by Adriana Law
His voice sounded horrible in the message, strained. I could tell he’d been crying, something I know Colton does not do. He’d said: “My parents died in some crazy ass plane crash, but I’m fine. Well … thought you’d want to know. Call me later.”
And that was it. It was the worst way imaginable for a guy to tell his girlfriend his parents were killed, but that’s how we are, cold and distant from each other.
His arms tighten around my waist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t feel like talking to anybody.”
“How’d you find out?” I mutter.
He rises up on an elbow and turns me so I’m facing him, on my left side, gazing into eyes I never could quite figure out. Colton has always kept a part of himself locked away. I used to beat myself up wondering if it was my fault. Maybe I sucked as a girlfriend. I don’t know if that true. Colton is just who he is, never fully committing to anyone. Maybe we’re similar in that way. I have no idea why I can’t make a decision and stick with it. It’s as if I’m chasing something I can never find. It’s like I know It’s out there, whatever it is, it just always eludes me.
He stares back, running a fingertip down the side of my face. “You are so beautiful. Have I told you that lately?”
“Colton—”
“Don’t say anything, please.” Then his cold lips touch mine. He is gentle, gentler than he’s ever been. The hand that was on my face moves to my hair, where he combs fingers through the length of it. “Jesus, you smell good. You feel so good in my arms, too. This is how it should be … you and me, always.” He presses me to my back and then he is on top of me, moving between my legs. That’s when it changes. His hands and mouth are everywhere, insistent. I can feel his stiff erection through his gym shorts. He’s managed to get off my shirt, so I’m lying under him in my bra and jeans, zipper undone.
It’s all happening so fast. I can’t think. This feels empty. I want more, especially for my first time. I tear my lips away from his, panting.
“Wait, Colton, stop,” comes out in a panicked rush.
His lips move against the hollow spot at the base of my throat. “I know you want to wait, Tori. But shit, I need to be with my girlfriend. Can’t you understand? Please, don’t deny me this. Let me make love to you. I’ll go slow. I’ll be gentle. I promise.”
It’s as if my body has a mind of its own, arching into him, my palms running over the hard muscles along his back. He slips his hands behind me and unhooks my bra. A shudder rips through me. Every part of my body is begging me to say yes. Do it. Just get it over with; our relationship will be better afterwards. But my heart tells me if I give in to this urge I’ll lose a part of myself. My palms flatten out on his chest and I push, angling my head away as he tries to kiss me. “Colton, I mean it, stop.”
He freezes over me, holding his weight up with his elbows. His hands grip my face, forcing me to look at him. His forehead presses against mine. He closes his eyes and exhales. “Can you at least do what you do sometimes?” his voice comes out small, unsure.
My stomach turns queasy and I go cold, any desire I felt a few minutes ago vanishing. Before I even have time to answer he is sliding his shorts down under the covers, kicking them off the bed with his feet. He directs my hand to his erection and our gazes lock, his pleading and desperate.
“Please, Tori. I feel like I’m about to explode from all the tension. My Uncle wants me to come live with them in Los Angeles. I really don’t want to leave. I’d rather stay here with you. But then I think about it and I don’t really have anything here to stay for, except you. I’m so fucked up right now I can’t think straight. I feel so alone, and if you won’t let me make love to you … will you please at least touch me?”
Without giving it much thought I begin to move my hand, stroking him. I close my eyes. Colton’s breaths become heavier the faster I move my hand. My stomach rolls. How did I get here? How did we get here? Will I ever feel anything? Or is this it, the closest I’ll ever get to love?
Colton tenses. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and then he’s kissing me, his lips stiffer than usual as warmth fills my hand.
We lay there together, facing each other. Colton drifts off to sleep. I can’t help staring at him. His breath warms my face. None of this makes sense. Why can’t I be happy? I don’t make sense. Is every teenage girl this confused? Every now and then, Colton’s body jerks or he whimpers in his sleep, then his features smooth out and he’s back to drooling on my wrist. He’d fallen asleep grasping my hand, now that hand is pinned between his cheek and the pillow, his parted wet lips on my wrist.
Can you feel so obligated to someone that you’re willing to forego your own happiness to please them?
I must have fallen asleep also; because when I open my eyes again the room is dark. Colton and I are entangled under a mound of heavy blankets, the tip of my nose feels frozen. This cold is ridiculous. It’s time to put some heat on. Carefully, I wrench my arm free, slide from the bed, pulling one of the covers up over Colton’s chilled shoulder. I tiptoe over to his dresser and grab one of his T-shirt’s and a pair of boxers from a drawer and change. If I’m staying then I need something more comfortable to sleep in. Pulling the shirt over my head I notice my cell phone on the dresser. New messages:
Jonah: Please, talk to me. I owe you a better apology.
Jonah: Tori?
Jonah: Are you there?
Jonah: Can you meet me somewhere? Anywhere. You decide. We can get something to eat and talk. Your friendship matters.
I don’t reply to the text. Instead I go out into the hallway in search of the thermostat. I find it on the wall at the top of the staircase. I reach up, adjusting the dial to seventy degrees and turn, smacking right into a slab of rock-hard chest.
“I didn’t expect you to get out of bed and follow me,” I blurt out, startled.
“Are you the insane person trying to freeze us all,” is snarled deeply at me.
My mouth falls open and then snaps shut. I jerk my hands from the chest, my face hot.
It’s not Colton.
Instead it’s a guy around 6’4” with dark gray eyes that have these amazing long black lashes framing them. His hair is messy, a few cowlicks taking over making me long to tame them with a hand. There is something about this guy that causes a foreign reaction in my body.
His face is masculine, more mature than boyish. Stubble shadows his sharp jawline. A corner of his bottom lip is pierced. My gaze slowly sweeps down the length of him: broad shoulders, washboard stomach, and a narrow waist. His arms are folded over his chest and all he has on is a pair of black boxers showing the dark line of hair that disappears under the band. He is shivering, his hands vigorously rubbing biceps covered with tattoos and I notice his nipples are also pierced. He looks like a guy who’s just darted out of bed to take a quick leak before diving back under the covers where it’s warm. Speaking of beds and covers—did I really just tell him I didn’t expect him to get out of bed and follow me?
He cocks an eyebrow and gives me a quick once over. “I’m sorry, am I expected to know who you are?”
“Umm….” Mouth, please work. “I—I thought you were Colton.”
His gaze narrows. He frowns. Although I don’t think the frown is new, he hasn’t done anything BUT frown since he bumped into me.
Like an idiot I start to ramble, “I’m Victoria, Colton’s girlfriend. He wants me here, you know, because of his parents.” I aim a finger over the guys shoulder at Colton’s closed door. “We were sleeping. He’s still asleep.” I exhale a frustrated breath and decide I should just shut up.
Again he eyes me up and down. I shiver under his heavy scrutiny. “Whatever, Phoenix. I could care less. It’s cold as hell in here.” He nods at the thermostat on the wall. “Mind jacking that thing up a little?”
“Yeah. Sure. I mean, I have … jacked it already.” My cheeks flame at the way my words come out. “That is NOT what I meant at all.”
His brows lower in confusion. Wha
t am I doing? He couldn’t possibly know. What is wrong with me? It’s this guy. He’s making me stupid.
“O-o-okay,” he drawls out. He goes to leave, but not before eyeing me one last time as if HE thinks I might be better suited for a straightjacket. At the moment I’d have to agree with him.
“I’m Sterling… Colton’s cousin.”
I stare at the tattoo on his upper shoulder blade; it’s a mandala, I’d know the combination of geometric shapes and colors anywhere. My eyes are drawn to it just like the time I stumbled on one in an internet search for designs. Intrigued by their attractiveness I searched the meaning: a dreamer's search for completeness. I shake the revelation from my thoughts, my mouth still open until the bedroom door across from Colton’s shuts.
Sterling.
Like the silver color of his eyes.
Did he call me phoenix?
I call my mother early the next morning to explain what happened. She was horrified and like I knew she would, she agreed to me staying at Colton’s for a couple of days. She seemed happy, as if my staying at Colton’s meant Jonah was no longer an issue, which he wasn’t, but for different reasons. She only became an overbearing parent with all kinds of insane rules when it suited her. She’d been so terrified I was going to end things with the amazingly perfect Colton Bentley that I bet she would’ve agreed to me running off and eloping with him.
“What can I do,” she asks on the phone the next morning. “You should do something really nice for Colton.” Already have. “I can’t imagine how horrible this must be for him ... losing both his parents at the same time … poor boy. I’m sure he’s hurting. You should do something extra nice, Victoria.”
“Colton has to make arrangements today for the burial. I thought I’d stay here and clean while he’s out. His family is here. I’m sure they will need to eat,” I say, picking at the frayed edge of the hole in the knees of my jeans. I need to go pick up more clothes from my house.
“It’s good you’re staying there,” my mother says. “You need to stay by his side. He needs you. This will solidify your relationship. You’ll see.”
“Mom, his parents died and you’re thinking about solidifying our relationship. Our relationship is probably the last thing on his mind.”
“You know I believe a woman should pursue a career and not a man. But, it doesn’t hurt to have the right partner that is just as career oriented as his wife. Death brings people together, Victoria.” Not always. “You’re meeting Colton’s extended family for the first time. That’s an important step in you two’s relationship, whether you want to admit it or not. A step that is long overdue if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask. “I need to get off here. Tell dad I said hi.”
She goes on, “In fact, I’ll have Cecily prepare something for Colton’s family tomorrow evening. Invite them for me. We can all sit down for a meal. I would love to meet the Bentley’s. You know they own one of the most successful modeling agencies in Los Angeles, don’t you? Very impressive. Oh! No need to worry about what you’ll wear … I’ll pick you up a striking new cocktail dress. They won’t be able to take their eyes off of you.” She takes a breath, slowing her momentum, “I feel horrible for the tragic circumstance in which we’re meeting the Bentley’s, I really do, but I have to admit … I’m excited to meet Colton’s family.”
If the rest of the Los Angles Bentley’s is as beautiful as Sterling, then no wonder they own a modeling agency.
“I’ll call you with the details.” And my mother hangs up. She is off to work on securing my future husband before I even enter college, buying me a dress she knows I will never wear.
Tattoos and Gray Eyes
Tori
Am I desperate?
Not yet.
Standing in front of the mirror over the sink in Colton’s bathroom I drop his dry tooth brush back in the stainless steel holder on the counter and eye it with distain. I’m definitely not that desperate yet. To me there’s nothing grosser than using someone else’s tooth brush. I don’t care if you do kiss them. The thought of sticking something in my mouth that has scrubbed out tiny food particles from in-between the tight crevices of someone else’s teeth is not appealing to me. Squeezing out a line of tooth paste onto the tip of my finger I smear it over my teeth, spitting the tooth paste in the sink and running my hand under the running water swishing it around in the bowl. Gagging sounds mingle with the running water as I drag a glob of tooth paste over my tongue. Turning off the water I glance up into the mirror, gathering my hair in a ponytail, creating a messy bun.
I look like crap, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.
I’m not sure what to expect down stairs. Colton filled me in on the Bentley’s first thing this morning. There is Sawyer, the youngest. Then Sterling, who sadly, intrigues me. And then there is Uncle Bentley, who, honestly, sounds a little frightening. Supposedly he has a very standoffish personality. I’m guessing this is where Sterling inherited his lovely personality. Wouldn’t most people make a joke out of practically plowing you over, apologize and introduce themselves? Not Sterling. He’d been moody, giving off this vibe that somehow him running into me was my fault.
His Uncle just died, Tori. Give the guy a break.
Taking a deep breath I shove the tattooed bad boy out of my mind. Glance one more time in the mirror before I head down stairs to get the introductions over with.
Stepping into the kitchen I pause, taking another deep breath to steady my courage. At the head of the dining room table sits an attractive older man. Well, attractive for someone in their sixties. He has aged gracefully. He’s tall with broad shoulders, in an expensive suit. His dark hair shows no signs of graying or thinning. He has black soulless eyes. There’s a hardness to him that makes you want to immediately take a step back. He reminds me of one of those men you see on television who are head of the mob. I wonder if he is and if he could have me eliminated with one quick phone call. His gaze meets mine over the rim of the coffee mug pressed to his downturned lips and I stop breathing. The frown never falters as he steadily sets the mug down on the table. I didn’t expect him to smile, seems the norm with the Bentleys.
“Looks like your girlfriend finally decided to wake up,” he tells Colton.
My stomach turns over as my gaze slides to the digital clock on the microwave over the stainless steel stove. 8:30. His tone suggested it was afternoon and I’m lazy.
Colton shoots me a weak smile and gets up, coming to press a kiss to my forehead. He drags me to the chair beside his, dumping me in it.
“Morning, beautiful,” Colton says. He leans forward and folds his arms on the table top, his head turned in my direction. “How’d you sleep?”
He isn’t the only one staring at me. They all are. I can feel it. I’m also very conscious of Sterling sitting across the table.
“Good,” I reply weakling, pulling my hand from his and placing it nervously in my lap.
On the other side of the table, next to Sterling, Sawyer stands and extends a hand. His face lights with a smile as I accept it. “I’m Saw. Colton’s ridiculously handsome cousin. You’re too pretty to be dating ugly here,” he teases, nodding at Colton. “How much did he pay you to sleep with him?”
“Hey!” Colton warns.
“Sit down and shut up. You’re implying she’s a whore,” Sterling grumbles, yanking his brother down into his seat. My eyes go wide. I hadn’t thought of it that way. Now they all were. It’s like screaming don’t look at the pink elephant! and everybody looks.
“There’s been a death in the family. Can’t you go one day without tormenting your brother,” Uncle Bentley snaps at Sterling, who actually was coming to my defense if you think about it.
Uncle Bentley stares at me as if I somehow provoked Sawyers comment. Do I imply that I’m a whore? Did I forget to put on a bra before I came down? Are my nipples poking against cotton? One quick drop of my eyes and I sigh heavily, relieved.
“I didn’t mean it that way and she dam
n well knows it.” Sawyer smirks at his brother. “You’re just an ol’ grump in the mornings. You have to admit she’s hot and he’s ugly which makes no damn sense.”
Sawyer is completely at ease; opposite of his brother who always acts like a bug crawled up his ass.
Colton reaches over, takes my hand again, lacing our fingers and bringing them up on the table top as if he wants them all to see. “Well, she’s mine ... believe it or not.”
Sterling is hunched over his breakfast, his thick forearms resting on the table next to his bowl of cereal like he’s guarding it. Cold cereal? I’m guessing they usually have a cook and cold cereal was the best they could do on their own.
“I could make breakfast,” I offer.
Sterling levels me with his emotionless gray eyes. “It’s too late for that.”
It’s only freaking 8:30! Damn people. Stop making me feel like a worthless lazy slut.
Uncle Bentley speaks directly to me, “We have arrangements to make for my brothers funeral today. Colton’s going to be busy. It will probably be best for everyone involved if you make yourself useful by staying out from under our feet. I suggest you go home … nap … you can pay your respects at the funeral like—”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Colton voice slices thru Uncle Bentley’s. His hand squeezes mine. “I mean, it was my parents who died. My parents I’ll be burying tomorrow. Don’t you think I should have the right to decide who I want with me?” He throws an affectionate look my way. “I want Tori here.”
Uncle Bentley scrubs his face with his hands. “Very well, she can stay, but only if she stays out of the way.”
My gaze connects with Sterling’s, his narrows, before shifting down once to where Colton and I are holding hands, then his gaze is back up on my face. He is wearing black jogging pants and a white T-shirt, a contrast against tan skin and tattoos. Being this close to him and not having to talk to him gives me the perfect opportunity to discreetly check him out.
I study his tattoos.
There are so many I find myself wondering if the tattoos and piercings represent this boy’s walk on the wild side or if he is a sheep in wolves clothing? My attention starts at the side of his neck where there is a blue swallow. Don’t mistake a swallow for a sparrow, there is a difference. Luckily, I know my birds. Swallows were symbolic for sailors that logged miles at sea. Sailors would get their first swallow after 5,000 miles, their second after their 10,000 miles. I wonder if Sterling really has sailed around the world, or if it’s just wishful thinking. I like the swallow; it’s interesting and my favorite out of all his other tattoos and there is plenty to choose from: on his left arm a girl/angel cover’s his bicep and on each knuckle a letter I notice spells the word “tordu”. His right arm however is less subtle. Starting at his wrist there is black barbed wire leading my eyes to what seems to be a black and white maze, I can’t tell where one shape ends and the next begins. There are masculine flowers/shapes meshed in with the maze, dead in the center a crimson red rose with elegant petals, the hint of purple peeking through where they curl at the edges. Medial to the rose there is a blue anchor with a ribbon suffocating its shank “Sink or swim” in cursive. His upper arm has the outline of a double headed cow skull, I can’t see his shoulder but I know it is covered with the vibrant designs and colors of his mandala.
