by Hunter Rose
“Get out.”
His eyes narrow. “What?”
“You heard me. I said, get out. You did this on purpose. You could have left. But you said it yourself. You have ways of making things happen when you want them. You’ve wanted Isaiah and me to break up ever since you met me. Now you have it. You got your moment to shove it in his face and to humiliate me. So there’s no reason for you to keep hanging out around here. Get out. Go back to your own apartment. Or to whatever girl you feel like. Or whatever it is you want to do, since you don’t share your life with anyone. Just go.”
He stands, shoves his feet into his boots, and snatches his jacket. He leans close to me as he stalks toward the door.
“I had no idea he was coming here this morning. When you crawl down off your horse, maybe you’ll figure that out. And just so you hear it from someone who doesn’t give a shit about walking on eggshells around you… that didn’t happen because of me. That happened because of you. If you wanted him, you would be engaged to him, not blaming me for you breaking up. You say I’ve wanted you two broken up since we met. That might be true. But so have you.”
The door slamming behind him sends a shudder to my core.
I spend the next two days in bed. It’s the only thing I can think of to do. Christina comes and goes, occasionally sitting on the edge of the bed or bringing me food. The only thing that drags me out is the first day of classes. I go to them but barely retain anything. When it’s over, I go back to the dorm and crawl back under the covers, hoping to block everything out. Three more days drift by in a fog of ignored lectures, an increasing stack of schoolwork, and darkness in the room.
A change comes in the middle of the night. A pounding knock wrenches me out of something that’s close to sleep but can’t be. I’ve been sleeping too much for the last week to actually need any more rest. It’s more like I’ve just convinced my brain to shut off. The loud knock turns into throbbing behind my temples. I eventually get out of bed to open the door. I throw the lock open and barely disengage the door before it’s shoved open, making me stumble backwards a few steps. Talon storms in and looks at Christina’s bed.
“She isn’t here. She’s spending the night away. What are you doing?”
He turns and closes the space between us so fast it makes me gasp and step back.
“Why was it so easy for you to just throw me away?” he asks.
I’m shocked to see the redness of his eyes and the drawn paleness of his skin.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“The other night. It was so easy for you to just push me away, to throw me out of your life. How? How am I so disposable?”
He’s not talking completely about me. There’s so much more in what he’s going through right now, and I can only imagine it’s the same thing that brought him into my bedroom in the middle of the night last year.
“You aren’t disposable, Talon,” I say quietly, taking a step toward him.
“Then why do people keep pushing me out of their lives without even a second thought? My father acts like I don’t exist, and now that his new baby is born, it’s just getting worse. You tossed me out like yesterday’s trash. You didn’t even care.”
I shove down a surge of anger that rushes up into my throat and point fiercely at my bed.
“I’ve been lying in that bed almost nonstop since you walked out of this room. I don’t know what any of my professors have said this week. I’ve eaten twice, and that’s only because Christina forced me to. Don’t you dare say I didn’t care,” I say sharply.
“Then why did you do it?” he asks.
“You said you never think about anyone but yourself in life. You don’t believe in sharing any of it or doing anything because of anyone else. What’s that supposed to make me think? How is that supposed to make me feel? My life exploded the day I met you. Everything I thought I knew suddenly didn’t make as much sense anymore.”
He cringes slightly and pulls away, but I step toward him, reaching out to touch his arm.
“I’m so mad at you,” I tell him. “Not because of whatever that was with Isaiah, but because you still don’t want to share anything with anyone. Even me!”
“How was I supposed to…”
“No. I’m not finished yet. Talon, I am so thankful for you. You are more. More than all of it. You are not even close to disposable. But you can’t go through your life like this. You can’t go around antagonizing people and pushing them all away and expecting them to forgive you. You have to let them in. You can’t just be totally self-consumed and self-obsessed. And rude and selfish. Without a care in the world for other people. That’s not how it works, Talon. You don’t care about anyone except yourself, and that’s what breaks my heart.”
Talon’s blazing blue eyes nail me to the spot.
“That’s not true, Little Bird,” he says. “I care about you.”
In the next instant, I’m in his arms. His mouth covers mine, and the feeling of the kiss takes my breath away. I wrap my arms around his neck and let him guide me over to the bed. We topple down, and he rolls me onto my back so he can kiss me deeper. Our mouths play across each other, our tongues dipping in to taste and explore.
The kiss stretches and lasts, and I feel lightheaded by the time he slips to the side to lay down beside me, curling me into his arms. I hold him until he falls asleep, then lie there, watching him sleep, feeling fully and completely consumed by him.
38
Talon
As has become my regular routine for the last few months, I settle myself into a chair in one of the back rooms of the small theater. The group is more or less the same guys every week, including Damien and Greg. I tend not to socialize too much, but these guys are easy to be around, so long as they keep things light. Once a week, we show up, have a few beers, play cards, eat crap food, and leave. It’s about the only time I hang out with them unless there’s a party going on, but I haven’t had much time for parties over the last few weeks. I’ve been too focused on Wren.
I pull the deck toward me to deal for a game, and my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s against the house rules for any of us to have a phone out while playing, so I ignore it. Especially considering I’m the one who established the rule, after getting sick of the guys documenting every second of their lives on whatever social media they were addicted to at the second. I’m still working on convincing them that there is no one on this planet who is that invested in their lives that they need real-time updates about their card game snacks.
A second notification gets the same treatment, and a third gets me to hold the side button down through my pants leg. After a couple of hands, it’s someone else’s turn to deal, and I bow out for a round to check my messages. I open the backroom door, and a blast of cold late January air hits me in the face.
“Is it your girlfriend?” Damien asks, snickering.
“What girlfriend?” says Josh, one of the Richmond guys who works as a stage manager. He lets us in the building so we can have a place to play that isn’t my apartment. I don’t need my house becoming headquarters for them.
There are three messages, all from Wren. Worried something might be wrong, I check them.
Are you doing anything today?
Hey, I think I see your bike. Are you near the small theater building?
Call me if you get this soon. We can meet up.
The third one has a little smiling emoji. I check the time and see it was hours ago she messaged the first time, and I wonder how I let so much of the day get past me. Hitting the call button, I put the phone to my ear and duck my head back into the backroom. The game is in full swing, and I hear the phone ringing. Then I notice it also seems to be ringing from outside of the door. I peek back out, and Wren is standing there, her phone near her ear and smiling at me.
“Well, hello stranger,” she says, and I stuff my phone back into my pocket.
“Hey,” I say, looking back once more. I don’t want them to see her and
start asking questions. “Let’s go, come on.”
“Where are we going?” she asks as I take her hand and lead her around to the front of the building. We enter the front door of the theater, and I bring her into the house.
“Here. I thought you would like it here,” I say.
“I do. I love this theater. How did you get in here?” she asks.
“A guy I know is a stage manager. He unlocks the place for us, and we come here to play cards,” I explain.
“Oh, your friends?” she asks in a way that seems surprised. “Are you going to introduce me?”
I step closer to her, closing the gap between us, and she pushes back casually against the wall of the stage. There is no hesitation in her. She is not going away from me but pulling me in closer. I crave the taste of her, and being secretive and in the dark house of a theater only adds to the intrigue.
“No, Wren. Not you. You are my secret from the world. I don’t want them even knowing you exist.” I try to close the gap more, to press my lips on hers, but she pushes away. Confused, I step toward her again, but she places a hand on my chest to stop me.
“What did you say?” she asks, all the lightness gone from her voice.
“What? You are my secret? I don’t-”
“I’m a secret for you? I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I am nobody’s secret.”
“You’re taking this the wrong way,” I protest. “It’s just, you are really special to me, and I don’t want anyone knowing about you. Especially these guys. I want to keep you away from all that.”
“Why, so you can keep living the rich playboy life? After everything, after Isaiah, you won’t even acknowledge my existence to your friends? Do you think that little of me?”
The words sting me far worse than I anticipate. I didn’t sign up for all this. My feelings for her have only gotten stronger over the last few weeks, and now I feel everything spiraling out of control.
“There isn’t anyone but you. I don’t let people into my life, and when I do, I protect them. I want to protect you, keep you hidden from anyone or anything that would endanger what we have.”
“I am not a side piece. I know you’re used to girls who don’t mind sitting on a shelf for you to play with whenever you want without any other acknowledgment, but that’s not me. I’m never going to be that. That’s something you need to understand right now. So, go back to your game. I’m going home.”
She turns and walks out of the theater. I take two steps after her but force myself to stop. She needs time to cool off, or else I will only make the situation worse. It’s not like I’ve had the right words tonight anyway. I need to think clearly about what to say to her before I make a bigger mess than I already have. After a few moments of kicking myself, I go back to the backroom, where the guys are between rounds.
“Did I hear a girl’s voice?” Greg asks as I come into the room. He is opening a beer and sitting across from where I was. The eyes of the rest of the room, another five or six people aside from my high school friends, turn to me. I ignore the question and grab a beer myself, sitting down at my usual spot.
“Who’s deal is it?” I ask, looking for the stack of cards.
“Mine,” says Damien. “First though, I gotta know. Wren?”
There is no point denying it. I nod and motion for the cards to be dealt. Damien shuffles them again instead and eyes me suspiciously.
“How’s the bet going?” he asks.
“What bet?” Josh asks, suddenly far more interested in us than the game playing on his phone.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Nothing?” asks Damien. “So, I win, then?”
I burn a hole into Damien with my stare. How would I possibly explain this to them so they will shut up about it, without giving Damien ammunition to crow for a decade?
“No, you don’t. She’s falling for me exactly as I said,” I say, not elaborating.
“Uh-huh,” he says.
“You don’t have a whole lot of time left,” Greg says.
“What bet?” Josh asks again. He reaches into the bag beside him and pops a cheese ball into his mouth, his eyes wide. He is officially enthralled.
“You wanna tell him?” Greg asks me. I shake my head.
“Talon has had it bad for this chick named Wren since we went to high school together,” explains Damien.
“That’s enough, Damien,” I say, but it doesn’t stop him.
“She’s up here for school too, and she was still with her boyfriend from back home. She rejected Talon twice,” he continues.
“She rejected you?” Josh raises his eyebrows, thoroughly enjoying this revelation.
“Yeah. Hard, too. In front of everybody,” Damien goes on. “Once then, and once when we first all got here. So we made a bet he couldn’t make her drop her old guy and fall madly in love with him, so he can dump her and humiliate her the way she did to him. I said he couldn’t do it; he said he could, and Greg set the terms as the end of the school year.”
“I’m done talking about this,” I mutter, getting up.
“She already dumped the old guy. All that’s left is getting her all wound up over him,” Damien says. “Only one problem, right?”
He turns to me, and I shake my head. I don’t want him to say it, but the grin spreading across his face tells me he will anyway.
“She’s a virgin,” he finishes.
“I said I am done talking about it.”
“Come on, don’t get so upset,” Damien says. “You know you want to take her V card.”
“Fuck you. I’m out,” I snap, storming off to the back door.
“I still don’t think you can do it,” Damien shouts after me as the door slams closed.
39
Wren
I let Talon call me four times before I answer the phone. I would have let it keep ringing on, but that would probably mean I’d show up in my dorm and he’d already be there. One of these days, security is going to catch on to however it is he’s breaking into the secure building and getting into my room. I don’t want to have to explain to my parents why I’m in trouble for smuggling a guy in my dorm during non-visitor hours. Or when I’m not there.
“What do you want?” I ask. “I thought we made ourselves pretty clear with each other.”
“You might have, but I didn’t. I need to talk to you,” he says.
“Don’t you think you’ve talked enough?”
“No. Meet me in your room.”
“What if I’m busy?” I ask.
“You’re not, and you know it as well as I do. Just meet me there.”
He hangs up without another word, and I let out a sigh. I’m not busy. I was actually headed back to my room anyway, but I don’t feel up to another confrontation with him tonight. At the same time, I can’t resist him. I never can. No matter what’s going on, there’s always a part of me longing for him. There are plenty of times when I wish I didn’t and could just put him out of my mind, but I can’t.
When I get back to the dorm, he’s standing outside waiting for me.
“So formal tonight?” I ask. “Not just going to let yourself in?”
“I didn’t think you would want me to,” he admits.
“That’s never seemed to mean anything to you before.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Can we just go upstairs so we can talk?”
I walk past him and up to the front desk to sign him in as a visitor. It feels strange to do that after so many times of not bothering. I realize in spite of myself I don’t like doing it. I don’t like justifying Talon coming to spend time with me. He doesn’t need that.
We get into my room, and Talon immediately walks up to Christina.
“Could you leave?”
Christina looks up at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I need to talk to Wren.”
“Well, I need to do my homework.”
“That’s what libraries are for,” Talon says.
&nbs
p; Christina lets out an exasperated sigh and gathers her books, shoving them into her backpack before slinging it over her shoulder. She looks between me and Talon and shakes her head.
“You two need to figure this out. I don’t know what’s going on, and at this point, I don’t really care. But you need to figure it out,” she says.
She leaves, and Talon turns to me.
“We do,” he says.
“I don’t think there is anything for us to figure out,” I reply. “We’ve been going back and forth like this for over a year. And you know what’s funny? I barely even feel like I know you. And at the same time, you’re exactly like I thought you were. You don’t want to share your life with anyone, and I’m nothing but entertainment to you.”
“That is not true,” he says. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. It was inexcusable, and it wasn’t what I meant. I don’t want to hide you away from other people because I’m ashamed of you or because you don’t mean anything to me. I want to protect you and keep you selfishly to myself because you mean everything.”
”I’m sorry, Talon, it’s just too hard for me to keep hearing you say things like that and then turning away again.”
“You told me I was so much more to you than everybody else,” he says.
“You are. And I don’t understand why. I know almost nothing about you. I don’t know your father’s name or what school you went to when you were younger, or if you ever played any sports. I don’t know if you had pets when you lived in Atlanta or if you’d like animals at all. I don’t know what your favorite food is when you aren’t subsisting off pizza and Chinese food delivery. I don’t know what you dreamed of being when you grew up, or your favorite toy, or what you’re afraid of. Your favorite holiday, your biggest question to the universe, the aspiration you want to fulfill more than anything else in the world. I don’t know any of that.”
