I don’t know why I’m pushing his buttons.
Brody: Have dinner with me tonight?
Me: Just dinner?
Brody: Just dinner.
I sigh. I know having sex is my way of coping when things get too intense. And my life is a fucking careening, curving roller coaster. Adriane isn’t returning calls, I’m still getting the silent treatment from my friends, I’m banned from seeing Julie— and my dad could give two shits.
Three weeks into this semester, and it’s rough. I’m thinking a semester abroad was the smartest idea I had.
Me: Okay. Where and what time?
Sue me; I need a little human interaction.
Brody: My apartment. I’ll cook for you.
Me: Is that code for Netflix and chill?
Brody: haha. No. Be here at 7.
My phone beeps again with his address, and I’m shocked at how close he’s been to me this whole time. So close yet so far.
As my last class ends, I force down the butterflies. He’s seen me naked. He’s licked every inch of my skin. He’s been buried deep inside me. He was the first one, but he won’t be the last.
I glam up; smoky eyes, loose curls, cleavage revealing top. He may think dinner is what he’s serving, but I’m hankering for dessert. The house is quiet, but Saylor’s light is shining under her closed door. I pause outside her door, wondering what I can say to her to make it better. I see her swollen red eyes, the longing looks she gives Deacon across campus, and I know her pain. I’ve felt it, lived it, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’m disgusted I did it to her. At what point is it okay to be selfish? The last straw to earn my dad’s love is to bring our family together, but I hate I’m hurting someone in the process. That isn’t who I am. It isn’t who I want to be. I understand wanting love from someone, having it, and it being ripped from you because of someone’s devious plans.
What happened to Brecklynn to scare Brody isn’t the same as what I’m doing but same results. The innocent person gets hurt. I knock, determined to see her. I’m ready to end this. I’m ready to own my shit, apologize, and move forward. If my dad doesn’t love me or want to forge a relationship— that’s his loss.
I hear her music and what I’m sure is her sobs, but no answer. I don’t have the audacity to barge in but the need to comfort her and tell her— all of them— how sorry I am is overwhelming. My hands turning the knob when my phone blares alerting me of a new message. I grab it, I need to let Brody know I’ll be late or won’t be there at all, it depends how much damage control I can get through tonight.
As I’m staring at the text from my mom congratulating me for making the Dean’s List, Adriane sends a text. Holy hell, what’s she doing? I try to decipher if I’m staring at the hem of her dress or her crotch, but either way it isn’t pretty. Her eyes are sunken and dull, makeup smeared, and she captioned it with, ‘I don’t miss you.’
Fuck this noise. My mom sends a text, my dad doesn’t care that I’ve worked my ass off. It would have taken him two seconds to dial my number. Shit, he could have had his assistant send a damn email, and it would have made my day. The girl I’m championing for, the girl I’m trying to save because she fucking needs it after witnessing the train wreck she sent me, tells me my efforts are futile and she doesn’t miss me. What about your fucking daughter? What about finding the truth? If she’d call me back I’d tell her what I discovered. Nope, she’s too busy acting like Meth-head Mattie or Heroin Haddy. Let me throw in Cokehead Cathy and we’ve got the three fucking musketeers for her. What started as ‘finding herself’ has turned into sex, drugs, and rock and roll. This isn’t the seventies, and she didn’t get the memo.
Fury rises inside me, and my plans for tonight are obliterated. I’m tired of those I love dismissing me, so I’m gonna play the game tit for tat. I’ll be impenetrable Nothing will hurt me from this point forward. Game on bitches.
Making the short drive to Brody’s, my breath comes in pants, and he’s the one that’s going to be on the receiving end of my ire; whether justified or not, he’ll be introduced to the new Emberlee. He thought he couldn’t handle me before . . . he hasn’t seen anything yet.
Answering the door to a vixen isn’t what I was expecting. My restraint to keep my hands off her is pulled taut at all times, but when she stands in front of me looking like sex on wheels, the glint in her eyes and smirk embellishing her face tells me she’s going to test my patience. “Come in.”
“Leave off the in and I’ll just take the come if you’re offering.” I swallow and close my eyes. Exhale. Breathe. Count to nine million.
“Dinner, remember?”
“I have a craving for dessert.” She drags her finger down the center of my chest, and I fucking shiver. She can undo me with a single touch.
“Emberlee.” I sigh. She steps through the door, and as she passes me, she grips my dick and squeezes, her fingers flex to the throb my cock emits. She knows exactly what she does to me.
“Hope you cooked lots of carbs. And protein. Because I plan to drain you of your supply.” I throw my head back and sigh. Closing my eyes, I force my body to relax.
“I want to talk to you.”
“I like talking. When we’re horizontal and you’re telling me how tight I am squeezing your cock.”
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“Precisely what I’m hoping for.” Her words snap me back into focus. She’s trying to forget. Erase her life and hide. Sex is her salvation. I want it to be me, not my dick.
“You’re ready to forgive me?” I turn the tables, taking her by surprise and wish I hadn’t. Her posture becomes rigid, and her eyes narrow.
“Nope. You can’t have forgiveness without trust.”
“I want to earn your trust. Show you I’m sorry. I want you to believe in me.”
“Made that mistake once. I’ll never trust you again, Brody.” I want to pound the walls, scream in frustration.
I run my fingers through my hair, making it stand up as I tug. “You’re not willing to try?”
She shrugs. Her arms cross, and she stands with my table in front of her—creating a barrier of some sort. She wants to cave, give in to our pull, but she’s fighting herself. And me. “Eat dinner with me.” I know I sound like a little kid, but I’ll whine and throw a fit if it means she stays. I’ll let her see me at my weakest so I can make us strong . . . together.
“Just dinner?” She’s hesitant and trying to understand what game I’m playing. This isn’t a game— this is my life, and it’s for keeps.
“Maybe some conversation. I want to hear about your trip since you didn’t answer my texts or calls.”
“If you’d give me longer than five minutes between each one, I would answer.” She’s got a point. Maybe I’ll refrain and give her an additional two minutes— seven minutes is acceptable for a response time.
“Give me your phone.” Her mouth drops and her lips curl.
“Excuse me?”
“May I please have your phone?” I bat my eyelashes and smile.
“No.” She turns and walks into my kitchen pulling a water from the refrigerator. I love to see her like this. Walls down, comfortable in my space. Even the spark in her attitude is welcome.
“We’ll see,” I mutter. Her head whips back, and she levels me with her best ‘don’t fuck with me’ glare. “Dinner’s ready.” I nod for her to take a seat.
“Can we eat in the living room? I feel like I’m standing trial at this huge table.” She doesn’t like the formality of sitting across from me; that’s fine, I’d rather her be next to me.
“Sure. Grab a seat.” I chuckle to myself because I don’t have a single chair. Her choices are loveseat or couch, and I can crowd her space with either choice.
Grabbing the oven mitts, I pull the pizza stone from the oven and grab some plates. Her favorite, pepperoni and spinach with cheese stuffed crust. It was a bitch to make, but her pleasure will be worth it. I peek in the living room and see she chose the loveseat and has st
retched her body as much as she can without laying down to deter me from sitting next to her. Obstinate woman.
I cut and plate the pizza, grab a beer, and carry everything to the living room. I set the food on the coffee table and head to the corner and pull the T.V. trays to us. Placing both of them side by side, I sit down and she jerks her leg so I don’t sit on her. Placing her pizza in front of her, “Bon A Petit.” I wink and she blushes.
“Did you make this?”
I nod. “I watched your mom a lot when I was there. I knew the days you had a bad day or your mom was celebrating something by her food choice.”
“I didn’t see you.” I look down. How do I tell her I was a master avoider? “You left before you could see me?” She shakes her head and turns from me.
“I had to.” She doesn’t respond, and my mouth turns sour. “Eat. We’ll discuss this after.”
She moves and rearranges her pizza. “I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll see you later.” She is fleeing. I reach out and grab her leg.
“Please. I promise I’ll explain it all. I want you to eat with me.” I implore her with my plea and pray she relents.
Sometimes silence means comfort. This silence is deafening and tension filled. I can hear my heart pounding, and I feel her apprehension. She’s aware of every move she makes and does so with careful regards to avoid touching me. All she’s managed to eat is a few bites of her slice, and I feel her gathering up the courage to leave.
I push my tray back and move hers. “Ask me. What do you want to know?”
She stands and wanders to my entertainment center. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” This isn’t gonna work if she doesn’t give me anything. “You asked if I left so I didn’t have to see you?”
“Dumb question. It’s crystal clear.” I stand and walk up behind her.
“No it isn’t. I left your house but never you.” I spin her to face me and grip her hand, placing it against my chest. “I ached. I’d watch you walk in your house and cursed myself because I was so weak. If I followed you in or had I stayed, I would have caved. It hurt. I saw you pose for prom pictures, graduation, and parties with your friends. Saw you smile like you were happy and I wasn’t.”
“You had the power to change it but you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. You think I did but consider what you’re accusing me of. Fine, I came back to you after seeing Brecklynn that week with a bag full of guilt and afraid to touch you. I stayed because it’s where I wanted to be but the resentment would have built. Every time I left for a mission or deployment. Each time your father called me in his office.” I pause to study her face. The creases in her forehead are stark against her milky skin. “We don’t know that your dad would have accepted us, but say he did for argument’s sake. You hate that life. I remember you complaining about him being gone all the time, how he didn’t have time for you— you’d have eventually felt that way about me.”
“No I wouldn’t. There’s a difference, he isn’t present because of me— not his job. You didn’t give me the chance to show you what it could have been like. You bailed on me.”
“If that’s what you think, I can’t change your mind. I can show you things could be different.” Her head is shaking before I finish the sentence. “Why?”
“Because I’m tired of people hurting me. I can’t give you the chance.”
“Give me the chance to show you I won’t. Prove to you things can be different.”
Her hands come up and clasp her stomach, and her body leans towards me. She turns suddenly and goes stiff. She picks up the picture I should have put away. Melody and I— taken the same week I wrecked us. “I can’t.” Her words a mere whisper.
She brushes past me, but I hold her to me. Back to front, my arms squeezing her tight. “She’s just a friend.”
“One that you sent to destroy me.”
“Embe,” I kiss her neck, refusing to let her go.
“No. Let me go.”
“I can’t. Please. Think about how I feel. The next day you ran to Mason. Y’all are still friends and neighbors. I’m willing to deal with that.”
Her cynical laughter shocks my system, and I let go. “We aren’t friends. I’ve ruined things just like you and Melody ruined me. You have the nerve to have her picture up, but not one of us.”
“I don’t have any,” pleading for her to hear me. “I have some of you in my room that I snapped through out the years.”
“Ah, I’m not good enough for a front row view to your life. Hide me like a secret.”
Her words cut. But they’re meant to. “Never.” I pause and look at her. Notice the weight she’s dropped. See beyond the makeup to the purplish marks marring her skin under her eyes, the dullness to them. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She steps back from me.
“Don’t lie to me. Anything but lies. Let me help.”
“I don’t need help.”
I swallow the acid in my throat and ask the one question I don’t give a fuck about. “Why aren’t you and Mason friends?”
“I don’t have friends anymore.”
“Things didn’t work out in Colorado?” She shakes her head and wipes tears in frustration. I lead her back to the loveseat and sit down next to her. “Talk to me.”
“What? You suddenly want to be my BFF?”
“I want to be your everything. I’ll start with friendship.”
“It’s a long story,” she warns.
“I have time.”
“I can’t tell you everything.” She bites her lips as her eyes sweep the room.
“You can, but you don’t have to.” I’ll let her keep some secrets. For now.
“You know Adriane and Deacon had a baby girl?” She waits for me to answer.
“I did.”
“She left.” My lips purse, and she pushes me. “Don’t judge her. That’s not why I’m telling you this.” Still defending that girl. “Motherhood and her don’t agree, I guess. Deacon is a great dad,” she smiles. “He gave up going to the majors because he didn’t want anyone else raising Julie.” She can’t sit still, and her hands are fidgeting with her hair.
“Calm down. Just tell me.” I grab her hand and don’t let go.
“Mason and Caden deferred for college. Yeah, they’d probably have gone but nothing was set in stone. Three years is no big deal, they say.” She chuckles. “We all attend Wichita and live next to each other.”
“I know all this. Get to what’s bothering you.” I don’t want to rush her, but I’m on pins and needles wondering what has her so worked up.
“Deacon fell for a girl. My roommate, Saylor. She loves him. God, Brody— she loves him but I ruined it. I felt if Adriane came home and could see what was happening, see her little girl and realize she needed her, things would be fixed. I dreamed my dad would thank me for bringing her back in the fold. We’d all live happily ever after with a bow adorning the top of our dreams.” She brings her face into her hands and cries. Her wails echo off my heart, and I find myself folding over her, protecting her— holding her together.
“What do Adriane and your dad have to do with anything?” She cries harder, shaking her head back and forth. I guess she isn’t ready to tell me that part, but my mind is reeling. “Have you apologized?”
“Almost. They all hate me. It’s like one mistake erased nineteen years of friendship.” Her body is still trembling, and I feel helpless without the full truth.
“I don’t think that’s it. What did you do to start this domino effect?”
“I brought Adriane back the night of your dinner. I may have led Saylor to believe her and Deacon were getting back together. She has this ideology that parents should be together no matter what.”
“Are they together? Deacon and Adriane?”
“No. But I know Deacon so well; I knew if Saylor left he’d let her go. He’s got a prideful streak and doesn’t want to show anyone he’s struggling.”
“This isn’t like you.”
/>
“I know. I wanted to stop it all tonight, but I couldn’t.”
“Emberlee, you have to. Hurting your friends just to get your way isn’t cool. And it’s not the girl I fell for three years ago.”
Wrong fucking thing to say. “It isn’t to get my way, assbag. I told you I couldn’t tell you everything but again, you can’t choose me. You can’t tell me it’ll be okay because you sit there and judge and make decisions for everyone.” She stands and grabs her purse. “No, I’m not that same girl you fell for; that girl doesn’t exist because the ones she trusts, the people she opens her heart to— they fucking shred it so it’s so god damn closed off. Fuck you, Brody.” She stomps to the door, and I’m frozen.
“You’re right. It wouldn’t have worked. You’re an overinflated windbag just like my dad who doesn’t give a flying fuck unless it gets him his way. I didn’t do any of this without reason. Maybe I’m wrong. But I’m not callous. I didn’t willingly do it. I HAD TO!”
My door slams so hard the picture of Melody and I that was placed haphazardly on the shelf falls. The glass breaks. Shattered. Like the pieces I’m trying to hold on to.
And the fucking worst part of it— I still didn’t get a hold of her phone to change those pesky texts, so she has no excuses.
Rage. Doesn’t explain how I’m feeling. Fuck. Him. Fuck all of them. Including Adriane.
School passes with nothing remiss. Silence is golden in my house, and as much as I miss my friends, I won’t cave. The night I wanted to apologize seems so long ago, but it’s been five weeks. Five long, silent, agonizing weeks.
I’ve tried the friendly, nothing happened smiles and been met with their backs. I’ve tried idle chitchat met with cold stares and eye rolls. All that is missing is the universal fuck you symbol every time we encounter each other.
I’m almost home when the phone rings. “Hey baby girl.” No matter what’s going on in my world, my mom’s voice can calm me. I wonder what part she played in everything.
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