand before he abruptly pulled it away.
Its sudden absence jarred my lust-filled haze as he placed his hand on the wall, caging my gaze to his, locked onto his brilliant, angry, blue eyes. “You’ll always be mine, Everly. Even when I
don’t want you,” he growled.
He took my lips, his tongue invaded my mouth as he cupped my face, tilting my head to give him better access. I trembled in his grip, falling mercy to his attack. How easily I lost myself in him. I kissed him back with a vengeance, hungry and desperate to reclaim what was mine— the sudden need catapulting me into the heavens and back.
I wrenched myself away from him. Both of us were breathing heavy now. For several seconds, minutes even, as though the Earth stopped on its axis, we stared at each other amid panting anger and craving. We were trapped beneath a ferocious tidal wave of desire; frozen, looming above us, around us, and we both knew it was about to come crashing down to drown us in its lustful fury.
I sensed the moment Jackson was about to pounce, the moment my eyes secretly, silently, whispered so much more than any words ever could. I wanted him now. As much as he wanted me. He reached for me, his attack viciously laced with dominant desire, his wide grip spanned my waist to pull me into his arms. Our lips met in a ravenous kiss, pent up anger fueling our lustful want for each other as he gripped the back of my thighs to lift me, my legs wrapping tightly around him. Winding my fingers through his hair, I pulled and tugged in desperation, his hands mirrored my actions in my tresses hanging down my back. I felt possessed, moaning into his mouth, sucking on his tongue. There was no concept of the bathroom we were in as we ravaged each other, completely engrossed in our deep, anger-fueled need to fuck each other senseless.
Turning towards the sink, Jackson secured me in his grip, his hand at my backside.
”I love your ass,” he moaned. Setting me atop the counter, we struggled with needy hands and fingers, tugging and frantically pulling up my dress and pulling down my panties to reveal my nakedness beneath. His hands engulfed my slender waist as he pulled his lips from mine to attack my nipple, sucking it deep before swirling his tongue along the pebbled tip. I couldn’t resist the urge to hold his head in place, my legs shaking amid the pounding tempo of my clenching body.
“Jackson!” I cried out in a breathless pant. He groaned through a final nibble, his husky breaths slipped through parted lips as he lifted me off the counter, making his way towards the wall. Pushing me against it, I yelped, barely able to catch up as he swiftly shoved his jeans down, his length bobbing against his stomach.
