by Hawkes, Cora
"You 'kay?"
I jumped. Ash was huddled on the sofa with a blanket and a movie. "Yeah, I'm good. What are you watching?" I looked at the screen then and didn't even need her to answer. This was one movie that I could watch over and over.
"Legends of the Fall. He's so effing gorgeous," she swooned.
I rolled my eyes at her mooning, "As much as I love this film, I'm going to bed. Nighty-night."
"You're boring," Ash called as I left the lounge.
ƀ
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Damn, girl! You look hawt!" Ash stood in the doorway admiring my outfit for the night whilst I added the finishing touches. I was wearing a white strapless dress that had a gold loop between my breasts. The white satin hung open between my breasts down to my navel. The draping satin then hugged my figure just above my butt and then held the very tips of my thighs and that's where it ended. My hair was up in a twist with a few wisps coming down here and there. Gold flat sandals finished the look.
I smiled and looked her over. “Thanks, you too." Ash was wearing a daring red dress that was backless and short.
It was Valentine’s Day and everyone was getting dressed up extra special for Valentine's Night at Macy's. From Under would be covering old power ballads for the night. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for it at all. After messing up the other night with Scott I wanted to cry sick. Things had gone backwards between us, although we both tried hard to ignore what happened, it was as though we were both striving for a normal friendship.
He started bringing girls back again and I hurt. Apparently, he knew what it did to me because he said so last week so why would he be hurting me on purpose? How could he do that after all the things he said to me? It was all utter bullshit. What else could it be? I knew I had no right to be angry with him because I kept refusing him. I wanted to be snarky with him. Is this ever going to end?
"Ready to go? Want to get there early."
"Yeah, two secs," I looked around for my purse.
Maybe it was too late for me. Maybe I should sleep with him and let him get out of my system once and for all. I treasured our friendship but was it worth this? Would our friendship last anyway?
As we got there, I went straight to the bar. Everything was going round in my head and I wanted to forget for a while. Alcohol wasn't the cure but it was a darn good temporary one because I knew that once Scott came off stage he would be in the arms of someone else and after his words last week I really didn't want to see it without anything to soften the blow.
After downing two shots I snaked through bodies to our usual table with the first round.
Meg whistled. "Wow, how is it possible to look hotter than you usually do?" Meg grinned.
Ash pulled me down next to her, “Are you okay?”
No! “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“You don’t seem like yourself lately and you looked a little uptight at the bar,” she said.
“I’ve been tired.” I shrugged and turned away.
“I guess you’ve had a lot of late nights recently with Sc—“ She stopped mid-sentence and looked at me as though she had seen a ghost.
“What?” I had to ask as she was staring at me like I had three eyes.
Her head went to the side questioningly. “Emma, has something been going on with you and Scott?”
The question shocked me. Nobody had really guessed anything was happening with Scott and I so I was taken aback. I looked away. Would it be so bad if I told her about it? Wasn’t she over him now? She seemed to be. I looked back to her and sighed as I nodded.
“Oh, Em, why didn’t you tell me?” her gaze softened and pity was written all over her face.
“I really don’t want to talk about this now, Ash.”
“Have you slept with him?”
“No!” I denied. “Can we talk about it later?”
She put her hand over mine and squeezed it in comfort, “Of course.”
From Under came on stage and I took a deep breath to steady my heart at the sight of him. He was gorgeous. His hair was super glossy tonight, and he was wearing a new shirt which hugged his chest. Fluttering started in my stomach as I watched him while he was unaware. The way his hands softly gripped the microphone, the way his mouth moved against it had me almost panting. Maybe I should sleep with him to get him out of my system. Maybe thats what I needed to move on and him too. Stop it, Emma! I shook myself hard, that wasn't going to happen.
There was a slow, lazy beat to his song, the crowd was thick with couples rubbing against one another and singles doing their hardest to be noticed. I began swaying my hips slowly as I got into his slow ballad, not interested in finding attention, I only wanted to dance. I closed my eyes and let the music do its thing to my body and my senses.
It wasn't long before warm hands touched my hips gently, my mouth turned down slightly but I kept my eyes closed as I began to imagine Scott's hands there. My breath hitched as I day dreamed Scott's hands doing what these hands were doing. Rubbing up and down my sides slowly, setting my nerve endings alight with sensation. His head came down to my shoulder then and I shuddered as I felt imaginary Scott there. I turned my head towards his and wrapped my arms around his neck to keep him close. His hands were all over me swiping my belly low down.
Scott’s voice stumbled mid-lyric and my eyes shot open. He was watching me and the pain I saw on his face made a lump form in my throat. His voice had deepened to a husk as though his throat was closing. I felt like shit, guilt and ashamed with myself all at once. I was a bitch and I wanted this guys hands off me. It didn't matter that he put me through the same torment. My conscious wouldn't let me not give a crap.
The man’s hand drifted down and grabbed my behind. I turned around and pushed him away. His face fell but he let me go soundly.
I turned and found Scott's dejected eyes still on me as he sang. I couldn't watch anymore. I turned away with my head down. I wanted him and it made no difference that my rational thought warned me away. I loved him and at the end of the day I was miserable without him. I missed him every minute of every day, even if I hated him, even when he was with someone else.
I was pathetic. The time we had spent together after he was beaten was bliss and I wanted that back. Eventually Scott announced the last song and the familiar sound of Give In To Me by Michael Jackson filled the room and the crowd erupted in cheerspteall. I watched from the now empty table as the song began.
Scott didn't smile. He looked strained as he melded his eyes to mine and his hands fisted the microphone tightly. He sang to me. His voice poured out like I had never heard it before. It was like he was feeling every word, like it had come from his soul. He didn't release me from his intense hold all through the song. Every lyric hit me in the heart. He was angry with me; he was hurting, I could feel it in every syllable. The song closed and Scott turned away from me whilst mumbling a pathetic thank you before going off stage, he wasn’t his usual self and it was my doing.
This was doing none of us any good, we were hurting each other too much. I went to the bar and ordered a couple more shots for myself. An hour and a few more shots later I was back on the floor dancing alone while mostly everyone had dates. I didn't give a shit. I wanted to be alone. I deserved to be alone. I spotted Scott dancing with a gorgeous busty blonde. Scott was behind her, his eyes were on me as his lips trailed down to her neck, while his hand massaged her breasts and his other trailed down to cup her between her legs. His eyes half-closed on me when he started to stroke her gently.
Searing pain lanced through me and I felt my face crumple, too upset to even try to hide it, I spun as the tears came and ran as fast as my wobbly legs would get me through the crowd. I wanted to scream at Scott for making me feel what I was feeling. I needed to get out the door Scott had shown me to get out in the alley for some privacy. I almost made it. As I put my hand on the door handle and started to pull it open, a hand slammed it shut again from behind me and I was spun and slammed against th
e wall.
Scott loomed over me and I lowered my head so he wouldn't see me cry but he just forced my face to his.
“You fuckin' did this to us Emma so why the hell are you crying, dammit?” he shouted at me.
I put my hands over my face as I cried harder. I wanted him to leave me alone, just leave me with my tears in private, I didn't want him to see me weak like that.
“No,” he yelled again, “you don't get to hide your face from me. I want to see every raw bit of pain on your face.”
What ensued was a fight to get my hands out of his, his iron grip was hurting me. When I managed to pull a hand free, I slapped him — hard.
He reared back and froze in shock. I sobbed, grabbed the door handle and went as fast as I could through the corridor to get outside.
“Emma!” he was on me before I knew it.
He plucked me from behind, “Leave me alone!” I fought against his hold but he carried me into the bands back room, kicked the door closed and stopped. His arm was like a clamp around my waist, keeping me from moving.
I fought and kicked at his legs but it was no use.
“Stop it, Emma!”
But I couldn't stop, I was fighting against him, us, my feelings, his, everything.
“I hate you!” I screamed and dug my nails into the hand around my waist.
He spun me to face him then and he shook me hard, “No you don't. When are you gonna open your beautiful fuckin' eyes and see?” he shouted back.
His words evoked mental pictures of him with various girls. “I've seen all I need to see!” My face was burning with the anger I felt. “You wanted to see me in pain and you did. I deserve it, but its over. I’m leaving! I’m leaving this building, I'm leaving this bloody town and I'm fucking leaving you!”
His face fell. He let go of me abruptly and I quickly turned my back whilst I got my breath back and calmed down. My heart was thumping so hard that I could hear it.
“I wish I never met you,” my quiet rasp shook.
I heard him come closer until I could feel his warmth on my back. His closeness was excruciating and exquisite at the same time. After all this, I just wanted him to touch me, I wanted him to comfort me. I felt his big warm hand stoke my bare back slowly. I shuddered as his other hand snaked around and pressed my lower tummy setting a thick pulse between my legs.
“You don’t mean that.” He whispered close to me.
He pressed his open mouth against my shoulder blade and nibbled gently as he kissed. His hand on my belly pressed deeper. My head went back as a whimper escaped my lips, “Yes, I do, Scott. You hurt me,” I sniffed, "all the fucking time." I wanted to reach behind and touch him desperately but I wouldn't allow myself to.
I felt his lips on my neck now, kissing slow and hard, his hands on me getting tighter, moving slowly all over my tummy and sides. He was all over me.
“Baby, I cant take this anymore,” he was breathless and shaky. "Please, no more."
“No,” I moaned. "I just seen you touch her. I dont want your hands on me."
But he didn't take his hands away. His touch was needy, wrenching a deep craving within me that started in my chest and spread outwards through my body, making it his.
“You're torturing me, babe." His hands rubbed down the sides of my hips. "All I think of is you," He groaned into my neck eliciting a shudder, "and I can't stop," he shook his head, "I've tried so fuckin' hard to be your friend but I can't do it. You know we can't anymore, Emma."
He spun me to face him quickly. I had a second to look at him and my heart sang at the violent want in his expression before his lips crashed down on mine. His lips were hard and desperate and slow all rolled into one. He groaned into my mouth and it was almost my undoing. His tongue plunged in and out and he felt so good. I wanted things to be perfect for us but they weren’t. There was too much to overcome. Too much crap between us. This wouldn't work but, god, I wanted him so badly. I had nevdly peer loved him more.
He gripped my hips and pulled me into him hard and fast as his mouth continued it exploration. His hands wondered down to squeeze my ass and then up to graze my breasts.
I tore my mouth away from his, “Scott, please, I can't do this.”
“Yes, you can.” He groaned into my neck. His eyes had blackened as his pupils dilated, eclipsing his irises. He stayed like that for a moment trying to dampen the heat between us, his lips were rubbing softly, slowly behind my ear. His breaths weren't calming though and after a second I heard a quick hiss of inhalation as he lost the battle to keep his last thread of control.
His mouth slammed down onto mine and I knew no way out. His lips and tongue opened my mouth savagely; his lips showing no mercy. He had never kissed me this intensely. I was losing myself, my thoughts of refusing — fighting — were flitting away and were centring on him, his hands on my body. He gripped my butt firmly and lifted me. He was carrying me to the couch. His mouth still attached to mine and I couldn't think. I had no time.
He laid me down carefully and stood over me, watching me as his nostrils flared with deep breaths. I knew he was giving me a way out by the hopeless look haunting his eyes.
"Scott, I cant.” I whispered, my eyes never leaving his.
"Why?” his voice was a rough sound.
"I’m scared. I'm so scared." I pleaded with my eyes for him to understand.
His hands went into his pockets. "You're scared of me but you slept with Adam?"
"It's not like that."
"Like hell it isn't," he roared, the muscles in his neck growing.
He turned his back quickly and I watched in guilt as his hands went into his hair and he fisted.
"Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck it!" he yelled and punched the wall.
I jumped into an upright position on the couch.
He placed his hands against it and rested his forehead on it. His breaths were heaving and guilt crushed me. I didn't want to see him like this, he looked defeated, lost and so sad.
I wanted to explain. "Scott–"
“Just fuckin' go.” He turned to face me, "Go, now." He looked strained and my heart went out to him.
I had really hurt him this time. I wanted to take it away. Erase that look from his face. I walked forward on shaky legs until I stood by him.
He went stiff and frowned at me before turning his head to the side and away from me.
I reached up one hand to cup his cheek, "Let me explain why," I whispered.
He looked down at me, his brows drawn, his mouth tight. "Take your hand off me and get the fuck out,” he sneered in a thick, strained voice that sounded unlike him.
It was like someone punched me in the gut, a physical pain. I removed my hand and left as soon as I could, my eyes stinging with the first sign of tears.
A loud thud coming from upstairs woke me.
"Noooooo!" It was painful and gut-wrenching and from Scott’s apartment.
Like I was on automatic, I jumped out of bed, pulled my pyjamas on quickly and ran up the stairs two at a time. I went straight into his apartment without knocking. I went through to the lounge not knowing what I was going to find. Maybe Scott on the floor in pain for some reason or someone else.
Scott was curled up on his knees on the floor sobbing without control, his shoulders quaking with the force of it. “No, it’s not real!”
My heart skipped a beat as fear shot through me, “Scott?” I went to my knees beside him, “What's happened?”
He didn't answer me but just kept moaning no over and over. I looked around for clues to what could have happened. I saw a mess; It looked as though he had ransacked the place. I also saw a bottle of empty whiskey on the floor not far from him.
“Scott?” I stroked his hair gently trying to soothe him.
He flinched and looked up at me as though he had only just noticed I was here. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. His whole face was wet with tears. Anguish was in every line of his face as he stared at me as though he was a lost little boy.
; “He’s gone.” His voice cracked out.
Before he could bury his head again I gently cupped his face. “Who’s gone?” my heart was in my throat and sickness swirled within my stomach.
“My dad — he's dead,” Scott closed his eyes tight.
I gasped and my hand closed over my mouth as tears started to sting my eyes. “My god, Scott.” My heart broke for him. I knew how much he loved his dad. He was all he had left. I got down closer to him and put my arms around him tight. He turned and buried his head in my chest while I cradled him like a child. “I’m so sorry.” It sounded lame but what else could I say? There was nothing that anyone could say to make this easier for him — nothing.
“He’s gone. I’ll never see him again. He’s all I have.”
I held onto him while he cried his heart out. His hands were holding onto me like I was his lifeline. Eventually, after what seemed like an hour his crying turned quieter. In that hour he had vomited twice in the toilet. I didn't know whether it was because he'd had a lot to drink or because he was so upset; it was probably both.
