A Is for Alpha Male

by Laurel Curtis

  “This clinginess is all your fault,” I had said. “You selfishly pushed me away, making me needier and far more desperate than I would have been. And Zack Morris could have ruptured my breasts. I hope you know that. Then what would you have played with?” Danny just laughed it off. Well, all except for the mention of another guy feeling me up. No, that part didn’t go over all that well at all.

  So in keeping with my new plan, the one Danny had no clue about, wasn’t on board with, and I was spending my time actively covering up, lying to him every time he called to check in on me, I headed for the beach.

  Yeah, I should have known right then that it wasn’t a good plan. Haley Whitfield and lies didn’t mix.

  I spent one last day getting a golden tan that I hoped would last me through the month of August, rented a hotel room just for the purpose of showering and getting ready, and headed off to The Cabin to surprise him with one more night of ribbing, gabbing, lovemaking, and cuddling before I was faced with a lengthy separation.

  It should have been awesome.

  I was so excited to see Danny. I had seen him that very morning, but I already missed the way the light reflected off of his scruff and out of his eyes and the way his dimples settled deep into his face when he smiled.

  I wanted to take a big old whiff of him and secretly snuggle my face into his hard chest.

  Okay, maybe it was the whiffing part that was a big secret.

  I wanted those things so badly that I let my blissful bubble ruin my reality.

  Confident and smiling, I pulled into the parking lot at the bar, swung my legs out of the car with the grace of a gazelle, turned back and shut my door with fanciness reminiscent of a choreographed music video in the 80s, and then strutted my ass to the door, using my years of swaying practice to make it look just right.

  Opening the door with a tug (and a shove to the side for good measure), I stepped through to the other side and let my eyes immediately start scanning the bar for my man.

  Holy hell, I had a man.

  That was a new one.

  He wasn’t directly behind it, so I searched all around it, my eyes skittering right over him a few times before my brain worked out what it was seeing.

  That was because Danny, my Dan-o, the Dan Fucking Smith of my dreams, was standing just on this side of the bar with a trashy looking blond woman in his arms, and his hands were splayed on her miniskirt clad ass.

  Hands that had been stretched to their full birth on my ass just this morning.

  Cue the soundtrack of glass panes shattering, car accident screeching, and alley cats fighting.

  Okay, maybe not the alley cats, but the other two...definitely.

  My heart broke. Cracked right down the middle and fell open in shambles. Letting Allison attempt to cut it out with a napkin was sounding really good right about now.

  I was a strong woman, something that might mislead one to think I wouldn’t blink at this, but I wasn’t made of effing armor. And Danny and I hadn’t known each other that long, just making the real commitment to be together last night, but none of that stopped the swing of the axe that split my heart open.

  Oh, and one more little thing...I was in love with him.

  Stupid as that may have been, it was true. The thing about love is that it doesn’t know all of the obstacles our mind likes to create. Time, distance, and practicality.

  I had felt something truly overwhelming the very first time I saw Danny. The first time we locked eyes, I felt home. Comfortable. Right.

  Was it love at first sight? Well, I don’t know that that exists. But it was The Path to Love at first sight, and after hours and hours of phone calls acting as the miracle grow and water to my little garden of love, that flower took route, sprouted, and grew into something really beautiful within just a couple of weeks.

  And now it was fucking wilting.

  Normally, when a situation got me down, I would turn to positive thoughts, pep talks, and distraction.

  But positive thoughts weren’t worth shit when they were up against such powerful weaponry. There was no pep talk strong enough for what I was feeling right now.

  Other patrons tried to make their way past me and into the bar, as I had effectively frozen, my body torn between spontaneously combusting and running away as fast as humanly possible.

  I know I was normally more of a confrontation type of person, but this was different. I had put myself out there, vulnerable and real, and Dan Fucking Smith was smashing it to effing pieces. I didn’t want to break down in front of him. I wanted to yell. But I was afraid the only reaction my body could produce at that moment was tears.

  Danny’s head swung up, his eyes coasting mindlessly across the patrons of the bar, but when his eyes met mine they flashed with something that looked a hell of a lot like pain.

  I didn’t care.

  I had to get out of there.

  My mind raced with unfinished thoughts and ways to explain it away.

  But I couldn’t come up with any.

  Pirouetting on my sandal with the skill and speed of a fucking ballet dancer, my hair flying around in a colorful arc behind me, I whipped around, shoved my way back out the door, and headed to my car at a healthy jog.

  I knew I had to drive home tonight, which was going to suck giant elephant balls, but I couldn’t stay here.

  It wasn’t like I had given him my virginity, but fuck. I had let myself fall for the huge Jerkface, for the illusion. Let myself hope and dream and be cocky enough to think that I did all of my books one better. Because I fucking found it in reality.

  Hah! The joke’s on you, Haley Whitfield. Enjoy this big, bony knee to your dainty, paisley printed balls. Try not to cough up blood while you’re bent over and sputtering in pain.

  What a fucking bitter way to find out first hand that Danny’s theory about love was spot on. Not to mention, the additional pain of going so long thinking I couldn’t have what I wanted. Thinking that Danny only wanted a friendship. Liking him and liking him, and then finally getting what I wanted. Getting him.

  When there’s that much build up, it only makes the fall that much more significant. And more importantly, the landing hurts a hell of a lot more. Damn Danny and his airplane analogy.

  I felt a familiar touch land on my arm just as I reached the door of my car. Even if I hadn’t known the feeling of the touch, I knew it could only be one person.

  I wheeled around, yanking my arm out of his hold, my face contorting with every ounce of my hurt and anger, and whispered menacingly, “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

  “Hales—” he started, slicing me open again with his casual effing nickname.

  “You’re a liar, Danny,” I whispered, my voice shaking ever so slightly as the first tear made its escape and ran down my perfectly made up face. “I hate liars.”

  “You weren’t supposed to be here,” he ground out, his jaw hardening with every word he spoke, his hand reaching out to try and touch me again.

  “Oh yeah! That makes it better! Out of sight out of mind, huh Dan-o?” I hissed as I jerked out of the way. “Well that shit doesn’t work for me.”

  “Jesus, what a stellar defense. You weren’t supposed to be here, you weren’t supposed to catch me red fucking handed,” I mocked in an impersonation of Danny’s deep voice.

  His voice turned growly with his frustration, his hands clasping behind his head, his elbows sticking out like chicken wings, and then sliding off choppily. I could see that his eyes had a fresh coat of wetness making them blaze like the fires of hell. “That is not what I meant, and this is not what it fucking looks like. You and I are in a fucking relationship, and that means something to me.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, this time not letting it go. “It means everything to me.”

  “You could have fucking fooled me,” I shot back, my free hand searching blindly behind me for the door handle of my car. “Thank God you wrapped up your dirty meat before putting it in my heat! She looks like a fucking leper!” I shout
ed angrily, my body turning toward the door when I eventually found the handle.

  I whipped my head back once more, intent to get in one more jab. “I hope your dick gets leprosy! Don’t worry, it should go perfectly with your zebra stripes. Until it falls off, that is.”

  “Haley, wait. Do not get in that fucking car without hearing me out,” he ordered when I gave him the back of me again. And it was an order.

  And if you can believe it, I was a fraction of a second away from following it, from turning around and giving him an honest chance to explain away unexplainable actions.

  But then, from over by the door of the bar, I heard a whiny female voice ask, “Danny baby, what the fuck?”

  “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fucking shit!” I heard Danny mutedly explode behind me.

  That was when I made my real mistake.

  I paused, turned just my face to him, and gave him the chance to choose.

  The chance to pick me. To come with me and explain.

  His body swayed toward me, just a fraction of an inch, but the sound of Wade’s voice calling his name from the door stopped him. “Danny!”

  I didn’t know Wade well, but it stung a little extra to know he knew this situation was going on, and that he obviously wasn’t on my side.

  In that moment, Danny’s face shut down. I watched it turn out the lights, sweep the floors, put the chairs upside down on the tables, and shut down for the night, his eyelids lowering and taking the fire out of his eyes as they went. And then he dropped my now lifeless hand. His chest heaved once, his hands clenching into fists at the end of his arms that hung loosely at the sides of his body.

  And then I watched him walk away from me.

  And back to her.

  Right now, I wanted to punch Alfred Tennyson in the fucking throat. It didn’t feel better to have loved and lost.

  It didn’t feel better at all.

  CURLING UP ON my deep brown, fluffy, chenille couch, I cried. I shut everything out, turned off my positive attitude, and just let myself break down. Sobs wracked my body, and I feared dehydration from the loss of water weight lost in tears.

  I had driven all night, having to pull over several times to get my crying under control so that I could see where I was going.

  Other people certainly had bigger problems, but this was my problem.

  This was my heartbreak.

  And worst of all, it had led to me questioning my judgment. When you’re so sure something is right, that someone is genuine, and you find out that it isn’t, and that they aren’t, it’s hard to know where to go from there.

  I thought I found what I was looking for.

  No, I had found what I was looking for. But maybe I should have been looking for something different.

  The truth was that I just didn’t know the answer anymore.

  I knew this wasn’t the end of the world. I knew this wouldn’t break my spirit beyond repair, turning me into a hollow shell of my previous self.

  But for the time being, it was devastating.

  And part of being honest with myself was letting myself have honest reactions.

  If I felt upset, I was allowed to be upset.

  Simple as that.

  It wasn’t long before I felt Allison’s arms wrap themselves around me and squeeze me tight. Or maybe it was long; I didn’t know. The concept of time had slipped away, clouded and confused by the frequency and intensity of my tears.

  I didn’t know how she knew to come over, how she knew that I needed her, but I was just thankful that she did.

  I was vaguely aware of Hunter opening my door, taking two steps in, but turning right back around and leaving the second he saw the state of me.

  Women crying and all that, I supposed.

  When the door clicked behind him, Allison squeezed me tighter, her small hands not doing enough to ease the ache left behind by Danny’s large ones.

  “He didn’t choose me,” I cried to my mama, burying my head into her sweet smelling neck and inhaling the familiar and comforting scent of my mom.

  She didn’t say anything, just held me tighter and rocked back forth like only moms knew how to do.

  “I saw him with that effing slut, and still, like a stupid idiot, I gave him the choice to choose me! I wanted him that badly,” I coughed out between sobs, my mom’s shirt acting as a stress ball for my clinched fist.

  “Why couldn’t he choose me?” I whined, adding the unreasonable, “Why wasn’t I good enough for him?” on the end.

  Allison said nothing other than a simple, “I love you, baby girl,” letting me cry my eyes out until I couldn’t cry anymore. Letting me say crazy and irrational things until I got them all out, draining the toxins out of my body along with them.

  Time passed uncounted, and my face had never been quite so swollen and blotchy.

  But finally, after a couple of hours, I felt lighter, and I let myself fall asleep in the curve of my mom’s arms, her fingernails scratching softly along my scalp before trailing down through the ends of my hair.

  Faced with one of the most emotionally exhausting turmoils of my life, I still found comfort from my best friend.

  My mom had my back through thick and thin.

  She didn’t judge me when I ranted. She didn’t judge me when I whined. She didn’t give me some speech about how it was ridiculous to cry over some guy when other people had Cancer. She just let me be me.

  And I knew she would be there for me until she couldn’t be anymore.

  Once I calmed down, I also knew she would be the voice of reason, pointing out my snap judgments and helping me to decide how to move forward.

  I had gotten it wrong before. M wasn’t for Manly. It was for Mothereffing Mom.

  Two days later, I was finally ready to leave the sanctuary of my apartment.

  I had consumed outrageous amounts of Cookies ‘n Cream ice cream and vodka, and had spent several hours watching Rom Coms while yelling about what a dirty scoundrel the guy secretly was.

  It felt good. But if I told you I felt right, you would be well within your rights to call me a lying bitch.

  But it was time to go out, to go back to living my life, and to make the money that was necessary to live.

  I had a two thirty meeting at the Knoxville News Sentinel about the article I was planning to write about our road trip, and I was cutting it close by leaving my house at two o’clock. With traffic it was going to be a push.

  I closed and locked my door, my coke in one hand, my keys in the other, and my black, quilted purse on my shoulder.

  When I turned to leave, the last thing I expected to see was the Antichrist, but that was what I got.

  “Danny,” I said, disdain dripping from my voice even though I had tried to keep it even.

  “Hales,” he said, fucking gutting me like the bastard he was.

  Seconds away from telling him exactly what I thought of him, I saw my brother standing diagonally behind him, about ten feet back.

  “What’s Hunter doing here?” I asked cautiously, not liking the looks of this setup at all.

  It reeked of ambush. I just couldn’t figure out why my brother would be a party to it.

  “I needed backup,” Danny explained, his thumbs tucked casually into his front jeans pockets.

  “And he volunteered to do the job?” I queried acidly, my eyes roving over my ex-brother with disgust.

  When Hunter’s guilty eyes lifted to mine, I told him, “You, Brother, are a fucking traitor,” my arm extended and my finger pointing in accusation.

  Danny reached out and grabbed my hand, something that amped me up even more, but ignored my glare and pressed on. “Hales, listen. There is way more to this story than you’re aware of, so please just give me a chance to explain.”

  When he didn’t say anything, seemingly waiting for me to turn him down, I rolled my eyes and snapped, “So explain already! Of course I’m going to at least give you a freaking chance to explain! I’m not a Nazi or something equally as evil. Jesus.”r />
  I had really wanted to deny him the explanation, but I wanted to do the unexpected more. I wanted to be in control of this confrontation. It was my only hope of coming out of it looking like myself.

  Plus, I was on a schedule. Good thing my employer was used to a lack of punctuality from me.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a ginormous handful of lavender ponytail holders, organized them, and slipped them onto his wrist.

  Realizing where all of my ponytail holders had gone all of those times, I grumbled, “My, my, my, what sticky fingers you have, Gramma.” Shaking my head slowly back and forth, I muttered, “Man, you are one talented pick pocket, Dan-o. You have a real gift for petty crime. Good tidings for the future.”

  One corner of his mouth just barely lifted into a smirk, likely knowing that it would only serve to anger me further if he started to find me amusing.

  “I took one every time I saw you, Hales. Just couldn’t help myself,” he explained.

  That was either really sweet or really weird. Considering I was still mad at him, I opted for weird.

  “You’re a weirdo.”

  He just shook his head, his eyes warm and inviting, and told me, “Count them.”

  I did, two times in fact, but I really wasn’t getting the point.

  “Maybe I’m a little slow, but you’re going to have to fill in the blanks here.”

  “I’ve only seen you nine times, but I have ten hair ties,” he told me, and I was just going to take his word for it because it was too complicated to do my own count.

  “Maybe you just raided my bag,” I snarked. “We’ve already discussed your propensity to steal things.”

  Danny didn’t answer. Instead he looked straight at me, heaved a deep breath, and then rocked my world. “The first one I took was quite a long time ago. And the only thing that was fully developed on you were your insults. You were just a sarcastic, attitude ridden six year old.”

  My head snapped up, and my eyes zeroed in on Danny’s face, studying it for familiarity. That was a lot of fucking years ago, but there was a niggling in the back of my brain telling me I had always seen something. Why else would I have been so comfortable with him from the very start?