Jacob and I refuse to look at each other. We just stand there amidst the ruins of our relationship, not saying a fucking thing.
I hate her.
She will pay for this.
REINA
1
It’s hours later, and I’ve just dropped off some shopping bags at home. The housekeeper was in, so I tiptoed around Rowan and acted like nothing was up. He gave me a discreet smile, followed by a text asking me to meet him in our apartment at 7 o’clock sharp.
It gave me shivers just thinking about it.
As I put away my new purchases, I thought of nothing important. I wonder which shade of lipstick to wear with my new rose petal pink dress, decided on a pair of heels for the evening, and artfully pinned up my hair. I didn’t let what happened before bother me for one moment.
But as I was driving in the cab to our meeting place, I passed her place, and my guilty conscience exploded inside of me. I felt it oozing through my pores, claiming every inch of my body as I recoiled from the feeling.
I tipped the driver generously – whether it was because I was feeling guilty or because I could, I don’t know. I refused to look at Crystal’s building as I made my way to our apartment and entered through the glass doors, keeping my head down.
Nodding briefly to the doorman, I produced a set of keys from my bag and took the elevator to our floor.
As I enter the crisp, modern apartment, I can instantly tell Rowan isn’t here yet. There is something in the air when he is, and his musky scent was absent now, too. I take off my trench coat and slip into something more comfortable – a new lingerie set I’d bought just hours after facing Crystal.
Still blocking her from my thoughts, I step towards the window, my subconscious guiding me. I grasp the silky curtain in my fingers as my gaze finds Crystal’s window.
She’s right there, partially obscured by the shadows, but the light is on in her living room. And she’s staring back at me.
Not letting that bother me, I take her in with my eyes. Her usually perfect blonde locks are a mess, and she isn’t wearing makeup. She looks sad. Vulnerable.
I feel a pang of guilt as we stare at each other, like we’re on different continents.
I just destroyed her life and yet she still seems to be fascinated by me. Still watching me. Waiting for Rowan to come.
Indeed, I hear the door opening behind me, but I can’t quite look away. My eyes are fixed on Crystal’s bloodshot gaze, unyielding.
A strong pair of arms grabs me from behind and wraps me closer as one of my hands finds the ledge of the window and I lean closer to Crystal, like I’m trying to reach out to her through the glass. My breasts press against the window and she twitches for a second, but her face is emotionless.
“Want to give her a show?” Rowan whispers in my ear, the shadow of his beard pricking the skin on my throat as he kisses it tenderly.
He doesn’t wait for my answer, and I don’t know if I could produce one even if he did. He whips me around, pressing me against the window so the cold glass sends goosebumps across my flesh. I can only imagine Crystal’s view when he yanks off my bra and pulls down my wet thong.
It’s the first time I don’t enjoy sex with Rowan.
I feel all wrong.
2
I feel like a pathetic stalker. I’m standing outside her building again, nervously glancing around, even though I’ve known this area like the back of my pocket for so long. I wonder if she’s home.
And then I wonder what the fuck I’m even doing here, and why I can’t stay away.
This time, I ring her doorbell. I managed to memorize her last name yesterday when I knocked on her door. Crystal Graham. I press the button halfheartedly.
I’m surprised when the door starts buzzing immediately and no one even answers me over the intercom. Surprised, I stare at the doorbell for a second, then rush to the door so as not to miss my chance to get in.
Strolling through the lobby like I’m a regular here, I take the same steps I had taken the previous day, my heart beating wildly in my chest. What am I doing?
Her door’s open when I get to her floor, and I knock tentatively, getting no answer whatsoever. I push the door hesitantly and finally get inside.
“Hello?” I ask softly.
Crystal appears around the corner, and she looks nothing like I thought she would.
Gone is the messy hear and the tear stained face. Her porcelain complexion is no longer red and blotchy and she’s wearing a pretty lounge set, her long hair hanging in loose waves down her back.
I straighten up instantly, trying to stand a little taller. I’m intimidated, I realize in surprise. There is no denying it – Crystal is gorgeous. But I know I am, too.
With a new found confidence, I march into her apartment like I own it, but she doesn’t step aside this time. Instead, she stands there with a bemused expression, not looking one percent the train wreck I’d anticipated her to be.
“I was expecting you,” she says simply and I look at her in surprise.
“Why?” I wonder out loud.
She shrugs and my eyes wonder over her body. Perfect curves, and yet she still has a thigh gap. I don’t remember her being this pretty during our dinner a few days ago.
“Want a cup of tea?” she asks and nods towards the kitchen. I find myself agreeing and following her in this strange game we’re playing, settling on the bar stool in her rustic kitchen. I look around the apartment once more, and realize it’s much different from mine and Rowan’s, be it the one in the opposing building, or the house we share.
Where our place is modern and sleek, hers is homey and shabby. But it makes for a pretty chic effect, I have to admit. It makes her seem … likeable. I almost want to retch in disgust as I think of that word, not wanting to admit a single good thing about the girl, even if it’s about her decorating sense.
As I scavenge the place for details that might tell me more about her, she sets down a steaming cup of tea in front of me and the aroma gives me a start.
“What is that?” I ask suspiciously.
“Red berry tea with lemon and honey,” she explains in that soft, Mother Theresa voice that is currently driving me insane. I give her a sideways glance.
“Why are you so nice?” I blurt out. “I ruined your life. Is this poisonous?” I dip a finger in the hot liquid, regretting it instantly as it burns my fingertips. I curse and suck on the tip of my finger, giving Crystal an accusing look.
“It’s good,” she reassures me, trying to hide a smile as she busies herself in the kitchen. I survey her every motion and feel strangely at home in this place.
“I have to thank you, you know,” Crystal chats, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“What for?” I ask, dumbfound. I was expecting to pick a fight when I got here, but I’m sitting here, dipping a biscuit from a tin on the counter into a cup of tea made by my arch nemesis. What the fuck is going on?
Crystal turns around and gives me an angelic smile. “For opening my eyes,” she says simply and I implore her to go on with my questioning gaze. “Jacob,” she explains finally.
“Y-yes?” I ask, cursing my voice for breaking on the first letter of the word.
“Done,” she says with a wide smile, leaning forward on the counter until we’re eye-to-eye. I stare at her intently, waiting for the punch line. “I much prefer your stepfather,” she purrs.
There it is.
3
I’m glaring at her hard, but I refuse to say a word. I will not give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s gotten to me. Instead, I keep my eyes glassy and emotionless, but my mind is swimming in thoughts that make no sense.
She doesn’t seem to care though and instead decides to torment me further.
“He has the nicest hands, wouldn’t you say?” she asks dreamily, sighing a little and looking up, as if she’s recalling something. What, I’d rather know. “Fingers especially,” she taunts, looking right at me as she says it, her grin wide a
nd unnerving. “So nimble.”
I want to lash out, but I find myself glued to the bar stool. I can’t move a single limb.
What does she mean? What is she suggesting? I think of Rowan touching her, his fingers roaming across her body, slipping into the slit between her legs, like she just suggested. It physically hurts to think of it. I don’t want to believe her, but every time I tell myself she’s lying, an image pops into my head.
My reflection in the bathroom mirror as Crystal’s boyfriend leaned on the sink, holding me up as he pounded into me.
I cheated. I betrayed him. I would do anything for us, for our love. And I have.
What’s to say Rowan wouldn’t do the same?
Crystal comes to stand beside me and sits on the stool next to mine. I’m staring at her and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I try hard to stop them, but when the first one slips out, it gets harder and harder to stay in control.
Crystal chuckles and looks at me pityingly, her head tipped to the side. “Poor thing,” she says softly, smiling again like I’m some insolent child. “You’re upset?”
As I stare at her, I contemplate ripping her hair out, following with her heart. If she even has one and isn’t made of stone. But didn’t I do the same to her? Didn’t I take what she loved most? This is just a childish game of who does it better …
Not moving her eyes from mine, Crystal reaches forward until her soft, porcelain hand meets connects with my cheek. She strokes me gently, wiping away a tear, then brings her fingers to her lips and gives them a lick, tasting the salt, smiling at me as she does so.
She’s sick. She’s twisted. She’s dead.
4
Despite all the murderous rage I feel in my mind, I still can’t seem to move. I just stare at her, wondering why she’s doing this to me. Wondering why I don’t just get up and go.
“I propose a deal,” Crystal finally says, flashing her perfect smile.
I’m too weak to reply, but I manage a half-nod.
Crystal gets up from the chair excitedly and walks up behind me while I stare at her marble countertop. Fake, my rich girl mind tells me. Not that it matters. Nothing matters now.
Her hands are reaching up and getting tangled in my red waves, and she’s pulling them into a braid gently. She leans in closer to me and whispers in my ear. “I like you two,” she says softly, her breath cool on my neck. She smells like vanilla and peppermint.
“I like watching you,” she goes on. She’s gotten to the end of my hair now and moved away from my neck, but I still feel the eruption of goosebumps on my skin. “You’re good for my inspiration,” she adds playfully. “So I’m thinking I’ll just keep doing it. Sometimes from my apartment, and sometimes from your room.”
My blood curdles in my veins and I tense. She can feel it. She grabs my hair at the nape of my neck, gathering it into her fist, and pulls my head back so hard I nearly topple over the bar stool.
I gasp softly. Her face is upside down, she’s pulled my head that far. Her mischievious grin looks like a frown from my perspective. I feel numb and cold.
“Wouldn’t you like that, Reina doll?” she asks gruffly and leans into me, her lips almost brushing mine. I can almost taste her, but she doesn’t move any closer. Instead, she exhales lightly and her icy breath hits my lips as I feel my heartbeat go out of control.
Touch me, my mind begs her. Kiss me. Pull my hair again. Just don’t taunt me.
Like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, Crystal laughs out loud and moves away. I grab the fake marble countertop fast enough, but the chair still wobbles.
“I’ll be in touch, Reina,” Crystal adds as she starts unbuttoning her cardigan. I watch in fascination as slivers of her peaches and cream skin appear through the slit in the garment.
She casually takes the cardigan off and I’m staring at her perfect breasts. Perky, round and just big enough, unlike my own, which look like I’m about to topple over. I hate her perfect body.
I get up in a daze and grab my purse from the counter, not taking my eyes off of her. She’s shrugged off her yoga pants, too, and is standing in front of me in a red lacy thong.
She tilts her head and smiles at me, standing at a safe distance, gasping for air.
“Not so naughty after all, are you, Reina?” she says. I love my name on her lips. I hate it when she says it. I want to choke her until her pretty long neck is marred by purple bruises. But first, I want to take that perfect rosy nipple in my mouth and give it a good lick.
She slips a finger under he thong and I watch in fascination as it moves inside. She opens her mouth in an o-shape, but no sound comes out. Her head slips back and she closes her eyes, but she’s not finished.
“Mmm,” she groans. Then her eyes are back on me, but she’s still touching herself. “Rowan does it so much better though, don’t you think?”
With that, I turn around and burst out of her apartment, leaving her sick and twisted words behind me.
“Till next time, princess,” she calls after me.
CRYSTAL
1
I’ve always been the good girl, ever since the get go.
Got straight As.
Stayed with my highschool sweetheart.
Got a good career at a young age.
Did everything right.
You know what I realized in the past few days, though? All the good in the world won’t make people better. You can smile, you can help, but they’ll cheat and ruin you. They’ll stomp all over you and take everything you love. And when that happens – and it always does, eventually – your good deeds won’t mean shit. And you’ll be right at the beginning.
As I look at my reflection in the mirror, my hands shake lightly. No one said this would be easy. But it’s what has to be done.
I think of Reina, of how confident she was when I first met her. The image is quickly replaced with her tear stained face as she sits in my kitchen, her broken posture, her shaky fingers. She’s vulnerable, after all. You just have to take the right steps to reveal her soft center.
“All gone, babydoll,” I murmur, whether to myself or to the ghost of Reina, I don’t know. All that matters is that I’m in control now. I hold the reigns, I lead the game. I’m the one who gets to play.
I’m trying hard to ignore the tension in my body, the panicked breathing, the numbness deep inside. I will not break. I never do.
I pick up my new ruby red lipstick, completely out of my comfort zone, and slide the garish color over my full lips. I step back and survey myself one last time.
Black bandage mini dress? Check.
Voluminous blonde waves? Done.
Killer heels? On, and hurting my feet already.
I grab my sequinned purse and head for the door.
Today, my new life starts.
2
I take a break from dancing and make my way to the bar, waving to my friend from pilates class to signal I’ll be back. She nods while laughing at some random guy, and I stumble through the crowds in the club.
Usually, it would take ages to get the attention of the bartender, but today I’m on fire. I press my arms together to create an even more impressive cleaveage and order a dry martini.
“On the house,” the bartender winks at me a moment later, sliding a glass towards me. I don’t even acknowledge him, sipping out of my glass instantly and heading back to the dance floor.
My glass is empty in seconds and I place it on an occupied table while two modellesque bitches frown at me. I don’t care. I’m over it. Over everything.
Before I can make it back to my friend, someone blocks my path and I look up, feeling frustrated. It’s the bartender.
“It’s polite to say thank you for a free drink,” he yells in my ear over the loud music, giving me a grin. His chocolate brown skin is glistening with sweat from the overheated club, and I can see his muscles rippling beneath his shirt.
“Let me do that, then,” I yell right back and push my tongue inside his mouth
, hard.
I’ve never kissed anyone other than Jacob, but I’m too numb to think about that.
He’s not even surprised, taking me in his arms quickly and kissing me with nothing but lust. No feelings here. All he wants is to fuck me, if the bulge in his jeans is anything to go by.
“Come on, I’m on my break,” he groans in my ear and pulls me after him, heading up the stairs where I presume the staff are is located. I let him, swaying slightly as he pulls me through the crowd, almost stumbling a few times in my too high heels.
In moments, we’re in the staff lounge, and he kicks the door closed, pushing me against it. He doesn’t bother with my dress, just slides my panties down and tosses them to the floor. His zipper’s undone, his hand is pulling out his cock, and in a split second, he’s inside me.
I groan, I moan, I make all the sounds I know he wants to hear. I gasp, I sigh, I exhale and inhale at all the right moments. I’ve got my act down, apparently, because in minutes, he releases with a loud curse and I feel warm liquid running down my leg.
Without further ado, he zips his jeans up and steals a glance of himself in the full length mirror on the other side of the room.
“Thanks, babe,” he murmurs distractedly, then opens the door for me. In a haze, I get out and he smacks my ass as I leave, closing the door unceremoniously.
I stand in front of the door, realizing my panties are still somewhere in there.
I thought I could do it. Meaningless, casual sex, evil schemes, threats. I thought I had it all figured out.
I’m too drunk to care, anyway, I tell myself. I stumble back into the dance floor, where my friend shrieks with delight as she spots me. I dance with her all night, feeling sorry for her as she cries on the way back since no one was interested in her. I supply her with tissues as she laments her life, and I wonder.
I’ve messed it all up. But one thing I’ve never been is a quitter.
If this is what I’ve decided to do, I’ll go through with it. I’ll be the villain. I’ll be the bad girl.
Dirty Little Love Story Page 4
