She walks to the sink and combs her hair with her fingers. She’s wearing a gray jersey halter sundress, exposing her soft shoulders. Her favorite color, orange, shoots up from the hem onto the flowing skirt that hits just at her knees. Simple silver hoop earrings and sandals complete her easy sexy look. It’s been a week since we had any physical contact. I can’t resist any longer, so I move in close, wrap my arms around her waist, and nuzzle her neck. Her body immediately molds to mine, leaning back against my chest. The electrical volt that passes between us is overwhelming. My pulse picks up and I feel Mabry’s doing the same.
I let my lips glide up and down her neck. “I’ve missed you so much, Sweetness.”
“Brad, please…,” she whispers.
“Please what?” I ask against her neck.
“Stop showing up.”
“I was invited to the book club brunch.”
“You crashed the brunch and charmed the panties off of everyone sitting at the table.”
“Everyone? Does that mean I could move my fingers up your thigh, under your dress, and inside of you without the obstacle of those pesky lace panties you wear?” I inch my fingers up her inner thigh.
“Brad…,” she moans breathlessly.
“You could watch yourself in the mirror as I make you come, Mabry. Watching you come is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” My hand disappears under her dress. “God, I’ve missed the feel of you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers.
I feel her hips rock slightly against my hand as it continues to travel up her leg. I’m so lost in her body, her scent, and her voice that my emotions just start pouring out of me. “I love you so much, Mabry.”
My words snap her out of the moment. I feel her body stiffen and pull away from me. I remain standing in the same spot and watch her in the mirror as she walks across the room and turns to me. “Brad, I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I told you from day one there can’t be anything serious between us.”
“Why? Why can’t there be anything serious between us? You owe me a fucking explanation.”
“I don’t owe you anything. I’ve been upfront and honest from day one.”
I turn to face her. “Bullshit! You’ve been anything but upfront and honest with me. You want me as much as I want you and I don’t mean for just a quick fuck.”
“Is your ego so big that you can’t accept the fact that somebody doesn’t want you?”
“Yeah, I can accept the fact that somebody doesn’t want me, but I can’t accept the fact that it’s you,” I say before walking away from her.
I spend the rest of my Sunday cleaning my place, doing laundry, and trying to get Brad out of my head. I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. I know I keep telling him to stay away, but deep down I don’t want him to. I’ve missed being held in his arms and lying next to him. I’ve missed his flirting, charm, and that smile he believes gets him anything he wants. Which for the most part it does. I miss the way he makes me feel worth the effort. I’ve felt lonely in the past, but I’ve never had this ache inside like I do when he’s not around. Both times I saw him today I immediately felt lighter and excited. He is so much fun when he flirts. And when he looks at me with those warm beautiful eyes that hold so much honest emotion and tell me how he feels is when I melt. I almost gave in to him when we were in the restroom. It felt incredible to have his arms around me again. I feel safe in them. I just can’t subject him to my life in any real way.
I never knew what brought on my mom’s depression. To me she was fine one minute, and the next she was lying in her own blood. She may as well have slit my dad’s wrists that day too because he died along with her. I could never do that to someone I love, And I do… I do love Brad. What would I do if he got tired or bored with me, and left? I know he says he loves me, but he’s been with a lot of women. Does he even know what being in love is? Would it be too much of a trigger to open myself up and be that vulnerable? It’s hard enough now just pushing him away. If we were together and he left me, would I become just like my mom? No, I had to be strong and keep my distance from him. It was the best thing for both of us.
While repeating these thoughts, my anxiety builds along with the desire to bang my head. It’s seeping into me and difficult to ignore. I’ve succumb to it so many times this week. The stress of seeing Brad every day is overwhelming. Knowing how much I need and want him, coupled with the intense anger that I still hold against my parents, had me caving to the relief the physical pain and the numbness give me. I need a distraction. I have to fight the pull of it. The other night was one of the worst times I’d had in a long while. After my date with Ten and seeing Brad at my door I came in and immediately started banging. I don’t know the length of time in minutes that I banged my head against the edge of the counter. I never know the length of time in minutes. I measure the time frame in how dazed I feel. I thought once about setting a timer, an alarm, to keep it under some sort of control, but I never have. I scared myself that night. I banged so hard and for so long I think I blacked out for a moment. I remember the last strike and then waking up on the floor of the kitchen, with an intense throbbing in my head.
I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for the past half hour trying to do research on a case I’m assisting with, hoping to focus my mind on something besides my anxiety. My leg has not stopped bouncing the entire time. It’s a struggle to read and comprehend these case studies, when I feel agitated and restless. I stand and pace the floor, hoping to get rid of some of this nervous energy. I walk to the kitchen, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and head back to my computer. I can’t sit. I’m too jittery. My breathing accelerates. I walk around the condo a few more times. I know what would calm me, but I resist the urge. I sit down but then immediately pop back up. My mind wanders back to seeing and feeling Brad earlier. I can still hear his low sexy voice.
I head to my bedroom and decide to change into a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. I run a brush roughly through my hair several times hoping that will be enough of a tug to calm me, but it doesn’t work. My hands tremble and beads of sweat accumulate across my forehead. I can’t take it any longer.
Maybe just one or two decent hits, and it will take the edge off.
I close my bedroom door and slide down it. I take three deep breaths before I lean my head forward slightly. With my hands by my side, I curl my fingers into my palms, letting the nails cut into my skin. My heels dig into the carpet and all my muscles tense up as I thrust my head and shoulders back against the hard wooden door.
Thud!
My neck snaps forward causing my teeth and jaw to clench. My hair rushes past my cheeks before settling back down on my shoulders. The effects of the first strike flow through my body taking the edge off my anxiety.
Thud!
Numbness sets in.
Thud!
Anxiety is almost completely drained from my body.
Thud!
As I bolt forward I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror across from me. I stare at the figure of the young woman sitting on the floor dazed, eyes glassy, and I don’t recognize her. I’ve never watched myself do this before. I don’t know if it just happened like that or I subconsciously stayed away from anything that my image could be reflected in, but this was my first glimpse of what I had been doing for years. Knowing and feeling it is one thing. Seeing it is an entirely different experience. The glassiness in my eyes is replaced by my tears. I watch them take over my face. Disgust replaces the numbness. What am I doing to myself?
The next morning I screech into the parking lot of the firm. I’m never late for anything, especially work. I haven’t been able to get the image of myself last night off of my mind. That along with the headache I developed and continuous thoughts of Brad made for a sleepless night. I feel so groggy that I had a hard time getting ready this morning. I grab my suit jacket, briefcase, and purse before jumping out of the car. With my arms weighed down, I struggle with m
y keys, aiming the key remote at the car several times before it finally locks. I rush across the lobby, into the elevator, and up to the fourth floor where my office is, hoping my absence hasn’t been noticed yet. As I step out of the elevator I’m met with sapphire eyes. Brad’s at the receptionist desk, talking with Tina. I smile weakly at him.
“Good morning,” I say, sounding as cheery as I possibly can.
“Good morning, Mabry,” Tina greets.
“Any messages?” I ask.
“The Shackleford meeting has been pushed back to two,” Tina answers.
I breathe a sigh of relief. That gives me time to catch up on what I missed this morning and try to get rid of this headache.
As I pass Brad I hear Tina say, “A picnic dinner at Middleton Place Gardens sounds incredibly romantic.”
My pace and breathing increase and I can’t seem to get to my office fast enough. I know I told him we can’t be together, but hearing those words coming out of Tina’s mouth, directed at Brad, makes me feel as if I’ve been stabbed in the stomach. I knew he would move on someday, I just didn’t realize someday would get here this soon. I need to get to my office before the tears start to roll. Once inside, I quickly close the door and toss my briefcase and purse on the chair, before I let the tears out. I’m trying my damnedest to push the anxiety, anger, and hurt down. The intense deep ache I have in my stomach almost has me doubled over in pain. I refuse to self-harm here. I was weak a couple of times and went to the restroom to pull my hair, but that won’t take this pain away. Only hitting would and I can’t do that here. I’m pacing, taking deep breaths when there is a soft knock on the door.
I’m a mess. No one can see me like this.
I run my hands over my face and through my hair before walking to the built-in bookcase. I grip one of the shelves, clear my throat, and say, “Come in.”
I don’t need to look to know who it is. My body reacts whenever he’s within thirty feet of me.
“Mabry, are you okay?” he asks with concern in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Is there something you need?”
“I just need to know if you’re okay.” I feel him walk farther into my office and hear the click of the door as it closes. “You’re upset. Did somebody say something hurtful to you?”
“No, not to me. I’m just tired and I have a really bad headache.” I turn my head toward my desk, so he doesn’t see how red and puffy my eyes are from crying. On my desk I notice a Starbucks Caffe Misto, a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts, and a small vase with orange Gerber daises. “You did this?”
“Yeah.” His voice is soft and low.
“Why?”
“I drove by your place this morning for some reason and saw your car was still there. You’re always here before me, so I figured you were running late and wouldn’t have time for breakfast.”
“Krispy Kremes are my favorite. How did you know?”
“One time when you were at my place I had a box and you sucked down three.”
A chuckle escapes me. “That does sound like something I’d do. Thank you.”
I feel his approach from behind me. He places a soft kiss at the crown of my head, causing me to wince. It’s still tender from last night. “Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For letting me take care of you this morning,” he whispers before walking out the door.
Even with all the people crowded into the frat house, I noticed her watching me. We had been eyeing each other off and on all night. I earned my undergrad degree and had just started my second year at Duke University. I was no stranger to the weekend frat parties, or to those who regularly attended them. But I had never seen this girl around before, which wasn’t all that unusual. Duke was a huge university loaded with girls, one or two were bound to slip under my radar.
This girl wasn’t my usual type. Not that I had a hard and fast set of rules. A pair of tits, an ass, a vagina, and a face that wouldn’t make me gag was pretty much all I required. My tastes were not very discriminating. This girl was quirky but cute. Her straight jet black hair that stopped just under her jawline, pale skin, and heavy dark makeup gave her a Goth look. She was dressed in a long black skirt and tank top that hugged her small fragile-looking frame. I wasn’t drawn to her in any strong way, but there was something about this girl that caught my attention. She came off as the quiet and shy type. For her to follow me around at a party seemed very bold and out of her comfort zone. You had to admire a person who took a chance.
Leaning against the wall, I took several swigs of beer while I occasionally glanced at Goth girl. Stephanie what’s-her-name was standing beside me, rattling on about something. We had hooked up a couple of times last semester. Everything out of this girl’s mouth sounded like a question, even her moans. It was like fucking Barbara Walters. I mean, she had a talented mouth, just not for speaking. Finally, the ringing in my ears from her blabbering stopped. Apparently, she had left me to find another guy’s ear to talk off. Goth girl and I were blatantly staring at each other at this point, so I decided it was time to make my move. Who cares if she wasn’t my type, I was more curious than turned on, so what the hell.
Hooking up with girls was a lot like snacking on Cape Cod potato chips. I really liked Cape Cod original potato chips. So much, in fact, that I could eat three large bags of them in one sitting. But, after that third bag, I’m tired of the Cape Cod chips. Maybe now I want to try a bag of spicy nacho Doritos. I don’t normally care that much for spicy things, nor have I given them much thought, but the packaging was kind of cool and I might like munching on a different type of chip for a while until I crave the Cape Cods again.
I swallowed the last of my beer, tossing the bottle into the trash can as I made my way toward Goth girl. She visibly straightened, no doubt preparing herself for my approach. I walked up and stood in front of her, confidence and charm radiating off of me.
“Well?” I asked.
“Well what?” she said lifting her eyes to meet mine.
Close up, her large green eyes were mesmerizing. The shade was so dark they looked black. It was only when the light hit them at a certain angle that a flash of green would appear. She had them heavily lined in black and her dark lashes were coated with black mascara. Her skin was so pale, practically translucent, and her lips were painted with blood-red lipstick. Her body was lean, but her face was round, cherub-like. She was Goth, yet classic looking at the same time.
“I thought I’d give you an up close and personal view seeing as how you’ve been staring at me all night,” I said followed by a slight grin.
“I thought you were staring at me.” She nervously chuckled, casting her gaze down as if she were embarrassed by her comeback.
“I’m Brad Johnson.”
“Hi, I’m Becca Hyams, Art major,” she said as if it were her official title.
“Nice to meet you, Becca. I haven’t seen you around campus before.”
“I just transferred here from South Carolina, the state, not the university.”
“Really? I’m from Charleston. Whereabouts in South Carolina are you from?”
“The upstate,” she said hesitantly. I didn’t push for answers because it really didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t looking to get to know her that well.
“You don’t seem like the frat-party type.”
“I’m here with my friend, Stephanie. She was talking to you earlier.” She looked past me and around the room. “I’m not sure where she’s gone off to and I’m kind of ready to go. I thought I saw her go down the hallway.”
“If she went down that hall, then she’s busy with someone. That’s where the bedrooms are.”
“Oh.”
“I can take you back to your dorm.”
She began to fidget with the hem of her shirt. “I actually just moved here this week, and I’m rooming with Stephanie, but she hasn’t given me a key to the place yet.”
“I have an apartment not too far from here. You could come home
with me. I’m done here anyway.”
Glancing up at me nervously, she said, “Um… I don’t know you.”
“Brad Johnson. You met me like five seconds ago. Wow, you’re not very good for my ego. The ladies don’t usually forget me that quickly or easily.” I flashed her the smile. I wasn’t sure why I used it on her. It was only reserved for when I really wanted something or someone, and in this situation, that didn’t exactly apply. There were no ulterior motives asking Becca back to my place. I felt bad for her for some reason. She seemed so innocent and needy, but acted as if she didn’t want to be a bother to anyone. I didn’t have plans for this girl. I was just playing it by ear.
“Okay, I’ll go. Thank you.”
The power of the smile never ceased to amaze me.
We walked to my place in relative silence. It was weird but not awkward. It felt weird because I’m used to girls who shut up only when I shove my tongue down their throats. So far, spicy nacho Doritos were a nice change of pace. Once we arrived at my place, I played the good host by asking her if she wanted anything to drink. When she said no, I took her on the grand tour, which lasted all of five minutes. Since she didn’t talk much and I still wasn’t sure why I had asked her here, I decided it was probably time to call it a night.
“Becca, you can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“I don’t want to put you out of your room.”
“Not a problem. I can sleep almost anywhere. Let me just grab some pajamas and I’ll be out of your way,” I said, heading into the bedroom.
I wasn’t positive, but when I told her I’d stay on the sofa she looked disappointed. Did she want me to make a move on her? Did I want to make a move on her? If only I had had a few more beers there’d be no confusion. Even though my standards for screwing a girl were pretty superficial, on rare occasions my dick couldn’t make up his mind. When that happened, beer number six was the tipping point. I got undressed and threw on my pajama pants, grabbed a pillow, and headed to my temporary sleeping quarters. Once in the living room I noticed Becca standing in the exact same spot I had left her in.
Past Imperfect Page 6
