Dazed (The Deliverance Series Book 1)

by Maria Macdonald

  “Hey, there’s my girl,” Caden says as him, Tarrant, and some of the guys make their way toward Morgan and me. She purposefully ignores Aaron and instead slides up beside Garratt which only pisses Aaron off. Garratt looks worried as his head swings between the two of them, but Aaron cuts off the rapidly-cooling atmosphere when he walks away. I can see Morgan visibly deflate, and I want to both slap her for playing games, but also hug her because I get it—he’s been dating so why shouldn’t she? Double standards have never been something that either of us were willing to put up with.

  The unspoken tryst sufficiently ignored, Caden throws his arm over my shoulder, but every time he does I think back to when Tarrant’s arm was there. Caden feels stiff against me. We’ve held this pose hundreds of times now, but whenever others are around—people that he feels need convincing—Caden becomes awkward. He can hug me or tuck me into him when we’re by ourselves, and it’s comfortable, but not when others are with us. I’ve spoken to him about it, but he says that it feels like people are judging us, watching us, waiting for one of us to do something out of place. I started out by telling him he was overreacting, but the more he says it, the more I’ve started to feel uneasy, too.

  “Where are you going now?” Caden asks.

  “Lunch,” I reply groaning when I see the line in the cafeteria.

  “Go sit, I’ll get you something,” he tells me.

  “You don’t have to,” I reply as my eyes dart to all the faces watching our conversation play out.

  Caden shrugs. “I’m a good boyfriend,” he replies with a wink.

  I roll my eyes as he walks away. Morgan and I have had lunch with the same group for the last two weeks at Caden’s request, and apart from a few words between Tarrant and me, I have only really chatted with Morgan.

  Every interaction with Tarrant, however, is permanently burned into my brain. He asks me little things, small details that most people would miss, but being a sociology student I notice the small things like the way people interact and the questions they ask. The things Tarrant wants to know tells me he’s checking me out, making sure I’m good enough for his brother. The fact is that although he’s cross-examining me, I’m pulled toward him by raw magnetism that I’m probably likely to tell him anything he wants, including the truth about Caden and me.

  Therefore, for the last two days, I have avoided sitting near Tarrant and purposely focused my attention on Morgan instead, trying not to get dragged into the conversation and possibly offer him my vagina or my womb so I can have his babies, and especially so I don’t offer him the truth.

  “Ugh,” I moan quietly as Tarrant takes the seat next to me.

  I hear him chuckle but ignore it. Or at least I try to.

  “How’re things going with my brother?”

  I will not look at him.

  I will not look at him.

  I will not… oh fuck, I’m looking at him.

  “F-Fine,” I reply, my heartbeat is starting to race.

  “Fine? That’s not the most convincing word you could use for a new relationship,” he prods.

  I shrug in response but offer no other words. “Caden likes you, but I’m not sure he really sees all of you. I love my brother…” There’s a ‘but’ lingering, although he doesn’t say it as his words fade away and our stares lock. I can see the fight in his eyes, but I have no idea what he’s fighting.

  The intensity becomes too much and I suddenly stand.

  “Laura, are you okay?” Morgan asks from behind me. Still, my eyes don’t move from Tarrant’s. That is, not until Caden walks up beside him.

  “Button, are you okay?” Caden asks, and I close my eyes at his term of endearment knowing he’s got it so wrong.

  “She’s fine, aren’t you, Lemon?” Tarrant answers for me, but I don’t think Caden hears him.

  I look to the floor and mouth ‘Lemon’ silently.

  I have no idea why he called me that.

  “Laura?” Caden’s voice is laced with concern now and I shake my head to clear it, but that does nothing good only serving to muddle my thoughts even more.

  I raise my head, and my eyes find Tarrant’s once again. “Sorry, I just remembered I have some studying to catch up on in the library.”

  “But your lunch?” Caden questions and I look back at him noting that he hasn’t actually had time to buy any food for either of us yet.

  “I have an apple.” I grin. It’s fake. Morgan can see right through it as my eyes find hers, but hopefully, Caden hasn’t known me long enough to notice my tells, to see beyond the fake grin. But as my eyes lock with his, I think… maybe I’m kidding myself about that.

  “Come on, spill,” Morgan urges me the minute she walks into our dorm later that night.

  I sigh. “Can’t, sorry, studying,” I respond without looking up from my books. The truth is I have been staring at the same page for a little over an hour.

  She chucks her jacket over her hardly-used desk chair and walks back out of the room. Tired of trying to understand what I’m looking at, I drop my head onto the book, my cheek squished against the text.

  Maybe I can learn by osmosis?

  I start to close my eyes, but they shoot open as Morgan rattles the door and shouts, “Open up!”

  Dragging myself from the slump I’ve happily gotten lost in I shuffle to the door, but as I open it the aroma of coffee floats into my nostrils and thaws my misery.

  “Love you,” I whisper to Morgan, grabbing a mug as she smiles at me.

  We carefully sit on our beds, both cross-legged and facing each other.

  “Come on, you’ve had a sip, tell me what’s going on with you,” she urges.

  “You know I’m still not in a place where I can tell you everything,” I admit and try to once again ignore the pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” I add and scratch a mental note down that I need to chat with Caden again.

  “You have feelings for his brother,” she states taking a sip of her coffee but keeping her eyes trained on mine.

  “He gets under my skin,” I confess.

  She nods but says nothing else. For the next ten minutes, we sit in silence and drink our coffee. When we’ve finished she gets up and wordlessly walks over to me, collecting my cup and taking it along with hers back to the kitchen. Morgan gives me exactly what I need, and that’s why I love my best friend.

  My breast is buzzing.

  As that thought permeates my very fuzzy morning brain, I scream jumping off the bed, there’s a thud but I ignore it grabbing at my breast squeezing and mauling it.

  “Why the fuck are you slut dancing?” Morgan’s voice croaks from under her pillow as her beady eyes poke out from the darkness, narrowed on me and my noise. Suddenly, she throws herself up so she’s sitting on her bed and dissolves into a fit of giggles pointing at me. Shaking my head and still trying to wake up, I’m wondering whether I imagined my boob vibrating.

  “You…” She snorts with laughter, and I purse my lips at her looking down. I fell asleep last night in the middle of devouring all my Hershey bars while reading a heart-shattering anti-romance book—anti because the girl doesn’t get her guy—well, she hasn’t yet, it’s reality biting her in the ass and I don’t even care that it’s fiction. Morgan’s laughter, I realize as I look down, is based on the now-melted Hershey bars, which are mostly stuck in my crotch area, making me look like I’ve had an unfortunate accident. Add to that, me openly massaging my breast, and I can see why she’s laughing.

  Catching a glimpse of myself in Morgan’s mirror, I curse. I don’t usually wear much makeup, but after our little chat last night, Morgan insisted we go out to a small party on campus, and I ended up agreeing not only to the party but to Morgan doing my makeup. Of course, when I got home I didn’t think to take it all off.

  It reminds me of one Christmas when I was young, and my grandma got me a Barbie doll. I wanted so badly to dress her up, but as she was my only doll, I had no extra clothes, so I decided instead that I would put makeup
on her. I attempted to steal some of my mom’s, but she caught me and made me write three hundred lines of, ‘I will keep my hands to myself or else.’ I remember that once I’d finished writing, my arm hurt bad—I was only six and hadn’t been writing for very long. I went to warm my hands by the fire, but it wasn’t lit, and I couldn’t stop myself from sticking my finger in the soot—it called to me and I answered. I probably should have been mindful of keeping my hands to myself, especially as I’d just written those exact words down hundreds of times. Either way, those lines were lost on me when I swiped a dirty black finger back through the fireplace again and decided right then, that was what my Barbie needed. I made her up with soot. Looking in the mirror right now I realize I don’t look too dissimilar to the poor Barbie that day… although she didn’t have a chocolate vagina.

  “The floor is buzzing,” Morgan informs me, and I rub my eyes trying to focus before looking down. My cell is lit up and vibrating itself across the floor. I spend so much time standing wondering if my vibrator would also travel across the room if I turned it on and let it go that the call drops, and my phone quiets itself again.

  “You not getting that?” she questions, frowning at me.

  I scratch my head and take another look at myself. “I’m gonna shower first, wake up, and get rid of this,” I say pointing to my sticky patch.

  “I don’t know, you might get more action if you show the boys your candy vag.” She laughs out.

  Shaking my head, I grab my towel and make my way to the bathroom hoping that today is a better day.

  A couple of hours later, I realize that a better day was wishful thinking.

  “Laura, how are you getting on with your assignment?” Mr. Portman asks while leaning over my shoulder and at the same time pushing his groin into my back. I’d like to think that maybe he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. I pray it’s an oversight and that he’s just a moron who misses social cues. The problem with that theory is the fact that he teaches sociology. It makes it kind of difficult to argue in favor of him being socially awkward when he more than most should understand what is and isn’t acceptable. The truth is that I’m ignoring his attention, kidding myself that it will go away. Reality bites when I accept the truth but still have no idea what to do about it.

  “Fine, thank you.” I keep my reply short and polite.

  He opens his mouth to speak again, but someone else in the class calls for his attention. For a split second I watch as he works his jaw with annoyance before he pulls the metaphorical mask back over his face and turns toward them, walking away.

  Lunchtime rolls around quickly. Morgan hasn’t mentioned the situation again, and it proves to me what a good friend she is, but it’s time to revisit the subject with Caden. We’ve been avoiding it, but I’m starting to feel suffocated. I haven’t really had anyone except Morgan and her family for a long time. It’s killing me keeping this from her and more than that, I need to talk to someone about my feelings for Tarrant, and that person obviously can’t be Caden. Times up, I’m ready to pull up my big girl panties.

  “Caden,” I call as I spot him with his friends as lunch starts.

  “Hey, Button,” he replies looking over at me and winking. I cringe. I hate having that reaction, but I can feel how forced everything is. Thankfully, it seems we’re able to fool everyone else.

  I stop in front of him and shake my head when he offers his arm, ready for me to sidle up to him. “What’s up?” His gaze darts around.

  “I just wanted to talk.”

  All the guys jeer as a collective ‘ooh’ goes around the group, and a couple say things like ‘the talk’ and ‘damn brother that was a quick kick to the curb.’ I ignore them as Caden blushes. The thought crosses my mind that Tarrant probably wouldn’t blush if it were him, he would kick some shit back at them, although it’s doubtful they would say that stuff to Tarrant in the first place, knowing he wouldn’t care if a girl ‘kicked him to the curb’ as they put it.

  He breaks away, and we walk in silence until we’re sitting at an empty lunch table on the outside lawn. It’s freezing now that winter has hit, nobody eats out here, meaning we can have some privacy.

  “I need to tell Morgan.”

  “Don’t end this, please.”

  We both speak at once and then repeat ourselves drowning each other out for the second time.

  “You go,” I say pointing at him.

  “Whatever we need to do to make you more comfortable with this situation, please don’t finish our fake relationship… please,” he pleads.

  I hadn’t considered ending it. Well, in truth I had, but I was never going to do that and leave Caden high and dry. However, knowing he’s so desperate concerns me.

  “I wouldn’t… I mean, I can’t say never, but I can certainly say that’s not what this conversation is about.”

  He nods solemnly but doesn’t say anything, and it feels like he’s waiting for the ball to drop, for me to laugh and say that I do want to end this—oh and by the way, I’m going to make sure everyone knows you’re gay, too.

  I frown. I don’t understand why he doesn’t trust me. “You’ve got to have faith in me,” I hiss, annoyed that I’ve done this for him, but it seems in doing so I’ve lost some of the trust he had in me.

  “I do.” Caden’s voice is so soft that if I wasn’t listening to it, I would have missed his acknowledgment completely.

  I pick at my nails, not sure what to follow with because I know anything I say now is going to be tinged with my simmering anger, and I don’t want to throw that at him. He’s still my friend. One of the few I have.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how to act. How to be. How we’re supposed to be,” he explains pointing between the two of us. “I’m getting it all wrong, acting like a complete A-hole. Forgive me?” The corner of his mouth curls as he fights a grin. I can’t help but shake my head and smile.

  “A-hole?” I giggle.

  Caden shrugs and nods at the same time. “What did you want to talk to me about, Laura?” he asks, more serious now.

  I look back to where his friends were and the canteen where I know Morgan will be waiting for me, confused at where I’ve gone.

  “I want to tell her,” I state gently, waiting for his rebuff.

  Caden drops his head forward until his forehead is resting on the cold, damp wood of the table. “Okay,” he surrenders.

  I want to take it back, tell him it’s okay, but I can’t. I need to think of my best friend as well as my new ‘fake’ boyfriend.

  I scoot closer to him and lay my head on the table, too. We then face each other but say nothing.

  After a few moments, I break the quiet. “She’ll keep your secret, I promise,” I whisper.

  He smiles sadly but doesn’t respond.

  “She’s my best friend, and you don’t have to trust her but will you trust me? Please?”

  “I told you, I do trust you, Laura. I really do. It’s just that to everyone else this is a secret, a bit of gossip, but for me this is my life.” Caden squeezes his eyes closed and a frown appears on his forehead. “Please be sure about her.”

  “Of course. But Caden, I have to know why you told me so easily. When I can see now how hard this is for you,” I question, confused.

  Caden opens his eyes again and I can see a sparkle in them, but not from fun or mischief, more like a sheen of emotion ready to erupt. “I felt like I’d found a kindred spirit in you, Laura.” His eyes search mine and he bites his lip for a second. “I saw you standing at the party…” he chuckles low, “… you obviously hated everything about being there. I mean, at one point, I thought you were going to punch out the next drunk guy who bumped into you.”

  I smile at him and raise my head off the table so I can nod at his assumption. Caden follows suit and lifts off the table, too. Maneuvering his large body, he swiftly pulls one leg over the bench seat and sits facing my profile. I twist my upper body, resting my elbow on the table and lay my head on my hand so I can mee
t his gaze.

  “I knew what the others saw… a social outcast… someone who they either ignored or feared.” I scoff, but Caden continues, “I saw an angel. You were like a breath of fresh air to me, and for some reason, I don’t know why I knew I needed you in my life. I knew I needed you to be my friend.” I gulp, clamping down on the building emotion. “If I believed in love at first sight and I wasn’t gay…” he winks, “… then that’s what it would have been for me the minute I saw you. Love at first sight. I can only believe that you were meant to be the sister I never had. I was meant to love you, Laura.”

  I open and close my mouth but as Caden has rocked my world—without the normal innuendo attached to that statement—I’m speechless, emotional, and quietly hopeful for the both of us.

  The afternoon passes in a blur. I haven’t seen Morgan to explain blowing her off at lunchtime, and I was hoping after being given the go-ahead from Caden earlier, I could start to explain some things to her. The only problem is I have this nagging at the back of my head. I haven’t yet found a chance to ask Caden why he’s keeping his sexuality a secret. We live in a time now when it shouldn’t even be an issue. I know we’re in college, but still, there’s something I’m missing and I want to know what it is.

  My interactions with Tarrant over the last week have become more regular, although they have also been pretty generic. The pull I feel is still there and sometimes I think he feels it too. I’ve never asked him about his statement regarding my cartoon hoodies, but I have spotted his smirk across the lunch table on more than one occasion when I’ve worn a cartoon top that he hasn’t seen before. I recently added She-Ra and The Powerpuff Girls to my collection, deciding it was time to inject a little girl power into my life.