“All right man,” I say, waving with my fork, as he opens the door.
Looking back at me over his shoulders, he says, “Think about Colorado, okay. I’ll be in touch with the dates if I plan on going.”
“Will do,” I reply, as he shuts the door behind him.
Looking around, my surroundings are all too familiar. Fear floods my veins as I sit in my old Spanish class. Sitting at my old desk, with shaky hands I trace the engravings left behind by other students in the dark brown wood. “Miss Riley, your tutoring has been going well. I thought I should give you some praise. I’ve even noticed an improvement in your grades.” That voice—it’s the only one that can suck the breath right out of me. The same voice has haunted me since the seventh grade. I can hear him talking, I can sense his presence but I can’t see him. Burrowing my chin into my neck—I try to hide. I pray that if I make myself invisible, he won’t see me. The feel of his warm breath against the back of my neck sends chills down my spine. My stomach lurches as bile creeps up my throat from revulsion. My breath hitches, my heart rate spikes and I tremble from the fear of knowing what comes next. He sweeps my hair from my back over one of my shoulders. His lips press against the curve of my neck. Ice starts to creep from the spot in which he has just kissed, leaving me nauseous. The shaking becomes uncontrollable as a full on panic attack sets in. My shoulders hunch over as my chin tucks into my neck. I try to escape his presence, but it’s near impossible.
“Blake! Blake! Wake up!” I vaguely hear Dean yelling at me. Dean. My eyes snap open as I sit up with a start. Drenched in a pool of sweat, sobs wrack my body uncontrollably. I can’t seem to stop shaking as I gasp for air.
“Blake, you have to calm down. If you don’t, you’re going to hyperventilate. Listen to me. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.” His tone is calm and soothing as he repeats this mantra over and over. Running his hand over my sweat drenched hair, his breathing matches his words.
As my breaths start to even out, he asks with concern in his eyes, “Are you all right? I ran in here as fast as possible when I heard you screaming. When I threw your door open, you were thrashing your body all over the bed. You scared the shit out of me.”
“I eventually will be, when my heart rate slows down.” I say, sighing in defeat. Will the nightmares ever stop?
“Scoot over. I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep until I know that you're all right.”
Scooting over, I roll onto my side facing the wall. Dean crawls in behind me, placing his arm over my stomach and pulls me into him, making me feel safe. Resting his chin on top of my head, we lie quietly in the dark when he says, “You know I love you, and you know I want what's best for you, right? You need to talk to someone. You need to get this off your chest and your conscience; it will continue eating you alive until you do something about it.”
Tension stiffens my body just from him mentioning that I need to seek professional help. “I don't need to talk to a shrink. I have you and Rachel to talk to; that’s all I need. I just need y’all to be there for me when shit like this happens.” My tone is defensive and pleading at the same time.
I feel him sigh in defeat as he takes a deep breath in and exhales loudly. He knows this conversation won’t go anywhere. “All right, but just tell me that you'll think about it, okay?” All I can do is nod my head to appease him.
Not long after, Dean’s breaths even out, letting me know that sleep has claimed him. Staring blankly at the wall, I shed silent tears. Normally I can keep the feelings at bay, but not this time. This time, I weep for the future that I so desperately seek, but that I’m not sure I’ll ever get. I weep for the best years of my life that were stolen from me. I weep for the little girl inside of me that died ten years ago.
Lying next to Dean, I watch the early morning sun spread its light across my room, welcoming the warmth it offers, as it spreads across my face. It has been a week since I’d met Landon. Pushing my insecurities back as far as I could, I tried to be nice to him for Dean. I trust Dean with everything in me, and because Landon is his friend, I gave him a shot. Smiling more, laughing and loosening up was difficult, but I worked through it.
I know I shocked the hell out of Frankie when I took that shot just to make a point. Landon had coerced me into it. Hell, he called me out in front of Dean and my boss. I kept my eyes locked with his when I downed my shot to drive the point home. I know how to loosen up, when I want to. Dean told me last Saturday after Landon left, “It was nice to see you open up and have fun for a change with someone else besides me.”
I’ve been dwelling on that comment for a week now. Landon had made me laugh a couple of times that night. He and Dean were talking shit back and forth to each other when I went over to refill their beers. With his arms rested on the bar, he hiked his thumb towards Dean and said, “Blake, did Dean ever tell you about this one time when he was still living at home with his folks and broke his leg?”
With my eyebrows furrowed, I shook my head when Dean interrupted him and said, “Landon, don’t.” I could tell it was a good story, because Dean doesn’t get defensive without reason.
Peeking over at Dean, a mischievous smile crept onto Landon’s face when he began, “I went over to his parents’ house to go over some documents with his dad one evening, because I’m the family attorney. His parents and I were sitting in the living room talking. All of a sudden you could hear what sounded like a herd of buffalo coming up from the basement stairs. His younger brother, Jake, came barreling through the basement door, swinging it open so hard it bounced off the wall behind it. This idiot here,” he points over at Dean, “Came chasing after him, only to trip over the last step, busting his ass and breaking his leg at the same time.”
Taking in my expression of shock, because I didn’t see how that was too funny, he quickly adds through his own laughter, “You know the reason why it was so funny? Dean here fell asleep downstairs. While he was sleeping, Jake drew a penis across the entire length of his forehead with a permanent marker.” Laughing uncontrollably, he says, “It took him a week to get that damn penis off his face.”
Laughter rolled through me as I looked over to a not so happy Dean. I asked, “When did you notice it was there?”
Grumbling, Dean says, “When I woke up, I went to take a piss and saw it in the mirror. When I went back into the den, I took one look at Jake who was busy playing Xbox. When he looked up at me and saw my expression, he dropped the controller and hauled ass up the stairs.” Rubbing his forehead with his forefinger, he says, “Can you imagine the last week of your senior year going to school with this large penis, balls and all, drawn on your forehead? I couldn’t even get the damn thing off with rubbing alcohol.”
Laughing hysterically, I watched as Dean sucker punched Landon in the arm and then broke out into his own laughter.
A smile sweeps across my face thinking about that story now. Quiet chuckles escape me as I lie here and picture Dean walking around high school with a fading penis drawn on his forehead. Dean has always been attractive. Having played football in high school, he has the broad shoulders and chiseled chest most would expect. Standing at a little over six feet, with his dark chocolate brown eyes and closely cropped brown hair, his model good looks have only improved since his high school glory days.
When we first started working at Frankie’s, everyone thought we were an item. I always stayed as close to him as I possibly could, and he always watched out for me. That didn’t help the rumors that were circulating about us. Whenever I’d take a break, I always made sure that Dean came with me. When he would be watching the door, he always seemed to have an eye trained on me at the same time. Finally, one night, Frankie found us both in the break-room and came right out with it. He asked, “I know it’s not really any of my business, but are you guys together?” Neither one of us was shocked by his assumption. The only one who seemed shocked was Frankie when we told him that we weren’t together, just best friends.
When Dean and I met, he was
dating a girl named Carla, which is now his ex-girlfriend. They dated for three years, and when they broke up, it really did a number on him. Dean was offered a scholarship to Rowan and knew he couldn’t turn it down. He’s the kind of man that doesn’t like taking handouts. He wanted to prove that he could make it on his scholarship and not off his parents’ money. Dean mentioned to Carla that he wanted her to attend Rowan with him, but she wasn’t having it. She said, since his parents had money, he could go to school anywhere and that she couldn’t understand why he would want to go to school out of state. Dean convinced Carla to have a long distance relationship with him, even after she protested against it. She said being two and half-hours away from each other was too far. Six months later, Dean caught the train to the city one weekend with plans of surprising Carla. When he arrived at her apartment, it turned out Dean was the one surprised. Dean caught Carla having sex with his now ex-best friend on her kitchen counter. She begged him not to leave her, but the damage was already done.
Since then, and that was two years ago, Dean hasn’t dated anyone. I know it’s taken him a long time to get over her, and I ask when he’ll date again, and he just says “I’m not interested in anyone right now. I just want to focus on school and my upcoming internship.” I don’t push the topic. I understand where he’s coming from, at least with focusing on school.
Until I met Dean, I would have never considered having a guy as a best friend. We met at Rowan our freshmen year, had a few classes together and participated in the same study groups. We hit it off right away, not to say I wasn’t skeptical at first. Dean was so easy to be around, he didn’t let my skittish behavior bother him.
One night after study group, I was walking across the parking lot to my car. While I was digging through my purse looking for my keys, I looked up to see a group of guys circling around me. It was as if they appeared out of nowhere. I hadn’t seen them when I started walking towards my car, or else I would’ve waited in the library. As they started closing in on me, I was turning my head in all different directions watching their every move. One of the guys began taunting me, as he swigged back on the contents in the bottle that he held in his hand. I could feel the panic setting in. My hands felt like they were starting to go numb from the anxiety that was raging through my veins. My body began shaking from fear. Dropping my keys back in my purse, I grabbed for my mini can of mace instead. I didn’t get a chance to use it because Dean showed up. He pulled me into his side shielding me as best as he could from their view. Dean told the guys that security was on their way. I had never watched a group of drunk men flee a scene so fast. Warm tears trickled down my face as I looked up at Dean and asked how he knew where I was. He told me that he had just walked out of the library and saw what was going on. Dean said that when he saw the panic and fear etched on my face he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
Soon after the incident in the parking lot, he became one of my best friends. We spent most of our time together and one day while we were studying in my dorm room, I told him I was sick of living on campus and he agreed he was too. We both came to the same decision that we needed jobs, and once we had enough money saved, we’d get a place together.
Dean was already a part time model, but didn’t really make much money from it. What he did make, went to headshots that helped build up his portfolio. When we found that “Frankie’s” was hiring, we drove up and applied. Frankie ended up interviewing us and we were both hired right then and there. When I told Frankie that I didn’t have any bartending experience, he shrugged his shoulders and told me that he’d train me. Frankie said that I’d be good for business since my persona gave off a no-nonsense attitude, and that I had a “pretty face.” Dean was given the position as bouncer since he had the build of a linebacker. After working there for about two months, Frankie told us how he had just finished the renovations on the apartment above the bar, and asked if we were interested. Dean and I both answered in unison while looking at each other with a “hell yeah!”
Rolling onto my back, I turn my head over to take in a sleeping Dean. Propping myself up with my elbow, I look across his body to the clock on my nightstand, checking the time. Deciding that sleep has evaded me long enough, I quietly roll out of bed.
Shuffling my feet into the kitchen, I make myself a pot of coffee. While the coffee brews, I sit at the table, with my legs stretched out in front of me on the adjacent chair, lightly drumming my fingers against the tabletop. What Dean had said keeps running through my mind. “It was nice to see you open up and have fun for a change with someone else besides me.” An internal battle rages within me as I fight between how I want to be, and the walls I have up that I know will protect me now, but will ultimately destroy me.
I want to laugh until I cry, be carefree without hesitation, love like there’s no tomorrow, survive a heartbreak and know that I’ll have the strength to love again. However, the walls I’ve built to protect myself seem damn near impenetrable. I’ve fought for so long to keep everyone at a distance that I’m not even sure I know how to let anyone inside those walls.
The smell of coffee invades my senses, pulling me from my thoughts. Standing, I walk over to the delicious brown liquid that awaits me. Pulling a mug down from the cupboard, I pour my coffee and mix the delectable cream and sugar that I know will be gratifying to my taste buds.
I’m leaning up against the counter when Dean saunters in stretching and yawning. With one eye open, he scratches his bare chest and says to me around another yawn, “What are you doing up so early?”
Lifting my shoulders in a shrug, pulling the cup back from my lips I say, “I couldn’t sleep.”
Nodding, he walks over and reaches above me into the cupboard pulling out a mug for himself. Nudging me out of the way with his hip, I move over, and without looking at him, I say, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about how you liked seeing me open up and have fun with someone else besides you.”
Standing next to me, he brings the hot coffee to his lips and takes a cautious sip. Pulling it back, he says, “Yeah and what have you decided?”
“I don’t know really. It makes me sad that you think I don’t let loose around anyone but you. I can see how you would think that. I want to be different; not so closed off to people, not so alone.” That last part came out as a whisper, but I know he heard it. Looking over and up at him I add, “I’ve just been this way for so long that I’m not so sure I know how to change, how to let anyone in.”
Smiling a sad smile at me, he says, “You let me in. I know it’s not the same because we don’t have that kind of relationship, but I think you can do it.”
Anxiety, fear and for once, optimism courses through me as I consider the thought that maybe I can do this, maybe I can change. Nodding, I look up at Dean, meeting his eyes and smile. With a shakiness to my tone I say, “I think I can do it too, but will you help me, because I don’t even know where to begin.”
Smiling back he says, “Absolutely, I’ll help you in any way I can. And as where to start, I think we need to start with baby steps.”
Confusion spreads across my face when I say, “Baby steps? What do you mean baby steps?”
Chuckling, he says, “All right, just hear me out before you say anything, okay? You hardly ever smile or laugh. When people try to get close to you, you back off. I get it. I know why you’re the way you are, but sometimes you come off to other people as rude, bitchy, and with an attitude.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I scowl at him and grumble, “I don’t come off bitchy and I don’t really mean to come off rude. As far as the whole backing off thing, I despise people invading my personal space.”
Laughing a boisterous laugh, he says, “You don’t think you come off bitchy? Think about the way you treated Mr. James at the meet and greet after the seminar.”
Rolling my eyes, I grumble, “Fine, I see your point.”
“Okay, so how about we start with smiling more and treating people nicer.”
Dropping my arms back to my sides, I take a deep breath, slowly exhale, plaster on a smile and say, “Okay. We can start with that. I think I can handle those baby steps.”
“You know I’m surprised you were actually nice to Landon,” he says.
“Why wouldn’t I be nice to him?” I ask, confusion masking my face.
“I know how you are with people, Blake.”
“I trust you Dean. Of course I’d be nice to a friend of yours. Does that mean I trust him right off the bat? No, but I do know how to give people a chance,” I say.
“Well, thank you for that,” he says smiling.
Sitting behind my massive oak desk, going through some invoices that my assistant manager had given me earlier, my office phone begins to ring, pulling me out of my zone. Answering it, I say, “Derrick James here.”
“Derrick, I need you to do me a favor.” Mr. Davis, the owner of Atlantic Knight’s, says to me in an authoritative tone.
“Sure, Mr. Davis, what do you need?” I respond.
“I need for you to go to Ocean City this weekend. I have a friend there who has called in a favor. He owns The Beachfront Inn. The inn is not doing so well. You’ll be meeting with his CEO, Jason Levi, on Saturday. I need you to help him construct a new business plan and go over marketing and advertising strategies.”
“No problem, Mr. Davis. Is there a time scheduled for me to meet with him?” I ask.
“Ten o’clock,” he answers.
“All right, you got it. Is there anything else I should know?” I casually ask.
Luck of Love Page 5
