Born to Ride

by Kasey Millstead

  “Bullshit! The only reason we aren’t together right now is because you’re too fucking stubborn to admit how you feel, because it might mean being hurt again. Well guess what, baby girl, life is all about hurt. From the day we’re born to the day we die, we fucking hurt and we cry and we pick ourselves up and, if we’re really lucky, we have people to help us pick up the fucking pieces.”

  “You think I don’t know this shit? You’re not the only one who knows hurt, Elijah, so quit with your fucking world weary patronising.”

  “You know hurt, huh? Then why the hell are you putting us through more of the shit?”

  I shove him up against the glass and then clench my hands into fists to keep from scratching and clawing at him until there’s nothing left. “You did this to us! Not me. I’m just trying to deal the best way I can. I’m trying to save myself from you, because if I give you what’s left I’ll have nothing leftover to pick up when you leave again.”

  A sob tears free from my throat, and then there’s a whole torrent of tears and my hands are thumping at his chest while he holds me to him. “I hate you!”

  “Don’t hate me, Ana,” he coos in my ear, and his voice is so soft and so full of hurt that it only makes me cry harder. “I love you. I’d go to fucking ground for you. I can’t deal with this shit any more. For six months I waited for you in that hellhole and you never once came to visit, and then the day I’m released you show up like some fucking miracle, an angel who wants to give me a home and care for me like a stray puppy. But the funny thing about angels is you can’t touch them, just like I’m not allowed to touch you, though I know you want me too as badly as I do. I need you, Ana. I’m fucking dying without you, baby.”

  “I don’t have anything left!” I shout. “I gave you everything I had and you tore it all up. I can’t allow you to do that again. I wouldn’t be the girl you love if I let you destroy me again.”

  I try to push him away but he won’t let up, and so he ends up clutching me to him in a vice grip while I cry and scream until all the hurt and tears and heartbreak just dissolve around us. We stay that way until the water runs cold, with him fully clothed and me stripped bare before him, and then I slide his arms from around my waist and pull him down to kiss his lips before I push open the shower door.

  “You need to find somewhere else to live.” My throat hurts from crying, my heart hurts from squeezing out those words, but it had to be said. We can’t live like this anymore. Some things are just too broken to fix. “I’m sorry, but this is just too hard.”

  I wrap the towel around my chest and walk out, wishing it hadn’t just felt like I left a piece of myself in that bathroom.

  Elijah

  I’ve decided I’m going to have to kill Jackson in his sleep. After spending all day on the couch versing one another on Xbox he’s killed me thirty-seven times in some random fighting game and nine times in Race Pro. There’s only so much of a beating a man can take before his masculinity feels threatened. And therefore, Jackson Rowe must die.

  I hear Ana pull up in the drive. She’s been at work by herself all day on account of Holly being sick again. Jackson drove her to an appointment earlier in the morning and we haven’t heard a peep out of her since. Bob hadn’t opened the garage today because we’ve been having a dead week and he had some tax audit shit going on, so Jackson and I have put our time to good use by wasting an entire day playing video games.

  I glance at the food wrappers lying on the coffee table and then over my shoulder into the kitchen where I can see dishes piled all along the bench. Shit, I should have taken care of that already. I should have made dinner or pulled out a fucking vacuum or something. God, I’m such a cunt. No wonder she wants me out.

  Ana comes storming in the door. She’s pissed, but that only gets worse when she sees the mess we’ve made. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and then turns without a word and stalks down the hall to her room, slamming the door firmly behind her.

  “Mate, your woman is fucking pissed,” Jackson grunts.

  “She’s not my woman,” I grunt back.

  “Come on, you really believe that shit?”

  “There’s nothing to believe. She wants me out of here.”

  Jackson laughs. “Mate, you really are fucking clueless. She wants you alright, but it’s got nothing to do with wanting you to move out. She’s just scared.”

  I toss the controller on the couch beside me and give him a look like he doesn’t know shit. “I don’t know, man. You didn’t see her when she told me to go. I think I broke her.”

  “Jesus Christ, do you not know anything about women? If she says she’s broken, you get out your fucking araldite and glue that shit back together.”

  “I tried.”

  “Bullshit! If you’d tried, you be in there right now fucking your woman, not sitting out here bitching and moaning to me like a fucking pussy.”

  “Alright, I’m going. Keep your fucking knickers on.”

  Holly comes stumbling out of her room, looking all puffy and pregnant and like she could murder someone for a steak. I cock my head to the side as I watch her and then whisper to Jackson, “You gonna heed your own advice, Don Juan?”

  He glances at Holly and a goofball smile breaks out across his face. He can pretend all he wants, but he’s just as pussy whipped as I am. “That train wreck? Nah, I’m not into homicidal bitches.”

  “Right. ’Cause that’s what that face means.”

  “What face?” he protests as I walk away. “Dude, what face?”

  I reach the hall and I’ve already forgotten about my roommates because the woman I love is as mad as a cut snake, and I can’t stand to see her angry or hurt unless I know the cause of it and can fix it in some way.

  I knock lightly on the door and hear her sniff before telling me to come in. She sighs when she sees me and says, “I’m not in the mood to fight right now, Elijah.”

  I hold up my hands in surrender. “Not here to fight. I come in peace.” I pat down my pockets and find a fun-sized bag of M&M’s I’d stashed there earlier so Jackson didn’t scoff them all down. They’re probably a little warm, but chocolate’s chocolate, and that’s exactly what she craves when she’s upset. I set the bag down on the end of the bed and she snatches it up and tears into it while she leans back against the headboard.

  “Now, you gonna tell me what’s bringing you home in tears, or do I have to threaten to take away the chocolate?”

  “I ran into Mrs Turner today.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because you can’t fight all my battles for me.”

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” I whisper.

  “I know. I had to deal with this on my own though. Can you believe that bitch actually blamed me for her son being in prison?”

  “What did you say to that?” I ask, and even I can hear the quiet tremor of rage in my voice.

  “I told her to go fuck herself.” She laughs half-heartedly and then adds, “Then I asked her how it felt to raise a rapist, and whether she was proud of his fondness for virgins.”

  “Shit, baby girl, you got some lady balls, that’s for sure. Remind me never to take you on again,” I say and we both chuckle at that until the realisation of our last argument punches us in the face again and leaves us both speechless.

  Ana tips out the last of the M&M’s. She eats the remaining chocolate with the exception of one, which she places on her outstretched palm and offers it to me. When we were together she always did that. She’d eat the majority and offer me one tiny morsel, like it was the most important gift she could consider parting with, but I never minded because the taste of it on her lips was always sweeter than the lolly itself. I take it from her palm and pop it in my mouth.

  We settle into the silence, both of us side by side and resting against her headboard until I can’t take the weight of the hurt between us. “You should know I’ve been looking for somewhere to live. I’d go to the motel, but the smoke damage from
their fire means they have to gut the entire place and start again and, funny enough, no one wants to rent to an ex-con. I’ll find someplace and I’ll make things right between us, it might just take a little longer than we wanted.”

  Ana’s quiet as she chews that over and then she places her hand in my upturned palm and whispers, “Don’t move out.”

  “I should,” I mutter like I’m on autopilot. I don’t want to go anywhere. I can’t think of anything worse than not seeing her face every day, of not being able to touch her in passing and pretend like I was just reaching for the milk. I miss her like fucking crazy and I haven’t even left yet.

  “You should,” she agrees and then adds, “but you won’t.”

  I won’t let myself believe she means that until I hear it directly from her lips. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. If there’s one thing you’ve taught me, Cade, it’s that running solves nothing. It just hurts your feet in the long run.”

  I laugh. “Amen.”

  She rests her head on my shoulder and I tuck my arm around her waist. It’s a force of habit but she’s not making a big deal about it so I decide neither will I.

  “Hey,” I say, “I got that bottle of blue in my room, whaddya say we crack that sucker, order a pizza and drink away all the shit behind us? All our mistakes, all the hurt, all the shit we’ve waded through to get to this point, everything?”

  “That actually sounds like a nice idea,” she replies and so we do. We hole up in her room with our old friend Johnnie and we eat and laugh and forget about all the hurt we’ve caused one another. We wipe the slate completely clean. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about fucking her. I think about it at least a hundred times a day, and I could tell she was thinking about it too, but the point was that, for maybe the first time ever, we didn’t give in to that physical shit that always seems to fuck us over.

  Sometime around 2 am she fell asleep in my arms and I tucked her under the covers and held her until I passed out.

  That night I slept more soundly than I have in years.

  Ana

  I rest my head against the edge of the tub and try to think about something else. I always knew this day was coming. I said I was fine with it, but I’m not fine at all. I’m furious. I want to ride around town until I find his bike and go and give his new fuck buddy a brand new face. Preferably one with my fist-print in it.

  This is the fourth week in a row he’s been out on a Friday night. The shop closed its doors hours ago, so I know he’s not working late. The same time I pulled the shop door shut and flipped the sign around, Elijah had been jumping on his bike. He gave me a wave through the window and took off in the direction of home, but just like last week and the two weeks prior, he wasn’t here when I pulled in the drive.

  Jackson and Holly were getting ready to head to a movie when I walked in. They offered for me to come along, but I declined. No one wants to be a third wheel to a relationship as dysfunctional as theirs. I thought Elijah and I had it bad, but there just aren’t words for how messed up those two are. So, instead of sitting through two hours of awkwardness, I decided to drown my sorrows in vanilla-scented bubble bath, only with Elijah out screwing around I wasn’t feeling so damn relaxed. I was about ready to annihilate someone.

  I hear the front door slam and begin thinking that maybe Jackson’s said something to piss off Holly before they’ve even made it out of town. The lights are on and the bathroom door is closed, but I haven’t bothered to lock it because I knew no one would be home before I’d begun pruning. I’m halfway considering standing up and scooting out of the bath to flip the lock in case an axe murder’s just walked through my front door when the bathroom door flings back on its hinges and Elijah comes striding in, angrier than a red-bellied black snake. He immediately begins toeing off his boots and socks. His back is to me as he lifts his shirt over his head and he hasn’t even noticed that the room is otherwise occupied.

  I’m torn between watching the show and stopping him from shedding his remaining clothing when I feel a cough sneak out my throat, spoiling all my fun.

  Elijah whirls around. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought you were out.”

  “Is that why you’re in such a bad mood, or did your Girl Friday call and cancel your date?”

  “Girl Friday?” he asks, and both his dimples pop out. He’s holding his hand against his chest, which I guess isn’t all that odd, considering I did just scare him half to death. He takes a moment to drink in my body stretched out in the tub. I know he can’t see much on account of the half bottle of bubble bath I poured in but that doesn’t stop his mind from wandering. I know because I can see it in his eyes. “Where’s Jack and Holly?

  “He took her cranky, pregnant arse out to a movie.”

  “Like a date?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t ask any more. Holly and Jack are complicated.”

  “Well, if anyone knows complicated, it’s you and me.” He laughs and runs his hand over the back of his neck and his newly cropped hair, which I think he is growing out again after I told him women like something to hold onto when they come. Hey, don’t judge me; I’d just consumed half a bottle of Johnnie Walker when he’d asked what I thought of his new cut.

  “True.” I smile up at him.

  “I’ll, ah ... I’ll leave you to it,” Elijah says and turns to leave.

  “You can take a shower if you want to. It’s nothing either of us hasn’t seen before.”

  “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’ll have the restraint to keep my eyes from wandering and my hands to myself.”

  “Elijah, take a goddamn shower.”

  “Still just as bossy as ever, I see.”

  “Ha! I’m worse now than I ever was.”

  “Alright, if you insist,” he says, and makes a move to undo his jeans but catches me staring and straightens up. “You keep looking at me like you want a taste, baby girl, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m gonna let you have it.”

  My gaze shoots up to his smouldering one and I quickly avert my eyes. “Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” he replies as his eyes trail over my pink flesh. He breathes deeply and turns around to remove his jeans and slip into the spray of the shower, which is situated directly in my line of sight. The clear glass does nothing to hinder my view of the hot water cascading down over Elijah’s perfect bum. He keeps his body turned away from me as he lathers and rinses and then he stands beneath the spray with his hands against the tile and his head bowed.

  I could live a thousand lives and never forget the way he looks, the way it feels when his large, powerful body engulfs mine, the way I feel about him. All of him. Not just the good, but the bad too. I miss his hands on my body, I miss his mouth claiming mine with his own. I miss touching him and being touched and for once, my need to be claimed by him, completely, overrides the caution I have in my heart.

  The desire to touch him is so great I don’t give myself a chance to second guess it as I quietly rise from the water and pad over to the shower. Opening the door, I step into the steam filled cubicle covered neck to toes in bubbles.

  I see the moment that Elijah emerges from inside his own head and realises he is no longer alone. His shoulders stiffen, his head rises and he slowly turns to face me.

  “Ana?”

  Shock quickly turns to desire as his eyes slide over me and he wets his lips like he wants a taste too. I place my hands on his chest and push him back against the tiles. He places his too-large hand over mine and holds it to his chest. The skin beneath my palm feels hot and slightly raised. I begin to pull my hand away but he pushes it harder against his flesh, like he doesn’t want me to look.

  “Let me see,” I say and when he shakes his head no, I plead.

  Elijah closes his eyes and removes his hand. On his left pectoral is a new tattoo. Where there used to be a gothic graveyard scene with his sister’s name now sits an intricate antique-looking compass emblazoned right over his heart, b
ut instead of sporting the traditional North, East, South, West icons a simple cursive A is written at each of the compass points. Beneath it are the words: “Conscience is a Man’s Compass”.

  Holy shit! Was he saying that I was his moral compass?

  I tear my eyes off the beautiful tattoo—and it is beautiful, not just the sentiment behind it but the artwork, too. “When did you get this?”

  “We finished the last of it tonight.” He looks down at me, like he’s expecting me to freak out. Instead I trace my fingers over the lettering with a wistful smile. “You didn’t wonder where I was going every Friday night?”

  “I wondered. I just didn’t think it was my place to ask.”

  “Ana, there isn’t a single thing you could ask of me that I would refuse.” He smiles down at me and my heart just about leaps out of my chest. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t actually, but I don’t doubt his sincerity now as he says it.

  “I love you,” I blurt out, and for the first time, I feel vulnerable telling him that. Since he got out all I’ve done is try to shove him into a box he never fit in to begin with. Elijah was never my friend. Someone that you love and desire that much could never be just a friend. It was stupid of me to believe we could be anything less than this.

  “I know,” he says, and his face lights up with the admission. He brings his lips down on mine and lifts me so that I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. I can feel the length of him pressed against my belly and it starts a heat unfurling again in my core, seeking him out, calling out to the fire within him.

  “I want inside you so fucking bad, baby.”

  “I want that, too. I’m just ... scared,” I mutter.

  Elijah cocks his head back to look at me. “Of me?”

  I shake my head. “Of the pain. I’m terrified, actually.”

  “I promise you, baby girl, it’s not going to hurt. I’m gonna kiss you all over and then I’m going to eat you out until you’re screaming my name, and then I’m going to do what I should have done the day we met and make that beautiful pussy mine.” He grasps the nape of my neck, and kisses the space below my ear that drives me crazy. “Okay?”