by Claire Raye
I’m pretty sure this is just as bad as the whole flirting and kissing thing and even though Mila will have no idea I’m doing this, it’s still a shitty thing to do.
I do it anyway. Working myself over, my hand gripping my dick as I jerk off to thoughts of her. To the way she looked today. Or the way she tasted last night. How much I want to kiss her again.
“Fuck,” I moan as I come quickly, my eyes screwed shut as I try to stop the waves of pleasure that wash over me. It’s no use though, I wanted this, and I did it and it’s not until I step out of the shower and come face to face with my scars am I reminded of exactly why the fuck I need to stay away from Mila.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, my finger traces the gouge across my chest, the smaller ones lower down and the pattern of them across my left bicep. These scars are never going away, permanent reminders of all the ways I fucked up and all the ways I can’t let myself go there again.
Closing my eyes against the memories, I turn and walk out of the bathroom, pulling on some sweats and a t-shirt, because I don’t have to be at work for a couple more hours.
Just as I flop onto the couch, a knock sounds at my door. Standing, I walk over and open it, surprised to see Mila standing on the other side.
“So our hot water is fucked,” she says, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “Charlie said it went out after I left and she’s called the super, but being Sunday and all, it’s…”
She trails off and it’s then that I notice the towel and change of clothes in her hand.
“You need to borrow my shower?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest.
“Well, I need to use it, if that’s okay?” she asks, and I swear she actually looks nervous.
Laughing, I gesture for her to come in. “Course you can,” I say. “Down the hall, first on your left, you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” she says, her head down as she walks past me. I turn and watch her go, a part of me wanting to follow her in there, even if that is the last thing I should be thinking about.
She closes the door behind her and while I try desperately not to picture her naked in my bathroom, I head back to the couch, channel surfing for something to do as I log on and check my email. There’s a couple from people at home, several from my brother that are mostly just links to shit he wants to do when he comes to visit.
I’m still not sure how I feel about that little development. As much as I love my brother and miss hanging out with him, I haven’t seen him or my parents since the day I left a note on the kitchen table and walked out, heading to the airport to board a plane that would take me anywhere, as long as it was as far away from my old life as possible. Seeing him again feels like a link back to that time and I’m scared about all the shit it might bring up when it happens.
Just as I’m logging off, the bathroom door opens and Mila walks out.
“All good?” I ask.
She stops in front of the couch, the scent of vanilla filling the room. “Yeah, thanks for that,” she says.
“No worries,” I say, smiling as I inhale her scent. God, she smells fucking amazing. “You, um… you wanna hang out for a bit?”
Mila stares at me, a look of uncertainty on her face. “Aren’t you working tonight?”
“In a couple of hours, yeah,” I say, feeling weirdly nervous all of a sudden. “I could help you study if you want?”
Mila continues to watch me, her big brown eyes searching my face as she stands in front of the couch. I feel like she can see right through my bullshit again, can see deep inside my soul and just how fucking lonely I am right now.
“Nah,” she suddenly says, dropping her stuff on the floor as she collapses on the couch beside me. “I don’t feel like studying. Wanna watch some TV instead?”
I smile, even though she isn’t looking at me. “Sure thing.”
We spend the next couple of hours watching TV and chatting. Once again, it’s light and mindless, both of us still ignoring the elephant that’s now sitting between us on the couch.
When it’s nearly time for me to head off, I disappear into my bedroom to change, wishing I didn’t have to go to work tonight.
Wishing I could stay here with her.
“Have fun at work,” she says as we walk out of my apartment.
“Thanks, should be same old, same old.” I pause, turning to face her, wanting to say something but having no clue what that something is.
“Okay, well—” she says at the same time as I say, “Mila.”
She stops, her eyes locked with mine as we stand outside her apartment. My heart’s pounding in my chest again, memories of standing in this hall last night and all the things that happened flashing through my brain.
I step closer without even thinking about it, see my hand as it reaches out and brushes some of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.
Mila swallows hard, her tongue poking out and wetting her bottom lip.
“I had fun today,” I whisper, my gaze dropping to her mouth.
“Me too.”
I smile, my brain and my heart warring it out with what I should do next. I want to kiss her again, badly, even if I know I shouldn’t. In the end though, my brain wins, which given I need to be at work soon, is probably for the best.
My finger trails down her neck and along her collarbone. “I’ll catch ya later,” I say, before turning and walking toward the lift, wishing I could just stay.
Chapter Eleven
Mila
It’s been a long week of studying and exams. I had no idea I’d end up with this much work for one class, but I’m enjoying it. I can only imagine what next semester will be like when I have more than one class in my major. I just finished up another anatomy vocabulary quiz and a lab, and I’m thanking fuck it’s Friday.
I walk up to the front of our apartment and Charlie is standing outside with a keg and as much as I’ve seen her do some weird shit, this is by far the weirdest. She’s literally sitting on top of the keg, her phone in her hand and a rather annoyed look on her face.
“How the fuck am I supposed to get this upstairs?” she asks, slapping a hand down on the metal barrel.
“The better question is, where the hell did you get that?” I now ask, walking over and trying to help Charlie push it toward the door, but this thing isn’t going to move.
“I got it from Stella’s,” she grunts, her feet slipping comically as she again tries to push it. “Where else would sell me a keg of beer?”
“How the hell did you even get it here?” I now ask, feeling like I’m definitely missing a larger piece of this puzzle.
“What’s with all the questions? Maybe you could call your boyfriend and have him come help us?” she shoots back, a bothered sigh falling from her lips as she hands me a carbon copy slip of paper. “Sorry, I know he’s not your boyfriend, but maybe you could text him and see if he’s home?”
I look over the slip of paper and laugh, instantly regretting it when Charlie’s angry blue-gray eyes hit me with a filthy look. “So, you think drinking more beer is going to take care of this?” I ask, flashing her the slip of paper, and suddenly sounding far too logical for my own good.
Who is this person?
“No, I think charging for people to get into a party at our house will pay for my stupid consumption ticket.”
“Got it and I’m sorry I just questioned your intelligence because this is fucking genius, except couldn’t you have just paid the ticket with the money you spent on the keg?” Again, hitting her with another question that only adds to her annoyance with me.
“Oh my god, Mila. I didn’t pay for the keg. How stupid do you think I am?” Charlie now rolls her eyes, not understanding why I can’t keep up with this ridiculous conversation. “I went to Stella’s and flirted with one of the bartenders until he agreed to buy me the keg and I totally thought it would be him delivering it and I could get him to bring it upstairs, b
ut it was this old guy who was all fucking surly and couldn’t give a fuck that I wasn’t going to be able to get it upstairs on my own. Kinda feels intentional to me.”
She’s talking so fast that I can’t help but laugh at her now clarifying everything. “Okay, let me get this straight. You went back to the bar where you were given a ticket for consumption and convinced the bartender to buy you a keg—” She cuts me off, shaking her head vehemently.
“No, I didn’t get the ticket at Stella’s. I got the ticket responsibly walking home from Stella’s last night. Keep up.”
“I think I’m up to speed now, but we’re still standing here with this keg and no way to get it upstairs. And if we don’t get it out of here soon, we’re going to end up in more trouble than your stupid consumption ticket,” I state, suddenly hoping we grow the strength to lift this damn thing up the two steps and into the lobby. “We just need to get it to the elevator.”
“Yeah, I’m aware,” Charlie quips back, but smiling behind her bothered persona. “How much do you think this thing weighs?”
“More than us, that’s for sure, but let’s try to lift it up and see if we can get it over the first step.”
Putting everything we can into lifting the keg, we actually get it to move about two feet, dropping it directly in front of the steps that lead up to the front door.
“Holy shit, that fucker is heavy, but look at us. We moved it like two feet,” Charlie cheers, throwing a fist into the air.
“At the expense of a hernia we’ll probably both have tomorrow,” I joke. “Did your mom ever tell you that? Is it just bullshit? Mine used to yell at Ruby and me not to pick each other up because we’d get a hernia.”
Charlie is laughing now, the randomness of our conversation is pretty typical and the way we jump around is quite funny.
“I have no idea, but maybe you could find out now that you’re going to be a nurse.” She nods, smiling stupidly at me which only adds to our laughing. “Speaking of nurses,” she now says, her voice turning a little softer, but I don’t miss the insinuating tone it takes on.
“What the fuck are you two doing now?” I hear Adam’s voice call out, his deep laugh making my tummy feel like it’s flip flopping.
How the hell is it possible that his laugh can do that?
“What the hell does it look like?” Charlie quips back. “Trying to get this keg up to our apartment.” She shrugs and shakes her head, cocking a brow as if the answer is so obvious and it really should be.
“Can you give us a hand?” I ask, sweetly, running my hand down his arm, feeling the tightness of his muscles and remembering what he looked like shirtless at the pool all those weeks back.
The scary thought is I’m nearing the point where I’d pretty much do anything to see him shirtless again. I’m coming across really desperate. Shirtless and at a distance is safe though.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, not questioning us further and I’m glad he’s not being weird about the underage drinking thing.
Charlie walks back over to the keg, gripping the top like she’s going to help Adam, which only makes him burst out laughing. “Step back, you’re like fifty kilos with bricks in your pocket. I’ve got this.”
Charlie huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, an indignant look plastered on her face as she steps away. I’ll give her credit, because she’s a total badass, but this keg is out of our league.
We both watch, mouths falling open as Adam heaves the keg off the ground and up onto his shoulder, his arms flexing and his shirt riding up slightly to reveal his flat toned stomach.
Charlie turns to me, mouthing, “Oh my god,” and I swat at her to shut up before I moan out loud and ask him to take me to bed.
We scramble after him as he effortlessly hauls the keg over to the elevator and we meet him there, pressing the button.
“What’s the plan with all this beer?” he asks and then shakes his head. “Never mind. Don’t tell me.”
“Charlie got an underage consumption ticket and we’re gonna have a party to pay for it,” I tell him even though he said he didn’t want to hear it.
“What is an underage consumption ticket?” Adam now asks, despite not really wanting to know what we’re up to.
“The cops give them out instead of arresting you if you’re underage and drinking. Kinda like a nice way of letting you off the hook,” I explain. “And now Charlie has this brilliant plan to pay the ticket with party money.”
“You both realize how fucked up that is, right?”
“What’s fucked up is that the drinking age is twenty-one and I was walking home. Walking home all responsibly and this cop just slaps me with a ticket,” Charlie laments, carrying on.
“I’ll give you that, but I’m going to guess there was more going on than you just walking home,” Adam pokes back, making me giggle a little. I’m certain she wasn’t just walking home either.
“Okay, fine, I may have fallen off the curb a few times, but he didn’t offer to drive me home or anything so what kind of community service is that?”
We reach our apartment and Charlie unlocks the door, letting Adam in as he looks around, asking where we want it.
“Put it in the kitchen by the fridge,” I say, pointing to an empty spot and Adam carries it over, setting it down without letting it slam to the floor and clearly both Charlie and I are impressed.
“How did you carry that thing like that?” Charlie now asks, and it’s exactly what I’m thinking and if he can carry that keg in here imagine what else that body can do.
“I work at a bar, Charlie. It’s kinda part of the job.”
She skips over to him, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “You’re our hero,” she croons, but he looks so uncomfortable, it has me laughing again. He’s trying so damn hard not to enjoy us, but he’s failing. “You coming tonight?”
“I think I’m going to stay away. I already contributed to your underage drinking by carrying this upstairs and I kinda need to keep my job.” He shrugs, his eyes watching my face after he gives Charlie his answer. “But I’ll be around,” he adds, again, watching me, and I’m certain the smile that spreads across my face is unmistakable. It’s like a silent invitation and I’m probably going to take it if I can psych myself up. My self-control is going downhill fast.
“Well, it won’t be the same without you,” Charlie replies sweetly. “Thanks again.”
“No probs,” Adam answers back, hitting her with a perfectly sexy smile. “I’ll catch you later, Mila.” His words come out a little more seductive this time, falling from his lips in a way that calls to me.
He closes the apartment door behind him and instantly Charlie squeals out loud, repeating his words, “I’ll catch you later, Mila.” Her Australian accent is horrendous, and I cringe at her, my nose wrinkling up. “Holy fucking shit, did you hear the way he said your name? Did you come in your panties just then, because I think I did, and he didn’t even say my name.”
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” I reply, attempting nonchalance, but I’m certain she can see right through it.
“What’s ridiculous is that you aren’t climbing into his bed and giving him a proper thank you.”
I hear her, I do, and while I know what she’s saying is in jest and meant to be playful, sometimes it hurts. My life isn’t what it used to be and being reckless is no longer on the list of things I do, even if I am only twenty years old.
“I’d love to, but…” I start, suddenly feeling like I need to defend myself.
“You don’t have to explain why you’re not. You know I understand and I’m just here trying to make light of everything because I honestly have no idea how to deal with what you’re going through, what you’ve been through,” Charlie admits, swallowing hard at the uncomfortableness that is now floating around the room.
“It doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun and get this ticket paid though,” I respond, trying to lighten th
e somber tone our conversation has suddenly taken.
“Fuck yes!” Charlie cheers.
The party is in full swing and we make enough in the first two hours to pay Charlie’s ticket. Everyone who walks through the door gives the same response, telling us they’ve also been hit with consumption tickets and are pissed they didn’t think to pay it back with booze money.
“Are you having a good time?” Charlie slurs, slinging an arm around my shoulder, letting out a little hiccup, showing exactly how drunk she really is.
“I am,” I say, but something about it feels like a lie. It’s not that I’m having a terrible time or anything, but something feels like it’s missing. I have no interest in flirting or hooking up with any of the guys here and a part of me wishes I was just hanging out with Adam on his couch.
“You know I’ve been dealt a shit hand,” she says, and I nod. She has been, probably shittier than mine, especially since mine was self-imposed. “I’ve learned that I can’t change what’s happened in the past, but I also can’t dwell on things and let them dictate my life. What if I die tomorrow? Will I have lived a kickass life. Will I have regrets? I don’t want to live with regrets.”
“You’re drunk,” I say, kissing her cheek.
“I am, but I’m about to be really fucking honest with you,” she says, turning to look at me, her forehead resting against mine. “What happened in Tahoe was really fucking shitty and you had to make a decision that most people would never have been strong enough to make. But you did what you knew was right and you need to stop fucking punishing yourself for it.”
I am punishing myself for it, for lots of things I did over those few months and I have no idea when I’ll stop. It never seems to get easier and that old adage that time heals all wounds is complete bullshit. Time has done fuck all for my wounds.
Suddenly Charlie burps loudly, slapping a hand over her mouth, totally killing this moment of solidarity between us. And I’m actually glad she’s drunk because otherwise I’d probably be sobbing. Crying now would just scare the shit out of her.
