“I have to work.”
I feel his hands on my hips and he draws me closer. But I hesitate.
“Call in. It’s been too long since I’ve spent time with you.” He brushes my hair aside and his dark blue eyes hold mine. His gravelly voice puts me in a trance-like stance.
I don’t feel like working. Spending time with Vincent is exactly what I need. “Okay.”
“Come on. We should get to class.”
I don’t want to be here again, but I force myself to stay.
When I get to chemistry, I slide in my chair next to Cherry. I’m tired of the nonsense. “You were right,” I tell her. “About Casper. I don’t want something stupid like that to come between us.”
Cherry frowns and her eyes water. “I’m stupid. I should’ve been there for you Saturday. And yesterday. I heard the rumors and about your car. I’m so sorry, Megan.”
“Why did you tell Vincent that I stayed with Casper? Why not the rest? He thought we slept together.”
“Because I’m an idiot. I was upset that you chose Casper over me to help you.”
“I didn’t choose him. He was there. He saved me and I tried calling you.”
“I know. I’m stupid and childish. It felt like you wanted to be with him more than anything.” A tear slides down her cheek.
“That’s how I felt about you with Luke. Why did you even want me at the party?”
She shrugs. “I just did. I didn’t know it was going to be that big and I didn’t think Luke was going to hang out with me because it was his party. I should’ve been there for you no matter what. I’m sorry if I messed up anything between you and Vincent, but I’ll fix it.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay.”
“Lately, it just feels like all you want to do is be with Casper because of the dreams or Vincent. I mean, we hardly hang out.”
“I’m sorry. Vincent’s just going through a lot and needs me.”
“I get that, but what about Casper? You can’t date two people.”
“I know that. I’m not dating him, and we’re not hanging out anymore.”
“Good.”
I’m glad we’re not fighting anymore. Especially since it was over Casper. Vincent texts me after lunch telling me that my car is in its parking space, fixed. I’m in awe by his kindness.
My stomach is in knots when I walk into English class. But Casper doesn’t show. I work on our assignment alone, wondering where he is. Not that I should care. I kinda miss him, though.
My phone buzzes with a text message from Cherry and I discreetly read it.
Vincent and Casper got into a fight and they’re both suspended.
I freeze. This doesn’t settle well in my stomach. I don’t like knowing they fought. Was it because of yesterday or that I stayed at Casper’s house?
What happened?
I dunno.
This has to stop. They have to stop fighting over me. What is their problem? Why do they hate each other so much?
After class, I call Vincent. He tells me to come over and he’ll explain. We’ve been together four months, and it’s the first time he’s ever asked me to come to his house. When I reach my car, I stop. It looks amazing, like it was repainted completely.
Vincent’s house isn’t a drug lord mansion like Casper’s, but it’s still a lot bigger than mine. It’s a two-story red brick modern house. The porch is enclosed by white columns and shrubs line each side of the porch.
I ring the doorbell and wait only seconds. When Vincent answers, I gasp and cover my mouth. His eye, black and red, is swollen shut and he has a small cut on his cheek.
“Am I that hideous? Don’t hold back.” He gives a crooked smile.
“What happened?”
“Come in,” he says and pulls me inside the warm house. There are a couple of lamps on, but it’s mostly dark. Family pictures grace the walls and I feel sad when I see his mom. She looks like Vincent, except her hair is longer. He takes me to the kitchen and offers me a glass of water and I accept. He takes my coat and hangs it on the back of a round backed chair at the table in front of the bay windows.
“Thanks for my car. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. You’re welcome.
“What happened?”
“I asked about the guy who attacked you and he said I shouldn’t worry since he took care of it. He said I wasn’t right for you and that I need to forget about you. That you two were together now that you slept with him.”
Blood drains from my face. “What?”
“I told him he needed to leave you alone and not hurt you anymore. He swung at me, and well, we started fighting.”
“Why would he say that?”
“Probably because I have you.”
That sounds possessive. “Um, what?”
“He’s making up all this crap about you because he’s jealous that we’re together. He’s jealous of me. He’s a piece of work.”
“Why is he lying about me? Why is he so set on hurting me?”
“Because Casper is a jackass and a selfish prick.”
I let out a sigh. “Why did you fight him? You’re better than that. It’s not worth it.”
He closes the space between us and takes my hands in his. “Well, I’m not going to just let some asshole beat me up. You take a swing at me I’m going to fight back. I can’t stand him. After everything he did to you, you shouldn’t be friends with him. He’s dangerous, Megan. I mean he wailed on me. I love you and I don’t always say the right things but I’m falling deeper in love with you.”
My heart thrums against my ribcage. I can’t decide if it’s because of the intense look or the words he said. “But you don’t need to fight anyone.”
“Are you mad because I fought him?”
I silently curse. It’s like I can’t say the right thing with him. “No, I just don’t like fighting. I don’t like that you got hurt.”
“It’s nothing. You should see the other guy.” He smirks.
“I can’t believe he said those things.”
“Stop worrying about him. I took care of it.”
I give him a pointed look.
“What happened Saturday? Are you okay? Were you hurt physically?”
I shift uncomfortably.
“It’s okay.” He kisses my forehead. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
I exhale. “He came in the bathroom,” I say in such a soft voice it doesn’t sound like my own. “He kept saying he knew me, but I’ve never seen him before. He slammed me against the mirror and it broke. I have some cuts on my back and head. I tried to run but he caught me, forcing me to the ground and held a gun to me.”
Anger flashes in his good eye and his face turns red. A vein in his neck protrudes and I can see it pulsing. “Why did you go to the party?”
“Cherry wanted me to.”
He pulls me to him, a little roughly, and I wince as he touches my back. “Baby, you have to be more careful. You weren’t wearing anything revealing, were you?”
I was, and I know I shouldn’t have. “No.”
“You said he knew you?”
“He knew my name. He said his name was Adam, but I don’t know who he is.” I
feel his arms tighten around me. “What if he finds me again?”
“He won’t. I promise you’re safe now. I’ll make sure no one hurts you again.” He kisses the top of my head.
“I don’t want to think about it,” I murmur into his chest.
We stay like that for a little while. I love the feel of his arms around me, holding me protectively, and the way he buries his face in my hair. Why can’t I ever dream of Vincent? I pull away slightly and press my lips to his wanting to see another vision or feel that rush. He kisses back with the same fervor and I want it to be like this always. No more dreams of Casper. But I never see a vision.
Vincent pulls away, breathless. “Is this normal?” His lips graze my cheek.
“What?”
“Us. The intensity. Th
e fact that I can’t stand being away from you and you’re always on my mind. Do you feel the same?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He smiles and my heart flips. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“Do you wanna go out or wanna order in?”
“Let’s order in. Where are your parents? Was your mom released?”
He nods. “Yeah. They’re at my aunt’s. My mom has good days and when she does, she always likes to get out. It makes me nervous though. But my dad’s with her so I know she’s okay.”
I squeeze his hand. He orders Chinese and we hang out in his kitchen until it arrives. He makes me laugh and I feel better immediately. We eat and goof around a little. I love how easy it is being with him and how he instantly takes my mind off of everything.
“So, are you ever going to play that song for me?” I ask.
He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t know if you can handle it.”
I laugh a little. “Why? Will I faint from the awesomeness?”
“You might.”
I roll my eyes. “I think I can handle it.”
“Okay.” He takes my hand and we go upstairs. We are the only ones here and it’s a little scary. We enter his room, which has music posters plastered to the walls. He has a sleigh bed and a TV on a table facing the bed and a dresser next to that. The bed sits in front of the windows. I peer out and groan when I see rain pouring down in sheets.
He comes up beside me, grabs his acoustic guitar, and sits on his bed. I sit next to him and he strums a couple of chords, tuning it. He plays a song and it’s sad but somewhat uplifting. I close my eyes, focusing on the lyrics, and I see a flash of something. It’s so quick I don’t know what it is, but the song sounds familiar. It’s like I’m having déjà vu.
“I feel like I’ve heard this before. It’s so strange.”
“It might sound like another song. I don’t know. It’s hard to be original these days.”
“You wrote that for me?”
“Yes.” He places his guitar back in its holder. “Do you like it?”
“Of course. It’s beautiful.”
“You need to have your ears checked. Nothing is more beautiful than you, Megan.”
I roll my eyes, but he takes my head in his hands and kisses me with an edge. His lips are almost possessive of mine. I see a vision of us running and laughing. We are happy in the vision and we kiss as if nothing else in the world matters. He is mine and I am his.
Vincent pulls away and clears his throat. “I’m still trying to get used to that.”
“Me, too. It’s like we’re meant to be together.”
“We are.” He kisses me again. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
I give a small laugh. “Sure.” I know he wants things to progress physically, and I do too, but I’m not ready especially after Saturday night. I shouldn’t have come up here.
Vincent pops in a random movie and gets on the bed. He leans against the headboard, pulling me into his lap.
I chuckle once I see The Fox and the Hound playing.
“What, it’s a good movie.”
“I’m gonna cry.”
He kisses the side of my head.
We watch maybe the first fifteen minutes and I feel his lips against my neck, sending chills all over. His lips move behind my ear and warmth floods my body. He moves to my shoulder. I turn my head and his lips are on mine. He moves on top of me and I wince.
“What is it?”
“My back.”
“I’m sorry. I should find that—”
I cut him off with a kiss not wanting to ruin the moment with his anger. He slides his hands up my shirt. Heat radiates inside of me. My pulse vibrates inside my ears.
“I want you,” he whispers in my ear. His hands and lips are everywhere, and I can’t keep up.
“Vincent,” I hesitate. Adam keeps popping in my mind.
“It’s okay. I’ll be gentle.”
My breathing is shallow, and I need to stop. Things are moving too fast for my brain to process. He stops long enough to remove his shirt, exposing his smooth chest and a couple of bruises.
“Did he do that?” I ask and sit up.
“Yes. But it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry.” He kisses me, but I stop him.
“What? Please don’t stop.”
I swallow hard, not wanting to upset him. I look up to see the raw fire in his eyes. He moves in to take my sweater off and I let him. He tenderly raises it over my head, careful not to let it snag on my bandages, and takes my head in his hands and kisses me with such desire it’s overwhelming. His tongue finds mine and heat rises inside me. Feeling his bare skin against mine does things to me that I’ve never felt before. I want more. Especially when his fingers skim the edge of my bra.
He grinds against me and inches his fingers under the bra band.
I don’t want to stop him, but I can’t go much further. I’m trying so hard not to think Adam straddling me and I hate that it invades my mind.
Vincent tugs my bra strap over my shoulder and his lips graze my bare skin. It feels good. My hands run up his back and I hope he can’t tell I’m shaking. I try with everything to push Adam and that night from my mind, but I think of Casper kissing my forehead and how it made me feel.
Oh god what is wrong with me?
Vincent kisses my collarbone and his hand tenderly squeezes above my hip. My breath hitches. He moves his mouth back to mine and I kiss him hard, trying to focus on him. His hand worms its way upward and sneakily finds the back of my bra. I press my hands against his chest.
“Vincent—wait.” I stop his hand.
“What is it?”
“I can’t do this.”
He groans and sits up. “Megan.”
“I want to. Just not yet.”
Vincent smiles and runs his finger down my arm. “It has been four months.”
“I know. I’m just—”
“It’ll happen when you’re ready.” He kisses my forehead and stands from the bed. He checks his phone on his nightstand as I replace my sweater and straighten my hair. He looks angry as he peers at his phone. “You should go. I’ve got things to do. But I’ll call you later, okay?”
I don’t expect that. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Why is he suddenly cold? “Are you kicking me out because I stopped?”
Vincent looks up from his phone and brushes my hair aside. “No. I really have things to do.”
“But obviously those things could have waited if we kept going?”
“Megan, please.”
“I called into work to hang out with you and now you’re blowing me off?”
“Stop overanalyzing this.”
“Well can you imagine how I’m feeling right now? I asked you to stop and suddenly you want me to leave?”
He lets out a sigh. “You’re always like this.”
I don’t think he knows me well enough to know what I’m always like. “Like what?”
He shakes his head and I see in his eyes that he’s holding something back. “Not you. Girls in general. Look, I need to go. I have something to take care of, and then everything will be fine.”
“Are you going to get drugs?” I shouldn’t have asked. Especially when I see his jaw clench and his hands are close to crushing his phone. But he’s acting strange and has been the last couple of weeks.
He takes a breath and calms down. “I told you I’ve been sober since June. Please don’t be so paranoid. I’ll call you later, I promise.” He brushes his lips against mine.
I slide off the bed, grab my coat, and leave the room, feeling completely disoriented and unwanted. Apparently, walking me to the door is out of the question. I can’t figure him out. One night he asks me to never let him go, but tonight he can’t wait to get rid of me. Why is he being so secretive? I should follow him. I open the door, run out into the rain and into my car. I pull out of the drive,
drive down the street, and turn out the lights.
This is so unlike me. But the unusual way he went from hot to cold in a matter of seconds concerns me. The logical part of my brain asks if he is going to get drugs, do I really want to be there.
Nevertheless, as he backs out of his driveway and turns at the stop sign, I follow. It’s still pouring but somehow, I’m able to keep up. He isn’t speeding or recklessly driving, not sure why I thought he would. He turns into the hospital and parks. I feel sick. Is his mom in the hospital again? Did something happen? I feel low. Vincent isn’t a bad guy.
It doesn’t make sense though. If something happened to his mom, he would’ve told me. Instead, he said he had something to take care of, then everything would be fine. My curiosity won’t rest until I know the truth. I’m acting crazy and paranoid, but I don’t care. I have to know.
I follow him inside, up to the intensive care unit. From afar, I watch him press his forehead and palm to a window. A doctor comes up and squeezes his shoulder and they exchange a few words. I feel awful witnessing his pain. I feel even worse that I doubted him.
Vincent never goes inside the room, but once the doctor leaves, he turns to walk down the hall toward me. I whip myself out of the way and have to think fast of where to hide. Nothing around me but rooms. My heart assails my ribcage and my palms are sweating. I open the nearest door to me and quietly walk into a dark room, closing the door. The soft beep of monitors is the only sound. I hide behind the door and see his shadow peeking through the window. Crap. He saw me. Any minute I know he’s going to open the door. Instead, he walks away.
I exhale and someone moans. I hope I don’t wake up the patient. I open the door and peek out in the hallway to make sure Vincent and no one else sees me. It’s clear so I swing out and before I close the door, I glance at the patient and freeze. My hand clutches the door handle.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Several pillows prop him up in the bed. Tubes connect him to monitors. I flip a switch and a dim light shines. Bruises and bandages cover his face. He wears a neck brace. His left arm is in a bandage and I fear what the rest of his body looks like. His blonde hair is even more ragged.
“Casper.” My heart breaks at the horrific sight. I can’t believe it. What did Vincent do to him? He never mentioned putting him in the hospital. I move in a daze toward him. He seems heavily sedated, or my worst fear is that he’s in a coma. My mouth waters, but I can’t swallow. Tears brim over and I wipe them from my cheeks. I want to hold him, or kiss him, or be like the Megan in my dreams.
January Dreams Page 17
