"This is nothing like Luna."
"Whatever. The point is, I don't know what to do. I feel like shit. I'm so angry every muscle in my body is shaking. I want to go find this cocksucker and kill him. I'm scared man. I'm so fucking scared I'm not going to ever get the chance to make this up to her."
"Do you love her?"
"That's the problem. I don't know. I thought when you love someone it's simple, cut and dry. You don't have to think about it or rationalize, you just know. I thought I loved her, but then I've been so pissed at her, I think it can't possibly be love because I just wanted the hell away from her."
"Then maybe it's not."
"When I left, I was relieved, because I felt suffocated, you know? I wasn't ready for everything she wanted. I didn't want it, any of it. But now . . ." I scrub my hand over my face. I hear my voice crack, but I'm with Noah, so I'm not ashamed. "If she dies . . ."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're jumping way too far ahead. You can't think like that."
I narrow my eyes at my friend, hoping to keep the tears in. I know he won't make fun of me the way I would if the shoe was on the other foot, but I don't want to feel like a pussy on top of everything else.
"I swear, if she's not okay . . . " I close my eyes before verbalizing the other half of my thought, the other possibility that could derail any hope of a reconciliation, any hope of self-forgiveness. "Or if she loses the baby. She wants that baby so damn much. I don't know what I'll do. This whole mess is my fault."
"No, it's not. You can't blame yourself."
"I can. She asked me to fill out the forms and send them in with the prescription to set up the mail order, but I couldn't fucking be bothered. She was in that store at that moment because of me. Because I'm a shit."
"You have to stop blaming yourself."
If he only knew how much I blame myself. How that's the only thing I seem to be able to do.
"Did you make mistakes? Of course. We all do. But you need to stay positive right now. Stay strong for her."
"Noah, when we get back home, I need my friend, not Lexi's boyfriend."
"I'm always your friend."
"I mean, it. I need you by my side when I go, because if she . . . Please come with me. I can't do it alone."
"You got it, man."
We finish rounding my shit up in silence and head down to lobby to meet up with my dad and sister.
Chapter 3
This is the most comfortable seat I've ever had while flying. It's soft and plush, and sort of wraps around my body like a giant hug. I'm not sure if the material covering the seat is high-end vinyl or leather. Private jet, I'm thinking it's leather. I wish I could ask Selene. She'd know. This is my first time on one, so I'd love to take it all in and enjoy the experience. But I can't. I'm in a semi-panicked, full out shit mood. I called the hospital before takeoff. All they would tell me is that Selene's stable.
"Lexi, I'm losing my mind here, tell me what happened?"
"Just wait until we get to the hospital."
"Fuck that, Alexis. She's my . . . she's the girl I . . ."
No matter what I try to say, what my mind thinks I should say, I choke on the words before they can leave my mouth. They're jumbled up and trapped inside me, like a Sunday morning word scramble.
"Even now you can't bring yourself to say it. You can't admit that you give a fuck about her. Probably because you don't, Cooper. Because the only one you give a shit about is yourself."
"That's enough, Alexis," my father scolds. To my surprise Lexi backs down. She's still staring daggers at me, but she stopped the verbal attack.
"Just tell me what you know. Please."
"She's not conscious. That's what I know."
And Lexi won't give me any details. Not a fucking one. She claims she doesn't know anything more, but I don't believe her. She's now Selene's emergency contact and she knew that I not only lost that position, I lost the right to know anything about her at all. Already that's more than I know.
"Son, you're not alone in this," my father says mussing my hair like I'm eleven and pouting because I struck out with the bases loaded. "We're all here for you."
I don't say one word to him because I can't. My words aren't coming out the way I mean them to and all I want to do is tell him off. Even though my head is a mess and I feel myself shattering I know better than to get into this with him right now, because once I start, I won't stop until all the shit spews out of my mouth like steam from a geyser. I'll tell him how he caused my mother to hate him, which in turn caused her to hate me as well.
She blamed me for everything; I'm the reason she got married so young and ruined her life. I'm the reason she had another kid, keeping her chained to the house. I'm the reason my father left. I caused so much mischief, never giving my parents a moment to rest, he needed to seek comfort with other women. (She couldn't have been more wrong about that one.) Worst of all she blamed me for Luna. She sided with that lying, cheating bitch when she should've been holding me and telling me it wasn't at all my fault.
Not. One. Single. Bit. Of. It.
Even when I told her about Selene, my mother sneered and said I'd never be able to give her the life she deserves; that one woman would never satisfy me; therefore, I'd never be good enough for her.
And she's right.
That's what's killing me. She's one hundred percent fucking right.
The only woman in my life that doesn't think I'm-such-a-fuck-up-I-don't-deserve-another-chance is Lexi. I may have even fucked that relationship up for good earlier in the night when I tried to pull Noah into a threesome. What the hell was I thinking? God only knows how she's even talking to me at all after the shit that went down with her, Noah, and me when they first got together. Behind my back, no less.
It's the only way it could've happened. I tried to stop it and come between them because deep down I know in my heart I'll eventually fuck up so much even my sister will walk away from me. Only now when she does, she's going to take my best friend with her.
I glance back at my father wishing I could express in some small part how his leaving set off a domino effect that lead me here, right up to this point. I don't say any of this though because as much as I don't want to admit it, I know it's on me.
I fucked up. Again.
I proved my mother right, just the way I always do.
I fight every urge I have to say anything because even though I blame him the way my mother blames me, I want him here. I don't know what I'm going to face when we get back home, but it's not going to be easy. I know when I fall, when I crumble, everyone else will walk away. They'll step on me, over me in their retreat, further shattering the pieces of my soul.
He won't. Like me, he has too much guilt, and I need to know someone will at least try to piece me back together before tossing me in the trash. If I shove my father away with the bitterness eating at me, he'll leave me for dead the same as everyone else.
I nod and separate myself from the group.
*
I shut my eyes, grateful to be the only one on the aircraft sitting alone. I didn't have to. I could've taken a seat closer to the front with everyone else. Instead I slipped into the last row of double seats.
My father and Stephan are talking with Noah and Lexi, who are cuddled up on the couch across from them. Part of me yearns to be with them, to be part of something more than myself; to be part of a family.
I'll never admit it, but I'm jealous of Noah. My father accepted him with open arms. And Stephan gushes over both him and Lexi. Me, I'm the pain in the ass, the outsider. Even with my own father. If I could go back in time, I'd fix this all. I'd stick it out in Italy with Selene instead of running home like a little fucking girl. And that's why I'm here instead of with her. Because once again I ran away. I left her to fend for herself. Only this time the consequences could be fatal.
Why does this thought feel like my balls are being sliced open and fed to me for breakfast?
Is it love? Is it possible that
even under the anger and resentment I really do love her? Or is it just guilt? I wish to God I could figure it out.
I want to sort out my feelings. I need to figure out what I'm going to do when we get home and I see Selene because one way or the other I need to make a firm decision about my future. Either she's it, and only her, or I walk away for good. Forever. Without ever looking back. If she's even alive when we get back home.
That thought sears my heart. I want to cry out and shriek from the pain. But I don't. Instead I do what I always do. I beat it down inside of me and ignore it. Just like I've done with my feelings for Luna over the years, both the good and the bad.
That reaction alone should convince me that I love Selene. I'd believe it too, if I didn't know how much I resented her. How I couldn't stand to be with her, to be touched by her. I believed she was the noose around my neck choking the life out of me. I'm starting to wonder if instead, she was the platform that supported my weight, keeping my feet on the ground, keeping me safe and alive, protected from that damn noose.
This is the first time I'm envious of what my friend found with my sister. It's the first time I miss having someone to reach out to and hold, or having a hand to grasp. Like so many years ago, this is a time I need to lean on someone and borrow their strength. I need to feel like I have something to offer another human being, that I have something to live for.
Loneliness pokes and jabs at me. It might be nice to have someone I can count on in my life, someone special. A lover. A partner. Especially if that someone is Selene.
I don't move. I stay where I am, lean my head back and close my eyes thinking back to the day I first laid eyes on her.
Chapter 4
After five long minutes of waiting to place my order, the line at the coffee shop thins out. I'm already running late. I don't know why I bothered waiting in the first place. Now that there are only two of us left on line, the guys behind the counter are goofing off, laughing and throwing towels at each other. I need to remember not to come here again.
Normally I wouldn't give a rat's ass, but the never ending vibrations from my phone have me ready to pounce on the first asshole to cross my path.
It's been blowing up all morning. I don't bother checking to see who it is. I made a mistake with the girl from the club last night. Noah said she looked familiar. He also warned me that she'd been staring at me all night with stalker like intensity. But she was hot, and we hit it off.
It wasn't until after Maddie and I had been going at it for a while and I called her Madison instead of Madeline, that she turned into a banshee. She pushed me away and picked up everything in her reach; a brush, a glass from the coffee table, and threw them at my head.
Crazy bitch. She followed up that five star act by screaming the most cliché things like, "How dare you," and "You conceited prick."
I didn't bother to answer her which set her off even more. She tried for a reaction one last time as I headed toward the door.
"How can you fuck me, not call, then go home with me a second time and not know who I am?" That doesn't usually happen. If I go for a repeat, I'm well aware of it.
"Guess that tells you something about your skills, or lack of in that department," I snapped back before heading out the door.
I couldn't get out of there faster if someone told me the building was about to implode. As I slipped out, Maddie, chased after me covering herself with a sheet.
"This isn't over, Cooper. This isn't the end of me. I promise to make sure every girl knows what a scumbag you are!"
She threatened to blast me on every social media site known to man. What I want to know is how the hell did she get my number?
I don't give out my real number. That's just asking for trouble, but somehow she has it. She must've snatched my phone when I went to the bathroom. Either that or she works for the NSA, because she fucking has it, and keeps texting me screen shots of the messages she's posted on Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram.
The bitch posted statuses on each one along with my phone number. Message after message pours in. Most are calling me names, but there are a few offers sprinkled throughout. I have half a mind to send her screen shots of those, but it's not worth it. Bottom line, I have no choice. I'm going to have to change my number.
"Quickie?"
I look up at the acne laced, teenage boy and shake my head. The question isn't meant for me, it's meant for the lady in front of me on line. Idiot. I laugh to myself. If he thinks that line is going to help him see any action, he's in for a rude awakening.
"A bit late to ask now, don't you think?"
That's a nice way to say not interested.
"Sorry, I didn't see you sooner. There were so many people when you came in."
He seriously can't be that dense, can he? In the middle of trying to get some action, he's telling her she's not hot enough for him to notice her in a crowd.
"Then I guess it's good for you that I'm not looking for it today," she answers with a light, pleasant tone.
"Kids," I say shaking my head, still not looking at her. "I'm sure he meant that as a compliment and didn't realize how rude it was." I say stuffing my phone in my pocket and skimming my eyes up her bare calves to the hem line of her skirt.
Liking the view, I continue looking her over, noticing how her dark skirt hugs the enticing curves of her round ass and hips. It clings to her, highlighting her tiny waist.
Shit, if the bottom half looks this good, I can only imagine what the top half looks like. Actually, with the bottom half looking this good, who gives a fuck what the top half looks like?
Still, my eyes continue their journey, and take a minor detour while examining both of her very perky, saluting-at-full-attention breasts. The white button down shirt she's wearing is opened to show just enough cleavage that I'm imagining all the ways I'd like to get lost in that valley, and not far down enough that she looks trashy.
"He wasn't rude," her voice pulls me from my trance. "The rude one is the guy eavesdropping that thinks he has the right to comment on someone else's conversation. The same guy who can't seem to tear his eyes away from my breasts."
That attitude cools me off a little. I'm still dealing with one bitch, I don't need to get myself tangled up with another one. I bring my eyes up to meet hers and tell her where she could take that attitude of hers.
Two large, round, blue orbs framed by the longest, thickest lashes I've ever seen, pierce into me. I falter a second, struck by how beautiful she is. I was wrong about not caring what the top half looks like. She looks perfect. Like a living doll.
"Sorry, it's just seeing you, and hearing him ask for a quickie, I can't help but think age and experience will serve him well when he learns to take his time and show appreciation to a girl, excuse me, a woman," I let my eyes roam over and caress her body once again before locking them with hers. "As painstakingly beautiful as you."
"Painstakingly?" Her perfectly waxed eyebrows rise up in amusement.
"Mmm."
I take a small step closer to her, and bring my mouth to the side of her face. Her breath doesn't hitch and she doesn't move, not closer, not further. She stays right where she is, as if she's neutral. As if I have no effect on her, and I'm actually worried that I might not. What if she's a lesbian? My mind races with images of her naked, having her tits sucked by another chick. Maybe if I play my cards right, I could convince her to let me watch.
"Painstakingly, because it will feel like someone seared my heart with a stake if you leave here without promising to go out with me tonight."
She ignores me, as if I didn't say anything and turns back to the barista approaching with her drink. I wait for an answer, but one never comes.
"Thanks, Teddy," she says before heading for the door.
She's walking away from me? I can't fucking believe she's just going to walk away. She probably is a lesbian.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I say jumping in front of her.
"That would be be
cause I didn't give it," she says looking nonplused again. "And for the record, you shouldn't use words you don't understand the meanings of. You totally blew the meaning of painstakingly. It means you do something with such care and diligence, it becomes almost painful."
"If you give me a chance, I promise to do you with that kind of care and diligence."
"Goodbye, asshole."
"No, wait. I'm sorry. Give me five minutes. Please." I give her the pleading eyes look I keep reserved for my sister. It's the look she can't resist, and it's gotten me out of more loads of laundry and dirty dishes than I can count. I see the hardness of my doll's eyes soften, and I know she's unable to resist the look as well. "Let's sit and talk. Here. Now."
"The clock starts . . ." She pulls her phone out and sets the timer. "Now."
"You're seriously not going to give me more than five minutes?"
"That's what you asked for. Now if I were you, I'd get to the point. You're on the clock."
There's a playful glint in her eyes. That's good. The fact that I convinced her to talk to me has to mean something, because this crazy, desperate need to be with her, next to her, even if I'm just staring has me all out of sorts. So out of sorts I realize, that's exactly what I'm doing right now. Instead of talking, I'm sitting here like a fucking idiot staring at her.
"Sorry. I don't mean to act all creepy and shit. You're just so beautiful, and . . . Hey, did you ever see that movie? It's old. The one where these two geeky kids create the perfect woman by connecting a doll to their computer? And then when she first comes to life, they can't speak, or do anything because they're so awed by her?"
She smiles. I'm softening her up, at least a little.
"Yes."
"That's what this is like, like you're a shatter-my-world doll in the flesh."
"I'm not familiar with that one." She's struggling to keep a straight face. "Tell me about her."
"Well, for one thing, she's perfect. Drop dead gorgeous. And once you see her your world as you know it is over, because she's all you can think about."
Man Up Playboy Page 2
