The music blared while the thumping bass reverberated in my chest. My stomach clenched into a ball of nerves, fearing the worst from ‘drunk Trevor.’ I looked around the dim club, praying for a bouncer in a black security shirt to be standing nearby. Lights bounced and flashed across the faces of unsuspecting dancers. Didn’t they realize a fight was about to break out? I frantically searched for the emergency exits, hoping to make a quick getaway once the first punch had been thrown. However, what happened next didn’t end in a bloody brawl. I couldn’t have been more shocked, but I welcomed the exchange.
“Hey, aren’t you the quarterback from Templeton?” Trevor asked.
“Yep,” he nodded. “Joe Cockerham.”
“I thought so!” Trevor stuck out his hand to the guy. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s good to meet you!”
“Oh, yeah,” Joe seemed relieved. “I’ve heard a lot about you too! With your stats, you’re probably headed to Ohio State or Michigan on a scholarship.”
“I hope so. I’ve heard you’re probably headed to Georgia.”
“Probably. I have a couple prospects, but Georgia is my first pick.”
Trevor nodded his head in agreement. “I feel ya.”
“Well, man, I’ll see you around.” Joe tipped his cup toward Trevor and walked toward a few of his buddies standing nearby.
“See ya!” Trevor said with a smile and then turned his attention toward me. His pleasant demeanor dissipated, and a look of pure unadulterated anger replaced his fading smile. “So, you thought you could sneak around behind my back, huh?”
“No, he came up to me. I told him I had a boyfriend,” I looked at him wide-eyed with fear. Being drunk and angry was a scary combination with Trevor.
“What did I tell you about talking to other guys?”
“Trevor, I—” I squeaked.
Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, Trevor grabbed my arm. Pulling me close to his body so no one would see the pain he was causing me, he hissed into my ear, “Well, let me put it this way…if you ever talk to another guy again, you’ll wish you hadn’t.” He was squeezing my arm so tightly I could almost feel the capillaries popping under my skin.
I winced from the pain. “Ouch. Let go, Trevor. Please,” I whispered. I didn’t want to cause a scene. Things might get a whole lot worse if I caused a scene.
“I just want to make sure I’m getting my point across.” He glared at me with his nose only inches away from mine.
“Okay, okay. Please, just let me go,” I begged quietly.
“I mean it Kaitlyn,” he growled into my ear. “You’re just asking for trouble.”
There’s that word again—trouble. To me, trouble translated to a 9mm handgun.
He turned to Caleb who was kissing Eva on the bar stool next to us. “Come on, man. I need more alcohol!” Trevor grabbed Caleb by the jacket and dragged him off the stool away from Eva. The two of them faltered toward the men’s room.
“I love it when Caleb is drunk,” she grinned. “He’s so kissable!”
“I wish I could say the same about Trevor,” I muttered. Unfortunately, Trevor had gotten really good at camouflaging his abuse in front of people.
I decided to take some time to get a little fresh air. Although Club Millennium was strictly non-smoking on Teen Night, the smoky smell from the rest of the week still lingered in the air. I clutched my tender arm, sore from Trevor’s death grip, and walked toward the exit. Sobs caught in my throat, but my frustration and embarrassment restrained my tears.
Stepping outside, I breathed a sigh of relief. The cool night air was refreshing. Cars of all shapes and sizes lined the parking lot. Blazing street lights brightened the night sky so much I could barely see the stars in the distance. The full moon shone brightly like a giant flashlight in the sky. I could still hear the thumping from the music inside the building; the constant rhythm had a calming effect. Kicking the gravel under my feet, I casually stepped around the corner of the building and out of site of the main entrance. A quiet bench beckoned me. Graciously, I sat down to enjoy my moment of peace.
A group of students had gathered farther down the side of the building. I could tell by their murmurings and laughter that they were probably up to no good. Trying to ignore them, I made myself look busy by looking at my cell phone and pretending to text someone. The sound of a familiar voice enticed me to look up. I could see Chris standing in the middle of the group that was obviously enthralled by his presence. He was engrossed in telling his story to them. I only caught bits and pieces, but it sounded like he was recounting his miserable days behind bars. I think he hoped to deter others from making similar mistakes. Instead, I could tell the others were deeply fascinated by his experience in juvenile detention. A break in the crowd caused him to catch a glimpse of me. For an instant, he seemed to lose his train of thought, searching my eyes for an explanation.
“Sorry, guys,” I heard him say, “I gotta go.” Looking curiously at me, he walked toward my bench. His sexy swagger had me eyeing him from head to toe. He wore saggy jeans that hung loosely off his hips. A white T-shirt revealed the taut muscles of his chest. A gray, zip-up hoodie carelessly cloaked his shoulders. His silver piercings glinted under the light of the street lamp. His black billed beanie sat cockeyed on his head, while his thick tongued sneakers, loosely tied, flopped around on his feet as he sauntered toward me. His chestnut eyes stayed fixated on me, while the others from the group stayed engrossed in conversation. No one from the group seemed to notice me. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey,” Chris smiled with a quick nod of his head. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Yeah, I don’t come here often,” I admitted.
“Did you come here alone?” Chris glanced around. “I expected to see your entourage following you.”
“Haha,” I retorted. “You’re a real comedian.” I rolled my eyes.
He laughed. “I’m kidding! I just came over here to make sure you were okay. You look lost.”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said. “Everyone else is inside. I just needed some fresh air, that’s all.”
He eyed me suspiciously.
“Seriously, I’m fine,” I lied. “Thanks for checking on me.”
He hesitated. It seemed as though he were debating sitting down next to me on the bench. I wished he would sit down. I wanted him to—no, needed him to sit down. He chose to stand instead. “There’s that word ‘fine’ again. Kaitlyn, are you sure you’re all right?” His voice sounded so protective, much unlike the asshole in the club drowning himself with Caleb’s flask. Chris stared at me, probing me for an answer. I feared his eyes would burn holes through mine and he would see the truth I tried to hide behind them.
“Really, I’m fine,” I lied again. Tears threatened to escape my eyes. I looked down at my throbbing arm, already bruised, and hurriedly covered it up with my jacket.
Chris’s eyes narrowed; I could tell then that he knew I was lying. “Listen,” he said, “I realize you don’t know me very well, but something tells me there’s more to the story than you let on.”
I stared down at my jacket, willing my tears back.
He pulled a Swiss Army knife from the front pocket of his jeans and grabbed a small piece of paper that looked like a wadded up receipt from his back pocket. Flipping out the tiny ball point pen from the knife, he wrote something down on the back of a gas station receipt and handed it to me. “Look, here’s my phone number and my screen name. Call me or IM me if you ever need me. Ever. Even if it’s three in the morning. I mean that.” He looked at me solemnly.
I looked at the receipt, glancing at his screen name:
Ha! Brilliant play on words. I managed a smile. “Thanks. Mine is Cheerchick88.”
“Good to know,” he said and looked down at me, grinning. His eyes penetrated mine, melting my heart. After a prolonged moment, he turned and walked around the corner of the building out of sight.
As I made my way back into the club I stuffed Chris’s phone num
ber and screen name into my jacket pocket. Trevor must have still been in the bathroom. There was no sign of him or Eva anywhere. Caleb was standing by the bar holding onto a bar stool to steady himself. Allison and Eric were dancing in the middle of the dance floor. A slow song was playing through the speakers, and they didn’t seem embarrassed to make out in front of everyone.
“Where’s Trevor?” I asked Caleb.
“I don’t know,” he slurred. “Where’s Eva?”
“I have no idea,” I told him.
Just as the words came out of my mouth I saw them staggering toward the bar together. Eva was giggling while Trevor leaned on her for support.
“Hey guys,” she said as they got closer to us. “Trevor wanted me to help him find you, Kaitlyn.”
“There’s you are!” Trevor announced, nearly incoherent from the alcohol. “Lessgo home….I’m think I drunk.”
“That’s an understatement,” I muttered, annoyed by how the night was turning out. I wrapped my arm around him and helped him as he stumbled to my car.
“Thanks, babes,” Trevor smiled that drunken stupor smile that nearly churned my stomach as I climbed into the driver’s seat. His head clumsily bobbled back and forth as he slurred, “You’re da best!”
I just rolled my eyes and started the engine. About halfway home, in the middle of a sharp curve, Trevor bunglingly leaned out the half-opened window and puked. Vomit streaked down the window and onto the car door. “Sorry,” he sputtered as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Oh gross!” I shrieked. “Trevor, good grief! That’s disgusting!”
I sped to his house and ushered him to his room. Flopping down on his bed, jeans and all, he immediately passed out. I didn’t even bother to take off his shoes. Instead, I hightailed it out of there to escape the disgusting stench of bile and beer that burned my nostrils.
On my way home I drove through an automatic car wash. The nauseating scent of alcohol and vomit still lingered inside my car. I couldn’t wait to escape to my bed, my safe haven of fluffy pink pillows and plush microfiber blankets. The four walls of my cozy bedroom served as my sanctuary. The white eyelet comforter that I’d had since I was four draped carelessly over my bed. Pillow shams stacked around my head like a soft barrier against the harsh reality of life. The sooner the night ended, the better.
I wanted so badly to pick up the phone and call Chris just to talk to someone. His soothing voice would calm my nerves and help me sleep soundly. I restrained myself from dialing his phone number and spent the rest of the night in a fitful sleep.
Trevor came to school the next day reeking of stale beer and cigarette smoke with a faint hint of vomit.
“Good grief, Trevor, did you shower today?” I asked him when I got close enough to really get a whiff of him.
“Not yet,” he groaned. The hangover was evident by the dark circles under his eyes. “Coach Harrison is going to let me shower in the locker rooms this morning. He told me I better shape up before class starts. He didn’t want his star player getting a bad rep and making him look bad. I’m headed down there now. I’ll see you later.” He grabbed his bag and headed down toward the locker rooms.
The school day could not have crept by any slower. The minutes felt like hours. I was so tired from my restless night of sleep. I had too much on my mind to care about school. Trevor avoided me most of the day. I didn’t know exactly what was going on with him, but he seemed to wear a guilty look all day. His avoidance suited me just fine. I needed some time to think anyway.
Trevor met me at my locker when the last school bell rang. He definitely looked and smelled better than he had that morning. The scent of his cologne reminded me of dry woods with a hint of musky leather. My stomach did flips when I saw him. He looked as gorgeous as ever when he gave me his award-winning smile. He had some kind of hypnotic ability with those hazel eyes. I scolded myself for being spellbound by him.
“So,” he asked, “are you ready to see the movie tomorrow?”
“Really?” I squealed with delight. I couldn’t believe he was actually making good on the promise he made after practice that day to take me the ‘chick flick.’
“Sure. I promised I’d take you.”
“All right, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow evening then.” I looked at him suspiciously, wary of his sudden kindness.
“Oh, by the way,” he leaned toward me, whispering, “some people were telling me that you were talking to some guy outside the club last night. You better pray I don’t find out who it was, and you better hope to God I never hear of you doing that again—for your sake.” Narrowing his eyes, he patronized me by patting me on the shoulder as he walked away.
I stared into my locker and tried to process what had just occurred. Tears worked their way to my eyes as I fought hard to keep them from falling. I wish I could’ve just walked away from Trevor and never looked back, but I knew that couldn’t happen; his death threat was always in the back of my mind.
On my way to practice that day, I saw Chris standing by the vending machines. I used the excuse that I wanted a soda to go over and speak to him.
At our school, mostly drug dealers and gang members hung by the vending machines in the quad. It was no surprise that most school fights took place out there. Members of the so-called popular crowd never ventured to that area, and cheerleaders never bought snacks out of the vending machines. Purchasing tiny packages of sugar coated, saturated fat was against some secret diet code. I planned to buy two packs of Marshmallow Dream Cakes; I was feeling rather rebellious.
“Hi,” I said shyly as I dropped the coins into the slot.
“Hey, you,” he grinned. “What brings you out here?”
“I didn’t eat lunch,” I fibbed.
“Well, it’s good to see you.” Chris winked, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and leaned back, propping one of his feet against the brick wall behind him.
“Thanks. Actually, I’m glad I bumped into you, too,” I offered sheepishly.
“Really? Why? Is everything all right?” he suddenly sounded very protective.
“Yeah, at the moment…” my words trailed off as I turned to look at the snack choices in the machine. I knew he was staring at me, burning holes into the back of my head with his glare.
“Kaitlyn,” he said, “you’re the nicest, prettiest girl I have met at this school. Yet, there is something about you that seems…off. It just feels like you’re hiding something. I have seen you crying several times now, and the dark circles under your eyes tell me that you aren’t getting enough sleep. I don’t know, you just look like you could use a friend right now—someone to talk to that could help you. I could be that person, you know. I could help you.”
I whirled around, narrowing my eyes and giving him a look of adamant determination. “No. I can’t let you get involved.”
Reaching over my shoulders, Chris placed his hands against the vending machine behind me. He towered over me, but leaned down to look me square in the face; his forehead nearly brushed against mine. The heat of his breath against my face caused my own breath to hitch as he almost closed the gap between us. My heart skipped a beat under the intensity of his stare. The longing in his eyes said everything and nothing in the exact same moment. With pure conviction he whispered, “I already am.”
A rush of relief spread over me. Tears dripped down my cheeks. Maybe I would finally be able to admit how terrified I really was of Trevor because at that moment it seemed I had a protector—someone who could see through Trevor’s charm and deception. I couldn’t believe I was outright crying in front of him. This guy. This stranger. I just couldn’t stop myself.
Chris hesitantly wrapped his arms around me. My heaving sobs became stronger as I buried my face against his chest. “It’s going to be okay,” he assured me. He held me until my crying subsided.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Cupping my chin in his hand, he looked directly into my tear-filled eyes. “You are so sweet, and damn, you’re beau
tiful. You are worth it, Kaitlyn. Keep telling yourself that.”
My lip quivered and the tears threatened to fall again. “I have to go. I have practice,” I said, even though I didn’t want to leave him. I felt secure in his arms. I couldn’t believe this guy I barely knew and had only spoken to a handful of times, this ex-convict, could make me feel so safe—so free to be me.
His eyes searched mine. “Do you want me to wait for you?”
“No,” I instinctively covered the bruise on my arm. “I’m meeting my boyfr—Trevor, after practice.”
Chris glanced down at my arm as I made futile efforts to hide the bruise. It seemed obvious that he heard me hesitate on the word ‘boyfriend.’ Chris took a step back and glared at me with piercing eyes. “Is that what this is about? Your boyfriend? Has he been hurting you?” The anger immediately rose in his tone. “Don’t tell me that I’m going to have to fuck up some punk who thinks he can lay a hand on a girl?”
“No, it’s not like that…not really,” I attempted another lie.
“Oh, really? Well, then what’s this bruise on your arm?” He looked at me accusingly as he lifted my arm to point out what I already knew was there.
“I—” I couldn’t formulate a lie fast enough and dropped my eyes in shame.
“I knew it,” he yelled, punching the side of the vending machine with his fist. The noise echoed like a gunshot.
Startled, I flinched.
Before I had time to think, his arms were around me, hugging me protectively. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He held me there, trying to swallow back his anger.
“It’s okay,” I assured him.
“No, it’s not okay. I didn’t mean to scare you. It just pisses me off to see some asshole treating you like that. It’s not right, Kaitlyn. Don’t worry. This,” he declared, pointing to my bruise, “won’t be an issue any more.”
I wasn’t sure how he planned to fix it, but I felt secure knowing that somehow I would be protected from Trevor once and for all.
So Much It Hurts Page 7
