Me: Until tonight, I would have said I was in love with Adam. Now I don’t know what I feel.
Isaac: I can work with that.
Me: Work with what?
Isaac: You not knowing how you feel. I just want you to be honest with me.
Me: It’s a two-way street, you know.
Isaac: I will always do my best to be honest with you, Red.
Isaac: Since we’re being honest, what exactly are you scared of?
Me: You hurting me, realizing you’re making a mistake…you cheating on me.
Isaac: That high of an opinion of me, huh?
Me: I know what type of girls you usually go for. I’m the opposite.
Isaac: Have you thought that maybe that’s why I want to be with you?
Me: What if the novelty of being with me wears off and you realize I’m not what you want?
Isaac: If I thought that’s what this was, I wouldn’t bother. I’d just find some chick and work it out of my system.
At that, I cringe.
Isaac: Sorry if that’s crude, but it’s the truth.
Me: I know. You have girls throwing themselves at you all the time.
Isaac: Not all the time. Lol.
Me: I’m just scared you won’t be able to resist. Look at Brett. He was in love with Kristen and still cheated on her.
Isaac: Fucking Brett.
Isaac: I don’t know what happened to Brett that night—hell, neither does he. I would have bet good money he never would have cheated. It surprised us all. I’ve never seen a man as devoted to a woman than he was to Kristen.
Me: That’s my point.
Isaac: We need to work on trust issues.
Me: Yeah.
Isaac: Did Adam cheat?
Me: He said he didn’t, but that he got close.
Isaac: Do you think he did?
Me: At one point, yes, I thought he was.
Isaac: What happened?
Me: He didn’t come home one night until late the next morning. He didn’t call and wouldn’t answer his phone. Tried to sneak into the house and went straight to the shower.
Isaac: What did he have to say for himself?
Me: That he got drunk and spent the night at his brother’s house.
Isaac: Did you ask them?
Me: Like his brothers wouldn’t cover for him?
Me: I’m not sure which brother it was either. He never said.
Isaac: You’re right. They probably would cover for him.
Isaac: Adam never struck me as the type, though.
Me: Neither did Brett, remember?
Isaac: Honesty and trust. Okay. What do we need to make this work?
Me: I’m not sure. Distance isn’t going to help.
Isaac: Not much I can do about that.
Me: I know. I can’t hold that against you.
Isaac: Good to know. Lol.
Isaac: Try to get some sleep, Red. It’s still early.
Me: What time is your flight?
Isaac: 7
Isaac: I might as well get up and get ready.
Me: I’m sorry I woke you.
Isaac: I’m not.
Isaac: Losing sleep is worth talking to you.
Me: Have a safe trip and be careful.
Isaac: Always. Now I have something worth coming home for,
Reading his words, my heart flutters like the wings of a bird.
Isaac: Get some sleep, Red.
Rolling over onto my side, I place the phone back on the table. Can this really be happening?
Isaac
I had been tossing and turning for most of the night before my phone dinged with Camryn’s text, worried she wouldn’t give me a chance—that she would blow me off like she did before. But I get it now. She’s scared. My track record with women isn’t the greatest. And the idea of me in a relationship is laughable. I’ve always been the “love ’em and leave ’em” type. No woman since Amber has graced my bed for more than a few hours, let alone the whole night. Not until Camryn. It took everything in me to pry myself away from her bed that night.
Just bringing up Amber makes my gut clench. She’s the woman I thought I would spend my life with. We started dating in high school, and I thought I had it made. She was perfect—petite, blonde, and stacked. Well, perfect to a seventeen-year-old boy with raging hormones. We were inseparable. The quarterback of the football team and the head cheerleader. Our days were spent side by side in school, and our nights were all about steaming up the windows in my Chevy truck. Every guy in school was envious of me, and life couldn’t get any better. I scored a full ride to Texas A&M for football, and Amber decided to follow—even made the cheerleading squad so we would get to travel together. I was skating along in my classes and lived in a house off campus, which Amber quickly moved into. Then, it happened. One bad tackle and nearly every ligament in my knee was torn. I was taken off the field on the back of a cart with a sobbing Amber at my side. Three surgeries and a shit load of physical therapy later, I could walk normally again, but the agility that made me such a badass quarterback was gone. My promising football career was over. To add insult to injury, after returning home from a meeting with the head coach, the president of the college, and head of the scholarship committee stating my full ride was null and void since I couldn’t play, I came home to find Amber fucking Troy, the backup quarterback who had taken my place. The guy had been a dick from day one. He was an upperclassman who believed he should have been starting quarterback, even though I had more talent and heart in my little finger than he did in his whole body.
He had Amber bent over the back of the sofa and was plowing her hard, her screams muffled by the by the couch cushions. As soon as the son of a bitch saw me, he just smiled and grabbed her by the hair, making her scream out, “Oh God, Troy, yes!” before looking over at me and paling. As she struggled to get out from under Troy, he pushed her harder into the couch, hips pistoning as he grinned. I just turned around and walked out, ending up in a bar down the street that didn’t care I was underage. After multiple rounds of beers and shots, I forgot all about Amber and ended up getting sucked off by a pretty brunette in a closet. She offered to take me home, and I agreed. When we made it to the house, I stumbled through the door before pushing her up against the wall, one hand sliding up her skirt, and the other palming her breast as I kissed her neck. A gasp sounding from the end of the hall caught my attention, and I turned to see Amber standing there with her hand covering her mouth and tears streaming down her face. It made me feel good to see her hurting after what she’d done. Pulling back from the brunette, I grabbed her hand and led her past Amber’s sobbing form. At the base of the stairs, I pause, turning to face her.
“Why the hell are you still here, Amber?”
“I live here.”
“Not anymore you don’t. Get the fuck out.”
“I have nowhere to go!” she cried out.
“Guess you should have thought about that before you fucked Troy.”
“Isaac…”
“Maybe he’ll take your unfaithful ass in. Or one of your cheerleader friends. I don’t really care where you go, but you’re not staying here.”
“You can’t make me leave. I live here too.”
“Your name is not on the lease. You don’t get your mail here. I can and will kick your ass out.”
“Please, Isaac, don’t do this,” she pled.
“Goodbye, Amber. It was nice knowing you.” I pulled the brunette up the stairs behind me as Amber slowly fell to the floor crying.
Pushing the brunette back on the bed, I heard the front door slam shut. As the woman in front of me reached for the button on my jeans, I buried the hurt down deep.
Shaking my head to clear the memory, I remember why I became the player of the group. Women were not to be trusted. Or, at least, that was what I thought. After meeting Mallory, Kristen, and Camryn, my perception of women started to change. They were trustworthy. They aren’t all out to screw you over.
I’m
not sure when Camryn wormed her way into my heart, but she’s there, cemented deep. The question plaguing me the most: is she worth the risk of getting my heart broken again? And, God, I hope so. Otherwise, there will be no going back. I’ll never trust another woman again.
Camryn
“What the hell were we thinking?” I huff out, trailing behind Kristen as we finish running our eight hundred meters before heading back into the building to do the jumps of death—aka box jumps. Sweat runs in rivulets down my back, pooling in the crack of my ass.
“Come on, Cam. You’re getting so much better. A month ago, you would have walked this whole eight hundred,” Kristen says over her shoulder with a smile, her blonde ponytail swinging in time to her stride.
She’s right, even if I just want to stop and puke. When Kristen suggested I give CrossFit a try, I balked at first. Me do all those crazy exercises? But after downing a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia because I hadn’t heard from Isaac in two days, I decided I needed to focus on something besides him. The following weekend, I went grocery shopping with Kristen to revamp the way I was eating. My job is sometimes sporadic with its long hours and doesn’t give me a lot of time to worry about cooking. Take out has been my go-to for a long time, and as a last hurrah before starting our torture—I mean, lifestyle change—take out was ordered in the form of pizza.
By the time Kristen left the next afternoon, we had our meal prep done for the week and had gotten in a good power walk. We were set to meet at The Box the next morning at six, and that first day, I thought I was going to die. I had to stop so much, the forty-five-minute workout lasted over an hour for me. But everyone was so encouraging, and the ones who could stay, did so until I completed it all, cheering me on. That’s what keeps me coming back. And Kristen is right. I’m much stronger than I was a month ago. And the two instructors are easy on the eyes. The fifteen pounds I’ve lost hasn’t hurt anything either.
Opening the front door, I drop my bag on the table before trudging my way to my bedroom. Stripping off my clothes, I grab the t-shirt Isaac left behind and put it on. Between working out and the big litigation case at work, all I can do is crawl into bed. Talking to Isaac, or even texting, has been few and far between. Yawning, I grab my phone and type out a text.
Me: Good night. Sweet dreams.
My eyes drift closed as I hit send, and darkness claims me as soon as my head hits the pillow.
Isaac
Finishing up the last set of the night, I revel in the screaming fans. It makes it worth the long hours on the road and being away from home. Grabbing my bandana out the back pocket of my jeans, I run the red fabric across my forehead to mop up the sweat dripping into my eyes. As the stage lights dim, I place my guitar on the stand. The crowd continues to chant our name, and I make my way across the stage. As I walk by the stagehand, I grasp the bottle of water she’s holding out, screw off the cap, gulp down half, and head to our dressing room, dodging grabby hands while softening the blow with a quick wink in the girl’s direction. The security guards make sure the women maintain their distance behind the ropes. Otherwise, we would be swarmed by horny fans who want to get a piece. Brett starts to trail behind as he begins to pick out his conquest for the night while the rest of us just want to get changed out of our sweat soaked clothes and sleep. Glancing behind me, I see him nod for the guard to allow someone across the barrier. As the rope lifts, two leggy, scantily-clad blondes duck under, assets barely covered by their skimpy dresses. As Brett holds out his arms, each one clamps on like a vine as they continue down the hall. I hope he picks a different room to take them to. I don’t want to have to deal with listening to him getting his rocks off while I nurse a case of blue balls from hell. Not too long ago, I would have been right there with him, but a certain redhead has put those thoughts to bed. Knowing Camryn is waiting on me has put the temptation of all those easy conquests out of my mind.
As I see Brian, our band manager, standing next to a door, I know salvation is just on the other side in the way of food, drinks, and a shower. I flash Brian a smile as a thank you before making my way into the quiet room. The air conditioner on full blast cools my drenched shirt, causing me to get a chill. Brian stops Brett and his two friends at the door before redirecting them back out. Finishing off my bottle of water, I pick up my bag and head for the shower stalls. After a quick soap and rinse, I throw on a pair of jeans before grabbing my phone, praying there’s something from her. It sucks that we hardly get to talk, but she’s working when I’m free, and when she has the time, we’re playing for the masses. Seeing I have one message gives me an oddly pleasant feeling in my chest. A sappy smile crosses my face.
Red: Good night. Sweet dreams.
Noticing the timestamp is from two hours ago, disappointment washes over me. She told me she’s been working long hours preparing for a big case. That coupled with the fact that she’s been doing CrossFit with Kristen in the mornings, as much as I’d love to hear her voice right now, I’d hate to rob her of any sleep.
Me: My dreams are always sweet, Red. They’re full of you.
“You ready to hit the party?” Jason asks from behind me.
“Not really. I just want a bed,” I reply, putting the phone in my back pocket.
“Me too. But you know Brian will hunt us down if we don’t make an appearance for the backstage passes.”
“Let’s get this over with.” I pull on a clean t-shirt with my buddy Keith’s band on the front, Southern Drawl.
“Hey, assholes,” Derek yells from the other room, “get a move on!”
“Our adoring fans await. Let’s not disappoint them.” I clap a hand on Jason’s shoulder before walking toward the front.
Derek leads us back out into the hall, which has numerous fans still lining the walls. As soon as we clear the threshold of the door, the murmuring of voices becomes a full-fledged roar. Passing by the fans, we sign our autographs and take pictures as we move down the tunnel. A rather rambunctious group of girls wants a selfie. As I back into the group as close as I can, several hands begin to grope everywhere—my abs, chest, ass, and one is even ballsy enough to grab my dick and give it a squeeze. One drags her tongue up my neck as I try to disengage from them without causing any damage. One of the security guards rushes over when he notices the commotion and is rougher with the girls than I would have been. Avoiding the rest of the fans, we make it to the room where the VIP ticket holders are waiting for us. Noticing one of the stagehands, I walk over to her.
“Do you happen to have any hand wipes or anything?” I ask, wanting to wipe off where the girl who licked me. Lord knows what kind of germs she left behind. Miraculously, she produces a little package from her pocket and hands it over. I run the cool, lemon-scented napkin along my neck and arms before deciding the only way I’m going to feel clean again is another shower. Throwing the napkin in the trash, I murmur, “Thank you,” before walking over to where Jason and Derek are standing talking with a group of fans.
“Got mauled?” Derek asks on a laugh. His smile drops when he sees I’m not amused.
“I don’t know what these girls are thinking. One of them grabbed my dick, for Christ’s sake!”
“What are you complaining about? You usually like them on your dick.” Derek looks at me, baffled.
“There’s a difference between when I want a hand on my dick and them just taking liberties.”
“I’ll touch your dick anytime you want, Isaac,” a sultry voice says from beside me before I’m enveloped in a cloud of perfume. A sexy little brunette with massive knockers sidles up next me and clutches my arm to her chest.
I smile down at her with a wink while trying to remove my arm from her grasp.
“Thanks for the offer, sweetheart, but I’ll have to pass.”
“Come on, baby, I’ll rock your world,” she replies, running her pink tongue over her ruby red lip.
“I’m sure you would, doll.” I offer up another wink before moving away from the crowd to find Brian
. Seeing him standing with some of the press for the event, I catch his attention and give him a nod to the right to have him come over.
“What’s up?”
“How long do we have to stay here? I’m tired as hell.”
“We at least have to wait until Brett makes his appearance. Then we need to get a couple group pictures with some key people here at the event.”
As soon as Brian finishes his sentence, the door bangs open and Brett stumbles through with a half-empty fifth of whiskey in hand, nearly causing the two skanks holding him up to fall to the floor as they laugh hysterically.
“Motherfucker,” Brian mutters before hurrying over to the trio. Even from this distance, the booze permeates the air as Brett tries to keep his legs under him. The man has been on a downward spiral ever since he and Kristen broke up last year. Brian grabs one of the security guards on his way over and has him escort the women back out of the room while Brian drags Brett to a side door, which I can only assume is a bathroom. With a glance in Derek and Jason’s direction, we move as a unit, making sure the security guard doesn’t allow anyone else through as we pass. As the door swings open, it’s not a bathroom at all, but another hall. We make our way to the other end, shoes slapping on the concrete, loud in the silence. A murmur of voices gets louder the closer we get to the source.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Brett!” Brian yells from behind a closed door.
Brett replies, but the door muffles his response. I push it open. Brett is sitting in a chair with his head resting in his hands as Brian paces around him, fists clenched and the vein on his flushed forehead about to burst
“What the fuck is going on?” Derek explodes as soon as the door closes behind him. His glare is hot enough to burn a hole through Brett.
“I’m sorry, guys. I fucked up,” Brett mumbles from behind his hands, his eyes fixed on the dull concrete floor.
“Well, that’s just great,” Jason breathes out.
“We have to get you sobered up, Brett,” Brian says. “The press is waiting for an interview and pictures.”
Down on My Knees Page 4
