Still Surviving

by A. M. Johnson

  The sharp pinch of his body aligning within mine made me gasp. I didn’t have time to adjust; Scott’s hard rhythm broke me in with each stroke. At first, my eyes started to water with the pain. The grip of his hand in my hair was fierce as he pulled my head back slightly, while his other hand grasped my body keeping me still, keeping me perfectly in place. He’s not Colt. I had to remind myself; I had to tamp down my panic.

  “Holy shit, Tiff,” Scott’s voice rumbled as he pumped harder inside of my body than I thought possible. Just as I was about to say I couldn’t take this pace, this position, he lifted my hips a bit more and the hand that was holding me down skated down my back and slowly moved around my backside. He reached under my body and between my legs. His fingers brought me higher with each stroke against my sensitive skin. My body shook as I let go, and his moans spurred me on. I realized for the first time, I was the one in control; it was okay for me to feel good, to want to grind my hips harder, and it didn’t make me a whore.

  Scott’s massive body coiled around me as his teeth pulled across my shoulder. It was as if I was totally consumed by him as he enclosed both of his arms around my waist while he found his release.

  “Damn.” His breathing was harsh as he moved our bodies apart. He stood from the bed and walked into his bathroom.

  I thought he’d gone to quickly clean up, but then I heard him turn on the shower. I was still lying on my stomach staring at the white bare wall in his room. I pushed myself up into a sitting position. The pain between my legs burned. My panties were nowhere to be found. Scott’s room had a nightstand and a small dresser. There was no inclination of any sort of personality anywhere to be seen. White walls, black sheets and an alarm clock, nothing to show me who this man was, this man I’d just let fuck me face down in his bed.

  I rummaged through his drawers until I found some boxers and a t-shirt to wear. I pulled my fingers through my hair and managed to tame it. I smirked at myself in the mirror. Scott may have poor decorating taste, but I did just have two orgasms. I couldn’t complain.

  The water in the shower turned off. The door to the bathroom opened, and he emerged in just a towel. He had random art work all over his body, but the words “I Am Almighty” scrolled across his upper chest, just under his collar bones in an old world font. A very typical body builder tat to have. He didn’t have a full mural piece like Seth. Seth. I shouldn’t be thinking about him right now. This past week he’d kept his distance. He still texted me, still popped by the bar, but said his two jobs were keeping him busy. Seth was still trying to figure out what to do about his dad, but I wondered how much of his staying away had to do with the fact I had another man in my life now.

  “You staying then?” Scott cocked his right eyebrow.

  “Um, is that okay?” I asked, suddenly unsure. I’d just given this guy my body, and he was acting weird about me staying? What the hell?

  “Thank you for asking, always ask first. And yes, it’s okay that you wear my clothes as well. I’m pretty sure I destroyed those black lace panties of yours with my teeth.” He snickered and got into bed.

  “Ask permission?” The tone in my voice was irritated and confused. Surely he was joking.

  “Yes, always. Tiffany, you can’t just stay here whenever you want, sometimes I just want to sleep. Like right now. I’m toast, sweetheart.” He looked at me and smiled like this was something I should’ve known.

  “I get that you want to sleep, but that’s sort of—“

  “Fuck, Tiff, let’s just go to bed. I’m exhausted. It was a long day. I’m not trying to be a dick, I’m just tired.” He rested his head on the pillow, his back facing me officially ending the argument.

  “Fine.” I slipped into bed next to him, expecting him to roll over and snuggle up next to me. But he didn’t. So he was just tired, I told myself. He was just being a giant asshole because he was sleep deprived. Tomorrow would be better. My phone vibrated in my pair of jeans that were on the floor. I leaned over the mattress and fished it out from the small pocket. I had a missed text and a brand new one.

  Seth: Wish you were working. This Michelle chick can’t pour a drink to save her own damn life. Woman, where are you when a man needs a real drink.

  I suppressed a laugh as I scrolled down to the next text.

  Seth: Night, Angel.

  The weight in my chest wasn’t imagined, it was real and full and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I missed him. There, I said it. I did. I missed him so much. Scott stirred and cleared his throat. I pressed the lock screen shutting down the light from my phone. He rolled over and his arm fell across me, not because he wanted it there, but because it just happen to fall that way. The smell of that patchouli oil Scott always wore surrounded me.

  I shouldn’t miss Seth — I shouldn’t wish that it were his arms curled around me, the smell of falling leaves and spice lingering on my body — but I did. I exhaled a worried breath. Scott and I had just started; I needed to give him a chance. He was just tired.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tiffany

  SCOTT’S MASSIVE BODY WAS sprawled across the bed. His heavy arm felt sticky against my stomach. The heat of our bodies pooled the perspiration along his arm. His scent of patchouli mixed in the humid air between us and was making me feel sick. I moved out from under him with just enough stealth that I was able to get up without waking him. I grabbed my clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom craving a shower.

  The pipes whined as I turned up the warm water. I grimaced; I really didn’t want to wake Scott. I needed a minute to collect my thoughts. Everything in my life felt mixed up, and I wasn’t sure how I’d let it get that way. Part of me felt guilty because I wasn’t sure if I was using Scott to get over Seth, but then there were times that Scott completely had me fired up and all I wanted was his hands on me. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I knew that I needed to give us a chance.

  After about twenty minutes I started to relax. The water washed away the previous evening, and with it, my uncertainty. Being with Scott last night, letting myself feel taken was what needed to happen in order to remind myself I was capable of healing. I was always in control last night, it had just been a feeling, a moment. No one actually owned me. In the end it was my decision, and it always would be. Colt took that from me so many times, but now… I’d never let that happen to me again. I’d fucking die first.

  “You want to go to breakfast, Tiff?” Scott’s deep voice startled me.

  “I definitely could eat.” I smiled as he pulled back the curtain and his eyes ate up my flesh like I was his last meal. I watched him as he inhaled deeply.

  The palm of his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, the shower water soaking his arm as he pulled me in for a hungry kiss. He released me, and I had to catch my breath. His impressive chest swelled as he watched me watch him undress.

  “Fuck, Tiffany, you’re gonna make me late for work.” He stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain shut. I closed my eyes briefly as his hand cupped my breast roughly.

  “I’m sorry.” My smile was flirty.

  “You should be.” The tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine and my flirty smile fell. It almost sounded as if he was serious, not just playing a game. Before I had a chance to think about it too much, he claimed my mouth again with his.

  THE RESTAURANT WAS HUMMING. Scott took me to The Old Greasy Spoon, a diner downtown. The loud clanging of plates from the kitchen, the cooks hollering orders to each other from the back, the smiles on everyone’s faces made this place feel like home. Since I started at Magnolia, I’d always wanted to come here. The building was made to look like an old train car, and the inside had this old west feel to it. Wagon wheel tabletops and cowboy hats. It was instantly my new favorite place.

  “Here you go, sweetie.” The waitress, who looked old enough to be my great grandmother, placed a huge plate of blueberry pancakes in front of me. My favorite. My mouth watered, and I made it my personal goal to eat every single bite.
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br />   “Thanks.” I smiled warmly at her as she set Scott’s plate of eggs, bacon, and ham in front of him. The lack of carbs made my heart sad. I smiled down at my stack of five pancakes, and I felt better.

  “No problem, sweetheart. You kids enjoy.” Her voice sounded thin like paper and the urge to make her sit down and eat with us was overwhelming.

  Scott snorted as she walked away. “What?” I grabbed my fork and started to dig in.

  “She’s a condescending bitch with the kid’s remark, isn’t she?” Scott shook his head, and I almost choked on my pancakes as they turned to grit on my tongue. His harsh statement made me uncomfortable.

  “What? She’s sweet. Someone’s grumpy this morning. You’d think after the way our morning started you’d be in the best mood ever.” I smiled brightly, trying to pull him from his dark mood. I reached over to grab a piece of bacon and his eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t you think you have enough food on your plate?” His glare locked on mine as I dropped the offending piece of meat back into his plate.

  “What the hell is your problem? Why are you being such a dick?” My stomach started to feel hollow.

  “I think it’s best if maybe you don’t sleep over on week nights, Tiff.” He dropped his eyes from mine and started eating his breakfast like he didn’t just talk to me like I was a piece of garbage.

  I pushed away from the table. “Go to hell.” I stood.

  He spoke through gritted teeth. “Sit down.”

  “Fuck, no.”

  “Sit.” He pointed his fork at my chair. He was out of his mind if he thought I’d stay here one more minute. I’d get my pancakes to go.

  “Try asking me nicely, like a man should talk to a woman, not like I’m a piece of trash.” I leaned down and grabbed my bag with force as the anger boiled over. I’d driven myself here and wasn’t about to deal with anymore of his moody bullshit.

  “Damn it, please sit down. I’m… sorry.” The words were a desperate rush. He looked past me, not meeting my eyes, not comfortable with how much he obviously wanted me to stay.

  I sat down, awaiting a better apology, but I was more than prepared to walk out that door. “What’s your problem? Why are you in such a mood?”

  “Honestly… I’m just tired.” He finally let his eyes connect with mine and they appeared repentant.

  “Well, I’m sorry you’re tired. You don’t get to treat everyone around you like shit because you didn’t get enough beauty sleep.” I broke his stare and noticed his jaw pulsed.

  “I’m really sorry, okay? Just eat breakfast with me… please. I’m a little pissed I’m not going to see you all week, I guess.” He picked up his fork and started eating again. He was grumpy because he was going to miss me? Even though I had no clue why he wouldn’t see me all week that little revelation made me internally smile.

  “Why won’t I see you all week?” I asked as I spread maple syrup over my pancakes.

  “Tony is sending me to Vegas to train some of his new staff at the shop there. I really want the assistant manager spot, so I opted to go. I leave tonight.” He took a piece of bacon and placed it on my plate.

  “Thank you.” He nodded and gave me a coy smile. “So you want the spot in Vegas or here?”

  “Vegas.”

  I swallowed. “So you want to move?”

  “Is that a problem? I’m sick of it here, way more money in Vegas.” The words were garbled as he spoke around a mouth full of food. ”But, if things here start to look up… I’d consider staying.”

  The sadness that I should expect to feel about him possibly moving never came. We had just started our relationship, so I was sure that was why the idea of him leaving didn’t freak me out. At least if we really started getting closer, he’d be willing to stay. “You would?”

  “Sure, we’ll see, doll. Let’s just get through breakfast first.” He smiled and I chuckled. He was right. One day at a time, Tiffany, one day at a time.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Seth

  THE SOOTHING SOUND OF Lana Del Ray’s voice singing “Born to Die” poured like cognac through the speakers of my car as I pulled up to Blue. I was feeling especially depressed, and the haunting tenor of her voice made me feel as if this world was fucking swallowing me whole. Signing my resignation papers at the University today was when I thought I hit my low, but then Scott walked out of the Bar with a superior ass look on his face as he sauntered past my car, his eyes locked with mine.

  My gaze followed him until he climbed into his lifted, gray Ford truck. He reeked of douche bag, and I was starting to think Tiffany must have had a stroke and wasn’t in her right mind to date such a loser. I turned off the engine and headed into my daily torture chamber.

  My heart begged me to stay away, begged me to stop breaking it wide open every single day, but I had to see her. I had to remember why I needed to change, why I needed to let myself feel. Fuck, I’d lived my life buried inside so many lies, so many women, so much hurt and anger that I’d figured there was no other way. It was easier to be numb, easier to blame women for all my trust issues. The familiar Pine-Sol and cigarette smell of Blue pulled through my nostrils as I took in a bracing breath. Tiffany was behind the bar laughing with Lily. This was why I came here, Tiffany. Whether she’d ever be mine or not, she finally had me feeling something and, now that I knew what it was like to want, to need, to fucking bleed, I’d never be able to let go. I was addicted.

  “Hey there,” Tiffany spoke through a laugh as she placed a black square napkin in front of me. “You want your usual?” The hazel in her eyes glittered with familiarity as they searched my face.

  I nodded and pulled my lips into my typical sideways grin. Tiffany’s black hair was pulled up into a loose, messy bun, exposing the perfect fucking curve of her neck. She was wearing the customary deep V-neck T-shirt with the Blue Bar logo on the front. Today with her hair up, the alabaster of her skin was more prominent. The shadowed swirling tattoos peeking out from under her collar always made me want more… to discover the entire picture with my eyes.

  “How’d it go today?” Lily’s eyes appraised me, and she frowned. “You didn’t?”

  “I did, Hell Cat. I did what I had to do.” I locked my eyes with Tiffany, and she handed me my small glass of Jameson.

  “Seth?” Tiff worried her bottom lip, and I had an urge to take it in my mouth, suck on it… let her tongue lick against my lips. Shit, I was losing it.

  “I quit the U. I’m going to take that new account for my dad.” I sipped the amber liquid and let it burn away my regret.

  “What? No way, you can’t.” Tiffany raised her voice, and her small hands rolled into fists. “I want to junk punch your father, Seth. This isn’t fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair, I think we both know that.” I wished the words back in my mouth as her eyes darted to the floor in shame. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.” I was an idiot.

  “I know.” She fidgeted with the dishtowel, her stare still on the wood floor.

  “Look at me, Angel…” The brightness in her irises returned as she met my eyes. “I didn’t mean it… always look ahead remember.” I smiled, attempting to lighten her mood.

  Her slightly fuller upper lip began to tremble as she struggled to smile. “Sorry, I’ve had a long day.” She was a shit liar. “I’m being way too sensitive. I’m just… I can’t believe you’re giving up music, Seth.” She shook her head and I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Why the hell are you laughing? This is tragic.”

  “Why is it tragic?” I drank the entire contents in one gulp and signaled to Lily to grab me another.

  “On it.” Lily’s smile was sad.

  “It’s a tragedy because you are music, Seth. You’re living… breathing… walking… art… sound… motion. It’s in your veins. It’s who you are. You can’t deny it. You sing, write, and you can play any damn instrument you want… boom… just like that. Seth, it’s like you’ve given up on breathing by working full time for your father.” T
iffany’s words soaked through my chest and another black piece of my heart started to live again.

  “It’s just for now. Once I have this money, I can leave for good. I can teach… hell, I could start my own label. It’s just temporary. Don’t worry.” My hand found hers on the bar top. “Babe, I got this.” My fingertips played against her skin, memorizing each bump, each imperfection, each little thing that made her uniquely her.

  “You promise? Don’t… lose yourself in the money.” Tiffany let her fingers lace through mine and then slowly pulled them back. We repeated this motion a few times. Each time our hand connected I felt it everywhere in my body. This girl had destroyed me, and I was letting her do it — day in and day out. These little moments would be the real death of me.

  “I won’t… I promise.” My mouth spread into a grin as she looked down at our hands together. The word “Trust” was tattooed across my fingers, and the word “This” was tattooed across hers, my throat contracted as her other hand, the one with the word “Feel” tattooed across it rested next to our tangled fingers.

  Feel This. Trust This. My sternum felt as if it would split open if I didn’t kiss her right now. Fuck Scott! He had nothing — nothing to give this woman, this precious gift, my perfect creature.

  Our eyes met and I began to lean forward just as Lily handed me my drink… breaking the moment.

  “Here you go.” Lily was oblivious sometimes. “When does Scott come back to town?” I’d never wanted to strangle a person more than I did right now. I looked at Lily with wide eyes silently saying “Are you fucking kidding me with this.” She looked at me and shrugged like she had no idea why I was pissed.