by Adriana Law
“I know it’s you, Victoria. What are you thinking? This is insane … what you’re doing to this family. This guy is not a good guy. It’s not safe for you to be with him. Do you hear me?”
No. Sterling is not a good guy. But I think he could be. I’ve felt more with him over the past twenty four hours than I ever felt with Colton. Then I’ve ever felt. My mother doesn’t get it. She can’t possibly understand. She’s never had to make a choice that would change everything; her life, her plans for the future.
A little voice in the back of my mind screams, yes she did … when she kept you.
She goes on, her tone getting stern from my not answering. “Okay. If you don’t want to acknowledge what I’m saying is the truth then I think before you come home you need to learn there are always consequences for your actions. If you’re calling to beg your father and me to bail you out of the mess … I’m sorry but WE ARE NOT sending you any money. You understand? This is all on you.”
There is a scuffle on the other end, my father’s voice in the background. “Is that Tori?” he asks hopeful.
“Yes, but—” my mother is saying when he steals the phone from her. I can picture it happening.
“Listen to me, Tori,” he breathes out. “This is out of character for you. You’re not the kind of girl who just runs off. Come home and we’ll talk.” He pauses and sighs. My mouth opens, I’m dying to tell him that’s exactly what I want, to come home. I want to tell my father that I love him and miss him.
My father’s voice cracks with emotion, “I know you have a good heart, but this guy is not a wounded bird, sweetheart. You can’t save him.”
What he says strikes a nerve. I slam the receiver down my hand frozen to the cold plastic. Several moments pass before I can remove my hand.
I’m sorry dad. I’m just not ready to give in yet.
At 2a.m the mattress dips with a deep sigh in its wake and my eyes snap open. Sterling gets comfortable. I can feel the mattress moving. Hear his agitated breaths. I don’t need to look over a shoulder to know he is on the edge of the mattress facing away from me. Neither of us acknowledges the other. It’s horrible; being so close to what you want and being afraid of it. He is clearly trying to run me off.
I shut my eyes and go to sleep with the most dangerously sexy man I’ve ever met sleeping within arms distance.
Music
Victoria
Day three in Sterling’s apartment…
I wake up in a good mood, optimistic today will be better than the last.
The bathroom door opens and out walks Sterling with a white towel tied low around his waist. My breath catches at the sight of bare skin, hard muscle and ink. His hair looks jet black when it’s wet, slightly wavy. I’ve grown used to seeing him with stubble, but this morning he has shaved. The absence of stubble shows off the perfect shape of his jawline and boyish soft skin. I force myself to focus on the food on my plate and not him as he comes over to where I’m sitting at the bar.
Sterling settles on the stool next to mine.
“So you’re big on breakfast?” he comments. “Is this going to be a common occurrence every morning?”
“You’re not big on breakfast.” I return.
He looks adorable. Long lashes lowered as he struggles to fasten the clasp of silver watch around his wrist. Sighing, I swivel on the bar stool.
“Here, let me do it,” I offer.
My fingertips brush his wrist and I hold my breath. I hurry to fasten the clasp before I breakdown, leaning in, nose pressed to his neck to smell his aftershave. I look everywhere but at the coarse black hair disappearing underneath the towel.
“What makes you say that?” he asks in a guttural voice.
My gaze flickers up to steely gray. “Say what?”
“That I’m not big on breakfast?” His gaze flicks down to where I’m touching him. “Are you finished yet?”
I lean over, getting closer to see what I’m doing and I swear he smells my hair. “Almost. There. Got it.” I turn back to my food as if I’m unaffected by him when I’m actually trembling. “Because you never eat breakfast. Come to think of it you never eat anything.”
He picks up a piece of bacon tearing a piece off with his teeth. “Happy?”
I nod. “Are you working today?”
He nods, dropping the piece of bacon back onto his plate.
“Why do you carve birds?” He asks out of nowhere.
“Why not birds?” I shrug a shoulder. “Would it make more sense if I carved cats?”
“You tell me why birds and I’ll tell you something about myself.”
“Who says I want to know anything about you?” I glance over at him.
He raises an eyebrow in warning.
I sigh, poking at my eggs. “Bird watching was something my grandmother and I used to do together.”
“So you lurk around in parks with a pair of binoculars?”
“I do own a pair,” I admit. “You make it sound so ridiculous.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Continue. Tell me about one of the birds you’ve carved.”
“Martha,” I say without giving it much thought.
“You named one of your carvings Martha?”
“I didn’t name her.” I sit my fork down beside my plate. “Martha was a passenger pigeon. You sure you want to hear this?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well … passenger pigeons were once the most numerous birds on the planet. Their flocks were so dense that they darkened the sky for hours as they passed overhead. But since they nested in colonies they were easily hunted. You may have heard of pigeon pie?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “What does this have to do with Martha?”
“Martha was the last of her kind. She died in a Cincinnati zoo in 1914. She was named after George Washington’s wife. Call me crazy but I think it’s sad how there were billions of Passenger pigeons and we reduced them to one and she died in captivity.”
“You’re not crazy. It’s the ugly truth. We’re a selfish race,” he bluntly says. “We’re not satisfied until we fuck something up. I understand where you’re coming from though. That’s why I paint.” He motions at one of his paintings, the homeless man begging for change. “To relay a story and sometimes it’s not a pretty one.”
“I thought you said you weren’t the artist?”
His cheeks spike with color. Sterling Bentley blushing? There’s a first.
His bar stool scrapes over hardwood. He stands taking his nearly untouched plate and glass to the counter by the sink.
“I thought you said you were going to tell me something about yourself,” I remind him.
“I just did.”
“I already knew you were the artist.”
He stops next to my stool.
His voice is low and sexy causing me to hold my breath so I don’t miss a single word. My gaze drops his lips, to the piercing. His head dips, his lips coming close to mine. My chest rises and falls quick like my heart, waiting, silently begging for him to kiss me. His eyes dance over the features of my face, lingering on my parted lips.
“You really want to know something about me?” he asks.
He is baiting me; wanting me to beg. I control my eagerness. “Not unless it’s something you want to share with me.”
“It’s not something I can tell you. I’ll have to show you.” His hand slips down my arm, caressing as it makes the slow movement down toward my hand. He entwines our fingers, hauling me up off the stool, giving me no choice but to follow him. I swallow thickly, my stomach full of butterflies.
Something he can show me in this apartment?
“Umm, is it sexual?” I blush, hesitant in my steps.
He bursts out laughing dragging me toward the baby grand piano.
“No. Relax. It has nothing to do with sex. If I’m going to show you this you need to promise to be serious. I can’t have you making fun of me.”
He collapses onto the bench wearing nothing but
his white towel and a grin. My stomach clenches with desire and longing for this multitalented man. He paints and he plays the piano. My heart can’t take it. I don’t even care if he sucks at it. It won’t change my opinion.
His back is relaxed, his feet apart, he looks completely comfortable. He pauses as if he is nervous, wipes his palms over the towel covering his thighs. His fingers stretch over the keys becoming familiar with the feel of them. I see it now; the length of his fingers, a dead giveaway that he plays, well that, and a piano being the focal point of his apartment.
“You were wrong,” I whisper, “You sitting at the piano totally makes me think about sex.”
He chuckles, shakes his head and starts to play.
Propping my elbows on the shiny finish I rest my chin in my hand watching Sterling make love to the song he is playing. I’m mesmerized. I know I should be focusing on his hands, but I can’t stop myself from watching his face as he plays. His eyes close lightly; I can see the movement hidden behind them as if they are scanning along with the music. I see his jagged jaw tighten at the sound of each note, and the slow erotic way that he lightly sways as he entirely loses himself in the song. I feel that familiar draw to him. I want so bad to reach out and touch him but I’m afraid to ruin the moment. The hairs along my arms rise when I realize I’ve heard this song before.
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.
Silently, I sing the words while he continues to play.
“My dear, we’re slow dancing in a burning room. I was the one you always dreamed of, you were the one I tried to draw. How dare you say it's nothing to me? Baby, you're the only light I ever saw...”
The song ends. Our eyes connect, it seems like minutes pass without either of us saying a word. It’s the first time he has looked at me, really looked at me and not through me. It’s in this moment that I realize I’m falling for this guy. I think I fell for him the first time he called me phoenix. It was then that I knew something was different about him.
He breaks the awkward silence, “So, how about that sex?”
It was a romantic moment and then he ruined it.
I wait for Sterling to leave before I get in the shower. I’ve read enough romance novels to know the guy always walks in on the girl while she’s in the shower. Although I wouldn’t mind Sterling seeing me naked I’d like to avoid any embarrassing moments. Stepping out onto a rug I towel off and reach for my clean clothes I pulled out of the dryer. Sooner or later we’re going to have to address the clothing situation. I can’t keep wearing his T-shirts and boxers while my one pair of pants and shirt is in the wash. Bending I towel dry my wet hair and come up the ends slapping the center of my back. I dig a comb out of the drawer and pull it through the tangled ends.
Knock, knock, knock!
Hovering in the bathroom door I try to decide if I want to go answer the front door or not. There is only one person it can be: Sterling’s father. The knocking turns into pounding. He knows I’m in here. Hiding is only going to make him think he intimidates me which he does, but I don’t want him to know that.
“Coming,” deliberately I turn the dead bolt and swing open the steel door. My stomach drops. “Colton, what are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he says, “I took my Uncle up on his offer to move out here. Colorado Springs has nothing to offer me anymore.” He invites himself in, pushing past me. “So this is Sterling Bentley’s place,” he strolls the perimeter, his gaze touching every little thing. “I’m not impressed. The art is kind of tacky … like everything else.” He turns his attention on me, his eyes slowly raking from my damp hair to my toes. “Just get out of the shower?” I don’t answer. He chuckles low, “I thought the guy had taste. I guess I was wrong.”
I feel exposed.
Naked.
“I was actually about to get ready to leave,” I say, leading him toward the door.
“Leave?” He takes a seat on one of the bar stools. “Where the hell could you be going, Tor? You don’t know anyone here.”
“Why are you really here?”
“My uncle told me you’re pregnant.”
I flinch at his tone and the way his eyes drop to my stomach. Now would be the time to tell him the truth, but I don’t. I don’t owe him any explanations.
“I think you should leave,” I say instead.
He pushes off from the stool, stalking in my direction. His chest bumps mine. He is so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath. Colton is always meaner when he’s been drinking. My heart races as I try to take a step back only to be held in place by his tight grip.
His eyes probe every feature of my face. “That’s the best you’ve got? I was thinking we could do some catching up since you’ve already been broken in.” I tense. “What you’ll let that piece of shit touch you and not me? I don’t know how I feel about that.” His voice gets louder, his grip tighter. “Yes I do. It pisses me the fuck off!”
“Stop, Colton.” I wince. “You’re hurting me!”
“You owe me!”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong … you owe me an apology for running off with my cousin.”
“Okay. I’m sorry,” I say. His fingers dig into my skin and I squirm.
He shakes his head. “Say it like you really mean it.”
“I am sorry.”
“C’ mon babe, you can do better than that.”
“I am sorry you are such an egotistical asshole.”
“Careful,” he smirks. “You’ve been hanging around Sterling too much. You’re starting to act like him. He is making you look and sound cheap, Tor.”
I lean into him, whispering in his ear, “The sex is fucking fantastic!”
He jerks back, his eyes flashing with anger, but then a slow smile appears. “You’re just like your friend. All you need is a little motivation.”
Smack!
The flat of his hand comes across my cheeks, the sting intense. I think about how weird Keria acted before I left. How she had no use for Colton anymore.
“What did you do to her,” I force out between gritted teeth, a palm over the cheek.
“Nothing … yet.”
It’s the way he says yet that has me l latching onto his arm, my nails digging in.
Colton’s sick laughter fills the apartment. “I see, you like it rough do ya? I can give it to you rough.”
His arms encircle my waist crushing me to him, his mouth covering mine. I make a sound of protest the flat of my palms pushing against his chest. My stomach rebels vomit rising up in the back of my throat. I twist, encased in strong persist arms, tearing my lips from his.
“Let me go!” I shout.
One second Sterling is walking through the front door and the next he has Colton pinned to the floor, his fist repeatedly pounding him. I watch in horror as he picks Colton up off the floor and hurls him into one of the glass end tables knocking over a lamp. Colton slides off the other side of the table immediately pushing to his feet, knowing Sterling isn’t finished. Fear flashes for a second in Colton’s eyes and then it’s gone. Sterling shakes out his fist, his knuckles already swollen and bleeding. His jaw flexes under the skin.
The two guys face off.
“I told you to never touch her again!” Sterling hisses.
“You worried?” Colton chuckles. “Worried Tori might decide to leave with me?”
“Phoenix isn’t going anywhere with you!” Sterling snarls.
“I’ll kill you before I let her end up with someone like you,” Colton returns.
Sterling’s lips pull up into a cocky grin. “From where I’m standing it looks like she’s already with me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. All you’ll ever be is just some tattooed punk girls use to piss off their mommies. Nobody ever takes you serious.”
“I’ve decided,” Sterling says. “I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass.”
“It’s a shame we can’t choose who we’re related to … oh wait
… there’s no real proof you’re not some illegitimate bastard that crazy woman tried to pawn off on an innocent man with money.”
I see Sterling’s eyes blaze and step in-between them, facing him, a hand on his chest. “Okay. Enough!” I glance over my shoulder. “Get out of here Colton!”
Colton snorts, wiping blood from his nose. His eyes rake slowly down the length of me. “It’s a shame I didn’t take what was mine a long time ago. I would’ve if you hadn’t played the injured good girl ... I can see now it was just an act.”
Sterling lunges, but he stops when I refuse to let him at Colton. “I said go, Colton! Now!”
Sterling shoots me a dirty look. “You’re taking up for this prick?”
“I’m taking up for you. If you kill him you’ll go to jail.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well … I do.”
“This isn’t over,” Colton jabs a finger in Sterling’s direction while working his way toward the door. Bullies always tuck their tails and run. “You can’t be with her every second.”
The Steel door opens and shuts and I sigh with relief. Sterling’s chest heaves with unspent rage. His gaze flickers to mine and he panics, rushing at me, cupping my cheeks, inspecting my face up close. The last bruise Colton gave me has finally faded away. Sterling’s eyes narrows on the cheek that still stings. “Did he hit you? I swear to God, I know he is family but if he ever hurts you again I’ll kill him.”
I pull back, putting some space between us, a hand covering the cheek. “I’m fine.”
He studies me with a concerned look as if he doesn’t believe me.
This is insane. Colton coming here thinking I’m pregnant confirms the situation has gotten way out of control.
I am far from fine.
“Sterling, why did you bring me here?”
He doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head staring at me, but then, just like always when the topic of conversation turns to us, he walks away.
