Even if my heart didn’t agree.
The drive to the academy was painfully long and it gave me more time to think than I wanted. I rested my forehead against the cool glass and with each bump on the road, it knocked into the surface.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry until I couldn’t cry anymore, but I couldn’t. It felt too much like mourning a death and Ryland and I were both very much alive.
I was sad and angry and hurt, and I thought about my mom.
“Go away!” I screamed when she knocked on the door.
There was a slight pause before the door creaked open slowly.
“Really?” she asked.
Turning my head to the side, I looked at her. Her fingers held the edge of the door and her head peaked in.
“No,” I sighed, getting up and hugging the pillow to my chest. “You always want me to be a normal teen. Isn’t this how normal teens act?”
She slipped the rest of the way into the room and sat down on my bed.
“Why do you think that’s how teens act?”
“That’s how they act on TV.”
“Rule of thumb, don’t take your lessons from TV.” She tucked her leg under her. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Brad, who I thought liked me, asked Carrie to the dance this weekend.”
“They’re all going to laugh…” she said randomly and I frowned, giving her a look of confusion. “Sorry, forget it. Not the time. Continue.” She held out her hand.
“Well, he didn’t even bother to tell me he was going to take her. She was so smug as she walked through lunch today. I was so mad I could have fudging punched her!”
“First off, easy, killer. Violence is never the first answer, especially when brought on by a boy.”
“Never the first answer?”
She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Is this the same Brad you’ve been crushing on all year?” She sighed. “I knew we would eventually be having this conversation, but all that prep time doesn’t make it easier. I know boys seem like an important part of teen life now. They’re new and exciting and the attention is nothing short of great. But believe me, Araya, there’s plenty of time for boys when you get older, and I’m not talking about ten years from now older. Just give yourself at least another two years. Two years to enjoy being a kid. Two years to focus on dancing and just hanging out. Two years.
“I thought I loved him,” I said softly, and a tear slipped down my cheek.
“Oh, baby girl,” she soothed, sweeping me into her arms. She propped her chin on my head. “Boys at this age aren’t worth your attention and they’re definitely not worth your tears.” She used her hands to wipe the tears away. “Spare yourself the unneeded heartache because I tell you now, when you get older, it’s ten times harder. Don’t put yourself through that when you know finding true love at the age of fifteen is unlikely.
“The good news is heartbreak like this is fast and it’s very rare. You’re young and your feelings are all over the place. What you think is love now, you’ll realize when you’re older it’s nothing compared to the real thing. Put Brad out of your head.”
I snuggled deeper into her comforting warmth and wrapped my arm around hers. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Was it real love with Dad?”
“Yes, it was. I couldn’t have made you if it wasn’t.”
“I’m going to try to see past the gross part of what you said and focus on the sentiment.” She laughed and squeezed me. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you still love him?”
“I love the old him. The old him gave me you and I’ll always love him for that.”
“I guess I love the old him for giving me you.”
She kissed my head. “Araya?”
“Yeah?”
“I think it’s time we watch the movie Carrie. It might put a whole new perspective on this whole dance fiasco.”
And it did. I was no longer upset that I’d missed the dance.
I smiled against the window of the cab and I thought about everything she said the night of the accident. She was right about so many things. Thinking about what I thought was love with Brad made me realize how wrong I’d been. What I felt with Ryland, what was breaking my heart now, this was love.
I wish she were here to convince me I was doing the right thing now. I needed her so much. But I had her memories and that meant even in my own darkness, I was home.
Epilogue
Three months, six days, fifteen hours, and forty-three minutes. That’s how long it’d been since I saw Araya last.
Two months, four days, ten hours, and twenty-nine minutes was how long it took for Careless to find out where she was.
One month, nine days, eight hours, and fifty-nine minutes was the amount of time it had taken me to actually work up the nerve to come see Araya.
As I walked through the grounds of Madison Academy, my heart pounded against my chest and I was sure everyone could hear the sound echo off the mahogany walls of the upscale prep school.
The main hall smelled of high society upbringing, greed, and dirty money. It left a bad taste in my mouth and made me wonder how Araya was surviving in a place like this.
I’d bypassed the administrator’s office because I was sure they would have my pictures and clear instructions to escort me off the premises if spotted trying to see Araya. Working with J.D. for the past three months was teaching me how to stay one step ahead of him. It also left me wandering the halls aimlessly.
I figured I could stop someone who looked less official and ask them if they knew of Araya and where she might be.
Just then a girl rounded the corner. She didn’t make eye contact as she got closer to me, and for some reason I lost my nerve to get her attention as she closed in on me.
She surprised me when she suddenly looked at me and smiled as if just noticing I was there.
“You lost?” she asked, smiling flirtatiously.
“Uh…” I hesitated, rubbing the back of my neck.
“It’s not a trick question.” She teased.
“I’m looking for someone,” I blurted before I lost my nerve.
I don’t know why I was so nervous to see her. This is what I wanted, what I’d been waiting for, but that still didn’t stop my stomach from knotting.
“This someone have a name?”
“Araya?”
“Are you asking me?” She smiled, clearly enjoying giving me a hard time. I laughed, instantly feeling stupid.
“Her name is Araya Noelle.”
She nodded once, slowly, and turned on her heel, going in the direction she’d just come. Her chestnut hair swirled around her as she took off. I frowned and looked around. Was I supposed to follow her?
“Yes,” she called out behind her.
“I’m sorry, what?” I called, sticking my head out to hear her better.
She looked at me over her shoulder. “Yes, you follow me.”
I caught up with her, walking fast because she was obviously not going to wait for me. I could see her looking at me and I cocked my head slightly to peek at her through the corner of my eye to make sure I wasn’t just thinking she was looking at me. When it was confirmed, I looked at her too
“What?”
She raised her eyebrows at me. “Before I go through all the effort of sashaying my hips, batting my lashes, and drawing you in with my witty personality, are you and Araya more than just friends?”
I frowned and then laughed loudly. “Yeah, we are.”
“I thought so. You look completely smitten,” she said with a pout.
We turned down another hall and then she stopped so suddenly I had to backtrack a few steps to even out with her.
“Why’d we stop?”
She pointed to our left and my gaze immediately fell on Araya through the ceiling-to-floor glass walls. My breath caught. My memory hadn’t been doing her beauty justice.
“Exactly what I thought…”
the brunette said. “Smitten.” I vaguely heard her, and when I went to tell her thanks, she was gone.
Araya was sitting on the floor, her legs wide as she stretched to touch her toes. She was leaning over her long legs, her attention on the girl next to her, and her long red hair was pulled back. She stood up, stretching from side to side. Her black leotard clung to her shapely curves.
She lifted up on to the tips of her toes, once and then twice. She was dancing again and she looked happy. I watched her for a few more minutes and the more I watched her, the more I knew I was going to turn around and walk away from her.
Part of me had secretly, selfishly, hoped she was going to be unhappy and relieved that I’d finally found her. Part of me really wanted to be the Prince Charming she’d labeled me once. That time seemed so long ago.
She was happy and I wouldn’t destroy that by making her choose. Mostly because I was scared to death it wouldn’t be me that she chose. Backing away from the window, I walked away.
I would wait. I would give her what she asked for, what she needed, but when she was ready, all bets were off.
FALLING
a novel by
e.k. blair
“Your flaws are perfect for the heart that is meant to love you.”
-Ash Sweeney
Prologue
Two pills. Two fuckin’ blue pills. I swore I’d stop this shit, but I can’t stand the pain that still radiates in the back of my head where he shattered his beer bottle the other night. I hate that I’m just like him—dependent on this shit. Fuck it.
Tossing them into my mouth, I pour the cheap tequila down my throat and relish the burn that singes in my chest. My body falls lifelessly back onto the bed while the muffled music pounds through the walls.
“Give me some,” Rene says. Or is it Rachel? Who the hell cares? She pulls the bottle out of my hand and takes a draw of the amber liquid.
Handing it back to me, all I see is a hazy shadow as I feel her crawl on top of me. This chick leeched herself to me when I walked into this party earlier. I knew she’d be an easy lay, and when she shoves her hand down my pants and grabs my dick, she proves me right.
I don’t even try to focus as my body starts to weigh down from the effects of the pills. I love this feeling. Numb. Heavy. Warm. Hazy. It takes me over, and I don’t even realize that this girl is now fucking me until I look up. Closing my eyes, I begin to drift. Drift from the hell that consumes me. It’s Saturday night. The night he stays out late drinking just to come home and impale everything he hates about his life into me.
***
Waking up, head still heavy, vision clearer, I sit on the edge of the bed. I look over my shoulder and see some redhead, naked, sleeping. Who is she? I don’t remember what happened, but I know we screwed because my pants are flung across the room, and I see the used condom on the floor.
My watch says it’s after one in the morning, and I need to get home. Pulling on my pants, I stumble slightly as I make my way through the house filled with people I barely know, drinking, dancing, making out.
When I start my car, I know I shouldn’t be driving, but I also know that I need to go because my dad normally drags his drunk-ass in around this time. I hate knowing that my mom will be there alone with him.
Pulling up to the dark grey, two-story house I have always lived in, I can’t help but think about how the impeccably manicured structure is simply a mask for the madness that lives within. My stomach clenches when I see his truck in the driveway. I shut the car off and rush inside, but I know I’m too late when I hear my mother crying. Bolting through the house and into the kitchen, I get there just in time to see my dad swinging his arm around and smashing a coffee mug into the side of her head. Turning to face me, her face is void as she falls to the floor, blood everywhere.
“What are you looking at, you piece of shit?” he spits at me, and I fuckin’ lose it.
My body roils with vengeance when I charge at him, and we tumble, crashing to the floor. Rage takes over as I begin to pound my fists into his face relentlessly. Over and over. Skin splitting. Blood gushing. The sounds of my mom screaming and the grunts I force out with every blow to his face are a distant echo in my head.
He thrashes beneath me, but I don’t stop. I know I’m gonna kill him, and I hope I do. My teeth snap shut when he drives his palm into my jaw, causing me to bite my tongue. He continues to fight his way out from under me, flailing his arms, and dumping shit everywhere when he yanks one of the kitchen drawers out of its tracks.
My mouth fills with blood, and just when I spit it into his face, I fall over onto the floor.
“Fuck!” I scream through gritted teeth as I grab my side. I hear the clatter of metal falling to the ground and watch my father’s black boots stumbling away from me.
Cold shivers prick at my body, and my vision fades as my breathing becomes more and more shallow. My mother’s warm arms scoop my shoulders onto her lap as she cries, and I let my head fall to the side. When I see the bloody butcher’s knife, I lift my shaking hand that’s clutched to my side and raise it in front of my face. All I see is red.
***
I wake up the next morning, body sore and twenty-seven stitches in my side, along my ribs, where that son of a bitch stabbed me last night. Sitting up, I flinch against the stinging flesh. My mom is still asleep. I made her stay in my bed last night in case my father came back home, which he didn’t.
I quietly make my way downstairs and feel the guilt from everything that happened last night flood through my veins. If I’d never gone out, my mother probably wouldn’t be sleeping in my bed with a concussion and stitches in her head.
I’ve been so selfish lately and getting too fucked up on ecstasy and alcohol to protect my mom. The drinking, the drugs, the rage that fired through me last night—I’m him. He’s a part of me. He runs through my blood. I hate him. I don’t want to be him, but I am.
Having him consume me like this makes me sick to my stomach, and I swear to God, I will do everything I can to avoid what I fear is destined to be my future. I’ve gotta stop the fuckin’ pills. I’ve gotta . . .
A loud knocking on the door pulls me out of my thoughts, and when I make my way to the front of the house and open the door, two cops are standing there, staring at me with a look I can’t quite make out.
Taking off his hat, one cop asks, “Is this the home of Richard Campbell?”
Chapter One
“Hey, boss. That clown you call your friend is asking for you.”
“I’m finishing up,” I tell Max as I sign off on a few orders. “How long has he been here?”
Standing in the doorway to my office, he answers, “Not long. Half an hour or so.”
I don’t say anything as I finish up my paperwork and toss my pen on the desk, leaning back in my chair with a deep sigh.
“Everything okay?”
“Tired,” I say as I look up at my friend. Max has worked for me for a few years now. He serves as security ever since business picked up at the bar after I bought it out from its previous owner. He’s a good guy and extremely loyal, which makes him a commodity I can’t afford to lose. Beneath his shaved head and insane build that intimidates most people that walk through the doors here, he’s got a big heart.
“Call it a night, man. It’s late, and you’ve been up here all day.”
“Yeah.” I push back from my desk and stand up, making my way out of the office. When I pass Max, I clap his back, saying, “I’m gonna go talk to Gav then head out.”
Max follows as we walk down the stairs and into the bar that I’ve owned since I graduated from the University of Washington. This place has become a second home to me. It’s where I spend most of my time.
Bumping shoulders through the crowd of people, I spot my old college buddy, Gavin, tossing back a bottle of beer.
“Ryan, dude? Where the hell have you been?”
“Working.”
“Mel!” he shouts over to one of the bar girls. “Ge
t this old man a beer.”
“No, Mel. I’m good,” I tell her, and she just shakes her head at Gavin, knowing what a partier he is.
“What’s up with you tonight?”
“Tired, man.”
“You not staying?”
Before I can answer, a tall blonde catches my eye as she starts making her way through the crowd and up to the bar. She steps next to me and leans over the bar top to get Mel’s attention, and when I eye her, Gavin mumbles, “Yeah, you’re staying,” all too knowingly.
“Ryan, right?” the blonde asks as she turns to look at me, and when I nod my head, she introduces herself with a slow, “I’m Gina,” trying to sound sexy, but it’s lost on me ‘cause I couldn’t give a shit what her name is. Girls like her are an almost daily occurrence.
“Have we met before or something?” I ask since she already knows who I am.
“Not officially. I’ve seen you around though.” She grins at me as she says this, but her fake tits are too distracting for me to focus on her face. It’s when she giggles that I snap my attention up. “You own this place, right?”
I nod my head again. One thing about me, I’m not much of a talker. I’m a pretty quiet guy for the most part, but with chicks especially, I don’t talk. There’s no need to. I don’t care to delay the inevitable. I’m a straight shooter, and being as tired as I am, I cut the shit and say, “Wanna get to know me better in my office?”
Her smile grows, and I take her hand, leading her to the back stairs. I spot Gavin trying to nail his own bait, and he gives me a cocky grin when he sees me pass by.
We walk into my office, and I close the door, pinning her up against it, clasping her wrists in my hand above her head while I run my other hand up her skirt and between her legs. Letting go of her wrists, she works with my pants, anxious to get them off.
I fumble in my back pocket, and when I retrieve the condom, I quickly rip it open with my teeth, spitting out the shredded foil as she tugs my pants down. I waste no time. Closing my eyes, I shove her panties to the side and take her against the door.
Silk Page 31
