Don't Let Me Go

by Glenna Maynard

  “Looks like we are neighbors. You aren’t some kind of creepy stalker are you?” I shuffle my feet.

  This is pretty fucking awkward.

  This nice guy ruins my perfect plan, and he seems to be following me around. I take a good look at him. He isn’t much taller than me. He has gorgeous blue eyes that match his hoodie. He has medium brown hair that isn’t cut too short, but it isn’t long either. His mouth is slightly crooked, and his lips look juicy and so kissable.

  I shake my head.

  Kissable?

  Really, Bella.

  I try to stop my knees from shaking.

  Cutter is gorgeous, like he should be an underwear model or something. Why in the hell is a guy this good looking here in Cold Creek? Gawd stop staring at him. I blink and force myself to stop examining him.

  “Stalker? No. I recognized the sadness you try to mask with your fake smile. Now are you going to tell me what the fuck you are thinking? Nothing in this life is worth killing yourself over.”

  “I wasn’t really going to go through with it.” Great. Now this guy is weighing on my conscious. I can’t do it. At least not today. “So what kind of name is Cutter?” I am doing it again—staring at him. His nose is perfectly centered with his jaw structure. Seriously this guy is breathtaking, and merely looking at him makes my heart skip a beat.

  “It’s a name. And no, I won’t tell you why I’m called that. Don’t even ask. Why do you come here every morning?”

  “It’s no secret. I come here to be close to Harlan.” I turn my head away from him, as a tear escapes down my cheek.

  “I don’t follow, who’s Harlan?”

  I don’t hold back as I stand in the pouring rain with this guy who has the most incredible blue eyes I have ever seen.

  I tell him all about Harlan—how I come here every morning, to talk to him. My reasoning behind it. This is the last place we were together, and it is where he died. I feel closest to him when I am here. I don’t know why I am choosing to spill my heart out to this complete stranger, but it feels good to talk to someone who doesn’t know me and already have a preconceived notion about me.

  I tell him the parts that I can bear to speak of. I tell him how I witnessed the love of my life fall to his death. And almost every day since he passed away, I can feel his presence with me. Some days I see him and other days I can hear his voice.

  “So, you are pretty fucked up, but hey, I am not judging you. You want to die. I get it. I do. But have you even made a bucket list?” He steadies his hands against my rain soaked shoulders.

  “A bucket list?” I shrug his hands off me. Again, with the personal space. He doesn’t know me to be putting his hands on me like that. Like he knows me. “I just tell you that I see and hear my dead boyfriend, and you want to know if I have a bucket list. You just might be as fucked up as I am. No, I don’t have a fucking bucket list.”

  “I want you to write one and give me one year for us to complete your list. After we finish the list, if you still want to die, I will bring you back here, so you can jump.” He holds his hand out like he is waiting for me to shake it.

  “Are you in-fucking-sane? Why would you want to do that?”

  “I told you, I’m with you.” He takes my hand in his and holds it briefly before dropping it.

  What’s with this dude?

  “Why though?” I look at him with confusion written all over my face.

  “Because I love your filthy mouth.” He laughs and gives me a wink. “Maybe I am just as fucked up as you are. So, one year, do we have a deal?” he questions again, gauging my reaction cautiously.

  “And if I don’t agree.” My teeth are chattering. I am pissed, cold, and intrigued.

  “If you don’t agree I will tell the local law enforcement that I caught you trying to jump. That will at least result in a 72-hour hold.”

  “You sound like you know from experience,” I counter.

  “Ha, nope. I just watch a lot of shitty television.” He sticks his hand out again, and I don’t know why, but something pushes me to make this insane deal with him.

  This time I place my hand in his and we shake.

  Chapter 4

  We take the bus back to town in silence. I’m not sure what it is about this guy, but there is something comforting in his company, or maybe I am so lonely that I enter into a deal with a total whack job. I mean, what if he is some sort of weirdo that goes from town to town gaining girl’s trust right before he slits their throats or something.

  Hey, it could be entirely feasible. Just saying, I read the papers and watch CNN, there are some sick fucks in the world, who do some seriously fucked up things to get their kicks. Have you ever seen The Nancy Grace Show, my Gram banned me from watching it—it gave me a complex, or at least that is what I like to blame my paranoia on.

  I get off the bus without a word to him and start walking towards Town Square Apartments. Cutter runs to catch up to me. The rain has stopped. Now my shoes are squeaking, and my ass is itchy from my wet panties.

  I take a step—squeak.

  Ugh! That sound really is annoying. I am about ready to take my shoes off and go native.

  Grabbing my shoulder, he stops me, turning me to face him. “So, are we going to your place or mine to make the list?”

  “Mine I guess. You do realize that you are committing social suicide by being seen with me. The whole town kind of hates me. They call me crazy—a murderer.” He might as well know what he is getting into. I wait for him to change his mind and put some distance between us, but he looks at me as if he is agitated with the way I view myself.

  “Don’t worry about me, I have been called worse. I don’t think you are a murderer—crazy, yeah.” he laughs. “Besides, we shook on this deal, you are stuck with me for the next year. No take backs.”

  Something tells me he always keeps his word. “What are we twelve now?” I roll my eyes and keep walking ahead of him.

  “Something like that, I figure I am more 14 and you are possibly 12 ½.” He picks up his pace and tries to keep up with me.

  We make the walk to our building catching stares all along the way. I ask if the staring and whispers bother him and he responds by yelling out, “Want to borrow her camera to get a picture.” I guess that answers that question.

  He joins me in the elevator and it feels like he has sucked all the air from this tiny, enclosed space. He is standing too close. Like he is afraid I may disappear. But in reality, I should be the one waiting for him to fade away.

  This has been the slowest ride to travel four floors up. I take a step away from him and he takes a step closer.

  I sigh. I didn’t sign up for a shadow. Even one as attractive as him. Most girls would be thrilled to hold his attention for mere minutes I am sure, but me, I am just trying to cope with still living.

  I take my key out from my pocket and start to unlock my door. “So, what floor do you live on?”

  “I am actually three doors down from you. I have seen you around the way, but you have never noticed me,” he says with apprehension, scratching the back of his neck. I must really be absorbed in my own little miserable bubble to not have noticed a guy this good looking in passing.

  He could stop traffic.

  I know I should feel extremely creeped out that this guy pops up out of nowhere, lives practically right next to me, and he is now my instant friend. But something tells me he needs me just as much as I need him. He does a good job at hiding himself, but I can see it in his eyes—he’s lost. Or he is a master creeper who knows just how to suck in his victims.

  Damn, I sound like a delusional freak.

  This guy saves my life—sort of and I am mentally accusing him of being a serious creeper who wants to parade around in my skin or something.

  “Do you want to go home and change first; I am itching to damn death in these wet clothes. I promise not to flake out. You can trust me. I won’t do anything dangerous while you’re gone. Promise—I won’t even run with sc
issors. I cross my heart, stick a needle in my eye and hope to die, if I am lying to you.” I even go through the motions and make a cross over my heart.

  “So, smartass, do you have a dryer? I don’t exactly trust you. And you could be lying to me again. I know you wanted to die back there on that bridge. You might lock me out and report me for stalking you or something if I leave you alone right now.” He shoves past me and into my living room.

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but thanks for the idea.” I wink at him, kicking my chucks off and direct him to my bathroom. I show him where my towels are kept and instruct him to toss me his wet clothes, so I can put them in the dryer with mine. He cracks the door open and dangles his dripping clothes to me.

  I take them and toss them in the dryer. After I peel my wet clothes from my body I do the same with them. I take a t-shirt and yoga pants that are lying on top of the dryer and dress quickly. I try not to think of Cutter possibly being naked in my bathroom. I turn to walk into my living room, and bump right into Cutter and his bare chest. “Sorry.” My cheeks blush. I haven’t been up close and personal with any guy other than Harlan.

  I hope he wasn’t watching me change but the idea that he might have excites me.

  It shouldn’t but it does.

  I shouldn’t be having this reaction to him. It is like he is oozing out lust pheromones into the air. Makes me think of all the vampire novels I have read where the guy vampire can make you horny by his scent. Wouldn’t that be my luck, to befriend a weirdo vampire who wants to play some sick game with me before he eats me.

  I laugh to myself; this isn’t Twilight.

  But he could still be a serial killer who preys on crazy girls.

  Crazy like me.

  I am broken from my thoughts by Cutter. “Nice ass you got there. I wasn’t meaning to spy on you, but I couldn’t help but look. I am a guy.” he winks at me.

  Is he flirting with me right now?

  “That you are.”

  His blue eyes are smothering me under their gaze.

  Damn, this day is nothing like I thought it was going to be. “So, I noticed your manly attributes, but you do have really feminine hair. Almost like—what is that kid’s name… Bieber—fucking Justin Bieber, but with a manly twist.” I laugh at him as he flips me the bird and I return the favor then check him out too. Jesus, I am flirting back with him.

  No. Seriously.

  What is wrong with me?

  He still has drops of rain glistening in his hair. I want to run my hands through it and lick the drops that have fallen to his chest from his body.

  Fuck.

  I feel out of control.

  Impulsive.

  On the verge of living or dying.

  That is what they do, Bella. They lure you in with their wit and good looks— serial killers.

  My emotions are all over the place. I need to get him out of here before I am begging him to take me and do very bad things with me. And I get the feeling if I asked, he so would do many bad things with me. Cutter has that look about him—like he’s got the motion in the ocean, and the rod to go with it.

  I should stop this right now.

  But I can’t help it.

  Maybe it is because I have been socially depriving myself. Maybe it is his deliciously naked chest, or the blue eyes—nope it’s the chest, definitely, the chest that has my head swirling.

  I feel ashamed.

  I have let Harlan down.

  Today was supposed to be our day. And yet, I feel a connection to Cutter. I feel like I know him somehow. I don’t know what it is that is drawing me to him. It makes me feel like there is a force field keeping us connected to one another. There is a magnet pulling me closer to him, or it is just his chest, again, I think it could be the chest. Damn seductive pecks, making me all cross-eyed and horny.

  Like a moth to the flame, I am burning with desire.

  I feel so alive right now.

  I normally only feel like this after I have cut myself, deep. What is it about this guy that has me ready to jump his bones after knowing him less than an hour? It took me two years before I ever let Harlan go all the way.

  Get a grip, girl.

  I must be ovulating.

  Hormones. That must be it.

  I must be getting ready to start my period and my body is pushing me to mate.

  Maybe it wouldn’t matter who came onto me. Could be the pizza delivery boy. Okay, maybe not him. His skin always looks greasy and he has bad acne. Not the kind you could really look past, the kind that looks like he either just started seeing a dermatologist or he is in dire need of one.

  I run my fingers seductively across Cutter’s tattooed chest. I don’t realize I am doing it before it is too late. He catches my wrist and places a ragged breathed kiss on my forehead. Water is dripping from his hair down my face. I can’t stop myself when my tongue flicks out to lick a drop that has trickled down his cheek.

  I swear I just burnt my tongue on his face. Not because his skin is hot, but because he is just that hot. I can almost feel and see steam radiating off his shoulders. I have been without sex too long.

  I need a vibrator.

  Then I wouldn’t be ready to attack this guy.

  But then again there is nothing like the real thing, especially when it is standing in front of you.

  It’s as if Christmas has come early and Santa has brought me a man wrapped in a perfect seductive, lust-oozing package.

  “Bella, you don’t even know me,” he lets out with a strained whisper.

  “No, but I want to…know you…touch you. Besides, I decided. This is the first thing on my list. I want you to fuck me, Cutter. I don’t know why, but I feel like I want to do this—with you. I trust you. Make me feel you. And for the love of all bad things fuck me like you never have to see me again,” I demand.

  I feel…

  Wild.

  Crazy.

  Carefree.

  Like the old me.

  The girl who was fearless.

  The girl who knew what she wanted.

  “Do you realize what you are asking of me? Are you sure about this, Bella?”

  “No,” I whisper back against his mouth.

  “If—fuck—no when I have you it will be because you really want me. And. Because. You. Are. Mine. Are you ready to give yourself to me completely—to be mine?”

  I shake my head no, even though in this moment it would be nice to be his, to belong to someone—someone who would miss me when I’m gone, someone who loved me.

  “Right now, you’re all over the place. But understand this.” he places my hand on the firm bulge in his damp boxer briefs. “It’s not because I don’t want to. I have wondered how you’d taste since I first laid eyes on you.” His eyes rake over every inch of my body, he is fucking me right here with his eyes, and he doesn’t even realize it. If I had panties on right now, they’d be melted from the heat pooling between my thighs.

  “Then. Taste. Me. Cutter.” I slide my hand inside of his briefs and take his swelling shaft into my hand, caressing him gently. I may be out of practice, but I have messed around before. I glide my fingers up and down his length. Dear gawd, he is huge. I am talking porn star endowed.

  That’s it this isn’t real, he is too perfect. I must be having an intense dream, one where you wake up feeling like you are still inside your head.

  He swallows the lump in his throat. “Bella, I don’t want to hurt you and trust me when I say it will hurt.”

  “Cutter, pain turns me on. And I think I can handle you.” I wink at him and bite my lip.

  He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Then he sits me on top of the dryer. I trace the smooth lines of the letters inked across his flesh. The letters spell out free. I can see the green and brown of my eyes reflecting in his blues, right as he leans down and kisses my lips.

  Placing my hands around his neck, and pulling him closer, I push my tongue into his warm mouth. His tongue massages mine slowly. I have nev
er been kissed with so much passion before. I am so turned on and the guy has only kissed me. I can’t even imagine how good he is going to make my body feel. I want to throw him on the ground and have complete control over him, like a cavewoman staking her claim. I want him to beg me for it instead of me pleading with him.

  Harlan would plead once or twice, but he would never beg. He always gave up after hearing no a couple of times. I always liked to mess around with him though. But right now, kissing Cutter compared to kissing Harlan feels like I have been practicing these past few years. As though I was getting groomed for the real thing.

  As awful as it might sound, Cutter knows how to use his tongue, and I want to find out just how good he is at using it in all the right places.

  “Your lips are like velvet, and you taste so damn sweet.” Cutter reaches up my shirt and rubs his soft fingers over my hard peaks. Lifting the hem of my shirt over my head, he’s taking his time to worship each of my breasts, his lips linger over each of my nipples. Him taking his time, is making my pussy clench, I am getting a full Kegel workout.

  “Do you realize how breathtakingly beautiful you are?” I shrug my shoulders at him. I don’t think it was a question, more of a statement. “I am going to ask you one more time, Bella. Are you ready to be mine?”

  “For the next hour…I’m all yours.” I push his boxers down with my feet, scratch my nails down his toned back, and squeeze his tight ass.

  “That’s going to leave a mark,” he muses, and I laugh into his neck, licking the sweat that is breaking across his skin. He even tastes how I would imagine the sweat of a real man to taste. Nothing like a boy. Cutter is pure man, and it is hot. I never would have thought sweat could taste good, but his does.

  “Bed. Now,” I demand.

  He follows my orders well and carries me down the short hall to my bedroom and lays me down on my platform bed.

  I take my time appreciating his naked form. It is the first time I have seen a man fully nude, besides late night movies on Skinamax. Harlan would always do it with the lights out and it was always over before it ever really started. I could get used to taking it slow.

  Cutter starts to join me on the bed. “Stop, I am appreciating the view.” I flirt with a tight-lipped smirk. Telling him what to do is more gratifying than I ever thought possible. Harlan was always in control of me, of everything in our relationship, in and out of the sheets.