by Nicole Casey
She scoffed at me, “So? You don’t think they’d think highly of me? Are you afraid they’ll misjudge you because I’m not a freaking supermodel for Victoria’s Secret or because I’m not another billionaire like your friends? Just who the fuck are these guests anyway? Why the hell do they get to sit up on their throne and judge?”
I raised an eyebrow and answered without looking at her, “My mother and my sister. That’s who the fuck they are.”
I thought I was being authoritative enough to shut her up but she only prattled on, even angrier than before.
“So you don’t want me to meet your family?” she was getting uncontrollable. I could see how her hand was shaking in anger. I did my best to remain calm and not look at her in the eye.
“You know what? You never talk about your family or your past. I know nothing about you.”
“Of course you don’t,” I reminded her flatly. “I never talk about those things because I don’t want to. They’re inconsequential to who I am now and what I do this very moment.”
She slammed a fist on the table and to be honest I was feeling a little anxious to get away from her.
“No!” she screamed at me. Now she was wide-awake for sure. “I can’t go on like this, Dylan. I need you to open up to me. I need you to trust me!”
“Why would I?” I was starting to get annoyed.
Cherry looked at me with a baffled expression on her face. It was like I said the dumbest thing in the world to her and that was annoying the shit out of me.
She then said with hands raised, “Dylan, you know you can trust me. You have to trust me because I freaking love you.”
Those were the words I never wanted to hear. I never wanted her to utter them because I knew I could never say them back.
“Don’t say that,” I stuttered as I struggled with the words. Even when I knew I had to be cold and ruthless I found it hard because it was her. “Please don’t ever say that.”
“I know you have feelings for me, too. Why won’t you just say you love me?” she asked as tears began flowing down her cheeks. “I know you do!”
I shook my head as I denied the emotions swirling in my chest, “No, I don’t! We have nothing in common. You don’t even know who I am.”
“I don’t know anything about you because you won’t let me in!” she shouted back. “You always divert the topic when it cycles towards you or your past. You avoid talking about you like the plague.”
With a heavy heart I shook my head and slammed a fist on the table hoping it would shut her up, “Look, Cherry, you’re here because I’m lonely. I like you as a companion and nothing more. I don’t love you. I just want a companion and someone to fuck. You’re my sex partner, my fuck-buddy, but nothing more than that. Let that sink into your head.”
She shook her head and violently refuted what I said, “No, no, that can’t be true! I won’t let it be true! I love you, damn it.”
“You’re being a fool,” I told her as I stared straight into her eyes. “We met over business talks and I fucked you again and again simply because I knew you love it. I found your diary and I took advantage of the situation. That’s all.”
“Ugh, you fucking disgust me!” she snapped back and I saw for a moment she was going to slap my face. She only stopped because she saw me get up and walk towards the door. “Don’t you dare leave me here, Mr. Bernard! We’re not done talking.”
“I’m done,” I pointed out. “Look, the final document you need to sign is in the bedroom. Sign it and then just get the fuck out of here.”
I walked out of the dining room and stormed my way into my private office in the third floor of the manor.
I didn’t even care to look back. I didn’t want to see her sobbing and crying – it would just tear me apart and make me take back all the stupid shit I just told her.
I buried myself in my work to get myself busy. I just shut myself in the office and didn’t care anymore if she was still in the manor or not. She could leave or stay for all I cared. I felt a mix of disappointment, anger, a bit of sadness, and regret in my mind. But I didn’t care. I didn’t want to think about it now.
I pushed her away. What was done was done. But deep inside even I had to admit that I did feel something different for her. I was not sure if I could call it love but I truly, madly, deeply adore her.
Now because of my stupid ego, she was gone, maybe for good.
8
Cherry
Hours turned into days and days into weeks. Before I knew it I was living a life without Dylan Bernard in it. Things suddenly shifted as I tore myself away from him after his rejection.
The pain from that day was too great for me to bear. I couldn’t even stay in the same city anymore. I couldn’t visit Mercury Wild because I knew that we had mutual friends there. I couldn’t go to the mall, the movie theater or the park because of the memories we shared there.
By the second week after I last saw him I told my father I was going home, back to the countryside down south. My mother was from there but she died a long time ago. Only the caretaker was there every other day.
Maybe it was time to just go back to my roots, take up my Master’s Degree in the community college and start teaching or write a book. I needed to get away from the city life and the bustling mess that Dylan put me through.
“Will you be okay there?” my father asked when I told him I planned to head home.
I nodded back at him and answered, “I’ll be better there than I am here.”
My father may not know the reason why I was slumping into depression but he was wise enough to understand when I needed some space. He let me go and took his favorite secretary, Mr. Riordan, to take my place.
Dad did let me know that I could always come back and work with him again but as far as I was concerned, I was done. I would never want to come back here.
So I left. I went home and got back into my community college to take evening classes. Maybe I could get my M.A. degree if I studied for two years straight. If I had to take things slowly I could still get my degree in three years and have time to run my own business. Maybe I could do my own thing without my father’s web of connections.
Yet even as far as I was from the big city, my mind was plagued with images of Dylan. Everywhere I went I thought of him. Everytime I sat down at the old café near the farm I imagined sipping coffee with him. His ghost lingered around me and I couldn’t get rid of it.
So I did what any girl in my position would do.
I went to a bar and hoped I could flirt my way out of my sorrows. Only some random man could help me forget about him now.
This down south there weren’t that many places to go but on a Friday night, I did manage to stumble on a place called The Howling Barn. The name alone made me think of wild drunk cowboys and slutty-looking waitresses wearing Daisy Dukes shorts and pigtails.
When I stepped inside, I was surprised to find it was a lot better than what I had expected. Instead of a dirty old bar, I found it pretty decent with a few pool tables, some dart-boards and a live band playing some hard-rocking country music. With dim lights and the smell of beer in the air I kind of felt at home right here.
I walked over to the bartender and hollered at him with a little wink. The guy came strolling over with a big smile. I smiled back and asked, “What can a girl get to drink around here?”
“You new here?” he asked. “I reckon you’re a city gal, ain’t ya? Well, I got something here just right for you: draft beer made by the Colburn boys down by the river. It’s a little strong but I bet you can take it.”
I smiled and handed him my card, “Let’s see what you’ve got. Hit me with a nice chilled glass.”
“Coming right at you,” he told me as he moved to get me my drink. As he did a man moved in to stand by my side.
The newcomer was pretty tall, maybe a good six-foot-one or so, and wore tight blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. He even had a big cowboy hat to complete the look. He was pretty lean-look
ing and had this dirty, ragged beard on his face. When I looked up to meet his gaze I saw he had a pair of light blue eyes, as pretty as a sky on a sunny day.
He was actually pretty handsome. Maybe a little younger than Dylan but he still had some grit to him.
“Well howdy,” he greeted in such a cowboy manner it was so cliché it made me giggle. “What’s a fine gal like you doin’ in a dump like this?”
I smiled and answered, “Looking for something new to try. I just moved back here.”
“So you’re from here?”
“Well, originally,” I replied just as the bartender came back with my drink. I took it and took a sip. It was really good but also really strong. “Wow, that’s good. Mmm, I haven’t been here in like seven years or so though.”
The man gulped down his own drink and said, “I’ve been here and there myself, working as a truck driver and musician, you know? There’s no place like home though and look at my luck: I decided to stay here for good after spending two years on the road and here you come by like it was destiny.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked in a low, sultry voice.
“How can a guy like me resist a beauty like you?” he was toying with me and to be honest, I enjoyed it. At least I could feel that I was important to someone.
I stepped in closer and began to naughtily trace my finger on his chest, hoping he’d bite the bait, “Do you like tight little petite girls?”
He leaned in and gave my ear a soft nibble, one that sent chills down my spine and made me coo and whisper a ghost of a moan. He then whispered, “Of course I do, baby. Little girls like you are so tight I might just spill my load with my first thrust into you.”
I pushed in even closer and now my tits were pressing up against his body. He responded in kind, lifting his knee ever so slightly to rub it against the soft plush of my pussy. I gently pushed my hips forward, riding his knee with an erotic swing. It felt even better whenever I could apply pressure up against my clit and in those moments I was so tempted to just grab him and drag him to the bathroom so we could fuck our brains out.
“Oh, ahhh fuck,” I moaned into his ear just as he wrapped me in his arms. “Baby come on, tease me some more. What else would you do if you had me, huh? What would you do if you could keep me for a night?”
“Oh Babe I could list down a million ideas in a notebook of the different ways I’d make love to you,” he explained. “I’d fuck you slowly, make you feel all comfortable and wet, and then I’d push you down on the floor and bang you like a bitch. I’m gonna pull your hair and smack your cute little ass before I pound in you all doggy.”
Almost instantly, the connection between us snapped and died. It wasn’t even really his fault. It was just that a diary of naughty ideas was exactly how I got entangled with Dylan in the first place. He was the one and only one I loved, and what the hell was I doing now? With someone I didn’t even care about?
“I-I’m sorry,” I tried to soften the blow as I told him to leave me alone. “I just don’t think I’m the girl you’re looking for.”
Before he could even press further, I took my bottle and walked away. I headed to a different corner of the bar, one where it was dark and I could sulk in my misery. It was a good thing though that the drink was good. I had that to comfort me at least.
“Wow, that was fucking stupid,” I told myself. I just ditched one hot guy because of my stupid brain. I had to shut it off and stop reminiscing about Dylan! It was just impossible that we’d ever meet again!
I needed to move on. I needed to stop thinking about Dylan’s gaze. Ugh! I wanted to pull my hair out! I wanted – no, I needed – to fuck a guy tonight. I was going insane. Dylan had essentially turned me into this craving sex addict but without him, I had nothing and no one to satisfy myself with.
There had to be a way. Heck, I was getting fucking desperate for something. Maybe it was time to just call it a night, get drunk at home and watch porn so I could finger my pussy while daydreaming of all the handsome guys shoving their cocks my way.
I took out my phone and stared at the naughty text messages Dylan and I had. Our conversations would always start out business-related but would quickly shift to sex. Shit, just looking at these messages was turning me on. All I could think of now were the moments I had with him.
That was all they were ever going to be now: just moments in time.
“Fuck this shit,” I whispered and I decided I shouldn’t let myself drown in sorrows. I had to go out there and fix my life. I started looking around, hoping I could find that handsome guy, and start our conversation again. Maybe I should be the one checking out his fantasies instead of the other way around.
And then the television got my attention.
It was on the sports channel but a news flash interrupted the football game – where local superstar Damon Wessic was currently playing – to focus on a violent car accident. It took place between this small country town and the city, right off the interstate highway.
I was going to ignore it since I didn’t like gruesome news stories but then I saw who was involved.
I could recognize that name and that face from a million miles away.
I felt an anchor suddenly drop in my gut. I wanted to freaking vomit.
In that moment, I dropped everything I was doing and quickly ran outside the bar.
All of a sudden, my whole world crashed upon me and I felt my heart skip a beat when I thought about all the harsh things I was just about to do. I had to fix things before it was too late – it probably already was but I had to give it a shot anyway.
I got into my car and just like that, I drove back to the city, hoping that when I’d get there Dylan would still be alive.
I needed to say sorry. I needed to say that even if he’d throw me out and never love me I would still love him.
I had to do it before he was gone forever.
9
Dylan
What day was it? W-what time was it?
I looked at my watch. I couldn’t read the hands – my vision was a little blurry. I whipped out my phone and tried to make sense of the time and date. Hmm… holy shit, it was three o’clock in the morning? Was that right?
Just how drunk was I? I looked around and tried to remember where the fuck I was. It took me a good five minutes – maybe fifteen, now that I really think about it – to realize I was in some slump of a bar. It was a real ugly dump that smelled of vomit and cheap beer. Why the hell was I here instead of Mercury Wild?
Then I saw a girl leaning on my side. Who was she? She was unconscious and snored like an elephant. She smelled of alcohol and cum. Wait, was she the reason I was here? Did I hook up with a cheap whore here?
At the moment I was so confused. My head was spinning with a splitting headache and I had no idea what the fuck was going on. I scoured through my phone again to see if I could recall anything about the hours leading up to this moment.
No, it wasn’t just hours. It was weeks. Even as I browsed through my phone I knew, deep inside, the exact reason I was here. Cherry was the sole reason of my misery.
Well, it was my fault. I pushed her away.
It had been seven weeks – or was it eight – since we last spoke. I stormed into my home office and she… signed the final document and then left. She never said goodbye and neither did she ever bother me again via text message or online. She just stopped messaging me entirely. It was like she never existed. It was like we never had a thing going.
Letting Cherry go was the dumbest thing I had ever done in my life. That one truly took the cake. She was beautiful, hard-working and smart . She was reliable and she was always such a sweet talker. She loved to hug, loved to kiss and at times she loved to just whisper sweet nonsense into my ear just to make me want to make love with her all over again.
“Make love,” I whispered when I realized I just thought of those words instead of something raw like fuck. Maybe she was getting into my head too much.
During th
e past three weeks, I had nothing to do but work. Every day I would check online or stare at my phone hoping I would receive a message from her but nothing came.
The only time I ever got something didn’t even come from her – it was an email from her father thanking me for the business deal. I only replied to Joel Vergara out of courtesy. There was one time when I was so desperate to talk to Cherry I was tempted to tell Joel the truth. Maybe he should know that I was dating and sleeping with his daughter.
“That’s just stupid,” I pointed out to myself. I then looked at the girl beside me and tried to make some sense out of the stupidity I got myself into.
She was young, maybe around Cherry’s age or even younger, with blonde hair and a lithe little body. She was sexy but also very obviously a whore. I wasn’t sure if her last fuck was with me or someone else. Now I was getting disgusted with her and I wanted to get the heck away from her.
Carefully and slowly, I moved my arm out of her embrace. “Sorry girl,” I whispered softly. “I just don’t want to get in trouble. I bet you were really good in the sack but it’s not a good time for me.”
“Huh?” the girl asked blankly when I tried to push out of the way. She then got up a bit and looked at me, “H-hey, you said you were going to take me to your big mansion by the beach.”
Wait, did I? Did she even know who I was?
“Do you even know who I am?” I asked her.
“Y-yeah, Marvin, right? Was it Martin?” she was rambling off utter nonsense now. “No, wait, I got it – your name’s freaking Jerry. I knew it. You look like a Jerry to me.”
“Dylan,” I rolled my eyes. “You weren’t even close.”
“I said Dylan,” she mumbled but even then her eyes were beginning to shut as the drowsiness was once again taking over her mind. Maybe it was the alcohol too or both. “I… I uh, yeah. Who the fuck cares? You don’t even know my name.”
