by Loretta Lost
He pulls away momentarily. “I don’t know if Cole is going to give me this job, but it would be nice to stick around here for a little. Spend some more time with you.”
“I’d like that,” I tell him, wrapping my legs around him. “And I’m pretty sure that you’re going to get the job, because Cole trusts you.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t trust me too much,” Levi says, biting and sucking on my neck.
This makes me giggle.
“Do you trust me, Scar?” he asks, earnestly.
“Yeah. Of course.” I nearly add that the main reason I trust him is because Cole does, but I feel like that’s a stupid thing to say in the middle of a make-out session.
“Here,” he says, pulling away from me, and grabbing a piece of paper. “Just in case I can’t stick around. I’ve always moved around a lot—done a lot of weird odd jobs, used burner phones. But here’s a number where you can reach me. Permanently.” He scribbles a number down, and hands it to me. “Memorize that, okay? And then get rid of the paper. If you’re ever in trouble, you give that number a call. Whoever answers, you ask for Levi.”
The instructions are cryptic and mysterious, like him. But I find it somehow, incredibly sweet. “Okay,” I tell him. “Thank you. Now get back here, please.”
“Seriously, memorize it,” he tells me, returning to the couch, and sliding the straps of my dress off my shoulders. He lowers his head to my breasts, kissing and suckling, and biting so hard that I’m almost positive he draws blood. I gasp out in pain, and I can see that he likes that.
As I stare at him, I start to remember something about the way he touched me when I was fourteen. I only see flashes of it, very quickly. I remember him grasping all my hair together in his fist, like a ponytail and pulling on it hard. I don’t have time to contemplate this, because he is kissing me again, and lowering his pants.
He likes hurting me, I know that much for sure. Not too much—not like others have.
Just a small amount. Just enough.
I don’t mind it. It’s better than nothing at all.
I let my mind go blank as he touches me, and I just give myself over to the dizzying sensations. I am so out of it that I don’t even realize when the front door is opening, and Cole is entering the apartment.
It takes me a minute to focus, and fight through the foggy sensations, to even realize what is happening.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?”
“Uhm,” Levi says, ripping himself away from me with shock. He pulls his pants up awkwardly before responding. “What does it look like, man? Sorry—we didn’t know you’d be coming home. Should we, uh, move to the bedroom?”
Cole stares daggers at him, until Levi flinches like he is being impaled by them.
“Get out,” Cole says simply, and his voice is terrifying. It makes my blood run cold.
“Dude, you can’t tell me what to do.”
“If you don’t get the fuck out of my house, Levi, I’m going to kill you.”
“What the heck, man? She said you’re not together. She said you don’t want to be with her.”
“It doesn’t matter. Levi, I told you years ago not to touch her.”
“Cole,” I say gently, trying to ease the tension. “It’s consensual. He wasn’t doing anything, I didn’t ask him to do.”
“Do I look like I fucking care, Scarlett?”
Cole is terrifying. I’ve never seen him like this. Not in many years, at least. I pull my dress back up over my breasts, suddenly embarrassed, even though he’s seen me without my clothes a thousand times.
“You’re not my father, Cole. You’re not my brother. You can’t pull that shit on me, telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“I’m your husband,” he says simply.
“Oh, surprise, surprise! He remembers,” I say, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “Now that it’s convenient for you, and you can use it to control me, you’re suddenly my husband?”
“I never wanted to control you. You are a free woman, and you can do what you want with whomever you choose. But Levi is my friend. He knows better than to disrespect me like this. He was there at our wedding.”
“Disrespect you?” I nearly shout. “That’s rich, Cole! So this has nothing to do with me at all? Am I your property, to keep in a glass jar, withering away? How can you be so cold to me? How can you act like I’m not even here, like I’m not a person, not a woman?”
“You’re a child,” Cole says.
I can’t help myself. I walk right up to him and I slap him in the face. He doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps looking at me with those dark, stormy eyes, filled with rage.
Levi moves to my side, defensively. “You seem a little confused, Cole. Maybe you should get your shit straight before someone straightens it up for you.”
“I swear to god, Levi. If you don’t move your fucking ass.”
“Why does he have to leave?” I ask Cole. “It’s my apartment, too, right? I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I thought you were in meetings all day.”
“Because if he doesn’t leave, I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t act like you care, now.”
“I think you guys need to talk this through,” Levi says, clearing his throat and inching toward the door. “I mean, thanks for the job opportunity, and all, Cole. You probably want to go in a different direction.”
“Levi, wait. I’ll come with you,” I say, but I am unable to look away from the beautiful stone wall that is Cole’s face. I swallow, feeling suddenly afraid. I can see the redness in his cheek where I slapped him, and my whole body feels hot, overheating, like I’m on fire. I feel like I’m a grenade, and someone has pulled the pin, and I am holding my breath, in those few seconds before I explode.
I am hoping he will beg me to stay. I am praying that he will beg me to stay.
He’s too quiet. He’s too motionless. My heart is definitely going to explode. It’s been too long that I’ve bottled up all this love for Cole that I’m not allowed to feel. Not allowed to communicate. I feel so restricted, I feel so repressed.
“I hate you,” I tell him, as my blood boils. “I hate you. I should have left you to rot in prison.” With that, I turn to leave, but Cole catches my wrist. Even so, his touch is gentle, firm, but not hurting me. I wish he would hurt me. I’m used to that. The problem is that he doesn’t touch me enough, and I would gladly accept him hurting me if it meant he was touching me at all.
“Get out of my house, Levi,” Cole whispers softly.
“Of course. I’m sorry, man.” Levi disappears quickly, and I am left utterly frustrated and wishing I could go after him. I feel tears gather in my eyes. I just wanted the sex. I wanted to feel good for a few seconds, and disappear from my body, and forget all about my mess of a life. It was none of Cole’s business. I begged him to make it his business, and he wouldn’t.
It has become clear to me that he will never want anything to do with my business, and our marriage of convenience actually was just a business transaction. Maybe he did care once, but that’s clearly over. He hasn’t displayed an iota of physical affection in so long. He’s barely looked at me lately.
I am starting to think that every time he ever expressed interest or love in the past, it was also out of convenience. I was just there.
Maybe this is the end. Maybe this is the moment Cole finally walks out of my life.
He releases my wrist and sighs. “Why are you doing this to me, Scar? You’re killing me.”
My chest is still heaving with anger, and I turn to look at him with surprise. “What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?” he asks. Moving over to the kitchen, he pours himself a stiff drink. “You’re doing this on purpose. Acting like a whore, right in front of me.”
“Excuse me? Don’t talk to me like that.”
“You’re addicted to sex, it’s just dopamine,” he says. “I’m not going ever let you us
e me the way you use them, and lessen what we have.”
“What the hell do we have?” I ask him.
He takes a drink. “The other night, on the roof, those things we said to each other.”
“What night? What roof? What things?” I squint, trying to remember. I do have some fuzzy recollection of it, like it was a dream I had, but nothing is clear.
“Oh,” he says, with sudden realization. “It wasn’t you.”
“You were on the roof with some other girl?”
“No. No. We were drinking, Scar. After you saw your exam results. You had a little bit too much, remember?”
I shake my head in confusion.
He exhales shakily. “Fuck!” he says suddenly, as his drinking glass shatters in his hand, cutting him. He smashes the rest of the glass down into the sink, and grasps the edge of it, leaning forward and breathing heavy, shuddering breaths.
Moving over to him, I ignore the shattered glass and wrap my arms around him. I rest my cheek against his back, and hear his heart racing against my ear.
I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything, but I know that I’ve hurt him, and I can’t bear it.
“Don’t you know how I feel about you, Scar?”
“No,” I whisper. “I thought I did, but… I think I was wrong.”
“Then why don’t you ask me?”
“I did ask. You said ‘later.’ It’s always something to save for later. When we’re older. I am older, Cole. It’s been years. I guess I just realized that you were just being polite. You didn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying ‘never’ so you said ‘later.’ I can translate what you mean better now.”
“I love you so much, Scar. I would never act this way—what you’re doing to me.”
“You didn’t seem to care,” I say, with surprise. “I did everything to make you want me. For years, I basically threw myself at you, pathetically. I walked into the shower with you a few weeks ago, totally naked, and you didn’t even touch me. You just helped me wash my hair. Do you know how that made me feel?”
I pause for dramatic effect. “Like my hair was really clean, that’s for sure.”
“We only have one shower,” Cole says. “I thought you were trying to be efficient and conserve water.”
“For god’s sake, Cole!” I pull away, looking for something to throw at him with exasperation. But I only have my words. “You said you found it attractive when I wore that beige sweater with the really long sleeves, that went all the way to my fingers. I bought like three of them in different colors, and wore them every day. You said you liked it when I wore pink lipstick. You said it made my lips look extra kissable. I bought like ten shades at the drugstore, trying to find the magic color that would make you finally want to kiss me.”
He turns around with desperation in his eyes. “I always want to kiss you, Scarlett.”
“So do it,” I dare him, moving closer. “Fucking do it, Cole. For god’s sake.”
He looks down at my lips, with such hunger that I feel my whole body tingling, from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. Even my fingernails seem to be buzzing with anticipation, and I tilt my lips upward, demanding one of his life-changing, earth-shattering kisses.
He inches toward me, but then he stops at the last second, when I can feel his breath against my skin. He curses and grabs the bottle of scotch and moves away from me, taking a long swig.
I stand there, shaking with rage. “Cole,” I say angrily, clenching my fists. “This is messed up. This is so messed up, for you to treat me this way. If you don’t want me, let me go. Stop lying to me. Stop keeping me on a leash like I’m your pet dog, salivating for any sign of affection from you. You’re all I have in this world—and you’re killing me, too.”
“I’m afraid,” he says, moving to sit on the couch with his bottle. He takes another long swig. “I want you so badly, Scar, every minute of every day. I’m afraid that once I start kissing you, I’ll never be able to stop.”
“Then don’t stop,” I tell him. “Why do you ever have to stop? You only kiss me when we’re experiencing some great trauma, or to pull me back from the brink of suicide. You only kiss me with the promise of some great future, but what if that future never comes? I want it now. I want it on a normal day, by the kitchen sink, in the shower, in the bed, in the couch. I want you, and I’ve been pretty fucking clear about that since I was fourteen years old.”
“I thought you didn’t mean it, Scar. I thought I was a placeholder for something, a distraction. I thought you would just be using me, the way you use all of them.”
“I was using them to get to you, Cole. I have never wavered on this. I’ve been a grown up since I was nine years old—and so have you. You know everything about me. I never had a childhood.”
“I was trying to give you one.”
“By pretending to be my father and scaring away all the boys my age who actually want to touch me?”
“You’re not going about this in a healthy way, Scar. The sex means nothing to you. You just throw yourself around at everyone, desperate to feel something. I won’t be just another guinea pig. I won’t be an experiment to you, I won’t be temporary.”
“Of course, sex means nothing to me,” I tell him furiously. “I’ve been raped a million times, and the only person I’ve ever loved won’t even touch me. Maybe sex would mean something if I could actually do it with someone I care about. And maybe—maybe I can grow to care about Levi a little bit. He’s your friend, and you care about him. He’s helped us in the past. So maybe I can feel something with him. I don’t understand why you don’t approve.”
Moving to the door, feeling defeated, I reach for the knob.
“Please,” Cole says. “Please don’t go. I don’t know how to do this.”
I pause, with my hand on the door. I exhale, torn between my anger and my devotion. I turn the knob, trying to find the strength to leave. But I know that I’ll turn around and run back to him if he says another word. Any word. Even if that word is ‘pizza,’ my stupid, desperate brain will somehow find a way to twist that into a sign of his undying love. And if that word is ‘pasta,’ heaven help me, but I will probably tear my clothes off. I am that pathetically in love with him, and have been for a good chunk of my life.
I think he knows that, somewhere deep down. I think that’s why he’s felt so secure, watching me date all these people. He knew that none of that was real. He knows I belong to him, body and soul. I bet it’s been really amusing, making me suffer, watching me fall all over myself trying to act and dress more feminine and sophisticated, to seem older, to make myself more desirable to him.
But I have some pride, don’t I?
I know that I’m good enough, don’t I? If not for him, for everyone else. And if I can’t do anything to be good enough for him—at least I can rub it in his face that I’m good enough for Levi. That seemed to bother him, and I liked getting a reaction out of him.
And I like Levi’s leather, motorcycles, and the aggressive way he touches me.
It makes me forget.
I turn the doorknob, open the door, and step outside. The cool, fresh air hits me, and it tastes like freedom. I see that Levi hasn’t totally left yet, and is leaning against his motorcycle, holding his helmet at his waist.
I smile at him, ready to get on that bike and go anywhere with him, and never come back.
But then I feel a hand take mine.
His fingers interlace with mine, and it sends a flush of heat through me, to my very core. I do not turn, but I can feel that Cole is standing very close to me.
“Scar,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Every time I touch you, you disappear.”
I don’t totally understand what he’s saying, but somewhere deep down, I do. It strikes a chord in my memory, like the foggy memories of him making love to me on the rooftop, with candles—even though that never happened. I frown, digging deep for those false memories and dreams. They seem more precious to me than my real life. I close my ey
es, so that I can no longer see Levi looking at me expectantly.
“What if I want to disappear,” I whisper, tightening my grip on Cole’s hand. “What if I need to disappear. What if when I disappear, I’m really, truly me, more than I am in the rest of my whole miserable existence.”
“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he responds. “You disappear when people hurt you, and I don’t want to be like them. I never want to be like them.”
“You’re not like them,” I say softly, opening my eyes and staring at Levi, who is still waiting. “But what if I need you to hurt me, Cole? What if I’m so used to pain, that I can’t feel anything else?”
I gasp as Cole grabs my body and slams me against the door, following to pin me there with his own large form. He wraps his arms around my waist, crushing me against him so tightly I cannot breathe. He stares down into my eyes with his, filled with anger, fury, and love. “I’ll do anything you want me to do, Scar. Anything you ask me to do.” He kisses my lips with such passion that it nearly knocks me off my feet.
Actually, it does knock me off my feet. I find my knees growing weak, and I crumple against him—but he is holding me so tightly that I do not fall.
“But please try to understand,” Cole says against my mouth, “that when I’m not touching you, and not hurting you, I still love you. You don’t need to feel pain to feel alive.”
“I just want to feel you,” I whisper.
He nods and pulls me away from the door, so he can close it. But before he does, he gives Levi a look that I will never forget. It is a look of such calm dominance, possessiveness, and utter disdain. He looks like a caveman who is about to drag his woman off to his lair, to have his way with her, and will kill anyone who interferes without a second thought. I am perfectly okay with this.
I imagine that it’s similar to the look he will wear many years later, before shooting Zack in the head.
I try to send Levi a look, too. One of apology.
But I had a feeling, as Cole shut the door in his face, that he would never forgive either of us.
I don’t remember much about that night, or many of the nights I spent with Cole. But I know that I was with him, or at least some distant part of me was—and I always woke up in his arms, sweaty, well-slept, and totally satisfied.
