by Jenn Hype
Even in grade school I remembered being this way. Almost every day my mom would have to come to the school because I was sitting in the principal’s office. It wasn’t my fault my teachers were dumbasses. Even at eight years old I knew they were stupid, and I wasn’t afraid to tell them. I argued more with the adults in my life than the kids in my class.
Unless someone was being bullied. I had no tolerance for that. I couldn’t even tell you how many fights I was in when I was younger. Of course once I got a little older and learned to fight with my words, then I stopped using my fists. Plus, beating up boys wasn’t any fun because they never hit back. So I learned how easy it was to wield my words into a weapon, and man, could I do some damage.
Don’t worry, I used my super power for good. For the most part. Although I guess it’s debatable on whether or not the things I did could be considered ‘good.’ Most people would probably say it’s better to take the high road, walk away, brush things off. I say those people are idiots. I can’t change people, but I sure as shit didn’t have to put up with them either. I had no qualms with speaking my mind to any asshole who deserved it. I was like the female child equivalent of Batman, only without all the gadgets. A young vigilante, teaching bitchy girls and shitty boys lessons on a daily basis.
I knew my temper got the best of me sometimes and my reactions could be harsh. That’s the thing with using words to hurt people. Sometimes your words came out before you could stop them, and words can’t be unsaid. It had certainly made it difficult for me to sustain any kind of long term relationship. I wasn’t opposed to dating exclusively, but I found as I got older that men looking to settle down wanted a more ‘mature’ woman who would act demure and polite. So yeah…not me.
At some point I’d lost sight of who I was. Ever since meeting Chad, I didn’t even know myself. I was starting to understand things about myself that I would have rather never known. Like, how part of me feeling lost was because I’d always spent my life taking care of other people and right now the only person who needed taken care of was myself. I didn’t know how to help myself, I wasn’t used to making myself a priority.
Also what Joe had said to me kept looping through my mind. He said Chad struggled with his temper, and the way he said it implied there was so much more to that statement. Was that the reason I was so infatuated with him? Why I kept pursuing some kind of relationship with him, even an unhealthy one? Did I sense something in him that needed fixed? After seeing that scene he made in the bar, I realized that whatever demons he was fighting were probably more than I could handle.
But if he was hurting, if he was struggling, then shouldn’t someone fight for him? With him? It didn’t matter. He didn’t want me. He might have been fighting his attraction to me, but that didn’t mean he wanted anything more. He didn’t need someone to fix him and I couldn’t force him to let me in. And even though I didn’t believe for one second that he meant those things he said to me, the fact that he said them at all was cruel enough. He had chosen his words with the specific goal of hurting me, and it worked.
And this game I’d been playing, trying to get a rise out of him. That wasn’t me, either. I didn’t screw around with people, so maybe what Carrie had said to me was right. Maybe I had just been looking for ways to be near him. Maybe I was settling for any kind of reaction from him because it was better than nothing. But when we were playing, joking around like normal people, I wasn’t even thinking of the stupid bet. I was actually enjoying our playful banter, and had actually kidded myself into thinking he was enjoying himself, too.
All of these thoughts ran constantly through my mind and I seriously thought I was going to go nuts if I couldn’t find a way to make them stop. So after weeks of only interacting with people at work, I decided I need to figure my shit out. Something about Chad was drawing me to him and fighting it wasn’t working. I needed to get to know him, find out if what I thought was happening between us was real. And if once he knew me he still didn’t want me around, then maybe it would be easier to walk away.
I just had to find a way to get him to give me a chance to be real with him for once.
Chapter 12
Chad
It had been weeks since the incident at the bar, though it felt like years. Time was literally moving in slow motion. I was a fucking zombie most of the time, and after screwing up several times at work, my Captain finally “encouraged” me to take a “vacation.” It was the first time I had ever taken time off work in the ten years I’d been a cop. But my head was all over the place and I knew it wasn’t safe for me to be out in the field when I was a mess like this, so I couldn’t even be angry about being stuck at home. I was a danger to myself and to my partner, and as much as I loathed the idea of sitting around, stuck in my own head being unproductive as shit, it was the responsible thing to do.
I couldn’t get Stacy out of my head. I had to constantly fight the urge to reach out to her, explain why I’d been such a dick to her at the bar. She had come out there to comfort me, even after I’d acted like a total asshole, and I’d treated her like shit. Nothing I’d said was true. It was more than a physical attraction for me, but how realistic was that anyway? I barely knew her. The only thing I really knew about her was how out of control I felt around her. And that’s what terrified me.
Then when I thought about everything I had said to her, making her feel like she meant nothing to me and that the connection between us was all in her head…Man, I was a piece of shit.
Finally, I decided enough was enough, so I text Joe and asked him to meet me at Petey’s. I’d been cooped up in the house for too long and I needed some air. I knew I had some apologizing to do, which was part of why I’d been ignoring his calls and texts, but it was time to stop being such a pussy and face what had happened.
When I got to Petey’s, Joe was already sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. He gave me a head nod when he saw me approach and I asked the bartender for a water. Joe looked at me questioningly when I didn’t order a beer, but I’d been fucked up for weeks now and getting drunk wasn’t going to fix it. I needed to keep my head clear and hope that eventually I could figure my shit out.
“Glad to see you’re alive, man,” Joe said dryly, turning to face me.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a lot of things. You know this isn’t easy for me…apologizing and admitting I was wrong. But I’ve been a complete dick lately and you’ve been the one on the receiving end of most of my shit and I just wanted you to know…I’m sorry.”
Joe didn’t respond, just gave another head nod. I was thankful he wasn’t going to drag out this emotional shit.
“You know you and I are cool, and I think we both know I’m not really the one you should be apologizing to.”
“I know,” I sighed, wishing Joe was angrier with me. I deserved to be yelled at, I didn’t deserve to be treated with the respect he was giving me. “She told you what happened?”
“Nope.”
“Then how do you know I need to apologize?” I regretted the question as soon as I’d asked it, knowing it sounded like I was trying to pretend I had no blame in the situation, but that’s not how I meant it.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I thought hell would freeze over before I ever saw Stacy cry, yet when she left that night after you took off it was fucking easy to tell she was fighting really hard not to break down. And then, I don’t know, maybe the fact that she hasn’t talked to me or anyone else in weeks because she’s so fucking depressed, even though she’d die before admitting it. I’m trying hard not to assume the worst and go off on you, but I’ll tell you this. You either apologize to Stacy or fess up about what happened. And if it’s half as bad as I think it is, you can expect me to punch you in your fucking face. I love you man, but you can’t treat women the way you’ve been treating her.”
I didn’t bother responding. I had no excuses or arguments, everything he said was right. I planned to apologize to Stacy, I just hadn’t figured out how yet. I
f I stood any chance of earning her forgiveness, I had a feeling I’d have to do something pretty spectacular, and grand gestures really weren’t my thing.
“I think it’s good that you’re taking some time off. Not that I don’t wish you were out there with me, but you work too hard. I tell you that all the time. You deserve some time away from all the bullshit we deal with.”
“Trust me, I’d rather be out there dealing with someone else’s crazy shit than be stuck with mine in my house with no escape.”
I didn’t have to explain. Joe knew what I was referring to and for once, I was glad to have someone who knew everything so I didn’t have to feel so alone in it all. Even though we never discussed my past, it was still a relief of sorts to be in the company of someone who truly understood.
“I deserve a hell of a lot worse from you after all the bullshit I always put you through. You’re a good friend, and I’m...well...” I rubbed the back of my neck nervously, hoping he didn’t give me shit over what I said next. “I love you, man.”
Joe spit out his beer and the bartender ran over with a towel, mopping up the counter. “I’m sorry, man, I love you too. You just took me by surprise,” he said with a grin and slap to my back.
“Alright, enough of this bromance shit. Now that I’ve officially lost my man card, I need to ask a favor of you. I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear from me and will probably end up kicking me in my nuts as soon as she sees me, but I need to get ahold of Stacy. I was hoping maybe you could give me her number so I could get in contact with her.”
Joe narrowed his eyes and looked at me like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not. Seeking out Stacy to apologize definitely did not sound like something I would normally do, but I’d never fucked up this bad before, and even though Stacy and I could never be more than friends, I didn’t like the idea of her hating me.
Joe took my phone and programmed her number in and said he needed to head out. I stayed behind a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to call her. I wussed out and decided to send a text instead.
Hey Stacy, it’s Chad. Any chance you could meet me at Petey’s?
I waited and waited, staring at my phone, my stomach in knots like some fucking teenage girl. Finally, twelve minutes later she responded.
Sorry, kinda busy tonight. Maybe another time.
I briefly considered looking up where she lived and stopping by her place, but if she didn’t want to see me then acting like a stalker wasn’t going to make anything better. I wanted her to know my apology was sincere, so I’d just have to wait until she was ready to give me a few minutes.
I left a five on the bar as a tip since I’d only had water and headed for my car.
When I pulled into my driveway I noticed a light on in my house, which was strange because I always turned out all the lights every time I left the house. Of course, I’d been so out of my mind lately that there was probably a good chance I just forgot this time.
I shrugged it off and unlocked the front door, but as soon as I pushed it open I heard a noise from the kitchen. I didn’t have my gun on me, which was another habit I usually never broke. So I slowly made my way toward the kitchen, hoping the intruder wasn’t armed.
As soon as I was close enough to steal a glance around the corner, I saw Stacy standing over the stove, stirring something.
“What the fuck, Stacy!?” I asked a little too loudly, and she jumped back, causing her to splatter whatever it was she was stirring and burn her hand.
“Dammit!” She yelled as she moved to the sink and put her hand under the faucet.
“What are you doing here? How the hell did you even get in?” I asked as I walked over to the cabinet behind her and pulled out a small emergency kit.
“Maybe you don’t know so much about me. Maybe I have a criminal past and I used to break into people’s houses all the time,” she answered with a shrug.
“You used to break into houses and cook for people?” I smirked at the thought of Stacy being a criminal. She was wild, but not sneaky about it. I turned off the faucet and pulled her hand into mine, examining the area where she was burned.
“Yeah, maybe I did. Maybe I was really poor growing up and had to break into houses for food, and my penance was cooking it and leaving them left-overs so I didn’t feel guilty.”
“Why wouldn’t you just shop lift? It’d be much less risky.”
“There weren’t any stores within walking distance,” she replied softly, obviously distracted from my fingers rubbing across her hand lightly. Her skin was only slightly pink from the burn, but I was enjoying the excuse to touch her.
“So you only broke into houses close to you? That’s even riskier. Someone could have recognized you.”
She didn’t respond, still staring down at my hand on hers. I couldn’t help but smile at how distracted she was with such a small touch, but also couldn’t ignore the stirring in my pants just from feeling her soft skin against my calloused hands.
“Stacy?”
“Hmmm?” She asked, finally tearing her eyes away from our hands and snapping out of her trance. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” I chuckled and let go of her hand. The loss of contact made my stomach clench and I immediately wanted to reach out and take her hand back in mine, but managed to fight back the urge. “What are you doing here, Stacy?”
“Cooking,” she replied dryly, like I was a dumbass for asking such an obvious question.
“Okay, but why are you cooking in my house? And how did you get in?”
“Does it really matter? I’m here now, and I’m making you spaghetti. Nothing fancy, I’m a horrible cook. It’s pretty much the only thing I know how to make, so I hope you like store bought pasta sauce and noodles that are slightly undercooked.”
I walked over to the stove and looked at the sauce that was about to start burning after being left on the stove for so long and at too high of a temperature. I turned off the stove top and moved the pot to a different burner. I wasn’t an amazing cook, but my mom had taught me young how to take care of myself and I’d been living alone for so long that if I hadn’t learned how to cook a few dishes I would be living off take out and microwave dinners.
“I love spaghetti, and soft noodles are for sissies. And if you won’t tell me how you got in my house, will you at least tell me why you’re in my house?”
Stacy sighed and looked down, as if she’d forgotten the answer to my question and could find it hidden somewhere on my tile flooring. Watching her fidget with her hands and shift her weight from one foot to the other was adorable, reminding me yet again that the tough as nails persona she portrayed wasn’t all there was to her.
“I just didn’t like how we left things at the bar,” she mumbled so low I almost didn’t catch it.
“I know…I wanted to apologize for that. It’s why I asked you to meet me at Petey’s. I didn’t realize you were waiting for me at my house or I would have run home sooner.” I winked and realized for the first time in over a week that I didn’t feel like I was suffocating.
“I didn’t know you were going to contact me or I would have just waited instead of breaking into your house like a crazy person. But I was afraid you were going to refuse to see me, so I may have had some help in getting in here.”
Joe. That asshat.
I couldn’t even be mad at him though. Seeing Stacy in my house, in my kitchen, looking so vulnerable…it made me realize how lonely my house had always felt. I’d never brought a girl home, and having Stacy there just felt…right. Maybe it was time to stop fighting whatever was causing the magnetic pull between Stacy and I. Maybe giving in and spending some time with her to see if I’d even enjoy her company wouldn’t be the mistake I’d been convincing myself it was. Maybe if I stopped fighting my feelings then I’d stop feeling so out of control around her. Maybe….
Chapter 13
Stacy
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting to happen when Chad got home and saw me
in his kitchen, but I was fairly certain I did not expect him to be laughing and joking with me. That easiness between us at the bar weeks ago returned, and I found Chad was actually really easy to talk to once we both cut out all the bullshit. He seemed so relaxed and just…happy. I suddenly wished I could get a picture of him like this so I could show Joe. He’d never believe me.
It took some convincing to get Joe to go along with this plan. He was a little mad at me for being such a bitch to him and then blowing him off for so long. After apologizing and explaining as best I could about why I was approaching Chad with a whole new set of motives, he reluctantly agreed to help. He seemed a little skeptical of whether or not my intentions this time really were sincere and not part of some hair brained scheme to hurt Chad, but he must have heard something in my voice that assured him I was being genuine, because he was surprisingly supportive.
When Joe texted me and said Chad was on his way to meet him at Petey’s, it didn’t give me much time to figure out my plan. If things with Chad weren’t so rocky, I probably would have been standing in his kitchen with nothing but an apron on, but since I was trying to make amends I figured things would go over better if I dialed things down a bit.
So in a very un-Stacy like fashion, I threw on a simple pair of jeans, paired with a fitted pink sweater and boots. It didn’t do much to help my confidence to dress down, but I wanted to show Chad I could be down to earth. Every time he’d seen me up until this point I’d been dressed up and had my over the top personality on high gear. I thought that maybe if I toned it down he would feel more comfortable around me.
Joe told me where the extra key was hidden, and I was very surprised when I first walked in. His house was small but extremely tidy. I half expected to see pizza boxes and empty beer cans littering the floor, but it was almost a little alarming how clean it was. At first I thought maybe he just spent a lot of time alone here and cleaning was something for him to do, but I doubted that was the case. I saw all the girls that eyed him every time he was out anywhere. It was definitely a far fetched dream to think he didn’t spend a lot of time with women.
