by Danica Avet
Shame, at my inability to pay rent and from Nathan’s treatment of me, leaves me unable to look at Anders. The man my mom brought into our lives doesn’t have the same compunction. If anything, he’s glad to have an audience, glad to have someone to vent about his favorite subject: Me.
“Look man, I’m sorry you have to be a witness to this, but if you’re gonna be her study partner or whatever, you need to realize that Lena’s flaky as fuck. This is the fourth time she’s tried to shortchange me on her rent and she’s only been living here for six months. Can you believe that shit? So if you’re counting on her to help you with your classes, you’re fucked. Cause if she can’t even keep her commitments to her parents, she won’t keep them to you.”
My protest lodges in my throat. What’s the use arguing? Nathan’s always right. Ask my mom.
“She’s not my study partner,” Anders says in the same low, controlled voice. “She’s my girl and I won’t have anyone talking to her like that. Got that? Man?”
Those words. My heart stops and I finally look at him. He’s still angry, but it’s all directed at Nathan, who looks shocked. I can’t blame him because I feel as though I’ve stepped into some alternate universe. No one, and I mean no one, has ever spoken up for me. I used to try. But when no one has your back, when no one supports you even when they know you’re right, you give up. At least I had. It was easier to just duck my head and pretend it doesn’t matter. But it does.
So for Anders to stand there and defend me… Is it any wonder I fall in love with him completely?
As though he can read my mind, he looks over at me, his blue eyes so fierce, so protective, but when they meet mine, they soften. And that’s when I know. I’m not in this alone.
Anders holds out his hand, silently telling me to come to him. It’s easy to walk over to where he stands. It’s even easier to slide my hand into his, his grip giving me the same sense of security, of safety and belonging I’ve felt since our rocky start. Facing Nathan as a part of a unit instead of alone, I finally feel brave enough to look my stepfather in the eye.
“I promise I’ll have the rest of the rent by Monday,” I say quietly, some habits hard to break. “I’ll bring it to Mom after work.”
But the man I’ve known for the last nine years, eight of which were spent under the same roof, doesn’t argue anymore. His beady gaze darts between me and Anders, something dark churning in his expression before he smiles, showing off his chaw-stained teeth.
“Hey, no problem, girl,” he says with a quick laugh. “You drop it off whenever you get it.” His gaze flicks to Anders, who hasn’t moved. “So y’all are dating, huh? Well, I’m sure Opal’ll be happy to hear that. She’ll probably want to have y’all over for dinner one night, so when you drop the rest of the rent off, make plans with her, yeah?” Nathan smiles again, but his gaze is too cold, too calculating for it to be sincere. “Y’all have a goodnight.”
We don’t move as he saunters out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. I hear him whistling to himself as he descends the stairs, then the distant sound of the gate separating my apartment from the main house opening and closing. He’s gone, yet we still don’t move. I’m terrified that by moving, the spell Anders has cast over us will break, that he’ll suddenly turn and say, “I just said that to get him off your back.” I wish we could forget Nathan ever showed up, that we could go from the mound of pillows on the floor to right now with us holding hands.
But, as usually happens, my wishes go unfulfilled when Anders turns to me. I try to hold out not looking at him, except it’s hard to resist him, even when all he’s doing is staring at me, patiently waiting for me to answer his unspoken question.
Nervous and embarrassed by the last fifteen minutes, I tuck my hair behind my ear and finally turn my head. “So, my stepfather’s a bit of an asshole,” I say with a shrug, before looking down at our joined hands. “And he hates my guts.”
I should have known he wouldn’t let me hide. His left hand cups my chin, gently tilting my head back until we’re eye-to-eye. “Tell me.”
Anders
Lena wanted to sit at the table while we talked, but I need to hold her. She follows me to the bed of pillows, and all it takes is a single tug of her arm to get her right where she belongs: in my lap. Wrapping my arms around her, I do my best to ignore my dick’s renewed interest in her.
“What’s the deal with him?” I ask, when she doesn’t say anything.
I can guess, but I want to hear it from her. I’ve met a lot of men like Nathan. Men who’re so insecure about themselves, they bully everyone around them. And Lena seems to be his favorite target, judging by the way she barely even flinched at his words. My anger swells again, but I push it back. This isn’t about me. It’s about her and how I can protect her.
“I was almost eight when Dad started getting tired more easily,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “But he wouldn’t go to the doctor. He and Mom used to fight about it, but he was stubborn.” I see a fleeting smile curve her lips before they go soft and sad again. “One day he was cutting grass and just went down.” A tear streaks down her cheek. I wipe it away, but another quickly replaces it. “He was only twenty-nine, but when the doctors did the autopsy, they found he had a heart abnormality. He was there, then he was just gone.”
The heartbreak in her voice makes me hurt for her. I press a kiss to her temple, even knowing it wouldn’t do much to help her grief. “You were close to him,” I say to get her talking again.
“Yeah,” she says with another smile. She waves her hands at the records. “Those were all his; some he bought himself, but most he inherited when my grandfather passed away. Whenever he was home, we’d sit in his hobby room and listen to records for hours and hours. He’d tell me which bands were his dad’s favorites, where he first heard the songs we were listening to, things like that. And he had signed band posters and handbills on the wall, some of them older than him. Those were our moments, just ours.” She sighs. “After he died, I don’t think Mom knew what to do with me. It isn’t that she wasn’t a good mom or anything, but I was definitely a daddy’s girl and with him gone, we were both hurting so much, we sort of just drifted apart. She started—I don’t know, drinking and popping pills, things the doctors gave her. Two years later, she started dating Nathan, a year after that, they were married and everything went wrong.
“He wasn’t Dad. I made sure he was aware of how much he wasn’t like Dad.” She huffs out a bitter laugh. “I was such a brat to him but, then again, he never really tried to bridge that gap. Then he started selling Dad’s things, which only made things worse.” Lena stops talking to look up at me, her eyes wide and sad. “He’s addicted to gambling, always making bets he can’t cover, so he started selling things around the house.” Her eyes become glass and she looks away. “None of it mattered because I had Dad’s records and the stereo system he put together one piece at a time. When things were bad with Nathan and Mom, I’d listen to those records. That’s how I felt close to him, almost like he wasn’t gone at all.”
“Lena.” I don’t know what to say. I already see where this is going.
“When I was thirteen, I came home from school and everything was normal.” Her lips tremble and another tear slides down her soft cheek. “It was the day after the Super Bowl. I remember I could barely sleep the night before with Nathan shouting at the television. It didn’t matter because I wanted to listen to Dad’s records. Except when I went to his room, everything except these records were gone. The entire stereo system, the autographed posters, and some of the rarest albums, all of it was gone.”
I hug her tighter. I’ve never had a close attachment to anything or anyone, except Rien who pushed me away to protect me. I couldn’t say I understand what she went through because I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel for her. It’s obvious her dad was her hero and Nathan took something from her that she’d probably never get back. No, it wasn’t terribly tragic, but then who can
judge something like that? She lost her dad not once, but twice. And the second time was due to one man’s greed and addiction.
“I confronted him when he got home that night,” she confesses, resting her head on my shoulder. “It was… It was ugly. I was screaming at him, at Mom, and he just punched me.” I stiffen, my heart stopping. “I’d never been hit before and I remember standing there bleeding from my mouth, waiting for Mom to say something, do something, but she didn’t. She just told me I shouldn’t disrespect my elders and oh, by the way, they’re selling the house and we’d be moving. After that—” she shrugs, “I just stopped fighting, stopped caring about being home. They did their thing, I did mine which was band and school and got out of there as soon as I could, although obviously I didn’t get very far.”
That I could understand. Getting away from the poison of your home life. “Did he ever hit you again?” I ask in a near growl. The thought of that fucker hurting her…
Her watery chuckle is soft. “No, I hit another growth spurt after that, making me taller than him.”
She didn’t need to tell me the rest because I could guess. Once Lena towered over Nathan, he used his words like a weapon, keeping her under his control in another way. Now her mask makes more sense, the self-consciousness she can never really hide. Her stepfather spent the last five years brainwashing her, making her feel like she’s a nobody, that no one would want her, that she wasn’t special.
It’s my job to make her realize he was wrong. Very fucking wrong.
“Anders?” she asks after a while, her body cuddling into me. The perfect fit.
“Yeah.”
“Did you mean that earlier? What you told Nathan?” Her voice is soft, hesitant, as though she isn’t sure she wants to know the answer.
“Which part?” I ask, stalling for time. I know what she’s referring to. My claim of her being my girl.
Then she says it. “About me being your girl.”
I clear my throat, blood suddenly rushing through my veins as my adrenaline spikes. For a moment, I actually think I’ve lost all ability to speak. If I say yes, will that make me look psycho? But if I say no, she’ll think I don’t like her when I’m damn near in love with her already.
Don’t be a chickenshit, Anders Mikael De Groot. Man the fuck up!
“I’d like you to be,” I finally manage to say through the tightness in my chest and throat. My heart’s pounding so goddamn hard, I know she has to feel and hear it.
She didn’t speak for a while, making me nervous as hell. My muscles twitch with her impending rejection, my brain trying to think how I could extract myself from the apartment while not burning any bridges with her. I could just say I needed to study. Yeah, that might work.
Finally, she turns her head, burying her face against my chest, but when she speaks, I hear every word clear as a bell. “I’d like that, Anders.”
Fuck. Yeah!
Lena
Friday
I can’t think of anything better than cuddling with Anders while we watch Guardians of the Galaxy—at my insistence. Hello? My boyfriend’s last name is Groot. We kind of have to watch it. Except maybe making out with Anders. His lips… Oh my god, his lips are like… Well, I can’t even explain it, but when it comes to kissing, he’s an all-star. I know I don’t have any experience beyond what we’ve done together, but that’s perfectly fine because his kisses just about knock me on my butt. Every single time.
If I had any concerns about Anders suddenly turning into Dr. Octopus or something because due to our new relationship status, they’ve been laid to rest this week. Other than being “his girl” and him being “my guy”, nothing has changed. Okay, that isn’t entirely true.
Blushing has become the norm for me lately. He and I have only been officially dating since Saturday night, but since then we’ve kissed. A lot. Like… Nearly every time we see each other, whether it’s in private or in the middle of campus, he kisses me. Sometimes it’s just a brush of lips, sometimes it’s with so much passion I’m left wondering how much trouble I’d get into if I jumped him.
Maybe other girls would be upset about staying in on a Friday night, but I don’t mind. I don’t have much money left after paying Nathan the rest of the rent and I’m only working one shift this weekend. I managed to scrape together enough tips from Sunday and Monday’s shifts to cover what I owe, bringing it over to Mom as soon as I got off of work. To my surprise, even though it was close to eleven at night, Anders insisted on coming with me. Not that Mom seemed to care about anything. Not the money, not my new boyfriend, or even the house, which looked like a disaster. I don’t know what to do with her, not that she even listens to me.
Anders didn’t seem to notice, which makes me wonder what his family’s like. He’s been pretty closed-mouthed about his life before Sauvage State, but I’m hoping he’ll eventually talk with me about it. Sharing my craptastic life since Nathan came into it eased some of the heaviness from my chest and shoulders, as though having someone else know about it freed me from it. Or maybe it’s just because it’s Anders.
Still, I suppose I can’t complain about Mom’s lack of interest. Nathan left me a note on Wednesday that he fixed the leaking pipe in my bathroom while I was at school. I’ve been telling him about that leak for weeks, but he didn’t fix it until after the confrontation with Anders. I don’t know, maybe Anders’ protective attitude toward me and his veiled threat made my stepfather decide to stop being such a prick. I doubt it, but I’m not questioning it either.
“Savage is having a party tonight, if you feel like getting out for a bit,” Anders says suddenly, as though we were in the middle of a conversation about our plans for the evening. He shrugs and glances down at me. “He’s been hounding me to go to one ever since summer.”
I frown at the television screen. My friends have become Anders’ friends and his have become mine since the two of us spend so much time together. I like Beau. He’s funny, charming, and cute, but there’s a wildness to him that scares me. Kind of like Ivan the Terrible, you can tell he has something deeper inside that makes him a little dangerous. And thinking of Ivan, I haven’t seen him since the day he spoke to me in class, which is okay with me, but Beau is one of Anders’ good friends, which means I see him a lot.
Going to one of his parties most likely means alcohol, pretty girls, and football players. A combination that leaves me with a sick stomach. Would being at that party make Anders think of all the girls he could be, or has been with? I have no doubt he’s been with a lot of girls. I mean, he’d have them clamoring all over him even if he wasn’t a football player. Would we see a bunch of them he’s been with? What would I say if one of them confronted me?
“We don’t have to go,” he says as I torment myself.
“No, no, we should go,” I say with a bright smile, as though nothing would thrill me more. “What time does it start?” Because I’ll have to actually fix myself up. There’s no way in hell I’m going to a college party with my hot guy without looking like we belong together.
He shrugs again. “Now? I wasn’t really planning on going, even forgot about it until now.”
I gape at him. “I have to get ready first,” I stammer.
His dazzling blue gaze sweeps over me, starting at my hair, which is thrown into a haphazard ponytail, and ending at my bare toes. I’m wearing the shorts I wore for practice and a baggy T-shirt. My band non-performance uniform. I probably stink too, but the heat in those eyes when they meet mine again makes me shiver.
“You look beautiful.” His voice is gruff, the way it usually gets right after one of our kissing sessions, and my face explodes with heat.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I duck my head. “Well, I still need to shower and change, but we can go after that?”
He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, then, “Okay, I guess if you’re changing, I should as well. I’ll run back to the dorms and do that, then pick you up in… thirty minutes?”
My laugh is pro
bably a lot louder than it should be and when I look up at him, at his confused expression, I lean forward and press a quick kiss to his soft lips. Pulling back again, his confusion has morphed into pleased bemusement. Probably because this is the first time I’ve kissed him.
“That’s funny, babe, but girls need more time than that to get ready,” I say in a shaky voice, thinking I’d much rather stay home and kiss him some more.
His brow furrows adorably, but he nods anyway. “Okay, well I’ll be back in…an hour?”
I can probably manage to get ready in an hour, so I smile. “That’s perfect.”
Before I can even move from the bed of pillows I’ve made for us, Anders’ arm is around my waist, keeping me pressed to him, and his spare hand is in my hair, guiding my mouth back to his. This kiss isn’t a peck. It isn’t quick. It’s slow and full of intent. That intent being to drive me crazy with want for him. His tongue teases me, taunts me, and practically makes me climb him like a tree so I can get closer.
Big, callused hands roam over my back, my hips, and butt, making me wish we were naked so I could feel them on bare skin. Everything in me strains for more, to take this further than we ever have before. The ache between my legs urges me to rock against him, against that hardness pressing into me, and when I do it’s like a bolt of lightning straight to my core.
“Oh,” I breathe into his mouth, tilting my head to the left. And I do it again, rubbing myself against him. A whimper escapes me as another bolt of pleasure makes my inner muscles quiver, that ache growing even stronger.
“Lena,” Anders groans against my lips, his big hands cupping my butt, helping me set the pace, one that has my head falling back, breaking off our kiss as those electric shocks come faster.
