by Lola De Jour
My pussy clenches in reaction and I blush hard, horrified at the blatant sexual depravity of my thoughts. What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s his fault. Why is he staring at me like that? He keeps switching his gaze from murderous rage to animalistic sexual desire, and it’s making my pussy act like a leaking damn.
Drake’s body is eerily calm and confident, radiating steely control. Yet his eyes are burning and ferocious, ravishing and violating me.
I can’t breathe. I feel my pussy contracting hard, feel my wetness melting into my thighs. My thoughts are becoming notoriously hazy. I just want to be next to Drake. I just want to smell him, to be in his arms again.
And from the way he’s looking at me and the waves of lounging bursting out of his body, I can tell he wants those things too. Why couldn’t we make it work? Why? Now, he’s getting married to another.
Suddenly, I notice the frigidness of our surroundings. Expectation is thick in the air, and that’s when I really notice what’s going.
Somehow, while I was lost in Drake’s eyes, his bride made her way forward.
Nicole is standing before Drake, waiting for him to take her hand and lead her to the spot where they will take vows that will bind them together forever.
But Drake is not moving. He’s just standing there, staring daggers at me, his chest rising and falling with frightening speed.
There’s a button clicking in my head, telling me to recognize the dominant emotion radiating from Drake’s eyes. But I’m really scared, because the fire in his eyes is burning every inch of me. Mentally. Sexually.
I begin trembling with a helpless kind of horror as I realize what’s happening. My eyes scan the room frantically. It’s right there, in everyone’s eyes. Scorn. Disgust. Anger. Pity. Shock. There are murmurs, shocked whispers that leave the air buzzing and the congregation exchanging glances.
The impact of what’s happening hits hard. Drake isn’t going to go through with the wedding. I don’t need to examine the critical stares of the congregation to know everyone thinks I am responsible for this. Of course, I feel guilty. More guilty than I have ever felt in my life.
But I try as much as possible not to lie to myself, even though I lie a lot to others. This is what I want, isn’t it? Why else did I agree to do this? I mean it’s not as if my family members drugged or dragged me out here. Deep down, I was hoping that my presence would affect Drake somehow, disrupt him.
I am disgusting, and wicked; a complete evil bitch. But god this drake, I will fall even lower to keep him.
I wrap my arms around my body, fighting the urge to fall to the ground and cry. I’ve never deluded myself into thinking I was kind or anything of that sort. I believe in fairness, do unto others what you want others to do unto you. I just don’t have it in me to be happy for any woman who’s about to marry the love of my life. Not even my sister. If the situation were reversed, I would expect her to feel the same.
My eyes fall on Nicole and something in my chest tugs long and hard. Guilt. It eats at me ferociously. She doesn’t deserve this. But it’s either her or me. Perhaps if she and my mum played fair from the beginning, and informed me of the wedding, we wouldn’t be in this situation!
There you go, Scarlett, rationalizing your mistakes again.
I’m truly horrible. I turn to Drake, overpowered by the need to scream, attack, or hit him. My emotions draw to a standstill when the light bulb finally clicks in my head, and I realize what emotion I was seeing in Drake earlier but couldn’t identify.
Scorn.
He’s staring at me like a brutally scorned lover. Beneath the burning sexual aura rolling off him and coating my skin, every other emotion was negative. Anger. Hate. Revenge.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Is this a fucking joke? Why would Drake Edgar be looking at me with scorn? Hello? He ended it!
I decide I must have been mistaken, so I risk another glance at him.
Oh, I was definitely not mistaken. Drake’s glaring at me with murderous hurt and rage plastered over his face. In fact, from the way he’s clenching his fist, I feel as if he’s trying to stop himself from dashing across the room and choking me to death. I understand the feeling. That’s always been our love, a sick obsessive madness. I suddenly feel deflated from thinking about the gravity of our feelings for each other.
There’s a brimming commotion in the room now. The anxiety chokes the air out of my lungs. All eyes are on Drake, Nicole, and me.
Should I feel happy that Drake is doing this? I don’t know because I don’t. Maybe I feel relief, I don’t know. All I know is that I want to be anywhere else but here. I stare at Nicole and I’m hit with waves of what I can only think of as selflessness. Because in that moment I forget about myself, my happiness, and I turn to Drake and give him a clear fuck you look.
I am suddenly angry with him. How dare the bastard look at me like that? He broke up with me. He is the one about to marry my sister. I have done nothing to deserve that look from him. He wants to marry my sister; he can go the fuck ahead.
We know each other too well. Because although I just give him a look, he reads every thought and word I speak internally.
He growls and takes a step towards me, sending fiery heat through my body.
At that moment, the lights go out. Before I can even blink, the air conditioning kicks on, and the deafening sound of a fire alarm goes off.
The chaos is instant.
People jumping from their chairs. Glancing around frantically for directions, explanations, anything.
Then Nicole staggers back, scrambling to cover her mouth … Well, everyone seems to be hurrying to cover his or her mouth and nostrils.
The extreme unpleasantness that hits my head the instant I smell it is unlike anything else I’ve ever known.
A stink bomb. Unbelievable.
A gag settles at the back of my throat, making me lightheaded and sick.
People are fainting, falling, and jumping over each other.
The darkness mixed with the deafening fire alarm, and rotting carcass saturating the room is the perfect recipe for disaster. No one cares about thousand dollar dresses, or exotic roses, and specially designed furniture. Everyone is too busy screaming, vomiting.
The smell is intensely disgusting, overpowering every sense organ. It must hit Nicole hard because she howls, staggers, and then loses her balance.
Before she can reach the floor, Drake catches her, sweeping her into his arms.
Avalanches of emotions attack my entire being as I watch him carry her tenderly.
It’s then it hits me. Drake feels something for her.
I know him; there’s no way he’s going to marry a girl he doesn’t care for. God, the jealousy crushes me. It’s not fair that Drake has someone he’s able to connect to in that way. I know I’ll never find another man that I can connect to in that way.
I watch the both of them as they leave.
Moments ago, they were fully prepared for their wedding, a ceremony that would have bound them together, and destroyed any bond he and I had together.
Drake knew this, but he was going to do it anyway. Isn’t the writing on the wall clear enough for me?
Well, that’s the reason why I can’t feel any relief that the wedding didn’t happen. It’s obvious. Just because this ceremony didn’t go through, doesn’t mean it won’t happen at another date.
Drake cared enough to want to commit to spend the rest of his life with Nicole. Surely, my appearance or this wedding not going through isn’t going to decimate all his feelings.
I let regret drown me as I remember the events that led to me leaving. Now, I wonder if I over reacted or let my pride take control.
After all, considering what Drake found out that night, he had every right to say those things to me. Sure, the words cut and broke my soul. He was my best friend, boyfriend, lover, brother, everything. For him to say those things to me, I thought I was going to die. I felt worthless, and I knew I would never find the courage
to face him again.
Still, I wonder if I overdid it. I knew if I left and cut him off the way I did it would hurt him deeply. I wanted to do that at the time because of how badly he hurt me.
My grandmother was the only one I kept in touch with, only one who knew my location and how to contact me. She told me of Drake’s desperate attempts to find me. How he even went as far as threatening her. He only stopped bothering her after my grandmother fabricated events to look as if I had travelled to Europe.
If I could go back, I think I would at least try to hear what he had to say to me during that period. Would he have apologized? I was just so angry and ashamed. When a lover or that fundamental person in your life that helps you with your self-esteem, insults and hurts you, even if you forgive them, it’s never the same. Because every compliment they give you after that, the negative words they said earlier overshadow everything. And although drake never said it directly, he did insinuate that I wasn’t good enough for him or his family.
How much can a girl take, I wonder. Maybe I don’t regret everything. Maybe this is how it was meant to be.
That thought weakens me, kills my fight. The fact that I’m relieved this disaster occurs makes me feel like the devil. I feel worthless knowing I can’t even hope for anything with him although he didn’t marry my sister. Everything in my life suddenly feels so broken and worthless.
I just stand there, wanting the ground to open and swallow me when someone grabs my arms and tugs me towards the exit. The instant I’m outdoors and the blast of clean air enters my system, the gag I’ve been holding down burst of my mouth.
Crying, I fall on my knees and vomit violently. Why? Why is this happening? I can feel it in the very core of my soul that things are about to become insanely complicated. This is about to become even more painful. Three is always a crowd. Everyone knows this. One person has to lose. Why do I have the distinctive feeling I would be the one losing?
The exotic lights from the indoor reception tents are mesmerizing. They almost make you forget about the catastrophe that occurred hours ago. Almost.
Everyone survived. Everyone is trying to act as if everything is okay. I support this route; talking is always the hardest part. Because then you have to force your brain to think, analyze things. Never a good idea in these instances. So I play my part. Speak when spoken to, smile when needed, gesture when asked for. That’s all I can do right now, because the only other thing would be to start asking the questions that everyone is thinking about right now.
Why did Drake not take those few steps to take his bride’s hand? What now? Are they married? If not, do they plan to get married at a future date? If so, then where is Drake? Why is Nicole the only one down here in a gorgeous dress with a fake smile plastered on her lips as she basks in the feigned music and joviality of the room? If everything is okay as my mum and everyone else, is so desperately trying to portray then why is Drake not down here?
These are all questions that I’m not sure I want the answers too. I force my mind to focus on something else. The food, furnishings, dresses, shoes. It’s a dream reception, exquisite and charming, every girl’s fantasy.
When the dancing starts, the guests give it their all.
Most of the guests from the wedding are still around. They are mostly relatives and close knit friends that were going to be spending the weekend at Cavil Place anyway.
I glance down at the set of keys to an apartment in my right hand. My mum gave then to me not to long ago. She wants me to stay here.
I can’t fathom why. Everyone is already murmuring that I somehow managed to sabotage the wedding-the fire alarm and stink bomb, even though I was never alone. Ridiculous.
Tears slip down my cheeks as I stare around the empty table I was given far away from my other family members. I feel discarded, unwanted. I don’t know what to do but I can’t be here anymore.
I grab my purse and slip out of the party unnoticed. Abundance of lush landscapes and cascades of waterfalls surround me, the cool early evening air feels amazing to my senses. This estate is currently one of the biggest in the state of Connecticut. There are several dozen living homes, ranging from the main building where my family stays to blocks of two story buildings to single stand units, all around the vast estate.
The apartment my mum chose for me is far from the main residence, but I don’t mind. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted anyway.
I walk as fast as I can along the lake, curving through the trees with expertise that betrays my love for the place. It’s a gorgeous green planet down here, and Cavil estate is as grand inside as it is outside at night. My family has owned this property for a while, which is why I was very surprised to learn that Drake now owns it. Obviously, someone has been doing very well for himself.
It seems while I was away, struggling to survive from day to day, he was acquiring more billions and properties and … well, he became engaged. How unfair life can be.
The wind continues howling, whipping my hair around my face so furiously that I wish I put my waist length chestnut hair in a ponytail.
Soon, I sight the one-story building hidden behind a line of trees. Even through the blanket of fog that has swept down from the skies, the building’s bronze roofing is still magnificent.
I come to a stop, shocked about how much the building reminds me of the houses in Evanston. A place I’d made my home. I missed it in a strange way.
What are you still doing here, Scarlett?
I’ve asked myself that question repeatedly in the hours that have passed since the wedding disaster. I know the answer to the question, but I can’t bring myself to say it aloud.
Drake.
I’ve always known he would be the end of me. Since we were teenagers who did nothing but fight and insult each other every chance we got.
I remember our first meeting as if it was yesterday.
Our parents had forced us to attend was some pretentious dinner about the combining of Protestant and Anglican churches or something ridiculous in that manner.
I stood by the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass, wishing I were anywhere else but there. Because in my mind, all I saw was a bunch of rich people gathered together to talk about ways to spend their money. Anything to make themselves feel better for their ridiculous wealth. I just couldn’t find it in me to take any of the women there seriously. Especially my mother, who knew what happened between her husband and me almost every night by that time, and chose to turn a blind eye to it. But oh she was so concerned that two kinds of churches wanted to merge into one? Ridiculous.
I was sixteen, and going through the worst time of my life. Drake was nineteen, a new import from Europe thrust into the elitist lives of wealthy Americans. And by some unseen twist of faith, he saved me from the dark path I was heading to. He fixed me.
“I’ll be able to bring myself to say you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. If you didn’t frown so much,” he said in his signature deep voice.
Wow. What nineteen year old talks like that? Of course, now it sounds romantic to me, but back then, although I felt warm and fuzzy inside from his presence, my first thought was Russian Freak! My reply? “Ugh! Fuck off.”
He smiled then, folded his arms across his chest, and came to stand beside me. “Hmm, well, what do we have here? This should be interesting.” He gave me a heart stopping crooked smile, and moved closer so we were standing side by side. Then he purposely let his shoulder brush against mine and winked.
I shivered, unable to shake away the feeling that I just met my partner in crime in this lifetime. I didn’t know how true that would turn out to be.
I remember swooning hard, but I was too stubborn to show it. He was the new freak amongst our circle back then; everyone wanted a piece of him. I didn’t want to be everyone. Therefore, from the moment I saw those startling sea-green eyes, I had been unconsciously avoiding him.
From the beginning, we both felt our maddening attraction to each oth
er, but we were too stubborn. I wanted him to confess his feelings first, he wanted me to go first. We were stuck in the ‘friends’ stage for a while, but then after we would go into bouts of rage just from seeing the other person talking to the opposite sex, it changed to ‘friends with benefits’.
That didn’t last long. We couldn’t breathe without each other. We needed to fuck each other’s brains every chance we got. Soon, we were engaged.
Then my secret with my ‘father’ came out. And everything started to go downhill.
Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine today would go as it did. Sure, when I got on the plane to come to Connecticut, I had that feeling that I was about to become involved in something bigger than myself. But Drake getting married? To Nicole? Not in a million years could I have imagined that.
I sigh with relief when I finally reach the stairs that lead to my apartment. Absentmindedly, I wonder if Krystal was able to have someone bring along the small luggage I came with. The thought of clean, familiar clothes after a scalding hot shower is all that’s on my mind as I slip the key into the hole and push the door back.
The roaring wind closes the door behind me with a loud bang. The lights flicker to life, startling me, but I still take in everything about the apartment. The living room is a nice size, and a series of lamp bathe the place in warm orange light. The ceiling is high and made of polished wood, the furnishings are in a soft burgundy color, and it matches well with the black glass and polished wood theme. It’s beautiful-I draw a sharp breath the instant I notice another presence in the room. It doesn’t take long for his scent to hit my nostrils, and every inch of my body fires up in response.
I stumble until my back hits the door. I can’t believe my eyes.
Drake is here. Before me.
He’s seriously underdressed in black slacks and a V-neck long-sleeved polo. He looks a mess too. Tousled hair, swollen eyes, and blushed skin. His chest rises and falls heavily, and his fists are clenched as he glowers at me, directing all that energy at me. Taunting me. Burning my soul.
