by Jay McLean
The day I drank iced tea and ate mini sandwiches was a Saturday. No uniforms. Still, you were both decent to look at. Pale skin, rosy cheeks, wild fucking curls good for grabbin’. I tried not to look as bored as you did and kept quiet about how your sister was fuckin’ me with her eyes. I almost took her up on the offer, then you stood, said you had homework to do. I cracked a lame joke about your smarts, and that’s when the old man spoke up. You were wicked smart. Kind of shy about it, too.
So adorable.
At the time, it didn’t mean anything.
But a few days later, I was going over my spreadsheets and realized something wasn’t adding up. I was street smart. My deals were based on handshakes and trust. Not numbers. I didn’t know shit about numbers. But you, the girl next door—sweet Andromeda—you did. That’s when I set the plan into play. It was almost too easy. I found your school based on your uniform and logistics, looked up the Mathlete academic calendar, and went to the right place at the right time.
Later, you’d tell me it was fate that we ran into each other.
It wasn’t.
It was five minutes on Google and a fifteen-minute drive.
I wasn’t just going to come out and ask you to work for me. Too many questions. Too much drama. Plus, I had your grandparents to contend with. You were only fifteen at the time, and I had to be mindful of that. You seemed pretty damn respectful the first and only time I met you. If it were your sister I was after—I’d treat her like I did those other girls her age. I’d screw her fucking brains out, have her screamin’ my name instead of God’s. Then I’d tell her I loved her.
But you... you were different.
The first time you were in my car, I tested the waters. Made a comment about how I found you somewhat attractive. See if you’d jump out of the moving car. All you did was blush. In a way, future me would come to love that blush.
So, I played it cool. Became the overly friendly and extremely helpful neighbor. It was so I could see you, get in your head a little. You were barely ever home. Always off cultivatin’ that mind of yours. Your sister, though? She made sure she was around whenever I was. Sometimes in a bikini covering her tiny tits. So sweet. Then one day the girl had the balls to mention the legal age of consensual sex. I nearly bust out a laugh. Fuck, she was entertaining, but she wasn’t the one I was interested in.
You were.
Come your sixteenth birthday, I had the next few steps planned out. I bought you a nice gift. Cost a pretty penny, too. Told you I thought you were beautiful, and then I kissed you.
You didn’t run away.
I left for work for a couple weeks, gave my phone number to Grandpa Reynor, and hoped you’d call. I hoped the tiny seed I planted in your mind would blossom while I was gone. I wanted to infiltrate your mind. Have you thinkin’ of me when I wasn’t around.
Eight fucking days I waited.
Jesus fuck, it drove me mad.
When you finally did call, I acted like you were a swamp and I was lost in the desert. I imagined you blushing, reaching for your inhaler like you did that day out in your yard.
I waited another eight days to call you back. See how you fuckin’ liked it. I told you I was desperate to see you. I was. Not in any other way, but I really needed to get the ball rolling. Needed your help. You told me to meet you in some dingy fucking parking lot as if you were ashamed of me or some shit. No matter, I still showed up. Bigger picture and all. I kissed you—all sweet like at the beginning—then I got over that shit real quick. I kissed you harder until you were rubbing on my stiff cock. You kept moanin’ and grindin’ and practically beggin’ for more.
So I gave you more.
I finger fucked your tight little pussy, and fuck me, you were so fuckin’ pure.
So wet.
So needy.
Even now, years later, I jerk off to the sounds you made when you came.
Afterward, I dropped you off at the bus stop around the corner from our houses.
I told you I wanted to see you the next day.
You smiled.
Blushed.
Said, “Okay.”
And that’s when I knew I had you.
Like putty in my fucking hands.
Chapter Twenty
Andie’s Past
Nothing says petulant brat like standing on a sidewalk, stomping your foot. But that’s exactly what I was doing, shouting my sister’s name so loud my throat ached. “Get over it!” she shrieked, and her friends, who filled up all the seats in the car our grandparents got us for our sixteenth birthday, laughed. The car was supposed to be shared between us, but Milky being Milky...
“You know you’re supposed to give me a ride!”
My twin joined in on her friends’ laughter, mocking me, then she drove away, leaving me standing there, stranded at school when I should’ve been on my way to a meeting with a Harvard alumni turned advisor. I’d been looking forward to it for over three months, counting down the days on my calendar. And now—now I was standing there, on my own, fighting back the tears.
I tried to call my grandparents, but the home phone rang out, and even though they shared a cell, they barely ever heard it ringing. Hands shaking, heart hammering, I checked the bus schedule on my phone, praying there’d be one that would get me downtown in time. There wasn’t. A dark cloud of panic forced its way through my bloodstream, ending at the source, squeezing my heart, my lungs, until I could no longer breathe. I went through my phone, searching for contacts—for help. My thumb paused over his name, and I wondered if we were at that point in our relationship. If it even was a relationship. Only two weeks had passed since I’d first sat in his SUV and he’d done things to me... things that made me shiver just thinking about them.
Because both my grandparents were retired, they were always home, meaning I couldn’t just go next door and be with him. The few times we’d seen each other since it had always been sneaking around before or after school. It sucked, but Matt assured me he understood.
With zero other options, I dialed his number and reached for my inhaler at the same time.
“Hey, babe,” Matt said in greeting.
“H-hey, Matt,” I stuttered. He still made me nervous. Whether it was him, or the butterflies at hearing his voice, or the fact that he and I were... whatever we were, I wasn’t sure. “Are you around?”
“Yeah, I’m at home. What’s up? You want to come over?” I could hear the smile in his tone, and the tightening in my chest eased just the tiniest bit.
“Do you think—I mean, are you able to—”
“Spit it out, babe.”
“Can you pick me up? I’m supposed to meet up with this Harvard alumni but Milky—she took the car, and her friends are...” I became angry again.
“Where are you?”
“School.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
I was still worked up when the black SUV pulled up in front of me, and my palms ached from where my nails had dug into them, my fists balling with anger. When I got in the passenger’s seat, Matt frowned. Then he reached forward, wrapped his arm around my shoulders and brought me to him. “I hate seeing you like this,” he said. “You’re too young to be this stressed out.”
“I’m only stressed because Milky...” I continued to ramble on while he sat and listened, nodding at all the right times. I felt myself getting more and more agitated the longer I spoke, and without me realizing, he’d reached into the pocket of my blazer and pulled out my inhaler, shook it, uncapped it, and held it to my mouth. The act alone opened my airways, and I inhaled, exhaled, and then leaned across the center console to kiss him. I wondered if this is what it felt like for all girls my age or if what we had was special. I had nothing to compare it to. Before Matt, I’d never really thought about boys. I wasn’t around a lot of them who were interested in dating, and if they were, they weren’t ever interested in me. Milky dated some, and I’d always look at her confused when she’d long for guys or when she realized she no l
onger wanted them. But I understood it then. Sometime in the past couple of weeks, Matt had worked his way into my mind, and I’d found myself thinking about him when I shouldn’t have been.
Breaking the kiss, he pulled away just enough to look in my eyes. “So, this guy you’re meeting—he’s important? Like, you need to make a good impression, right?”
I nodded and adjusted my skirt a little.
“Are you sure now’s a good time? When you’re on edge like this?”
I thought about what he said and agreed it was probably a bad idea. Besides, it was a group meeting; it’s not like I’d be affecting his plans. “Yeah, you’re right,” I conceded. “I’m sorry I made you come all this way. It was stupid.”
He took my hand, layered my fingers with feather-light kisses. “You know you can always call me whenever you want. For whatever you need, Andie.”
I forced a smile, wondering if I’d regret not going. But then he said, “You want to come back to my place for a bit? Your grandparents won’t be expecting you home for a while, right?” And all thoughts fled when anticipation took over.
His house was built around the same time as ours, so structurally they were the same, but that’s as far as the similarities went. Matt had sleek and modern furniture, the latest tech everything. A high-end bachelor pad. “You want a drink?” he asked, opening the large, stainless-steel fridge. When I nodded, he pulled out two cans of Coke. He handed me one, and I said, “Thanks. For the drink, and for coming to save me.”
He poured some of his Coke into a glass half filled with ice. “You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for, right?” Then he grabbed a bottle of brown liquor from the stash he kept on the kitchen counter.
Friends. We were just friends? I was so confused.
He smiled at me as he poured it into the glass, eyes drinking me in. He kept his gaze locked on mine when he lifted his drink, sipping slowly, a satisfied sigh falling from his lips after the third sip.
I cleared my throat, knowing I’d been glaring at him. “Whatcha drinking?” I asked. I tried to sound cool. Casual. More mature.
Matt smirked. “Grown-up stuff.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he chuckled lightly. Then his phone went off in his pocket. I was used to his phone being a distraction. It was constantly going off when we were together. Business, Matt would always say.
This time, it wasn’t business, because he cursed under his breath when he read the message. “I have somewhere to be at seven. But you can hang out here if you don’t want to go home.”
Again with the cool. Casual. Mature: “Where are you going?”
“I have a date.” He said it so nonchalant. As if there was nothing wrong with his statement.
“A date?” It was barely a whisper.
Matt’s head tilted, eyes assessing me. “Yeah. Why?”
“I thought... I mean...” I placed my drink on the counter and wiped the sweat off my palms. “I guess I just thought...”
“Thought what? That you and I—” He waved a finger between us, eyebrows raised, head ducked so he could see my face—the face I’d lowered the moment I felt my hurt and disappointment turn my cheeks pink. “Babe. We never had that conversation. I assumed you’d be dating other boys.” He spat out the last word like acid on his tongue.
“I’m not,” I told him. “I guess I assumed wrong.” I turned to leave, but he was right behind me, his front pressed against my back, arms tight around my waist, holding me to him.
His breath hot, heavy against my ear, he whispered, anger cracking his words, “Stay, Andromeda. Let’s talk about this.” His feet moved, carrying me with him until my stomach hit the counter, his strong, large body trapping me there. I tried to push off the counter, but he only held me tighter, laughed right in my goddamn ear. “What’s wrong, little girl?”
“Don’t!” His words only heightened the anger I’d felt with Milky. “Don’t treat me like a kid!”
Matt’s laughter turned to a deep chuckle, and when I tried to get around him, he caged me in, his palms flat against the counter on either side of me. “You don’t want to be treated like a kid? Fine.” He motioned for his glass, condensation building on the surface, swirls of mixed soda and danger.
With my back still to him, I fingered the edge, around and around and around.
“You think I like thinkin’ about it?” he whispered, mouth so close to my ear, I shook at the sound. “What you do at school all day, where you go before and after. At night, when I’m in bed alone, I wonder what the fuck you’re doin’. Who you’re doin’ it with.” My body reacted to his words, to the way his hand splayed on my chest, my heart thumping wildly beneath it. Matt took the glass from my hand and took a few hard swallows before slamming it back down. “You want me to treat you like an adult...” he said, pushing the danger back in my hands. “Go ahead.”
My pulse spiked, and I knew it was wrong. I felt the alarm build low in my gut, but the panic over him seeing someone else outweighed everything else. I’d never felt that type of pressure before. Academic, peer or otherwise. So, I gulped down the rest of his drink and ignored the burn in my throat. “That’s my girl,” he whispered. Then he leaned forward, bending me at the waist until my hands pressed on the cold surface of the counter. He reached up, hand warm against my breast, the other lifting my skirt from behind. After shifting my hair from the back of my neck with his chin, his cold lips met my nape, and I shuddered at the sensation. A low throb hummed between my legs. My head was heavy, but I felt so damn light. Like I was flying. It couldn’t be the alcohol. It didn’t work that fast.
Did it?
Matt’s mouth moved to my ear. “I’m going insane over you, Andie.” He moved his hand under my blouse, pulled down my bra and roughly grasped my breast. “I want you to be mine.” Then his other hand moved into my panties, circling my clit, making my knees weak, making me needy for more. I was so turned on, so fucking wet when he slid his finger inside me. “Mine only.”
“Yours,” I whispered, tilting my head back to take his bottom lip between my teeth.
The man let out a groan as I rubbed against him, his hardness against my ass. Then he stopped suddenly, moved his hands to my hips and gripped tight, fingers digging into my skin. “Prove it,” he challenged.
In all my years, I don’t ever recall backing down from a challenge.
At least, that’s what I tell myself now… my excuse as to how I let it happen.
My thoughts hazy, burning with lust, desire, greed, I wasn’t thinking straight. All I wanted was to make him want me the way he’d want any other woman. I was desperate for the man taking control of my body.
I was sixteen.
Young and dumb.
That had to be the reason why I took the bottle of brown liquid danger and drank straight from the bottle. Again and again. Liquid courage. Then I finally turned to him, eyes heavy, pulse erratic, panic rising from the decision I’d just made.
Raising my arms, I laced my fingers behind his head and brought his mouth to mine. I kissed him, slow and seductive like I’d seen in the movies Grandma likes to watch.
But Matt wasn’t a patient man. One of his many downfalls. The cause of my desperation lifted me by my hips until my ass was on the edge of the counter. “Up,” he said, spreading my legs open for him while he tugged on my panties.
The room spun as I lifted my hips and he removed my underwear, spread my legs wider again.
“Take off your top,” he said, licking his lips. “Leave the skirt on.”
Mind lost in lust and fear, I ripped off my blazer, started undoing my blouse. Then I paused, trying to take back what little control I had. “This is not what friends are for,” I told him. “Are we friends, Matt?”
He shook his head, breath heavy, eyes drunk on desire, and I’d never felt more powerful than I did at that moment. I undid all the buttons, unhooked the front clasp of my bra and spread it open for him. The man in front of me, all muscle and testosterone, grasped my ass
and yanked me forward until I was sitting on the edge of the counter. Then he dropped to his knees, his face between my legs, my feet on his shoulders as his tongue lapped at my folds. Fingers joined in, fucking me slowly until I came so hard my body shook with the release.
He stood up, his hands going to his belt. I stopped him with a finger to his chest. “Mine,” I told him, bravery my best friend and worst enemy.
He kissed me so hard; I struggled for air. “All yours, baby. Just yours.” And then, just like that, a single second, maybe two, I was no longer a virgin.
Drunk on bourbon, on lust, fueled by need and greed, and urged on by pure fucking stupidity, I closed my eyes and blocked out the pain of my boyfriend fucking me hard and fast on his kitchen counter as if it meant nothing.
But it did.
It meant everything.
It changed everything.
Chapter Twenty-One
Andie
I’ve been in a mood, and Milky knows it.
She also knows how to push my buttons.
Years later, and Matteo Rossi still has the power to invade my mind and bring me to my proverbial knees. I’d been doing so well. Whenever he appeared in my thoughts, I’d found the strength to push it down, down, down, until he was nothing but dirt in the recesses of my mind. Even every other Saturday—when I had to face proof of the impact he’d had on my life—I was able to maintain my sanity. But last week, my sister brought up the past, unintentionally rattling me, disturbing the perfectly level ground I’d been walking on. The earth quaked, loose dirt floated in the air... and now memories of Matt surrounded me.
Still, I manage to wake up every morning, put a smile on my face, and head to work as if I was just any other person working any other job.
I’m not.
And today, everyone at work found out exactly why. The Internet is a fucking bitch. So is Remy, the chain-smoking, sub-thieving, nosy little whore. I shouldn’t be surprised. It was bound to come out somehow, someway. I was used to people at work treating me like I was invisible. I enjoyed it. Today, they treated me as if I had the plague.
