Deepest Scars: A Being Me Stand-Alone Companion Novel

by Tricia Copeland

  We talk a little about what they’ve been up to, and then they decide to get another round of drinks. I look around the room, wondering if Juan, Mario, or Dave made it to the party.

  “Let’s go outside.” I motion to the double doors. “I want to find my other guys.”

  We find Juan and Mario in the hot tub. I bend down to greet them.

  “Hey, you’re not commando, are you?” Juan yells.

  “Dude, no. Gross. I got shorts on.”

  “Yeah, probably those preppy boy Izod shorts.” Mario laughs.

  “I don’t get why you guys think I’m so into style.”

  “You’re always wearing those conservative white people clothes. Not like t-shirts and stuff,” Mario continues.

  “Talk about stereotyping. Hey, you remember Liz.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Juan then Mario offer her their hands.

  “Still hanging with our boy?” Mario asks.

  “Guess so. He’s not so bad.” Liz smiles at me.

  “Hey, Carlos tell you about the call backs?” Juan asks.

  “Yeah, I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”

  “You’ll be all right, man.” Mario raises a drink to his lips.

  I ask how they’ve been, and they tell me to come work out with them. I’m stiff when I stand and stretch my back.

  “Should we dance?” I ask Liz, placing my hand on her back.

  “That would be fun.” She hooks her arm in mine.

  We weave through the crowd to the dance floor. The speakers blast a hip-hop rap tune. I’m surprised when Liz falls into step with the crowd. I wouldn’t have guessed it to be her genre of music, but she seems to know some moves. As for me, I try my best but feel self-conscious.

  “You need another drink.” Liz laughs at me.

  “I’m too white for this,” I yell into her ear.

  She takes my hand and pulls me further into the crowd. In the middle, there’s barely room to move, and I have no choice but to go with the flow. Liz seems to be caught up in the rhythm, and I’m glad she’s smiling. After two more songs, the beat slows. I wrap one arm around her.

  She holds her hair up, fanning her neck with her other hand.

  “Want to go outside?” I cut my eyes to the door.

  “No, I like dancing.” She smiles.

  When the song ends, we head to the bar and snag glasses of water from the attendant.

  “Here he is.” I feel a hand on my back. “Carlos said you were here somewhere.”

  I spin to see Dave and offer a hand.

  “What no hugs for your main guy?” He holds his arms out.

  “I’m seriously soaked with sweat right now.”

  “I’m good then.” He offers his hand.

  Reintroducing him to Liz, we talk about the end of the season and outlook for the next. “Hey, I’m getting married New Years. You have to text me your address.”

  “What, is she here?” I scan the crowd.

  “No, man, she hates stuff like this. I only came for a few minutes. It’s good to see you.” He slaps my back again, and we shake hands.

  “You too. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Great, man. Good to see you again, Liz.” He walks towards another group of people.

  “So, what next, you ready to head out, or you up for more dancing?”

  “I could dance more.” Liz tips her head at the crowded mash-up of bodies.

  Her moves change with the styles of music, and I follow her lead. The DJ announces his last song, and Liz points to the entrance. I nod and follow her through the crowd. I notice Eva, Mia, Katie, and Michelle at the edge of the crowd and stop to say goodbye.

  Each of them give me kisses and a hug, save Mia, who stands hand to hip, looking between the ceiling and her nails.

  “Carlos is by the pool.” Eva points to the back of the house.

  “Great. Good to see you.”

  We find Carlos talking with a few other teammates. They’re first stringers. I haven’t been introduced before, so he puts a word in for me, and we chat for a few minutes.

  “Well, we’re out.”

  “No, no, it’s not even one, stay, get in the hot tub, something,” Carlos urges.

  “Oh, man, that’s tempting, but we’re hiking tomorrow, so…”

  “Okay, we’re good. Don’t be a stranger.” Carlos pulls me in for a hug.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I pat his back.

  “And you…” He points to Liz. “You gotta keep this one out of trouble.”

  “I’m trying.” She laughs.

  We weave through the crowd and out the front entrance. I hand the valet attendant my stub. He finds the keys and jogs into the darkness.

  “Mia had some eyes for you,” Liz states.

  I meet her gaze. “What?”

  “You’d have to be a whanaker not to notice. She was not happy. She is so clean on, I can’t believe you didn’t like her.”

  Leaning over, I look into her eyes. “I need a translation.”

  “You know, maybe I’m racked.”

  Clearing my throat, I look at my shoes. “If that means drunk. I think maybe so.”

  “She and Celeste are totally hot!”

  “Why are you hung up on my exes tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know why you like me?”

  “Does it matter why?”

  “There has to be a reason.”

  “Why do you like me?”

  She steps towards me so we are barely an inch apart. “You’re sweet, sexy, caring, nice, clean on, and fun. Anyone would be a muppet not to be into you.”

  “Yeah, all that Irish terminology?” Taking her hands, I wait till she focuses on me. “I hope you remember this tomorrow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you drank that much. I watched you for a month before I even talked to you. You’re gracious, humble, smart”—I trace my finger down her nose—“I have no idea what you just said, but I never want to be on the wrong side of your temper.” I back up, realizing maybe she’s looking for an out by pointing out others I could be dating. “You’re not trying to break up with me, are you?”

  She shakes her head, and when she looks at me, her eyes are wide. “No. Sorry, it’s late. I’m racked, like I said. I think I’m a chancer in your world.”

  “A chancer? We’re way off topic.” I grab her hand. “I don’t care about that stuff. Did you see my dance moves? They were definitely inferior to yours.”

  “I have my sister Marie to thank for those.”

  I grip her shoulders. “I asked you to be my girl because I want to be with you. I’m not the kind of guy that does that lightly or changes my mind. I felt like this was worth seeing where it was going, that we maybe could be something.” My truck pulls up beside us. “It’s late. Let’s get you home, and we’ll talk tomorrow, if you want.”

  Opening the door for her, I jog to the driver’s side, feeling like I’ve been slapped in the face. Maybe she’s getting cold feet or something. I mean, it happens. The thing with her step-dad had me feeling that way for an hour or so. The last month has been intense, so I kind of get it.

  “Well, what about your exes? I mean if we were in Camden, who would I be jealous of?”

  “No one.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

  I touch my nose. “My point exactly. I didn’t even date Celeste or Mia. We hung out one time.”

  “Chad is his name,” she blurts out as I turn onto the road.

  “The ex?”

  “Yeah, the ex. But you wouldn’t be jealous of him. I broke it off. He was a real stink.”

  “So, I’d want to beat him up?”

  “Why am I telling you this stuff? I think I may be langered.” She bobs her head up and down.

  “Langered? Translation, please.”

  “Drunk.” She rests her head against the window. “Delete everything I said tonight.”

  “It was an intense night.” I reach over and take her hand. “I hope you weren’t miserable the whole time.”

&nbs
p; She shakes her head. “I liked dancing.”

  She’s silent for the rest of the ride. I’m stuck with wondering what the Chad guy did. At her apartment, I walk her upstairs and wait while she opens the door.

  “Okay, I’ll…” I take a step back, but she pulls me to her.

  “Stay.”

  I slip in the door behind her and lock it behind me.

  She walks towards her room, and I wait in the middle of the living room.

  At her doorway, she spins to face me. “They wear those sexy clothes and all. I’m not like that.”

  “Did you think I wanted you to be? You look amazing tonight. You always look great.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t wear those low-cut tops.”

  Walking to her, I take her hands. “I don’t care. You’re thinking about this too much. Let me rub your back, help you unwind.”

  “That would be great. I’m going to change.” She enters her room.

  “Yeah, me too. I’m going to grab my clothes from the truck.” I spin and slide the keys from the table. Jogging down to the truck, I grab my bag. She must’ve had more than I thought to drink. That’s the only thing I can figure. I feel bad I didn’t realize she’d had too much.

  Back in her apartment, I duck in the bathroom. I shed my toga and replace it with a t-shirt. See, no Polo, I think to myself. I brush my teeth and wait on the futon for her. When she exits her room, she’s wearing a t-shirt and soft shorts.

  “Will you stay tonight?” She takes my hand and pulls me to a stand.

  “Of course. But are you sure?” I rub my hand down the back of her head.

  “I don’t want anything to happen. But, I don’t want to be alone.”

  “That’s fine.” I place my hands on her shoulders and run them down her arms. “Let me set up the futon for you.

  She slumps to the floor. I pull out the futon and find sheets and a blanket in the linen closet.

  “Come on.” I hold out my hand and pull her to a standing position.

  “Why am I so tired?” She lies down.

  I sit down beside her. “I think you had too much to drink.”

  “Oh, this is wonderful. I’m so scattered. Why are you still here?” She lowers her head into her hands.

  “Because you asked me to stay.”

  “No monkey business.” She wags a finger at me.

  “None.” I hold up my palms.

  She spins onto her stomach, and I massage her shoulders and knead my hands down her back. When I stop, she lifts her head. “Just sleep with me.”

  I lie down beside her and wrap my arm around her waist. “Goodnight.” I kiss the back of her head.

  “Goodnight,” she whispers.

  Lying there thinking of her warm skin next to mine, it’s hard to relax. But eventually, I do.

  The sound of a water gurgling through a coffee machine wakes me. The smell of fresh ground beans wafts to my nose. I open my eyes, and light pours in through the sliding door in the kitchen beyond. I figure it’s after seven and push up on my elbow. Scanning the room, I look for Liz.

  Seeing light under her bedroom door, I tiptoe to the restroom. Then, I pad to the kitchen and out onto the deck. Brad sits across from me on his.

  “Good morning. Late night?” he calls.

  “A bit.” I nod.

  “Haven’t seen you over this early before.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head and place my hands on the railing, letting the sun warm my skin.

  The sound of light footsteps alerts me to her presence, and I spin to see Liz, now wearing a sweatshirt and the soft pants, walking towards me.

  “Good morning.” I wrap my arm around her and kiss her head. “How are you?”

  “Grateful I process alcohol quickly.”

  “Rough night, eh?” Brad calls.

  Liz jumps and spins to face him. “You’re such a lurker.” She grabs my hand and pulls me inside, sliding the door shut. “Did you know he was there?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I was about to say something. He caught me off guard too.”

  Pressing her hand to her forehead, she paces away and back to me. “I’m sorry about last night.” She lets out a breath. “How did you sleep?”

  “Fine.” I nod.

  “I slept like the dead. Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” I motion to the table, and we take seats beside each other.

  “I’m really not that insecure person you witnessed last night. I drank too much. I wanted you to know. I trust you. You’ve done nothing to indicate you’re a bad guy, and it wasn’t fair of me.”

  “No worries.” I shake my head. “You’re allowed emotions, fears, whatever. I mean this is still new. I do need an Irish slang dictionary though.”

  She covers her eyes with her hands. “My Irish came out?”

  “In force. I need to know what whanaker, muppet, racked, stink, and clean on mean.”

  “Ugh.” She slaps her hand to her forehead. The coffee pot beeps, and she crosses to the counter. Retrieving mugs from the cabinet, she pours two cups and spins to face me. “A whanaker is a fool, muppet is the same, racked is tired, stink is something horrible, and clean on is good looking. What about you?” She crosses to stand in front of me. “You Mister Totally Secure?”

  “No one is completely.” I take a sip of the warm liquid. “I guess I’m waiting to see where this goes. Being with you makes me happy, so I’m willing to tough out the uncomfortable parts.”

  “And you know this from what long-term relationship?” She takes her seat beside me.

  “You met my family. We’re loud and crazy and tell it like it is.”

  She stands up and pushes her chair in. “Well, I like it, and I like you.” She kisses my cheek. “I think being at Carlos’s set me off. You keep talking about Doug like he was such a god, but you were completely comfortable with all those A-listers last night. You were VP of your fraternity, co-captain of the rowing team. You’re like Jeff and Carlos, leaders. I let it intimidate me.”

  I stand and take both her hands. “You’re an amazingly brave woman, moving out here by yourself, tackling river rapids and mountain biking. I can honestly say you are the coolest person I ever dated.”

  “Thanks.” She pushes up on her toes and kisses me. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving?” I approach the refrigerator.

  We make eggs and toast. Sitting to eat, I ask about our plans for hiking near Tucson. She’s still up for it, so we make sandwiches. We fill water bottles and load a backpack.

  “Do you need to get clothes?” she asks as we start to head out.

  I’m in my shorts and a t-shirt, but if we’re hiking, I figure they’re getting dirty anyway. “Nah, I’ll need a shower later, for sure.”

  She must’ve been up well before me as the truck fills with the smell of soap once the doors are closed.

  “Would you mind going shopping with me this afternoon when we get back?” Liz asks as we pull onto the main road.

  “Sure, what are you buying?”

  “A bed. I think I need a real one.”

  “Maybe we should hike somewhere closer to home if you want to get back in time to cruise some shops this afternoon.”

  “Oh, good idea.” She taps on her phone screen and finds the Ironwood National Monument with hiking trails only an hour and a half away.

  It’s almost ten when we park at the trail head. We take a two-hour hike and find a rock by our truck for sandwiches. My body aches from the late night and dancing, and I down an extra bottle of water.

  On the drive back, the discussion circles around shopping options, bed types, and schedules for the upcoming week. Showers weigh in as mandatory prerequisites, and I drop her off and then head to my place. I shower and change into jeans and a shirt, realizing that my closet is full of ironed button-ups. Within five minutes of my shave, I hear a knock on the door. Liz’s hair smells of rain and flowers as she passes in front of me.

  “I know, curly wet hair, not the best look, but I figure we only ha
ve a few hours. What kind of bed do you have? Mind if I take a look?”

  “No.” I motion to my bedroom, happy it’s picked up and I washed sheets the other day.

  “Wow, this is huge!” Liz exclaims as she enters the room. “What size is it?”

  “It’s a California King. But I’m tall. You don’t need such a long bed. You could probably get away with a double.”

  “It’s an investment, I mean. They’re supposed to last five to ten years, right?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Are you buying a headboard and footboard?”

  “Oh, no, just the mattress, box spring, and a frame.” She circles my bed, bending over to look underneath.

  “You know, bed salespeople are basically like car salesmen.”

  “Why do you think you’re coming with?”

  I shoot her a thumbs-up. “Got it now.”

  “Just act like we’re engaged or at least buying together.” She struts from the room.

  On the drive, she tells me how her dad thinks she should get a twin.

  “You could go that route,” I agree.

  “But it’s not thinking long term. If I’m going to invest, then I should get something that I can have for several years.”

  “I’m here to help you get whatever you want.”

  “Okay, I want a queen then.”

  We park and walk in the first store on the list. The salesman is super cheesy, and we move to the next place. We hit the four she’s found and then double back to the best deal. She signs all the paperwork, and they schedule to deliver the next day.

  “I can take the day off to meet them,” I tell her as we walk to the car.

  “Really? Cause I’m kind of freaking out. Brad is working, and I don’t want to take a sick day.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll hang out and wait for them.” In my mind, I imagine buying her a huge flat screen TV, gaming system, and sofa, to get through the four hours of waiting for the mattress delivery.

  The next weeks echo the prior ones, with her freak out seeming to have solidified our relationship further. We spend almost every night together and at least one day on the weekend. As Thanksgiving nears, my anxiety about the team position ratchets up.

  “You’re driving me nuts. You’ve got to stop with the knee bouncing,” Mitchell complains as we eat lunch the Thursday before Thanksgiving.