As we’re walking to the crowded pancake house Kent grabs my hand. “I haven’t held a girl’s hand in a long time.”
“How is it?”
“Satisfying,” he says. “Now everyone knows who you’re with.”
I walk closer to him and revel in the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine in public. It’s the first time I’ve held hands with a guy. It’s such a simple gesture. But inside it feels like so much more. Kent has gotten so many firsts from me I fear what might happen when this month is over.
When we enter the restaurant we wiggle in with everyone else waiting to be seated. We’re left standing. There aren’t any seats left. Families mingle, talking about football and the weather while their kids run around. Couples snuggle close to each other. Kent and I stay toward the back after giving the hostess his name. I watch one couple in particular. The way they look into each other’s eyes you know their love is real. I wonder if he makes her doubt everything she’s ever known.
Did he need a month?
I drop Kent’s hand and cross my arms over my chest. I can see him out the corner of my eye watching me, clearly concerned by my obvious mood change. But we’re in public and Kent can’t be himself. He sighs and leans against the wall.
“Kent! Table for two!” the hostess calls.
We’re seated in the busiest section. The waitress, a petite girl no older than eighteen, eyes Kent as we sit down to the overpowering smell of bacon and coffee permeating the restaurant.
“Good afternoon. Our special today,” she stutters, looking at him like he’s the special, “is buttermilk pancakes with honey butter and a side of thick-cut bacon. Can I start y’all off with some coffee or orange juice?”
He leans over to read her nametag. “I’d love a cup of coffee, Gabby.”
“Of course.” Gabby takes a moment to realize I am sitting across from him. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have some tea. With honey,” I add sullenly.
When she’s gone I glare at him.
“You can’t cut every woman’s eyes out for noticing me.” He looks up from his menu, gaze amused.
“I don’t want to cut them out so much as claw at them.” I smile sweetly. “Could you lay off the flirting? It upsets me.”
I think he’ll say something Kent-like, something crass and rude, but he surprises me. “Won’t happen again. Tea? I didn’t take you as a tea kind of girl.”
“Becca makes me tea when I go off on the deep end. It’s the next best thing to having her here.”
He purses his lips at my comment. “You go off the deep end a lot?”
“I have the tendency.”
“Are you going off the deep end now?” He sighs when I look down and changes the topic. “Are you two close?”
“She’s all I have.”
“Where is she?”
“College in Los Angeles. For art. You think I’m bad now. You should’ve seen me after she left.” I laugh uncomfortably. “She doesn’t know how badly I lost it.”
“Lost it how?”
“I wasn’t used to being on my own. I had to learn it the hard way.”
“Do you have a difficult time being on your own?”
I’ve never stopped to think about it in-depth. “Becca’s all I have. I didn’t know who I was without her. I guess I had a problem with letting her go specifically. I can’t let you go once I love you. It hurts too much.” Our eyes lock.
He clears his throat. “Why did she leave you like that?”
“She deserved to go. She spent her life taking care of me. I didn’t want to be the reason she didn’t follow her dreams. It took me a while but eventually I didn’t have to lie too much on the phone.”
Our waitress comes over with a mug of coffee and a steaming cup of water with a tea bag on a plate. She places a container of golden honey in front of me and then eyes Kent like he’s the hive. He doesn’t notice this time. He’s too busy looking at me.
“What were you doing before you moved in with me?”
I wonder why he sounds accusing as I dunk my teabag, watching the tan swirls discolor the water. “Nothing.”
“You didn’t go to parties or hang out with friends?” He pauses in the middle of ripping open a sugar packet. “You did nothing?”
“Don’t make it sound so drab.”
“I’m not talking about drab. I’m talking about depression. Sounds like me after Willow left. I didn’t even want to breathe.”
“I’m not depressed,” I growl.
“When’s the last time you had fun?” he wonders softly. “Honest, genuine, fun. Without thinking too hard? And I don’t count.”
I look down at my tea and pour my honey into it. “Never. I didn’t grow up with it. There was always something to worry about, which made me inherently uneasy. Becca found ways to have fun, but boys and alcohol weren’t my thing. So I stayed home and read a lot and promised myself I would never end up with my father. The promise consumed me. The older I got the more I realized all men were like him and it was safer to avoid them altogether.”
“But we’re not. You only think we are. You’ve convinced yourself of this. I’m not him. Yes, I’ve made mistakes, I don’t always do the right thing, and I’ve got my own shit to deal with, but that doesn’t make me him. You’re so worried about not being your parents you’re not allowing yourself to live.”
I simply stir my tea so I won’t cry. Still, some bitterness seeps through. “Aren’t you perceptive?”
“Don’t be like that.” He reaches for my hands but I hide them under the table. “You know if you want me to try, you have to try too.”
“I’m not depressed,” I insist. “I’m living. I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“I’m not living right now and I’m alive. I can admit that. The most I’ve lived in the past year is when I’m with you. When I’m around you, Rain, I want to live.”
I put my hands back on top of the table and he takes them in his, my answer clear. He entangles our fingers together and leans forward to kiss our conjoined hands, eyes sucking the life out of me. Take it.
“Ahem,” the waitress clears her throat. “Would you like to order?”
“We’ll have two specials,” he informs her, only looking at me.
“That’s all?” she asks, disappointed.
“That’s it,” I answer, looking only at him.
She leaves us without another word.
“I want to try,” I promise him. “I can’t erase my past or my way of thinking at the drop of a dime.”
“You see my problem?”
Who knew Kent and I were having the same issue?
“I want you to have fun. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do? Or somewhere you’ve wanted to go?”
“Why? Are you going to take me on a date?”
He holds my gaze boldly. “I would love to.”
I try, I really do, but his words get to me. I look down at our hands. “I’ve never been on one.”
“Why am I not surprised? You have sex with me before we go on a date? That’s a little backwards. We should have waited.”
For some reason his words amuse me. “Is Kent Nicholson regretting sex?”
“Kent Nicholson is regretting giving you a reason to fear me.”
“I don’t regret having sex with you. I regret that I wanted it. Wanting it is what’s going to hurt me later.”
“You’re allowed to want things in life. You’re allowed to take risks that might not pan out. That’s what makes it beautiful. You don’t always have to do things because it corresponds with what you think life should be.”
I look away and extract my hands from his. “That’s easy for you to say. Your outlook wasn’t driven home since birth.”
He reaches over and grabs my hands. “Stop taking your hands away,” he warns icily. “These are my hands now.”
Kent is forcing me out of my comfort zone. “Then these are mine.” I tighten my hold.
He smiles.
I watch that smile. His lips stretch over his teeth and his eyes gleam in the restaurant’s warm lighting. My breath hitches and I want him right now. Sore or not. I am losing it. Or I already lost it. Either way I’m looking for the pieces.
My phone chimes in my purse, freeing me. I find an unsettling text from Becca.
Becca: I hope Kent doesn’t mind another roommate.
My spirits lift as I text her back, asking if she’s coming home.
Becca: U R going 2 get it.
I frown and quickly scroll through our messages. Sure enough, there are a plethora of texts from her in varying degrees of anger and concern. I smirk at the last message.
Becca: Get Kent’s dick out of UR mouth & answer me.
Before I can help myself, I wonder what it would be like to have him in my mouth.
My phone rings, sucking me out of my thoughts.
“Answer your phone. We’re in a restaurant. “Womanizer” by Britney Spears isn’t an appropriate theme song. Man hater,” he tacks on, giving me a playful smirk.
“Woman hater,” I tease back.
We’re honestly developing a sick sense of humor.
I quickly answer it. “Becca, relax.”
“Relax?” She is the opposite of relaxed. “You want me to relax? I’ve been texting my baby sister for almost two days with no response. Where have you been? You’d better not say with Kent or I’m going to kill his nasty ass for touching you.”
I shrink at her big sister tone. She’s in parent mode. “Are you really coming home?”
“Yes!” she shrieks.
Even Kent flinches. He’s looking at me worriedly amid sips of his coffee. He’s even cute drinking coffee. I drift off, watching the way he licks his lips as he sets the cup down. I know that tongue. I want that tongue…
“Rain!” Becca shouts.
I nearly drop my phone. “I’m sorry—”
“Save it, you inconsiderate brat. Pick me up from the airport tomorrow at noon. I’ll text you the information. You are able to text, right?”
“Yes.”
She doesn’t even say goodbye. I stare at the phone fearfully.
“What was that about? Your sister sounded pissed.”
“She is pissed. She’s been trying to get a hold of me but I’ve been kind of preoccupied with a certain blond-haired black-eyed hottie. You ever meet him?”
He rubs his chin in thought. “No, can’t say I have. But he sounds dapper.”
“Dapper?” I smirk, setting my phone down and taking a sip of tea. “What decade are we in?”
“Tell me more about this dapper bastard.” He grins at me over the top of his mug. “Does he turn you on?”
“Does he want to know a secret?”
“He’d love to finally know what goes on your head.”
“No man has ever turned me on the way he does.”
“How does he do that? Because from what I hear he’s getting mixed signals from you. He may’ve done his best to keep you right where you were, but you were so addictive. He had to see you. He had to hear your voice. A little birdy told me the only time this dapper bastard can stand himself is when he’s around you, Rain. So he’d like to know how he turns you on so he can keep doing it. Then maybe he can keep you.”
My heart hammers and tightens. It’s a sudden struggle to remain seated. “He’s doing it right now.”
His eyes gleam. “Interesting. Anything else you want to tell him?”
I have to break the buzzing attraction or we’re going to end up naked on this table in front of everyone. “Becca’s going to kick his ass.”
He chuckles. “Does she know we’re trying?”
“Nope. That’s why you’re still alive.”
Our waitress approaches our table, steaming plates in hand. I give her a murderous look now that our food’s here and she can’t spit in it. Working in the waitressing business has taught me as much. It also taught me you don’t ogle other girls’ boyfriend right in front of them.
But he’s not your boyfriend, my common sense kindly reminds me.
I only get a month.
Can the waitress tell? Does she think I’m his pathetic friend who only gets a month? I consider grabbing her and forcing Kent to explain that we’re trying, we’re trying damn it, but I keep my butt in my seat where it belongs. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.
When she leaves I grab my fork and shove a bite of pancake into my mouth to keep it busy.
“Should I be worried?” he asks, licking syrup from his fork.
“Yes. Becca isn’t like me. She knows who you are, by the way.”
“Great. I wonder what she’s witnessed.” He tries to narrow it down, but of course he can’t. “How does she know me?”
“I don’t know, but she knows you well.”
“Did we…?” He looks sick.
“No,” I assure him.
“Maybe I know someone she does. Name a couple of her friends.”
“Mandy? She’s known her since high school.” He shakes his head. “Kenneth? He’s been her friend for a long time also.” Another shake. “Well there’s also Gwen. They’ve been girlfriends for a long time.”
His face pales. “Gwen Henderson?”
“Yeah…”
“Shit,” he mutters. “No wonder she doesn’t like me.”
“What happened with Gwen?”
“Eat your food.” He picks up his fork and takes a bite.
I feel sick. “Tell me.”
“You don’t want to know. Trust me. I’m trying not to be that man anymore, remember?”
It must be low down if he doesn’t want to tell me. He’s always so honest.
“You have to remember I was hurting bad then. Willow hadn’t been gone long and I wanted to punish every woman I could get my hands on.”
“Are you punishing me? Because it sure feels that way.”
He cringes. “You’re the last person I want to punish. Don’t say stuff like that to me. I’ve never wanted to be better more than I do when I’m with you. I’ve been torturing myself about it.”
“Tell me, or Becca will.”
“Can we do it in the car?”
“Sure.” My tone is dripping acid all over my pancakes. “Eat, Kent.”
For the rest of our breakfast we eat in tension-filled silence. It taints every bite, until my meal is tasteless and unwanted. What did Kent do now? How much more of this will I have to endure? Although I knew exactly who I was involving myself with long before I got involved. I have no one to blame but myself. There are signs, and then there’s walking in on a man having sex twice. Kent has never lied about who he is. I saw him the moment he opened his door.
When we get in the car, I face him. “Talk.”
“Things got out of hand, that’s it.”
I gawk at him. “Kent.”
“Fine. You want to know what happened. I beat her ass.” He pulls over and puts the car in park and then turns to me with a defeated expression. “You want me to walk home?”
I’m confused. “You…hit her?”
“I slapped her, pulled her hair, and left my mark. But she wanted it. She begged me for it. That kinky shit was her idea. Not mine. Then I slap her too hard and all of a sudden she wants to stop and it’s my fault and she’s screaming at me to go.”
My stomach sinks. It’s on the car floor and Kent’s kicking at it with his boots. “You slapped her?”
“She asked me to,” he insists.
“But you did it?” I can’t even look at him.
“Yes. I did it. And she was sucking my dick while I was doing it. Remember that part.”
I squeeze my eyes shut in agony. “Don’t move,” I warn him. I find my phone from my purse and call Becca. “I need to know one thing.”
“What?” she snaps, still pissed.
“Kent and Gwen.”
She gasps quietly. “Did he tell you?”
I start to sway. “So it did happen?”
“It happened. Th
e bastard roughed her up.”
“But they were having sex.”
“So!” she growls. “So what if she wanted it a little rough? It doesn’t give him the right to slap her.”
“She asked for it.”
“That’s not what she told me.”
“What did she tell you?”
“They were having sex and he wanted it rough. When she declined he slapped the shit out of her.”
“No. I don’t believe it.” I’m shaking my head and staring at Kent in horror.
He looks like he knows exactly what I’m hearing.
“Is he there?” she guesses. “Give him the phone. Give Kent the phone!”
Shaking, I hand it over. “She wants to talk to you.”
He takes the phone and holds it to his ear. His face is pale, frightened and reproachful at the same time as he listens to what Becca tells him. “Good, now listen to me. I like your sister. A lot. All that shit with Gwen didn’t happen the way she says. I don’t abuse women. But she asked me for it and I was caught up in the moment. Should I have done it to her? No. Of course not, but I have my own issues.” He pauses to listen to her. “She’s a big girl. She can make her own choices.” And then he hangs up and hands me back my phone, cutting off her loud angry reply. “Who do you believe, Rain? Me or some chick that got mad at me for doing exactly what she wanted?”
“What did Becca say?”
“She’s going to shoot me in my dick if I don’t leave you alone. Does she own a gun?”
That makes me laugh uncontrollably hard until my stomach hurts. “Yes. She got one after someone tried to break into our apartment.”
He pales further. “She really doesn’t like me.”
“Do you blame her? I don’t like you right now either.”
“Do you believe me? It was kinky sex gone wrong. I would never actually hit a woman. I don’t want to punish them that badly.”
“Did she call the police?”
“She didn’t do anything because she’s lying. She couldn’t handle it and turned it around on me. Do you believe me? You have to believe me.”
My Sweet Demise (Demise #1) Page 19
