Use Somebody

by Riley Jean

  “I want to understand. I want to help bring you back.”

  Another thought suddenly occurred to me. This was bigger than a heroic pet project, and messier than an affair. “You don’t want me,” I said quietly. “You’ve fallen for the idea of a girl that no longer exists.”

  Maybe once upon a time I had been a nice girl. Sweet. Optimistic. Ready to chase my dreams. Maybe even worthy of someone like Vance Holloway. We might’ve been right for each other, if circumstances were different. If I never went away to school. If I never dated one jerk after the other. If I never experienced such debilitating grief. Sure. We might have been perfect together. If. That’s what Gwen saw. That’s what Vance saw. But it wasn’t reality.

  “That’s not true,” he said. “It’s you that I’m falling for.”

  “Then you would realize you can’t bring her back.”

  He turned to face me, trapping me in his gaze. “I like that you listen to kickass music, and that a good song can make you light up. I like your dry humor. I like that just because you’re introverted, you think no one notices you. I like that you don’t care about expensive jewelry and gifts. I like that you’re not constantly in front of a mirror obsessing about the way you look. I like that you don’t expect me to pay for your meal or open your door. I like that you always thank me when I do it anyway. So many girls our age are petty and shallow, no offense, but not you. You are strong, intelligent and independent. And when you didn’t like the direction your life was going, you had the courage to say enough’s enough, and start over.” His swing was fully twisted in my direction at this point. Mine still faced forward. “I like you, Rosie. Not an ideal version from your past. You.”

  I nodded numbly. That certainly squashed any counter arguments I could make.

  But I had one more question, and I feared this answer most of all.

  “Did you feel this way when you were still with your girlfriend?”

  I couldn’t bear it if he said yes, but I had to know. His heart changed too quickly for someone who just got out of a serious relationship. This whole thing was probably my fault. Had I really justified all those car rides, late night pancakes, and long talks by telling myself it was safe to hang out with him because he already had a girlfriend? What the hell was wrong with me?

  “When I was with Evelyn,” he paused to breathe, then started over. “I always thought you were a cool girl. When you started working at Mooshi, I wanted you to feel at home there, so I tried to reach out to you. I had no idea how difficult you were going to make that.” A smile curled up on one side, but he grew serious again just as quickly. “I never thought about you like that, not until after we broke up. But since I had already gotten to know you, it happened instantly. All of a sudden it just… made perfect sense.”

  “It makes no sense,” I countered. We clashed in every single capacity: he was light and I was dark, he was pure and I was damaged. “I’m not the kind of girl you should want, Vance. I have so many issues I don’t even know where to begin. I’m broken and paranoid and destructive—”

  “Stop.”

  “Don’t you want to see what else is out there beyond our little suburb? Meet people? Sow your wild oats?”

  Vance laughed darkly. “I have no interest in sowing wild oats.”

  “Okay, another relationship then. I think you’d be much better off with a nice girl who wants to settle down here in San Dimas. White picket fence. Two-point-five kids and a golden retriever.”

  “Are you finished yet?”

  “She should be blond, I think.”

  “Rosie, look at me.”

  I did not want to look at him. If I looked at him, surely I would crack. I had to hold my ground and resist him. So I stared straight out at the playground, knuckles white as my fingers held tightly to the chains at my sides.

  Vance hastily stood up from his swing and crunched across the sand until he stood directly in front of me. Bending to my eye level and gripping both of the metal chains to my swing, he effectively had me trapped, and I was forced to look up into his very intense gaze.

  “I know you’re not as tough as you act. You can try and pretend that you’re fearless and that nothing can touch you. But every relationship you have is controlled by fear.”

  I swallowed, wide-eyed, feeling open and exposed.

  Vance took advantage of my speechlessness and blurted out, “You’re beautiful.”

  I frowned, his words catching me off guard. “I’m cute. At best.”

  A small smile touched his lips. “And modest.” I rolled my eyes. He shook his head as if I were being ridiculous, gaze never leaving mine, and moved closer, pushing my swing backwards, one slow inch at a time. “I’m not gonna lie, Rosie, with those blond curls and big, innocent eyes, you were cute. You were downright adorable back then. But this… your fire, your complexity… you’re not that little girl anymore… You are extraordinarily sexy.”

  I tried to move away but he continued.

  “That’s the one that really gets to me. You have no idea how beautiful you are. Blond hair, black hair, green hair, it doesn’t matter. You’re gorgeous. Your smile. Your laugh. Even your little scowl. The way you looked up at me right before I kissed you…” he took a breath and held it, closing his eyes momentarily to savor the memory. “It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  His voice had grown deep and husky. He was so close to me now, we were breathing the same air. It took an incredible amount of restraint not to touch my lips to his after hearing his confessions. I was so sure he could see me losing control.

  But Vance was steady. His gaze now straight at my lips, the cool mint of his breath whispering intimately across my skin. “Every day I’ve wanted to touch you again. Every… damn… day.”

  “Vance,” I said, a breathless plea. We needed to stop this… not that I could remember why at the moment. Only that somewhere out there existed a very good reason to stop.

  But the logical part of my brain shut off the moment he ignited my body. I was no longer thinking straight, only feeling. I was consumed by the memory of his hands on me, his lips on me. The tenderness in his eyes. The warmth of his embrace. He was so close to me now, making the memory of his touch fresh in my mind, the fantasy of it happening again palpable.

  His smile told me he was well aware of just how much he was affecting me.

  “Do you ever think about that night? How it felt to give in? To let go?” I closed my eyes as his cheek ghosted along the curve of my face. Leisurely, methodically. He was teasing me. I wanted him to really touch me. I needed it. And he knew. “You looked so beautiful, glowing in the moonlight. You wanted to show me the stars, but I could barely take my eyes off you. That first kiss…” He traced the tip of his nose enticingly up the length up my neck, only to stop and murmur in my ear. “Just remembering the little sound you made drives me out of my mind.”

  I shivered. His soft lips were on me now, lightly brushing the lobe of my ear, trailing back down my neck and across my collar bone. Just tiny little tastes that weren’t nearly enough. I shifted to give him better access. I might have even whimpered. I just needed him to touch me already. For real. But his hands were securely on my swing, holding me in place.

  “Do you remember?”

  A soft moan was my only response. What a stupid question. Of course I remembered. Wasn’t it obvious in the way he had so quickly reduced me to this needy vagrant? No matter how hard I tried to forget, the memory of my one night with Vance under the stars was burned into me.

  Just like the alcoholic, the first sip set me on a fast track to destruction. It was so much easier to concede to temptation the second time around. Because I knew exactly how soft his lips would feel. I knew just how warm he was, and how perfect his weight would fit over my body.

  And the worst part… Vance was now aware of how enticing I found him. Hence one of the reasons that I hadn’t allowed him to touch me at all. Everything was different now that he understood why. He knew i
t was not disgust, but a craving, an addiction. And he was using it to his advantage. He was drawing me in, building my need exponentially. By barely touching me, I was already writhing beneath him, practically begging for it. He must have been using an insane amount of control to resist. I knew I was.

  “Keep your eyes open,” he coaxed me softly, like he had so many times before.

  Knowing full well he would see the desperation in my eyes, I hesitated only a moment. Then I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

  My own emotions were reflected in his face. The same as before—yearning and restraint. Vaguely I recalled him admitting this was the moment that turned him on that first night. The expression of being open, asking to be kissed. I wanted the memory of tonight to affect him just as much. To tease him the same way he was teasing me. I gently bit into my bottom lip. Carefully, as if in slow motion.

  His eyes snapped to my mouth, and I watched his green irises darken in desire. This was so much deeper than the shallow lust I’d felt from countless flings, and even from the few I really cared about. They had wanted and they had taken. But they never made me feel beautiful the way I did in this moment. Vance didn’t need cleavage or lipstick to get his attention. He didn’t just want to use somebody for the night. He wanted to own me. And in that moment, I wanted to be his.

  While my brain was too drunk on hormones to consider the consequences, he eliminated the space between us. This time he didn’t let a second go to waste. A passionate and insistent kiss ensued, promising that all the answers to every question I could ever ask were hidden in his lips, and all he had to do was interpret.

  It was the kind of kiss meant to change a stubborn girl’s mind, leaving no room for arguments or doubt. It worked. My brain was no longer in control. I was soaring through the clouds. I was bursting at the seams. I was home.

  How did he do that? How could he get me so wound up by his words and his touches, that one kiss was the only thing in life that mattered? And how had a single kiss brought me to my knees? Hadn’t I learned my lesson?

  Maybe I was a fool for falling for another man. But when our lips pressed together, I couldn’t bring myself to care. I just needed him to devour me. Now. Before I actually combusted.

  He pulled back just long enough to breathe my name, then we collided again. Both desperate, starving for each other. His hands along my jaw. My fingers in his hair. It was need at its finest. All practical sense went out the window. The only thing I cared about was Vance’s hands on me. Vance’s lips mastering mine. Vance wanting me. Vance liking me. Vance. Vance. Vance.

  I was free falling without any parachute to catch me.

  And all too quickly the earth came rushing up to greet me.

  “Don’t you see it, Rosie?” he said between pants, his forehead rested against mine. I, too, was struggling to catch my breath. “We could be something amazing.”

  For a split second, I did see it. Being able to feel beautiful every day. To be kissed like this every night. To have someone like Vance want me, take care of me, look at me like I wasn’t a coward or a failure or damaged, but a woman worthy of adoration…

  But what would it matter how he looked at me, when he didn’t know the truth of who I was? And what I’d done?

  And even if he learned my secrets, and miraculously still wanted me, how could this relationship ever be equal?

  Vance just named off all the things he admired about me, and why he wanted to be with me. Yet the list that I just formed in my own little fantasy consisted only of the ways I wanted to be taken care of. And being with him just because I wanted to be treated well was selfish. Vance and I were both givers by nature, but I had nothing of value left to give. And I couldn’t justify a relationship where I would only take, take, take.

  I finally understood the depths of Vance’s feelings for me, but it only pointed out the selfishness of my own. How could we possibly have the kind of relationship he deserved? My heart was fatally damaged. My concept of trust, broken. I had haunting memories and issues up the wahzoo. I may never be able to give him a normal relationship. And he was the golden boy—he deserved so much more than just that.

  If I agreed to be his, it would be yet another act of selfishness.

  “We can’t,” I whispered and tried to pull away, but he held me in place. “I can’t.”

  “You feel it too. I know you do,” he said, frustration evident in his voice. My chest tightened at the sound of it. If he only knew how difficult it was to tell him ‘no.’ Every other emotion inside me was dulled, but the physical pull was almost unbearable.

  My brain fought to regain control. “You don’t know what I feel.”

  “I can read you better than anyone. And not the mask you hide behind. I know it’s guilt that makes you bite that plump little lip. That any attention makes you blush. That your doe-eyed look means you’re uncomfortable or lying. That you get nervous meeting anyone new, but value loyalty above all else. That a song can completely change your mood. That you’ve been hurt, more than once, so badly you’re afraid to try again. And even though you act like you don’t care and you don’t need anybody, you care. You need. You feel. You still want to find that perfect love. You have hope that I can give that to you, that we can figure out what it means together, but that hope scares you.”

  I tried to swallow past the painful lump lodged in my throat. “Is that all?” I asked in a small voice, trying and failing to mock his supposed assumption.

  He grinned, as if he was hoping I’d ask. “No.” His voice dropped even lower. “I can tell when your lips want to be kissed. When your body wants to be touched. I can tell that when you look at me, you see more than just a friend.”

  Right on cue, my cheeks blushed a fiery red. “What do you want me to say? That I’m attracted to you? That I enjoy it when you kiss me? That I never want to stop? Because that’s all true. I’m not denying it.”

  A smile appeared. “Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “You don’t understand,” I shook my head, knowing my half-admission had already given him the wrong idea. “I’m addicted to the feeling of being wanted. I’m not in love with you.”

  There. I said it.

  And it took less than two heartbeats for the smile to drain from his face, dimming like taillights disappearing into the night.

  I was a cruel, selfish girl for shooting him down after the way I made him display his feelings for me. But as much as I wanted to take it back, or to kiss him until the smile returned to his face, I refrained. I’d done what I set out to do. Everything was out in the open now; he felt one way, I felt another. We couldn’t keep dancing around the issue. This was one challenge we wouldn’t be able to overcome. An insurmountable and unsolvable conundrum.

  “You ever climb that thing?” he questioned.

  The guy had an unbelievable bounce-back rate.

  I followed his gaze to the old oak tree. It was a historic piece of this city, and had been a staple in my childhood. As well as every other kid in town.

  “Sure,” I answered warily.

  Without taking his eye off his target, he straightened and walked through the sand and grass towards the tree, glancing up at its massive size. It was so large now, some of its biggest branches were supported by cement poles. I watched him for a moment before I got off my swing and followed him to the base of the trunk.

  “Cole and I used to see who was brave enough to climb the highest,” Vance chuckled, looking up and knocking on the trunk with his knuckle.

  I heard in his voice the yearning for simpler times, when friendship and bravery were only tested by how high you could climb. If only life were still that easy.

  At the very same moment, we glanced at each other, wearing identical grins, and both reached out for groves in the trunk to begin our ascent. Side by side, we climbed together, in sync, as always.

  I was cautious and a little less coordinated than I had remembered from my younger years. I’d hardly moved a few feet when I made the mist
ake of looking down. I couldn’t recall feeling so high off the ground. Was I fearless as a small child? Why, oh why, did I have to lose that?

  Vance was faster, confidently reaching one hand above the other until he pulled himself up and stood on the high branch. He looked comfortable up there with the best view in the whole park. He didn’t even need to spread his arms for balance.

  As I paused my climbing, he caught me watching him and offered me his hand.

  I shook my head. “I can do it myself.”

  He retracted his hand and took a step back to give me room. “I know you can. But you don’t have to.”

  Determined, I lifted myself a little higher. Kickboxing here and there over the last few months had made my muscles a little stronger, but my limbs were still shaking under my weight, and the rough bark scratched my palms.

  “You can do it, Rosie, almost there.”

  I gritted my teeth and used his encouragement to spur me on. I can do it. One step higher. Then another. Until I reached the final branch. I was breathing hard as I pulled myself to my feet and leaned my back against the trunk. But the grin I wore was huge.

  Vance sported a look of pride, with just the barest hint of sadness in his smile.

  We stood there in the old oak tree, staring at one another as I tried to catch my breath. The street lamps casted an orange glow over everything, but he was close enough that I could see the greens of his irises. I licked my lips to evoke the lingering minty taste of him. His gaze dropped to follow the movement. A breeze picked up and blew through the branches, tossing my curls in the wind. Neither of us spoke.

  This park had become a special place for us, connecting memories of the past and present. I drew upon the comfort and courage this tree had given me so many years ago when I was young and ruled by my heart. Tonight, everything felt complicated and I learned that Vance was right—I’d let fear dictate my relationships. My life.

  I was afraid of facing my feelings for Vance. I didn’t know the first thing about giving him the kind of relationship he deserved. I was afraid of moving on from my last, and felt guilty and wrong wanting to try again so soon.