by Ella Fields
My teeth gritted as she stood her ground and angled that beautiful chin. “What was it like then, huh?”
“Fine.” Her head shook again, a brief laugh leaving her. “We had this weird, I don’t know, thing. I guess you could say we hooked up sometimes, but it wasn’t as simple or as complicated as that.”
My brows lowered. I rubbed the back of my head, pacing the floor in front of her as I tried to make sense of this. I wanted to believe her, yet he was still calling her. Why was he still calling her? Aching tension filled my chest every time I went to open my mouth, scathing words and poison-filled questions sitting on the edge of my tongue. Somehow, I forced them down, knowing I could regret it if they escaped. “Fuck it. Just go.” Her face fell, and she took a step toward me, but I turned away. “I said just fucking go, Daphne.”
Staring at the unmade bed where we’d laid, our imprints etched into the pillows, I counted to ten before I finally heard her footsteps leave the room.
Daphne
I’d tried to call Lars three times that day, but knowing he was at work, I told myself to chill. He was mad but hopefully he’d remember that whatever it was Ellis and I had been doing, I’d made it clear it wasn’t happening anymore.
On Sunday, Willa and I went dress shopping for homecoming, which was the following weekend. After I’d gotten home, I’d tried to call him again, and when I immediately reached his voicemail for the second time, I knew he wasn’t going to remember a damn thing.
Only his own anger and whatever sense of betrayal I’d caused him to feel.
I arrived at school early on Monday, hoping to catch Lars before class, but I didn’t see him until the bell rang, and what I saw had my stomach knotting.
Standing over Ruthie Brooks with his arm on the locker above her head, he leaned down and said something that made her smile.
When her eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open, I scowled and walked closer, about to ask him what the hell he was doing. He straightened and strolled off, either unaware or uncaring I was standing there in the middle of the student-infested hall.
“He what?” Annabeth squealed, her lips stretched tight in a fake smile.
Ruthie grinned, bright and unassuming. “He asked me to homecoming.”
Sinking while on solid ground was an odd experience.
I dragged my attention from the laughing and clapping girls to where Lars’s retreating back drifted farther into the crowd.
“Hey,” Willa said, sounding out of breath. “God, I slept in so hard.”
I managed to school my expression and hoped the falling of my heart couldn’t be seen in my eyes. “I told you,” I said as we walked past the girls to first period. “Two alarms.”
“I did, but ugh, it still happened.”
I hugged my books tight to my chest. So tight they were probably digging into my skin, but I didn’t feel it. “Then three,” I murmured while taking a seat on the side of the room.
Willa glanced over at me after laying out her things. “You okay?”
I gave her an affronted look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
With a shrug, she smiled, then looked ahead when the teacher stepped inside the room.
I kept silent while a riot of conflicted feelings tried to make me do otherwise for the remainder of the day.
After the last bell, I dumped my stuff in my locker, then raced outside, needing the quiet confines of my car and my home to sort through the sourness eroding my stomach lining.
It didn’t dissipate, no matter how many tears I set free while I hung my head beneath the spray of the shower, or how many times I tried to get lost in a TV show, or a book, or someone else’s heartbreak smudged onto the back of a worn postcard or piece of paper.
I couldn’t get rid of it.
I wanted to rage at him. To shove the same poison down his throat that he’d forced down mine.
Except the asshole wouldn’t let me do that.
I eyed my phone, knowing I’d regret it but wanting to do it anyway.
So I did. I typed it over and over.
I hate you.
This is why I never wanted to do this.
Hesitating every time my finger hovered over send, I backspaced and deleted, and then repeated the process again and again until my head swam. With a silent scream, I threw my phone to the floor and tunneled under my blankets.
If I thought I’d feel better as each day passed, then I was even more stupid than I originally thought.
I didn’t. He’d barely look at me, and I wouldn’t dare look at him for too long.
Tuesday rolled into Wednesday, and as Wednesday came to an end, I found him at my locker, a sucker between his lips, and his knee bent behind him.
“Cotton.” A whisper. Barely even a word.
I ignored it and him. Grabbing my things, I slammed the door by his head and walked outside.
He didn’t follow.
Mom was out with friends that night, and so it was just Dad and me for dinner. Afterward, I retired to the living room to finish writing my English paper while Dad tried not to fall asleep while watching the evening news.
The doorbell blared through the entire house, and Dad straightened with a snort and a curse, swiping a hand over his graying dark brown hair. “Expecting someone?”
I hit save on my word doc. “No.”
“I’ll get it then,” he said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Awesome.” I closed and tossed my laptop beside me, needing to stretch out my arms and legs.
Dad returned a moment later, but he wasn’t alone.
He gestured to Lars, who was wearing his usual denim attire and a dark red T-shirt. “So apparently this guy knows you?”
I half rolled my eyes at Dad. “Thanks.”
Getting up, I grabbed the corner of Lars’s shirt and tugged him down the hall.
“Great to meet you, Mr. Morris.”
“Likewise, and good luck.”
Jesus Christ.
I stopped once we’d reached the front door and heard the TV volume turn up in the living room.
“He seems nice,” Lars said.
I opened one of the doors and leaned against it, avoiding his gaze. “Go home.”
“I just got here.”
I raised a brow. “Let’s not waste any more time, Lars.” I nodded outside to where his bike sat at the bottom of the stairs. “Go.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a step forward, rubbing a rough hand over his cheek. “Really fucking sorry. I was so pissed, and jealous, and pissed, and fuck,” he groaned out. “I’m sorry, Cotton.”
“You invited Ruthie to homecoming,” I stated, keeping my tone cool. “There’s not much else to say except bye.”
Lars shifted closer, his voice low. “There’s so much else to say.” His eyes moved between mine, then over my face, then back again. “That was stupid, I know. But I hadn’t even had time to process or think clearly, I just—”
“Reacted,” I finished for him. “And you reacted wrong.”
“You’re still getting calls from some guy you used to see. How the hell was I supposed to feel?”
I tapped my chin. “Let’s see, maybe you should’ve talked to me, listened to me when I told you we had something. Had. As in past tense, Lars. Meaning no more. Just like you and me.”
He ignored those last words. “So you’re not still seeing him? Talking to him? Ever?”
“The fact you even need to ask that makes me want to laugh, and then slap you, and then scream at you.” My words were a hushed hiss. “And it’s the very reason I think we’re wasting our time.”
“We’re not.”
“You don’t trust me.”
He moved closer, so close I could see his throat dip as he swallowed thickly. Hear it, even. “I do, it’s just—”
“There is no just when it comes to trusting someone. You either do or you don’t.”
Spreading his hands, he said, “You were so hesitant to even give me the time of day, Cotton. I didn’t kn
ow where I stood for a minute there.”
“Yeah, well, it was a minute too long, wasn’t it? Look what you did.” I blew out a breath, exhausted. “I took a chance on you, and you shoved that vulnerability back in my face when I’d done nothing to even warrant you jumping to those extremes. Nothing.” I stepped outside when he tried to touch me. “Don’t.”
His face crumpled, and he scraped a hand through his thick hair. “I’ll uninvite her. I’ll do whatever—”
“No.” I laughed, incredulous. “You can’t do that to her. It’ll make no difference anyway because I’m not doing this”—I gestured between us—“this toxic back and forth anymore. It was meant to be fun, to feel good, but you …” I stabbed a finger at him. “You had to go and fuck it all up.”
The torment lining his features faded into anger, his jaw gritting. “Daphne, stop. You’re all I—”
“Everything okay?” Dad’s voice sounded from behind Lars.
“Fine,” I said. “Lars is leaving now.”
For a stretched moment, his dark eyes seemed bottomless, his heavy stare still hard on my face.
With a smile over his shoulder at my dad, Lars said, “Good evening, Mr. Morris. You have a lovely home and an even lovelier daughter.” Then he pressed a kiss to my cheek, whispering, “Not over,” before riding down the driveway.
Dad watched him go, his lips pursed. “He doesn’t have a car?”
“No, he’s at school on scholarship.”
That seemed to impress him. “A smart one then.”
I snorted. “Not where it counts.”
We headed inside, and Dad locked the doors while I dragged my feet down the hall. “Daph?” I stopped at the wide base of the stairs. “You’ve never had a boy come here before.”
I had, the only difference being that Ellis was definitely not a boy. “Soak it in and laugh it up. It won’t happen again.”
Dad chuckled. “Such declarations should never be made in the midst of war, my dear.”
I ignored that, ignored the tears that tried to push past my eyes, and escaped to my room.
Ruthie smiled like someone had just handed her a rainbow and a pot of gold, and the camera flashed as Lars managed a tilt of his lips.
I watched, seated beside Peggy and Willa on the side of the room, as she dragged him to the dance floor and then started swaying her hips. He wasn’t even wearing a suit. Just the pants and a dress shirt, the buttons done up to his neck, and a pair of black and white skate shoes on his feet.
They lasted all of five minutes, and I tried not to delight too much in Lars’s clear discomfort when she kept grabbing his hand, trying to make him move. He wasn’t having it, and eventually, he snuck off through the fire exit when she got busy talking to Kayla and Ainsley.
I adjusted the skirt of my dress, annoyed that I was probably just going to sit here all night because of him. It didn’t help that Peggy was in a bind with Byron, her boyfriend and date, and Dash, her other uninvited date. The latter was nowhere to be found after his rather entertaining performance in the limo on the way here.
“Let’s dance,” I said over the music.
Willa nodded while Peggy continued to watch the balloons bounce around in the empty spaces of the room.
“You don’t care that Ruthie came with Lars?” Willa asked as we swung our hips and twirled to the fast-paced pop song.
I didn’t want to keep lying, but it was over. Whatever we were was over, and so I saw little point in finally speaking up about it. “Nope.”
Willa didn’t look as if she believed me, and as the night scattered around us, dragging and racing into the early hours of the morning, I walked alone, tired and barefoot, up my drive to the house, pondering how long I was going to keep believing myself too.
I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it until I got closer. The green Ferrari parked halfway down our drive, tucked away from view, shone beneath the moon.
An owl hooted above, and I withheld a sigh as I scratched at my brow and came to a stop a few feet from the car. “What are you doing here?”
Ellis straightened from his prized possession and pocketed his cell. “I thought that, as per usual, would be obvious.”
“Huh.” I huffed out. “Well, I’m not interested. Sorry.”
He laughed that rough, melodious laugh of his and took my hand.
Shock coursed through me at the action, at the feel of his smooth skin around mine.
It was odd to have wanted something for so long that you’d imagined it happening time and time again, a million different ways, only for it to become a reality and have it be nothing like you imagined at all.
I didn’t feel the excitement I thought I would. The fireworks that I’d been so sure would detonate. Nor did I feel the lust or the heat that would usually envelop me in his presence. All I felt was that ever-present exhaustion, smothering and flattening.
“Did you already have your fun for the night?” He was staring at my hand in his, studying it. I was too, comparing how soft it was to another hand I knew. When his eyes lifted to mine, they blinked, and his head tilted. “Homecoming?”
I nodded, then removed my hand from his. “Good night, Ellis.”
“Next time, then,” he called.
I said nothing, barely breathing as I hoped with every part of me that he wouldn’t follow. Meanwhile, that tiny part of me that was slow to turn to dust shook its head in dismay when he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.
The car rumbled to life, and I parked my ass on the step, watching him back out of the drive. Eyes closing, I listened to the sound of his foot hitting the gas hard as he peeled out onto the road. Only when the sound of his car faded did I open them.
My heels dropped to the step below, and I tried to find the will to dig my keys out of my clutch, but I dropped that too, and instead, I rested my head against the railing and stared at the stars glimmering through the row of oak trees that lined our driveway.
The sound of another car approaching had my head snapping up. A minute later, I blinked hard when I saw a tall figure walk toward the house, his sleeves rolled up and his hands in his pockets.
Seeing me sitting there, he stopped, then slowly crept closer. “What are you doing out here?”
I was thankful he hadn’t arrived any earlier, and then regretted the thought. Perhaps if he had, he’d quit trying to further destroy me, get pissed off again, and go the hell away.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
On his knees, he lowered onto the steps below, eyeing me. “Miss me yet?”
“You can’t miss something that never was.”
His entire body stiffened, and then he laughed, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he shook his head. “I really am going to make sure I never piss you off again, Cotton. Fuck me.”
“Whatever.” I went to get up. “It’s the truth.”
His hands landed on my knees, then moved forward, taking my dress with them. His eyes, though, they stayed steady on mine, a determined spark in them as he bent forward and whispered across my lips. “I’m your guy, Daphne Morris, whether you like it or not.” I ceased breathing, my lips parting as his nose nudged against mine. “I’m a fuckup with hardly any money, but I never make the same fuckup twice.” His gaze stayed locked on mine, glossy and dark. “I never touched her, I promise.”
“She touched you.” Funny how I could find my voice then.
He smirked. “I don’t want anyone else to touch me.” His eyes shut briefly, intensifying as they reopened. “Not when I’m pretty certain I’m falling for you.”
I could feel my breasts strain against the tight bodice of my cocktail dress. My heart was beating too fast, my lungs incapable of keeping up.
Lars smiled, then laughed a soft, coarse sound that hit my lips, my chest, my everywhere. “Say something?”
I couldn’t, and words shouldn’t and would never be enough.
It was the sincerity and hope in his eyes, the vulnerability to his voice and nervous laughter, and the
way his hands shook over my thighs as he waited that had me melting into everything I didn’t think I’d be all over again.
His.
I bent forward and kissed him, kissed him and touched him and inhaled him while he moved between my legs, a hand threading into the back of my hair. “Cotton,” he rasped into my neck, his other hand up my dress, wrapped around my thigh, then moving. “God, you make me so fucking crazy.” I froze when his fingers brushed over my panties, and a rough breath left him. “I need you.”
“We can’t.”
“Shit.” His head rose. “Of course. I’m sorry. I know I’ve—”
“Cameras,” I cut him off, pointing at one that sat above our porch. “A little groping is fine, but I’m not letting my family see us do anything more than that.” I could’ve deleted the footage like I’d done after Ellis’s visits, but I had other ideas. I pushed him off me and grabbed my purse.
“Right,” Lars said, sounding a tad defeated.
I opened my clutch and pulled out my keys. Unable to hear his footsteps behind me, I stopped inside the doorway and peered over my shoulder. “Well? Are you coming?”
He grinned, then leaped up the steps, his arms tight around me from behind as he peppered my neck and shoulder with kisses while the door closed behind us.
Lars
Monday morning, the school became busier than a newsroom after a presidential election, mouths and feet flitting every which way after the events of homecoming.
Dash was a mess, being that said events had everything to do with Byron and Peggy, and because his stupid ass was egotistical enough to believe that she’d never take interest in anyone but him.
Those who failed to see outside of themselves always made the same mistakes. And Peggy and Dash were making an endless loop of them. So much so, I was glad I hadn’t placed any bets on that shit at all.
After beating the hell out of Byron in the parking lot Monday afternoon, Dash had been suspended. Tuesday wasn’t much better. Peggy, looking as though she couldn’t wake from a nightmare, was the only one out of the three who was present. Not that it mattered. The rumor mill would truck on with or without the subjects in attendance.
