by Lindsey Iler
“You think?” I ask. Honest curiosity takes over. I can’t imagine any of them giving up their own recovery time on the weekends.
“Okay, maybe I’m not so sure.” She glances at Griffin and Rico the second they jump in the air and bump chests.
“I’ll tell them,” I whisper. Rico runs down the hallway, spilling half the shot of Jack down his hand. I turn and address Sandy. “Eventually.” I take the half-ass shot and throw back the dark liquid. It burns a trail down to my belly. “You happy now?” I ask Rico, my eyebrow raised in question.
“Very.” He clutches my shoulder, but I brush him off. “Now, how the hell do I turn on the fancy-ass stereo system? I still can’t figure this shit out.”
I follow him to the corner cabinet. With a push to the top right-hand corner, the door gives way to reveal the system. Several buttons later, static buzzes in every room. The entire house is wired to the stereo. Rico reaches across me for the volume button, twisting the knob until a hard thump plays throughout the main floor.
“Miley Cyrus?” I shout as Rico passes the sofa.
“Bitches love Miley Cyrus,” he explains, dancing out of the room.
I lean back against the cushions and rest my eyes, exhausted from today’s practice. This song and the loud chatter surrounding me transports my mind to a different time.
“Here’s to staying positive, and always testing negative.” The team cheers, clinking our glasses together and downing the clear liquid.
When I turn, my knees waver. I squint at my phone, trying to see what time it is. I told myself I’d only stay a few hours. That was four hours ago. I hope to find a missed text, but it’s been a week and no response from Kennedy.
“Graham, I want you to meet Kendall.” William, the Senior catcher, pushes a cute brunette in front of me. Her tank top is low, and her hem is short. “She can take care of you.”
Even with my liquor-soaked mind, I know she should feel offended. I wait for her to shove him away, but she surprises me by taking my hand and leading me through the party. My eyes stay glued to her ass as we walk upstairs.
Every door she checks is locked. She shrugs as if it’s only a small inconvenience. Fists grab my shirt and pull me to her as she hoists herself onto a table at the end of the hallway. She sways to the music, spreading her legs to make room for me. My hands run over her hair, but it’s not soft. It’s coarse from harsh treatments through the years. Why isn’t it soft?
Her lips run along my neck, and she whispers, “I need you.”
“At least, someone does,” I think to myself.
I don’t care who sees us. My body goes into overdrive, pulling at her tank top and tossing it to the floor. She’s quick to lift her hips, wiggling her pink thong down her legs. She tucks the material into my back pocket.
My hands run up her thighs, over her trim waist, and onto her ribs. It’s light enough to see the skin is bare. No tattoo. No ballet slippers. Why isn’t there a pair of black slippers?
I shake the thought away when her hand dips into my jeans. The button pops, and she pulls me free, her feet pushing the denim low on my hips. She reaches into her back pocket, pulls out a condom, and waves it in my face. With little effort, she covers me.
The moment the head of my cock rubs against her entrance, every last beer and shot fade away. I stumble back and button my pants, glaring at the stranger in front of me. She’s not who I want her to be. The scrap of lace she calls panties floats to the floor as I race to the stairs.
When the cool air outside hits my face, I slump down on the brick steps. What was I thinking? The shame of what I almost did weighs heavy on my shoulders. Kendall. Kennedy. Coarse brown hair. Soft brown hair. No tattoo. Tattoo. I only saw what I wanted to see. Their close resemblance has my head fucked up.
It’s only been a week. Her pushing me away doesn’t mean I need to revert to the guy I’m not proud of. A half-ass version of myself. I stand and jog to the sidewalk, readying myself for the long walk home.
A warm body cozies up next to mine, bringing me back from my twisted past. Slow to look, I discover Sandy’s best friend, Ashlee. The smile on her face tells me she either wants something, or she’s back to proposition me, much like last week and the week before.
“Hey, Ash,” I offer before closing my eyes again.
“We should grab dinner some night this week,” she says in a soft, innocent voice. Her chest is against my arm, and her eyes burn into me. Nothing about this girl is innocent.
My eyelids flutter open to her overeager smile. “Ash.” I sit up to gain some distance from her.
“Yes?” she answers hungrily.
I huff out a deep breath. “I don’t want to go out with you.” I don’t bother sugarcoating with a list of excuses. I simply am not interested, and Ash knows it, but she’s willing to still try.
She thinks standing by my side will bring some fulfillment to her life and popularity on campus. With her reputation, I have no doubt what she’s after. Last week, after throwing herself at me and being denied, she plastered her ass next to Rico. For most of the girls, it’s how things run around here.
Ashlee groans and jumps from the couch, looming over me. “Are you gay or something?”
“Let’s get something straight.” I stand and leer down at her. “Just because I’m not willing to sleep with you doesn’t make me gay. Trust me, sweetheart, I’m as far from gay as I can get.”
“Then what’s the deal? I’m not asking you to marry me, Graham.”
“No, you’re asking me to fuck you.”
“And?”
“I’m not that guy. I may have been in the past, but I’m not anymore. If you’re looking for someone to fuck, walk to the kitchen. Plenty of those guys will help you with whatever it is you’re trying to forget.”
“Fuck you, Graham.” She tosses a pillow against my chest and saunters by me with an extra swing in her hips. Over her shoulder, she licks her lips and grins. Her desperate attempt to show me what I’m missing is enough validation I’m doing the right thing.
She snuggles under Rico’s arm. He grins over his shoulder, and with a small wave of his hand, turns his eyes to her. He’ll either thank me later or hate me when he can’t give her the brush off like the other girls.
“Guys, I’m heading to bed.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder when they turn with dumbfounded stares on their faces. “Early morning,” I explain my premature departure again. Turning my back, I skip two steps at a time until I hit the top landing.
Sandy walks out of Griffins room, pulling one of his XXL hoodies over her head. “Think about what I said, okay?”
With a shake of my head, I hug her then head to my room. After a long, hot shower, I slip on gym shorts and fall to my mattress, fluffing the pillow beneath my head until I find comfort. With zero enthusiasm, I turn on the TV and flip aimlessly through the channels until I land on Dirty Dancing. I silently laugh and throw the remote near my feet.
There’s a faint knock on my door when the movie’s almost finished. I twist to see my alarm clock. The face lit up in red tells me it’s a little after ten. The door creaks open and a head pops in.
“Hey, Pretty Boy.”
He hates the nickname the guys gave him, and nothing gives me pleasure like tormenting him. Scanning his eyes over the room, he plops down in the chair across from my bed, points to the TV, and groans. When he turns to face me, I hold back my laughter.
“Seriously, man, nothing else on but this?” he asks, a thrilled gleam in his eyes.
I change the subject. “How was the city?”
“Remember that girl I told you about? Well, I don’t know what to think or do …” He runs his hands down his face.
The small action makes me sit up to ready myself for where this conversation is destined to go. “Well, do you like her?”
“Have you ever met someone, and in a single moment, you know they will change your life?” He waves his hand. “Of course, you have. I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.�
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“Don’t apologize.” I pull out a smile to ease his mind.
“She’s crazy beautiful with this long, curly hair. It’s sort of a mess, but it’s what makes her who she is. She’s wild and energetic.” He shakes his head, then looks up at me. “Underneath all of that, there’s a girl who’s broken and tortured, and I’m not sure I’m ready to take that on.”
“Sometimes it’s worth running through the mud for a girl who can change your world. Don’t forget that,” I say.
“There’s something else …” The urgency in his voice causes my heart to beat fast and my palms to sweat.
If his voice is any indication, I’m not going to like what he has to say. “What is it?”
“The girl I met… she’s friends with Kennedy. Your time’s running out.” He rubs his forehead.
“What do you mean?” My eyebrows scrunch together.
“She’s going to be here next weekend.”
“Mark, what do you mean she’s going to be here?” I try to decipher the meaning behind his words.
“They’re making a trip to Connecticut. You’re going to have to tell her what you’ve been up to. You can’t hide anymore, man. Your time’s up,” he explains.
I sit up in bed. “Did you see her?”
“I did.” He nods, knowing how hard this is for me. “She looks good, healthy.”
“So, I guess this weekend the truth will come out.”
“The truth always comes out. And with that sentiment, I’m going to leave, because this conversation is teetering on the edge of female talk show and braiding each other’s hair.”
“Thank you,” I mutter. My words stop him. “What I mean to say, and probably haven’t said enough, is thank you.”
“Shit like that is going to make all the other guys think I followed your ass to Connecticut, and we’re an adorable couple now.” Mark disappears but pokes his head back in my room. “And you’re welcome.” He shuts the door behind him.
I stare at the pearl white ceiling, processing everything Mark has revealed. It may have been stupid of me to assume I would have more time to figure everything out. Right now, there are too many loose ends, and too many troubled memories I’m trying to sift through.
“Don’t forget your bathing suit, Ken,” Violet shouts across the hall from her bedroom.
I drop the jeans I’m folding and stomp over to her room. “What the hell do I need a bathing suit for? If you haven’t noticed, there’s a random dusting of snow on the ground, and we’re going to Connecticut. Now, if we were going to Florida like I originally suggested, then maybe I would need one.”
Violet looks up from her stuffed suitcase and looks out the window. “It’s called a hot tub, bitch, and before you get in the car, I suggest you turn your poor ass attitude around.” A tiny ball of fabric hits me in the chest. I unfold it with a single finger to see it’s her new bikini. “You wear it. I like my white one better.”
“Violet, this will show just about everything I have going on,” I plead for some sympathy and toss the material at her. I shuffle back to my room to finish packing.
“I’m bringing it with me, so if you forget yours, you’ll be all set,” she shouts.
“I won’t need it,” I singsong back.
I roll my suitcase down the hallway and find Amanda staring in the fridge. She grabs a few bottles of water and tosses one to me. With cat-like agility, I catch it with one hand. She gives me a nod of approval. All those self-defense classes have done wonders for my reflexes.
“Is everyone all ready to go?” Amanda hangs her oversized travel bag over her shoulder.
Violet races down the hallway, stands on her tiptoes to kiss Dan and turns to us. “Let’s hit the road.”
“Why are we leaving so early?” I check my watch. “Connecticut is, like, maybe an hour and a half, two hours away, and I doubt we’ll hit much traffic on a Thursday morning at eight o’clock.”
“There’s no time to waste. We still have to pick up Bea and get gas and junk food. It won’t be a real road trip until we have beef jerky,” Amanda says.
We push out the door, with Violet hanging behind to secure the locks. Once we’re tucked into the elevator, we stand in silence until the bell alerts us we’ve reached the ground floor. Richard greets us, like usual, with his hand extended to take some of our bags. After helping load the trunk, Richard steps back as I roll down my window.
“Try to have a little fun,” he offers, patting my arm.
“I always have fun, Richard. You know that.” I grin at the white haired man.
“I mean real fun, Kennedy. You girls deserve it, and Dan,” he looks through the front window, “if you let anything happen to these girls, Mr. Jones will have your balls.”
Dan pops the gearshift to reverse as he nods, but before he drives out of the parking garage, he looks at his girlfriend. “Is your dad always going to give me a hard time?”
Violet giggles when she looks back at Amanda and me.
“Oh, yeah,” we all say together.
I lean forward and wrap my arms around his shoulders. “You should be used to it by now. You guys have been together, for what, three years?”
“Three wonderfully long and brilliant years.” Violet plants a kiss on his cheek.
“If I remember correctly, the first year was rather tumultuous.” I squeeze his shoulders but sit back when Violet sends lightning out of her eyes, striking me in my seat.
“Only because Violet is so damn stubborn,” Dan explains.
“Was.” Violet corrects him.
“You’re still as damn stubborn as the day I met you, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dan winks at me in the rearview mirror, and I smile at their banter.
“I’m strong-willed.” Her words are barely audible. Violet huffs out a few exasperated breaths, crosses her arms over her chest, and stares out the front window.
We pull up in front of Bea and Alex’s apartment building. She’s tucked under the awning over the entrance of their old, dilapidated brick building.
“Hey, you all set?” I jump from the backseat and rush to grab her bags.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to come?” Bea fingers the curls near her hairline.
The front passenger window rolls down to reveal Violet’s smirk. “So, you have a thing for our little Marky, eh?”
Bea groans and a giggle slips through my tight lips. Wrapping my arm around her, I tug Bea close. “You’ll be fine. You said the date went well.” Since their meeting, Mark came into the city for a little impromptu date with Bea.
She opens the door. “More than well. I’ve never felt this way about someone, and I barely know him. Is this normal?” She throws her purse over Amanda’s lap and turns back to me.
Amanda scoffs. “Oh, Bea, Kennedy is not the one to be asking.” I shoot daggers in my friend’s direction. “What?” Her hands go up in defense.
Violet twists to look at me with an ambivalent smile. “What she means is, our Kennedy here is a romantic. Even when everything in the world tries to tell her to stop, she can’t help herself.”
Amanda shifts down the bench seat, allowing Bea and me to slide in beside her. After thirty minutes of debating what kind of snacks we plan to buy, we are on our way to Connecticut with a car packed with beef jerky, Twizzlers, and laughter. It takes Amanda fifteen minutes before she falls asleep, leaning on my shoulder for support.
My gaze wanders around the small space full of the ones I love. The family I chose, the family who stands by my side, brings a sense of ease. My heart warms as Dan grabs Violet’s hand and squeezes. The softness in her eyes makes me melt into the leather seat.
Dan turns the music up a notch, and beside me, Bea squirms.
“You okay?” I roll my head across the headrest.
She shifts to face me, her back against the door. “What do they mean you aren’t the one to ask if what I’m feeling is normal?”
“I’m not sure if we have time for the stor
y,” I answer. “It’s a complicated, twisted mess.”
She nods as if she understands. “Graham, right?”
Deep breaths.
“My high school boyfriend.”
“You’ve mentioned him a few times during group.”
“Yeah, I suppose I have.”
“What’s he like?” Bea’s curiosity makes me slightly uncomfortable. I’m afraid of where this is headed. “I’ve noticed when he comes up in conversation, you have two reactions. Your smile brightens or you fold up, hiding away.”
“I don’t know how to describe him.” I shake my head. “He’s tortured and strong. He’s impossible and loving. He’s everything and nothing, all at the same time.”
“You love him?” she asks sweetly, unaware of how complicated her question is.
“I’m afraid a love like ours doesn’t go away. Even with all the turmoil and heartache, you can’t will your heart to stop beating for someone.”
Bea draws in a deep breath and releases it, readying herself for our story. “So, what happened?”
I spin the brushed gold bangle bracelet around my wrist. “Which time?”
“I don’t want you to go,” I whisper into his shoulder as he holds me with the same urgency as I hold him.
Graham lets out an agonizing moan. “I know you don’t, but I have to, and so do you. The world’s waiting for you, Kennedy Lucille Conrad, and I’m not going to be the one who holds you back.”
I release him and walk the length of the car several times. His eyes are locked on me every time I glance up. “When will we see each other again?” Fear laces my words together.
Graham steps in front of me, a soft, sincere smile on his lips, and brushes my hair from my face. “I’ll be back for the trial and after, I’m going to make it to you as often as possible.”
“Promise?”
“I’m going to try my hardest.”
I groan at his inability and unwillingness to give me what I want.
“Kennedy, I’m not willing to make you a promise I’m not a hundred percent positive I can keep.”
