Let Me Know

by Stina Lindenblatt

  Heading to the bar, I glimpse Chase struggling to remove the arms of Sharon’s friend from around his neck. It’s not a slow song, but she’s determined to kiss him. I buy him a beer, plus one for myself and another Daniels.

  Sharon’s not at the table when I return, but both Pete and Max are. They eye the drinks in my hands as I place the beers on the table. I move one over to Chase’s spot so they realize the drinks aren’t all mine.

  “You must really miss your girlfriend,” Pete says, nodding at the beer.

  I chug back the Daniels before answering. “I do.”

  “So why aren’t you with her?”

  “I already explained why. She’s with her sick grandmother.”

  He shakes his head. “If that’s true, you wouldn’t have been moody for the last few weeks. Everyone on campus knows about the video, which means so does your girlfriend. And I’m guessing your video is damaging the case against the sick shithead who kidnapped her.”

  The corner of my lips curls up. Not by much though. “Are you sure you’re an engineering student and not a would-be lawyer?”

  “And you’re avoiding the question, which means I’m right.” The taste of victory tints his tone.

  Pete, Max and I are busy talking when Chase returns soon after, minus the girl, his hair damp with sweat. The guys excuse themselves to get more drinks.

  Without saying a word, Chase grabs the beer bottle I bought him while he was dancing and lifts it to his mouth. “Thanks, man, I needed that,” he says once he’s finished drinking.

  “You should just kiss her. Then she’ll know what she’s missing out on.”

  “Except I wasn’t into her. I mean she—”

  “I’m talking about Jordan.” I finish off my Daniels.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not too interested in having her boyfriend smash my head in.”

  “Hey, it’s just a thought. But it sure beats dancing with girls you wish were Jordan.”

  “Says the guy whose love life is all screwed up.” He toasts me with his bottle.

  I wince. “And maybe it’s because my love life is all fucked up that I can give advice.”

  I expect Chase to give me a hard time or something. I don’t expect him to say, “Oh, shit,” while looking over my shoulder. I turn to see what the problem is.

  Tammara is near the dance floor with a few of her friends. The roaming spotlights ignite the fiery color of her hair. Her green eyes burrow into me, stripping me naked in a way that will never happen for real. Those days are long gone.

  Without saying anything to her friends, she walks over.

  “You want another drink?” Chase asks. He doesn’t wait for a reply. He heads for the bar. I haven’t told him what Tammara did to me and Amber. If I had, he wouldn’t be putting distance between himself and his least favorite person. He’d stay to protect my virtue.

  Tammara slides up to me, holding a fruity drink, and sits in Chase’s seat. Without saying a word, she studies the dance floor. The tension between us vibrates like the loud beat of the bass.

  I toss back some beer, relieved Chase is getting me another one. I’ll need it. “What do you want, Tammara?”

  “I never realized you were into the kinky stuff,” she says, still watching the dance floor.

  “Don’t believe everything you see or hear.”

  Her gaze snaps back to me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means exactly that. I had nothing to do with the video.”

  “So you’re telling me you have an identical twin who’s a porn star?” Her cutting tone suggests she believes that possibility as much as I do, even though at some level I wish it were true. It would make things a lot simpler. “He can’t be too impressed that you’re getting all the credit.”

  “There is no twin.” Unless there’s something Mom hasn’t told me, but I doubt it. “Only a slightly blurry video shot in a dimly light room, with parts that were definitely me. But most of it wasn’t.”

  “You’re saying it’s fake?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Too bad no one believes me.”

  “Including your girlfriend.” There’s no delight or scorn or mocking in her voice. More like sympathy.

  I shrug. I have no idea why I’m telling Tammara this, other than the alcohol buzz is finally kicking in and my thoughts aren’t all that interested in shutting up. Even to the woman who caused Amber and me so much trouble.

  “Is it true what the police said about your stepfather?” she asks. “That he molested you and your brother?”

  I startle at the question. The news mentioned it a few times after Frank was arrested for shooting me, but it was dropped shortly after when the cops couldn’t prove anything. Neither my name nor Ryan’s was mentioned at any point. And since Frank has a different last name than us, the media had no issue reporting it. I’m surprised Tammara figured it out.

  “Yeah, it’s true.”

  “That’s why you were upset when I lied about my sister’s fiancé and about…about what happened after that?” She doesn’t have to say it. She’s referring to the roofie she slipped me to get photos of her kissing me, so Amber would think Tammara and I were back together.

  “I would have been upset either way.”

  “I can see why you love Amber. You understand each other.” She stands and hugs me. Despite my natural instinct to pull away from any woman who isn’t Amber, I hug Tammara back. “I hope things work out for you both.” She gives me a sad smile and leaves, passing Chase as she makes her way back to her friends. Neither acknowledges the other.

  Grinning, Chase puts a glass down in front of me.

  “What’s this?” I ask, eyeing the clear liquid.

  “I believe it’s commonly known as water.”

  I frown. “I thought you were getting me a drink.”

  He chuckles. “The last I heard people actually drink this stuff.”

  “But I wanted a beer.” Great, now I’m a pouting two-year-old.

  “I figured you’ll thank me tomorrow when you’re not suffering from a shitty hangover.”

  He’s probably right.

  “Anyway,” he adds, “I’m ready to bail.”

  That makes two of us. I weave after him through the dense crowd of sweaty, drunk bodies and out into the cold. The slap of the icy wind against my face sobers me up a little.

  I expected Chase to drive us home. He doesn’t. He drives to a hotel and pulls up to the entrance. “Here—” he passes me a key card “—go upstairs to room three-seventy-seven.”

  I open my mouth to ask what the hell’s going on.

  “Just go,” he says, grinning. “You’ll understand when you get there.”

  I do as I’m told and take the elevator to the third floor. As I walk to the room, I spot a girl with chin-length black hair and purple streaks sliding her key card into the slot a few doors ahead of me.

  “Kitten?”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Amber

  “Kitten?”

  I turn to find Marcus standing a few feet away. “W-what are you doing here?” I whisper. The vision of him with the girl in the video is still etched in my brain. Along with it, the memory of the conversation with my mother.

  “Chase brought me here,” he says, looking at me with a mix of awe and disbelief, his words not much louder than a murmur. “And let me guess. Jordan’s responsible for you being here.”

  “Jordan and Emma,” I somehow manage to say around the shock and pain of seeing him. Though deep down I’m not surprised. Why else would my two best friends bring me here? I told them what had happened between Marcus and my mom, and the deal she made with him in order to keep us apart. They understood why he had made the choice he did, but they also weren’t happy that he didn’t fight to stay with me.

  Still holding the key card, my hand drops away from the slot. “I should go.” I’m not sure how I’ll get back to the dorm, but I’m not sticking around for whatever my friends have planned.


  Marcus reaches for my arm. Even with a coat on, a tingling warmth spreads through me at his touch. His fingers caress my face and I fight the urge to lean into his hand. I close my eyes, hiding the tears at seeing him here and at the memory of everything we’ve been through. Both the good and the bad.

  “Please don’t go,” he whispers. I reopen my eyes and a tear escapes. He brushes it away with his thumb. “I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry about hurting you, and I’m sorry about lying to you. I never should have told you I was tired of having sex with only one girl. That wasn’t true. I wasn’t tired of having sex with only you. And I haven’t been seeing anyone else. You are the only person I could possibly want to be with.”

  Chase told me nothing was what it seemed. Until now, I hadn’t realized it also meant what Marcus had told me about moving on with other girls. But it makes sense now. He knew I would guess the truth once I found out my mom had talked to him. He did the only thing he could think of to push me away, like Mom had wanted him to do.

  “I know about the deal my mom made with you to keep you away from me. And I understand why you made the choice you did.” But that doesn’t mean it didn’t break my heart, I want to add, but turn away instead.

  “Why don’t we go into the room and we can talk about it. If you want me to leave afterward, I will. If you want me to permanently stay away, I’ll do that too. I just want to make you happy.”

  That’s what I want, too. To be happy. Happy and free of this ever-growing nightmare.

  I can only nod, not ready to give up on us, but uncertain if I want to risk my fragile heart again. It can only take so much abuse from Marcus and everyone else.

  Using his key card, Marcus opens the door and we enter the room.

  The sweet smell of roses assaults me and I stagger back a step. Marcus flips on the light and curses. Hundreds of red, pink and white rose petals cover the bed. Emma must have placed them there. Chase and Jordan witnessed me have a flashback last term when Jordan received roses from her boyfriend. She might be studying for her psych degree, but she would never purposefully do anything that could initiate a flashback. Not when she’s witnessed what they do to me.

  “C’mon, let’s get outta here.” Marcus takes hold of my shoulders and tries to steer me from the room.

  I shake him off. “No. I can’t keep freaking every time I see roses. My therapist started exposure therapy to help me deal with what happened. Consider this homework.”

  Marcus looks at me like I’ve gone crazy, and maybe I have. So far I’ve been taking baby steps with success. This is going to be a large leap. But Paul has already stolen so much from me. My mom has inadvertently stolen so much from me. I need something back of my own. Something I once used to love—and something I still love.

  Even though I don’t know what will ultimately happen between Marcus and me, I thread my fingers with his and pull him to the bed. He glances at it, uncertain what to do. That much is clear.

  I cup his face with my hand and brush my lips against his. “You hurt me. I know you were trying to help, but you, more than anyone, know how it feels to be manipulated. That’s what you did to me. You didn’t even try to fight for me. I get why you did that, and we are going to talk about it. But right now, I want to make love to you. On the petals. Every time I see roses, I want to think about you and how you make me feel.”

  Hope shines in his eyes. This clearly wasn’t what he was expecting, not after the video, not after keeping away from me for so long, not after choosing his future as an engineer over me. But he didn’t participate in the video to hurt me. He did it out of grief for his brother’s death. And I can’t be angry at him for being an idiot and listening to my mom. She can be very persuasive.

  Focusing on Marcus, I gently pull on his lower lip with my teeth. The rose petal smell is still here, but unlike before, in the cold damp basement, the smell is different. It’s sweeter, softer, filled with hope instead of death. And the sweet scent combined with Marcus’s spicy one intensifies the feeling of hope.

  Kissing his slightly parted mouth, I slide my fingers under the edge of his T-shirt. He moves his hands to my hips, but doesn’t make an attempt to do more than that. He’s letting me lead the way, though from the way his fingers are tensing against my body, it’s taking a mountain of restraint.

  I guide his T-shirt up, caressing the soft skin covering the hard ridges of his abs. His thumbs stroke the skin along the top of the waistband of my jeans.

  My hands continue moving up until my thumbs brush against a nipple. Marcus sucks in a sharp breath, and I smile at the power I have over him. It’s the same power he has over me.

  His hands leave my hips and he removes his T-shirt. It falls to the floor somewhere near our feet. “Your turn,” he murmurs against my lips.

  I step away and remove a boot before tossing it toward the door. Grinning inwardly, I remove the second boot and also toss it at the door, then wrap my arms around his neck.

  His gaze travels over my body. “I thought you were going to take off your dress.”

  “You only removed one item. I removed both boots. Which means I’m one ahead of you.” I lean in and whisper against his ear, “Your turn,” then run the tip of my tongue along the outside of it. Marcus groans.

  He sits down hard on the bed, squashing a pile of petals, and removes a military boot. And then the second one. Now it’s my turn to groan. We have the same number of clothes on. I’m going to lose this game and be naked before he is.

  And he knows it. His sexy, one-sided smile tells me as much. “What’s it gonna be next, Kitten?”

  Without moving from the bed, he watches me run my fingertips along the outside of my thighs. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with longing. Not much different to mine, I suspect.

  No matter what happened in the past, no matter how many girls came before me, the guy I love so deeply it almost hurts is not the guy he used to be. The man in front of me is the one I want inside me, making me feel normal, making me feel alive.

  My hands continue up the sides of my legs until they reach the waistband of my tights. The skirt of my sweater dress barely covers anything as it rests near the tops of my thighs. With a ragged breath that has more to do with anticipation than nerves, I pull the tights down, exposing scars I’m no longer self-conscious about, at least not around Marcus.

  I toss the tights at him. He stares at my legs as if they’re the most beautiful things he’s seen. He never looked at the girl in the video the same way. Never looked at her like nothing else exists. The intensity of his gaze causes my black satin panties to grow damp and a small moan escapes my lips. I can’t believe how little it takes for my body to react this way, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Every caress, every kiss, every hot word he says has my nerves on super charge. It doesn’t require much to push me closer to the edge.

  “I want your jeans next,” I say, taking in the muscles on his arms, shoulders, chest, stomach. Anatomy class was never this hot.

  He shakes his head slowly, the smile deepening. “Sorry, Kitten, you don’t get to decide what comes off next. I do.” The way he says comes, with his smooth, sexy voice, almost has me coming without him touching me.

  Marcus tugs off a sock and adds it to the growing pile of clothes. Lifting his eyebrow, he sends me a look. “Your turn.”

  “But you only took off one sock,” I protest.

  “That’s one item.”

  “But you took off both boots as one go.”

  “That’s ’cause you did. I can take off both socks, but then you have to remove two items. Fair is fair.” He winks at me.

  I wrap my fingers around the edge of my dress and inch it up. At Marcus’s expression of wonderment and lust, a subtle thrill trembles through me. I feel sexier than I’ve ever felt before. I continue lifting the dress until I peel it off over my head, taking my wig off at the same time. They drop to the floor, leaving me in nothing but the satin bra and underwear. I shake out my hair and catch sight of it in the m
irror. I’ve got a major case of sex hair going on.

  “Oh, God,” Marcus murmurs. I expect him to remove his other sock, but he doesn’t. He drinks me in, the hardness in his jeans becoming more distinct.

  His gaze remains on me as he reaches down and rips off a sock, then forgetting the rules of our game, he undoes his jeans and strips them off. Now I’m the one wearing the most clothing…if you can call a bra and panties clothing.

  As I reach for the hooks at the back of my bra, Marcus takes a step closer. “Don’t.” His voice is rough, thick. “I’ll do it.”

  My hands drop away to be replaced by Marcus’s. His warm fingers brush against my skin and he slides the straps off my shoulders, his gaze never leaving mine. With deft fingers, he unhooks my bra and pulls it away, our previous game long since forgotten.

  His body presses against mine and I can feel how much he wants me. Before I can take my turn, his lips find mine and he walks me backward the short distance to the bed.

  He eases me back so I’m lying on a cloud of rose petals. I breathe in their scent, and gasp softly when Marcus’s tongue finds my nipple, creating new memories. I arch my back in reply and run my fingers through his soft black hair.

  His tongue circles my nipple, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. And just when I think I can take no more, his tongue traces its way to my other nipple and starts the sweet torment again.

  I’m about to run my fingers across the expanse of his chest, when he backs up and his tongue paints a dizzying path down my stomach. It swirls in my belly button, setting off an explosion of fireworks. It gives me a taste of what’s to come…

  Marcus’s fingers slide under the waistband of my underwear and he begins to slip them down over my hips. He sits up so he’s kneeling beside my legs, then guides the satin along my skin until the panties are around my ankles. They end up with the rest of the clothes.

  “I wanna try something different this time,” he says, studying my face. “Let me know if you want me to stop, okay?”

  I nod, unable to vocalize my thoughts even if I wanted to.