Wasted Heart

by Nicole Reed

  “Are you saying what I think your saying?” he asks, not disguising the surprise in his voice.

  “What? That I’m a virgin?” I reply shyly. I turn my face once more to see him staring at me.

  “Yeah. Why the hell are you still a virgin?”

  “Why, not?” I reply, unsure what I’m supposed to say.

  He turns his head to look back at the sky and blows out a loud breath of air. “She asks why not,” he mutters to himself. “I don’t know….maybe because sex feels fucking amazing. Maybe because no one saves themselves anymore. I don’t fucking know why.”

  “You think it’s stupid to still be one?” I ask, wanting to hear what he honestly has to say.

  “Yes. Fuck. I don’t know.” He turns his head back to stare into my eyes. “Are you like saving it for marriage or some shit like that?”

  “No. Just someone special. Someone worth waiting for. It’s not something I can just say, ‘Oops, I made a mistake. Can I have that back, please?’ or anything l like that.” My lips are dry, so I wet them with my tongue and rub them together. I can’t help but notice that Rhye’s eyes stay glued to my actions.

  He groans and mumbles, “A goddamn virgin. Figures.” While still on his back, he props his knees up and drums on them with his hands, I’m sure keeping beat with a melody in his head. He suddenly stops and looks back to me. “What about that Tag guy? I thought you loved him.”

  “I thought I did, but now, I’m not so sure. The right moment never came for us. I guess that should have been a clear indicator that I wasn’t truly in love with him.” He doesn’t say anything for a while before turning his head to look away. One question is burning on my tongue, and I can’t hold it back any longer. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

  I wait with bated breath, praying he will have the strength to talk to me.

  My mind is still reeling over the whole fucking virgin issue. I was hoping I misunderstood and she said she was a version of something. Fuck, I don’t know. If that Tag bastard didn’t close the deal, then I think that pussy was the problem. He evidently didn’t deserve somebody like her.

  When my thoughts finally slow down, I realize what she just asked. I quickly turn my head towards her, my lips already forming the word “no,” but something keeps me from releasing it. Pressing my lips tightly together, the lie will not come. Goddamn it. I don’t want to talk about this shit. I never have.

  “I shared my innermost secrets with you, Rhye. Talk to me. You can trust me. Please,” she begs, her innocent eyes pleading with mine.

  Now, I really know just how innocent that stare is. Fucking virgin. You have got to be shitting me. Before I can think it out clearly, I start talking for the first time ever. “Her name was Jay. Short for James. Growing up, she was the fucking it girl, high school cheerleader and overall hometown sweetheart. All the girls wanted to be her, and hell, all the guys just wanted to be in her,” I can’t help, but add.

  She playfully slaps my arm and says, “Really? That was crude.”

  I laugh, saying, “Sorry babe, it’s the truth. From the time we were in middle school, Jay always dated JT, the male equivalent to her. The perfect goddamn couple. If you saw Jay, you saw JT all the way through tenth grade. Then, one day, Jay didn’t come to school, and it lasted for weeks. The story was that she was super sick. No one knew what the hell happened. Then, after a month, she showed up looking the same but fucking different. It wasn’t the girl that we all knew. She dumped JT, ignored everyone, and kept to herself.” I pause, nervously chewing on the bottom of my lip.

  She reaches over to gently rub my arm and, somehow, it comforts me, making the words come easier.

  “We had a gig going on downtown at this club called Vortex, and suddenly, Jay started showing up at my sets. At first, I thought I was the shit. The most popular, beautiful chick at my school had finally decided to ditch the boring bitch of a boyfriend and come play on the dark side. But I caught on real quick to her. She was fascinated with some of the shit we were taking back then. She would ask what pills did what. One time, she even asked which ones would make you never wake up again. Needless to say, I fell pretty fucking hard, and one night, she called me JT’s name when we were together. It killed me. So, I fucked some random chick just because I could. When you’re young, you don’t think that shit like that ends things. But, she dropped me like a bad habit, and by that point, I was hooked like a junkie. Not only did I want her, but I knew something wasn’t right with her. Does it make me a sick fuck that I was more attracted to the broken girl than the perfect one?” I pause, waiting for her to tell me I’m a disgusting prick.

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “Sometimes pain is what draws us to someone, links us.” She looks away from me. Minutes later, she turns back to say, “You could relate to that broken girl, where the other one was a world away. Did you ever find out what happened to her? Made her that way?” she asks eagerly.

  I can’t control the bitter laugh that slips forth. “Yeah. I spent a year trying to piece everything together, and one day, it became perfectly clear. There was this Coach at our school that couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Sometimes, I would catch him looking at her like he owned her. He had this twisted stare when he watched her. Jay was obviously scared to death of him, and it didn’t take a genius to finally know why.”

  Turning my head, I glance up at the sky. The pain of knowing what happened to Jay fucking killed me. I can’t stop the misery that now fills me again, including the liquid that dampens my eyes. I take a deep breath, trying to control my emotions, but I can’t help the tremble of my chest.

  She whispers, “To know what, Rhye?”

  “The bastard raped her. For two years, he taunted her emotionally and fucking physically,” I say, my hands shaking with anger. “He threatened her if she went to the police. She was embarrassed that everyone, including her perfect ex-boyfriend, her perfect parents, and perfect friends, would find out what happened. The only control she had in her life was when she would end it. So, she planned, using me to find out the easiest way to make death happen, and there was not a goddamn thing I could do about it.”

  An unwanted tear rolls down the side of my face, and I shut my eyes tight, trying to contain the rest. Memories rush back to me in waves, swamping me with desolation. I need to hurry up and finish the fucking thing.

  “But something happened her senior year. Jay met this other bastard that evidently made her less unhappy, so she decided to try and live again. But then, her life got more complicated with shit when JT wanted her back and Jay thought she owed it to him to try and make it work. These guys fought or some shit like that, and she came running back to me, wanting to get high again. And there I was, like a goddamn lost puppy, lapping up her scraps; however, I knew the truth when no one else did, and she begged me not to tell. I decided that I’d rather her be alive and happy with JT than fucked up and suicidal with me. So, I took her to him, hoping he could save her from herself,” I stop, when I hear a tiny sob next to me.

  I turn completely sideways on the blanket to see her crying. Something tugs at my non-existent heart and I can’t help but gather her in my arms. “Syn, why are you crying?”

  “I...I…I.. can..can…,” she stutters while sobbing. She buries her head in my neck.

  “Shhh,” I try and calm her down by rubbing her back. I understand completely. It takes everything within me not to ball like a little bitch myself. I know she’s probably upset because she can relate to being a girl and going through something like this.

  Minutes later, she finally calms down. “I can’t believe she put you through that. I mean, I can’t believe she had to go through it, but that was so wrong. What if she had killed herself? How selfish. What about you? How were you supposed to live with that?”

  I’m shocked that she is even remotely upset because of me. I have to finish the story though, so I keep going. “So, JT and Jay got back to being a couple. One Friday, before a big pep rally, I co
uldn’t help but notice Coach Branch fucking zooming in on her. He had this wicked, evil look in his eyes. I’ll never forget it. I decided to follow him that day. This freshman girl’s cellphone was sticking out of her bag, so I grabbed it, thinking maybe I could record something to get his ass locked up, send it from her phone, and Jay never had to know it was me. They both end up in an empty classroom, and I pressed record. It was fucked up, Syn. He was threatening to rape her, again and again, until Jay finally stood up to him. The things he said. I had to block out so much of it, just to live with what I heard that day. I knew I had to help her, to do anything to get him away from her, but I couldn’t let her know it was me. I didn’t stand a chance with her if she knew what I did that day. So, I sent the video to half the school in a text, knowing that the police would end up with it.”

  She continues to softly cry against my chest, and I squeeze her tighter to me. Being swallowed whole by so much sadness makes me physically ache, but having Syn in my arms makes it almost bearable.

  I finish, whispering in her ear, “That night, everyone saw it. Including JT. I heard he went berserk. So, he left Jay at a party to take off with his best friend to go kick Coach Branch’s ass, but he never made it. There was a car accident, and he died. Jay fucking blamed herself, and then did as she planned all along. She overdosed, but somebody found her in time. All because of me, Syn. If I hadn’t sent that video, JT would be alive. Jay would never have tried to kill herself and probably be happily married to the guy, spitting out little ‘J’ named kids. Everything that happened that night was because of me, Syn.”

  “Don’t say that. You tried to help her the only way you knew how. How could she blame you for that?” Syn says, sobbing against my chest.

  “She doesn’t know, Syn. I never told her it was me. I live, every fucking day, knowing that I caused this. She would probably kill me if she knew. Some days, I replay every single second over and over in my head. Sometimes, it’s not even a choice. The only time I get away from it all is when I’m high. I’m an addict. I’m not going to lie to you about that,” I tell her, pulling back to stare directly into her eyes. For once, I want her to see the real me, the fucking ugly as sin bastard underneath it all. She needs to see that devil so she can run fast and far away. “But I’m an addict because I can’t deal with this shit day in and day out. I would have blown my goddamn brains out long ago.”

  Syn brings her soft hand to gently touch my face, showing no sign of revulsion at being near me. Before I can move away, her lips touch mine, and my dick hardens to the point of pain. A tightness in my chest causes me to hold my breath, waiting, then opening for her. I try to be gentle, something I’m completely unfamiliar with. My mouth wants to devour her, marking her as mine, but I keep it slow and tender for her. I don’t think I could allow myself the liberty of taking it any further. She deserves so much more.

  “I…,” I start to say, pulling back from her.

  She places her fingertips across my lips and smiles for me. “Just close your eyes,” she whispers, settling herself next to me. “We will talk about all of it later.”

  I am so fucking tired, completely exhausted, mentally and physically, from my life, but for this one, stolen moment, I shut it all down without the aid of anything manmade. She gives me a quiet peace that I’ve never known. The touch of her delicate hands massaging my temples as we lie, facing each other, in the grass is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me. Syn doesn’t offer me empty words, broken promises, or careless caresses. It’s something I’ve never known: giving without getting back a single damn thing. I don’t understand it, and I’m afraid I never will.

  Her hands slowly cease touching me, and her breathing steadies out. She lies curled up next to me, and I gently lean back, looking down to see that she has fallen asleep. Propping myself on my arm, I reach down with my other hand to brush her beautiful, blonde hair with my fingers. Fuck, she looks incredibly younger than nineteen. So innocent. I’ve never held anything like this… I don’t even know what to call it. Precious I guess? Her lips look swollen from our kisses, and the tender skin on her cheek is beard burned from my unshaven face. My marks on her. Mine. This overwhelming need to consume her is killing me. Everything inside of me screams to take her. Own her. Make her fucking mine in every way possible.

  Leaning down, my lips brush hers, once….twice and again. I trace my tongue around them, saturating her mouth, making it wet. A full body shiver fucking ignites me like a hot furnace. Burning on the inside for Syn. My cock swells, my balls tighten, and I can’t help but to rub myself, searching for some kind of relief, against her with our bodies aligned perfectly together. The beauty of the land surrounding us has nothing on sweet Syn. Her cotton candy scent is driving me bat shit crazy, making it exceedingly hard not to go down town. I wonder if her virgin body has ever felt a wet tongue lick her like she’s its favorite candy. Another full body quake rocks my internal core. Goddamn, this is powerful stuff. Inexperienced chicks have never been a turn on whatsoever, but Syn is the exception. In fact, she’s become the one and only rule. Her mouth starts mimicking mine, and her eyes flutter open, dazed with lust if her moan is any indication. Knowing that she is with me turns the notches up inside, fanning the flames. I tremble as she pushes her pelvis up hard against mine, seeking what I want to give her. Her hands grasp handfuls of my hair, tugging and pulling with unrestrained need. I’m so fucking horny, shaking with uncontrollable lust. When her mouth finally opens to me, I give everything I am in that kiss, trying to prove that I’m worthy for what she needs. At the same time, I feel a pang of regret, knowing I’ll never be. She seems to accept me for who I am, knowing what I am, but for one tiny second, something inside me says to take the high road and leave her the fuck alone.

  The feel of her mouth sucking hard on my sensitive neck, right below my rose tattoo, blows that goddamn idea to smithereens. Mine. Want. Need. All-out war rages inside of me, within us, it seems. She pushes my chest up, grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it off, attacking my mouth once again when she finishes. This greedy girl owns me with the intent in her eyes, and I know that she is, without a shadow of a doubt, completely mine. No other before me and no other after will ever come close to this living, breathing encounter created by us.

  Not slowing down for a minute, she reaches to pull her top off, along with her bra. Her tits are two perfectly sculpted tan globes with tight, rosy nipples in the center. I attack them, drawing each one into my mouth, my dick pulsating in time with her tiny moans.

  The touch of her hand, slipping beneath my jeans to run over my needy cock, triggers my own, loud moan. I can’t help but feel every single molecule within my body swell with demand for her. I have to slow this down or it will be over before it truly fucking begins, and I’ll blow my load early. For once, it’s a fear instead of a goal because I care about Syn getting hers first.

  Reaching for her searching arm, I tug it out of my jeans, smiling at the sound of her reluctance. “Lie back for me, Syn,” I command, watching her yellow eyes go liquid with desire. She doesn’t buck me; instead, like the good girl she is, she does as I say. Something tells me, though, it’s only because it’s me and in this moment. Once she is flat on the blanket, I kneel on my knees beside her, instructing her softly, “Remove your shorts, slowly.” I watch her unbutton them and slide them down her shapely thighs. She’s not my usual stick-thin waif, and I’ve never wanted anyone more.

  The sight before me blows my fucking mind. Her blonde hair is spread out around her face. Her tan, tight little body glows underneath the willow tree as the sun tries to shine its rays directly on her. A pair of barely there, white panties fail to hide the bald pussy that glistens underneath. I slowly glide my fingertip from her panting chest, over one pebbled hard nipple, and down her flat stomach until it reaches the edge of her panties.

  I tug on the elastic, slipping my hand down to cup her. Wet, hot heat greets me. If my dick could become the incredible hulk, he would bust out of my jeans
, going ape shit crazy to find her. No fucking doubt, this is, without question, the hardest I’ve ever been for any girl. Her moan of need spurs me further. I slide one finger back and forth, not entering her but increasing the wet heat with every swipe. The excitement builds, and goddamn if I don’t swear I could just come right now. Slipping one fingertip inside makes her entire body shake, and she pants louder. Going a little deeper, my finger is coated in her sultry wetness, making each glide in and out easier. I grind my palm against her mound, stimulating her as much as possible.

  “Please, Rhye,” she cries out, “I… Oh my God.” Her entire body bows out, and I close my eyes at her scream of satisfaction. My breaths are coming out just as fast as hers, and when I open my eyes, I see the entire innocence of Syn smiling back at me. She’s a beaut, but her inner beauty would completely bring me to my knees if I wasn’t already on them.

  She lies there, willing and ready. Once again, I want to give a girl something more than I could possibly ever offer her. So, I do the very thing that my body and mind scream not to, stand and walk away.

  “Rhye?” I ask, trying to make sense of what is happening around me. He just gave me the most memorable experience of my life and then walked away? Did I do something wrong? My body trembles, not from the cold but confusion.

  I know he desires me. It’s evident by the hard on he’s sporting beneath his jeans. I watch him walk over to the tree and lean against it, away from me. He looks miserable, and he doesn’t have to. I stand on my wobbly legs, my body feeling the aftershocks of his experienced touch, and stumble over to him. He refuses to look at me, staring out across the clear pond instead.