by J B Heller
She bites her bottom lip then says, “What’s that got to do with right now?”
I rub my temples with the thumb and forefinger of my free hand, “I don’t want to hurt you, El. You’re not a casual kind of girl, and I would never treat you like one. But that’s all you’d get with me.”
A frown furrows her brows, “Who are you to say what kind of girl I am? Maybe all I want is casual. Maybe you’re the one who would end up hurt, not me. Huh?”
She’s so feisty and I like it, “Oh trust me, I know I would end up hurting. But Hurt and I go way back, I can handle it.” I tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and look down into her amazing eyes, “Maybe I can’t handle casual with you.”
Her eyes flicker to my lips and back to my eyes, “Consider me fairly warned,” she says, then pushes up to her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. With one hand still twined through mine, she brings her free hand up behind my neck and holds me to her as her sweet little tongue slides inside my mouth.
Before I know it, I’ve released her hand and I’m lifting her to sit on the edge of the picnic table as she wraps her legs around my waist. She doesn’t let up her assault on my mouth, and I fucking love how into it she is.
Little murmurs come from her throat and I’m rock fucking solid. How did she get me so worked up when not two minutes ago I was telling her this couldn’t happen?
She squeezes her legs tighter around me, bringing me impossibly closer, and I clench my fists in the fabric of her sundress by her hips. “Jesus, El,” I breathe, and she responds by sliding both her hands up into my hair, then pulling so hard my head tilts back and she latches onto my throat.
“Holy shit, ease up, Princess,” I urge, not wanting to freak her out with what’s going on in my pants right now.
She chuckles softly, “Sorry, got a bit carried away.”
I look down into her smiling face, “What was that?”
She shrugs, “Pent up sexual frustration?”
“Umm okay . . .” I say with a quirked brow.
“What? Don’t believe me?” she questions my obvious disbelief.
“Uh, kinda hard to believe. It’s not like I’ve been putting the moves on you or anything. Unless you’re just using me to release sexual frustration caused by someone else?” I’m joking, I think.
Eliza scoffs, “Not likely. Can I tell you something? But you have to promise not to freak out?”
The look on Hux’s face is sceptical at best, so I just let the words tumble out before I lose my nerve, “I’ve had a thing for you for a while . . .” I bite down on my lip, waiting for him to run away from me.
He rears back a little and eyes me, “You, you have a thing,” he points to himself, “for me?”
I nod slowly, and wait for the mortification to set in. But he hasn’t started running yet, so maybe he won’t?
A humourless laugh rips from him then he grabs my face between his palms and slams his mouth down over mine, stealing my breath in one swift movement. My hands automatically slide up over his muscular shoulders and into his hair.
When he pulls back he’s smiling like I’ve never seen him smile before. It makes me feel like I’ve just given him the best present in the world and I can’t help but smile back.
He takes a step back and holds a hand out for me, “Come on, Princess, we better go before I lose my self-control,” he says with a smirk and a wink.
Butterflies swarm in my stomach when he doesn’t try to pull his hand out of mine this time.
He tells me to drop him off around the side of the school instead of driving him in, and I don’t argue, I know he doesn’t want to be seen with me. And I’m okay with it. He certainly wouldn’t be invisible anymore if we rocked up at school together. And even though I don’t know why he wants to go unnoticed, I can respect it.
By the time I park my car, I have to run to drop Jason’s and his brother’s lunches off to make it to my first period in time. I literally do a drop and run, but as I’m hotfooting it back towards the building for my first class I almost run right into Hux.
His arms shoot out and catch me before I stumble, “Flustered, Princess?” he murmurs as he releases me.
I grin up at him and take off again, after shooting him a conspiratorial wink.
I don’t know what the hell this thing with Eliza is, but I’ve been smiling like a fool all morning. I feel like an idiot. All it takes is one tiny glimpse of her between classes or just the damn thought of her and my usual look of disinterest in the world flies out the bloody window.
That’s how the entire day passes. Little glimpses, slight feather light touches as she dashes past me in the hall, and blindingly bright smiles across the common area during break.
I’m relieved when the day is over and I can get my head on straight while shovelling dirt and horse shit into the new garden beds going in at old Mrs. Pearson’s. After shovelling for a solid hour, I dig my shovel into the manure so it stands on its own and walk over to the water cooler on the back of Johnno’s ute, lifting it over my head then turning the spout to pour some into my mouth.
The sun is blazing overhead and I’m sweating like a two-dollar hooker at rush hour. My shirt is soaked in sweat, and my jeans are stuck to my legs. Oh, and I smell worse than the horse shit I’ve been shovelling.
Johnno strolls over while I’m having a drink and leans against the tray of the ute. “Why are you still being a stubborn prick about taking the ute?”
Putting the water cooler back in the tray, I lean over the edge on my elbows and look over to Johnno, “I’m not sticking around, you know that. Getting out of here has always been my plan. I can’t take the ute. I don’t feel right about it. And I don’t want to buy a car unless I have to.”
“I don’t get why you wouldn’t feel right about it? You work your arse off, you deserve it. Anyone else would graciously accept it, but not you, you’re too stubborn for your own good, Hux. One day something’s going to happen to mess with that plan of yours and you’re gonna be fucked.” His voice is gruff as he tells me what I already know.
Eliza is already fucking with my head, I can’t let her fuck with my plan.
I don’t respond, instead, I walk back over to the pile of mulch and shovel my frustrations out.
An hour later, I’m walking home and a Rover pulls up beside me, “Hey good lookin,’” El calls through the open passenger window.
I clench my fists, is it too much to ask for a little time to think? To be left to my own thoughts? I ignore her and keep walking, hoping she will pick up on my mood and leave me be.
She doesn’t. And I should have known she wouldn’t. I’m fairly certain nobody has ever ignored this girl.
Taking a deep breath, I catch my own scent and cringe, “Keep driving, Princess. I smell like shit, literally. You don’t want me stinkin’ up that pretty car of yours.”
Instead of listening to me, she pulls the car further off the road just ahead of me and gets out. Slamming her door she stomps over to me, “What’s your problem?”
I shrug, “Nothin,’ what’s yours?” Great come back, right?
She grinds her teeth together, “This morning we were good, today we were good, and now all of a sudden we’re not? What the hell, Hux?”
Scratching my temple and sighing I give it to her straight, “It’s hot, I’m tired, I smell, and I just want to go home, El. Can we do this later?”
Her perfect face scrunches, “Ugh, you do smell like shit. What have you been doing? Rolling around in cow crap?”
“Something like that,” I say, as I go to walk around her.
Her small hand shoots out and grabs my arm, “Not so fast Sir Smellsalot. What’s going on? You’re being a dick.”
The feel of her fingers wrapped around my arms feels better than it should. I’ve always liked physical contact, getting physical with someone always makes me feel good. But she is not a feel good girl.
I uncurl her fingers and hold her hand between mine, “Yes, I’m bein
g a dick, I just want to go have a shower, but instead of getting closer to my house, I’m arguing with you over nothing in the middle of the street.”
She glares at me, “So get in the car already, I’ll have you home in five minutes. You don’t have to be a dick to me.”
Shaking my head at her I remind her, “Smell like shit, remember. A towel isn’t going to stop that smell from soaking into your car. You won’t be able to get rid of it for ages. Trust me.”
This time she rolls her eyes, and I know she’s as exasperated by this pointless conversation as I am. She huffs, “That’s what air freshener is for, you big idiot. Now get in.” She turns her back on me and marches back to her car while muttering to herself under her breath.
I throw my hands in the air, but I follow the little pain in the arse back to the Rover and get in the front passenger seat that she’s already covered with an old beach towel. “Thank you,” I mutter as I fasten my belt.
“You’re welcome,” she snips back as she pulls away from the curb.
A whole minute of complete silence passes and I crack, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been a dick to you. It’s just, I was trying to clear my head, figure my shit out. And I can’t. It’s pissing me off and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
Eliza’s silent for a moment longer, then she reaches over and rests her hand on my thigh, “Okay.”
I slide my hand under hers and squeeze it gently. We don’t speak again until she pulls up at the end of my street.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks.
“Yeah, tomorrow,” I say, then lean over and press a soft kiss to her cheek. I can’t help it. After having her in my arms this morning, I want it again, but not like this.
I watch as she drives away, and I’m more confused than ever.
When I finally make it through my front door, Dad is already home, and drunk. He sneers at me as I walk through the living room on my way to the bathroom. “You smell like shit,” he spits as I walk past him.
I ignore him and throw my dirty clothes in the washing machine, then slip into the bathroom for a shower.
Scrubbing the stench from my skin takes more time than usual, and I begin to question whether I really do still smell or if it’s in my head. My skin is red, raw, and sore. I think I’ve even stripped a layer off in some spots.
Turning off the shower, I climb out and dry myself off before the old man starts yelling about me wasting hot water.
I throw on a fresh set of clothes then head to the kitchen to start making dinner. Swinging open the fridge all I see is beer. Great, he didn’t go shopping, again. “Dad, we need groceries,” I call out while rummaging through the crisper to see if there’s enough vegetables to make a stir-fry with the chicken I know is in the freezer.
“I’ll do it when I’m good and ready,” he calls back.
Rolling my eyes, I pull out some celery, the last two carrots, and a couple of mushrooms that were floating around in the bottom. They’ll have to do.
Forty minutes later I hand dad a bowl of stir-fry and tell him, “That’s the last of what was in the fridge, the freezer’s empty now too.” Then I leave him in his recliner, surrounded by empty beer cans, watching reruns of Becker.
If he doesn’t go tomorrow, I’ll have to. I try not to use my own money too often, otherwise he won’t ever bother getting the groceries himself. As it is, I pay half the electricity and water bills when they come.
Closing my bedroom door behind me, I flick the lock out of habit. When I was a kid and the old man would go on a drinking binge, he’d start throwing stuff into the walls. It scared me shitless, so I’d lock my door and push my dresser against it.
I don’t bother with the dresser anymore. I figure I’d hear him trying to get through the lock, and I’m old enough to defend myself now.
All I want to do is go to sleep, but instead I stay up and complete my final English assignment. I only have two other subjects to pass until I can graduate early. Two weeks ago I was happy about the prospect of getting out of here that much sooner.
Now . . . I don’t know how I feel.
After thinking about Eliza all night, this morning I know what I need to do. I have to keep her at arm’s length. I can’t let myself get any closer to her. Yesterday morning should never have happened.
What I should do is stay away from her completely. But I can’t. I’ve grown addicted to that smile. Especially when it’s directed at me. She makes me feel things I shouldn’t. Things I don’t have the strength to handle.
I may not be able to stay away from her, but I can control myself when I’m around her. I think. God, I hope so.
She’s waiting at the end of the street for me, like I knew she would be. I don’t bother knocking on her window anymore, instead I go directly to the passenger side and get in. “Morning,” I greet with a smile on my face. She’s singing into her hairbrush.
Instead of answering me, she turns her face in my direction as she belts out the chorus of Let Me Love You, another freaking Bieber song. My fingers itch to switch the song, but the look in her eyes is telling me she chose this song for a reason.
I tilt my head and wait for her performance to finish, then raise a brow.
She raises one in return, challenging me. But I don’t break.
Finally, she says, “So, did you like my song choice this morning?”
What am I supposed to say? No, I fucking hate Bieber, he’s a tool. Or maybe I should go with something a little more direct? No, you can’t love me. Not now, not ever. I’m not good enough for you.
I look away from her and out the window, choosing not to answer the question at all.
Eliza eventually lets it go and pulls away from the curb. She doesn’t ask where to go this morning, and takes us to the rest area.
Silence fills the space between us, and I hate that it’s like this. I liked how easy and natural things were before yesterday happened. I’ve fucked it up, and I don’t know how to get us back to that place.
When we make it to the picnic table we were at yesterday, we sit the same way, facing each other. And I can’t look her in the eye.
Something happened between yesterday morning and yesterday afternoon and it’s eating at Hux. I wish he would just talk to me, but he’s so closed off.
I’m hurt and so frustrated. What the hell is going on inside that head of his?
I thought I’d broken through some of that mysterious armour he wears yesterday, but it feels like he’s gone and reinforced it.
My hands come to rest on his thighs, “Hux,” I murmur, “talk to me, please.”
He takes a deep breath, “I fucked this up,” he says, still not making eye contact with me.
“How?”
His eyes find mine and he sighs, “I shouldn’t have kissed you yesterday. I complicated things.”
Well, that admission hurts more than his silence. I swallow past the lump of emotion in my throat, and lick my lips, “Why? I don’t understand. I thought,” I can’t finish my sentence, my emotions are trying to push to the surface, and I don’t want him to see that.
I break eye contact and lift my hands from his thighs, then stand. I step over the bench and turn my back to him. Lifting my face to the small ray of sunshine breaking through the canopy of trees around us, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
I block out everything around me, and focus on the warmth of the sun on my face. I should have known it was too good to be true. Huxley Haynes, opening up to me, being with me, of course it was too good to be true.
At least I got to feel his lips on mine, even if it was just that once.
I take a couple more steadying breaths before I turn back to him. I give him the same smile I give BJ when I’m humouring him, the one that most people see and think is real, but they haven’t got a clue that I long for more.
“Don’t do that,” Hux says, and I notice his camera in his hands.
“Don’t do what?” I ask.
He put his camera on
the picnic table and stands, “Don’t pretend with me. You never have before, why start now?”
I should have known he would be able to tell the difference. He’s the most observant person I’ve ever met. I shrug, “Why not? You don’t want the real me, so why should I keep giving her to you?”
He clenches his fists by his sides and grits his teeth, “Fuck that, El. You know that’s not what I meant.”
My hands grip my hips and I stare him down, “Really? Because that’s what it sounded like.”
His expression morphs to one of anguish, as he closes the distance between us and takes my face in his hands, “I’m leaving, El. Kissing you is a bad idea. For both of us.” His fingertips push into my hair, and his head lowers a fraction, “Don’t pretend with me, please.”
His words cause tears to prick my eyes, but not fall. “I don’t understand what you want, Hux.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. And if we keep this up, it’s going to hurt a hell of a lot when I go.”
Closing my eyes, I drop my head to his chest, “I know,” I breathe. Because it’s true. I know it’s going to hurt when he leaves. And he’s right, the closer we get, the more it will hurt. But I don’t care.
Hux wraps his arms around me and holds me for a few minutes while I come to terms with never having his lips against mine again.
I was surprised when he let me hold his hand as we walked back to my car, and on the drive to the school. When we arrived, he leant over and pressed a soft kiss to my temple before he got out.
And I sat in my car, alone. Wondering where I went wrong.
Why couldn’t I be happy with my superficial friends and superficial life? I was content in it before I started spending time with Hux.
I guess letting loose and being myself was addictive and I wanted more of it. But I only seemed to have the strength to do that when I was with Hux and my family.
Before I can finish my little pity party for one, a loud tapping startles me, for a moment I think it might be Hux, but unfortunately, it’s BJ.
