Famished (The Broken Series)

by Ellie Messe

  Closing my eyes, I try to pinpoint the exact location when I hear it down the street. Dread and unease grow moment by moment as the engine grows louder. I mock cry and stare at the ceiling when it turns on my street, heading straight for the house. Fucking peachy. Headlights flash through the blinds as the bike climbs up the driveway. Son of bitch, it’s Drew. I ignored his call earlier and now I regret that decision. He was probably seeing if the house was empty. All I had to do was say yes and I could have made an escape. I suppose the safety of my bedroom will have to do until he leaves.

  Regret number two happens when the door opens before I have time to make it into the kitchen.

  “Hey.” He says, looking at me and then to the mess on the floor. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” It’s not exactly a lie, “What are you doing home? I thought you weren’t going to be home until tomorrow?”

  “I came to give you, your Christmas present.” He says with a weak smile.

  “And that is?” I ask making a pointed look to his empty hands.

  “Me, of course.”

  I scoff with a little too much disgust, “Thanks. Make sure to leave the gift receipt on the counter. I prefer store credit.”

  “Yeah,” He draws out slowly, looking at the scattered bags across the floor once again. “I just, uh.” Wincing, he forces his eyes to mine. “I just wanted to come apologize.”

  I’m so not in the mood for any of this. “For what?”

  “For how I acted last night.”

  I try to play off a noise somewhere between a scoff and laugh, “You didn’t do anything, I don’t know what you’re apologizing for.”

  Removing his cap, he scratches at his hairline before putting it on backwards, “Hales doesn’t seem to agree. She said the fact you’ve been dodging me means you’re pissed, and well, rightfully so.”

  So, he’s here because Queen Haley says he’s wrong, not because he thinks so. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” I shrug, “I’m fine.”

  “See,” He shakes his head, moving forward, “I’ve learned from my aunt and Haley that the word ‘fine’ doesn’t actually mean that. It’s more like the calm before the storm.”

  “Do I look like Haley or your aunt?”

  “Aunt.” He corrects my pronunciation and I suck my teeth, “She’s not a bug.”

  The weak smile he cracks isn’t enough to break the tension or my irritation. “Does it fucking matter? I’m not them. When I say I’m fine, I’m fine. Can this be over? Cause I’m trying to do something.”

  “Oh, I’d like it to be.” He says with a bit of sarcasm. “Admitting I was wrong is harder than apologizing.” He says more to himself before taking a deep breath and facing me, “Look. I had a lot of shit on my plate last night, it’s not an excuse,” He sidetracks when he takes in my unimpressed expression, “It’s a preface. I didn’t handle my shit right and I took it out on you. I tried to warn you-” He throws his head back and curses, I guess popping my hip at his attempt to pin his actions on me was louder than words because he responds in just. “Gah, fuck. Not exactly what I meant. It’s just, I don’t handle emotions well and I have a habit of excusing other people’s feelings when I’m upset. It’s a flaw and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my shit out on you, I could have seriously hurt you last night, I’m sorry.”

  “You think I’m upset over rough sex? Sure, I could live without the bruises but that’s a far cry why I’m pissed.”

  He stares at me for a moment, shifting his weight as he speaks, “You’re not mad at me for using you as an escape?”

  “No. I’m mad at you for treating me like a whore.”

  His face pulls back appalled, “Treating you like a whore? What the fuck does that mean?”

  Rule number two. “Don’t fucking cuss at me. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “What are you talking about?” He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “Don’t cuss at me. I’m not the one who fucked up.”

  “Fucked up? Woman, I came over here to apologize to you. What are you getting so mad about? I’m just trying to understand at what point sex went from fuck buddies to you being a whore because I just don’t get it.”

  I laugh without humor, “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t, would you?”

  “Seriously?” He throws up his hands, looking legitimately confused. “I’m gonna need you to spell this out for me.”

  “Spell it out?” He nods, “Fine. Go fuck yourself.”

  Turning around, I head for the hall. Are you kidding me? Spell it out? If he doesn’t know how he treated me like a cheap hooker then I have nothing left to say to him.

  “Emma!” He calls from the living room before I hear him curse as heavy boots follow behind me.

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Actually, I think you have a lot to say to me but you’re too busy being a drama queen to just spit it out.”

  It’s like he wants me to go nuclear.

  Spinning on my heels, I turn to face him, knocking him off balance, “Drama queen? I’m not the one who wants to offer some half assed apology because my friend thinks I need to. I’m not the one who had a shit night, putting my nose in someone else’s problems and then came home and took it out on you. And I’m not the one who fucked you and decided you didn’t deserve the courtesy of an explanation or at the very least eye contact. That was you. So, no. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “Whoa, no.” He jumps around my body keeping me from going deeper down the hall, “One, you don’t say that shit and just walk off. Two, cause my friend thinks I should? No. I thought I should. She just thought it should be tonight. I wouldn’t have come here tonight if I didn’t agree with everything she said. Three, sticking my nose in other people’s problems? It’s my best friend and my brother, I’m smack dab in the middle of their shit show whether I like it or not. Four, which isn’t a number I have to count to often, I warned you to leave me the hell alone, and it wasn’t my idea to fuck; that was you. Five, explanation? I told you why I was mad. Why are you entitled to more than that? I’m not saying you aren’t, I’m asking why you think you should be. We aren’t a couple, we’re roommates who fuck. So, I’m confused to why you’re so pissed off I didn’t fill you in on all the details seconds after you accused me sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Okay, so maybe I don’t need an explanation, I just thought I’d get one. At the very least, you could have looked me in the eye afterwards but instead you pulled out, got dressed, and just, left.”

  “Yeah, I left. I told you I was leaving. I came home to clean up but I had somewhere I needed to be. What were you looking for? Cuddling? A long heart-to-heart?”

  “Fuck you, no I didn’t want to cuddle. I didn’t want to feel like just some random warm body you could pound and dip out like I didn’t matter, like my feelings didn’t matter.”

  “Your feelings?” He pulls back, “Do you realize how selfish that sounds? Yes, I should have handled that night differently, but if you’re seriously pissed because I overlooked your apparent sensitivity after you’ve been playing the role of its-only-sex then I’m not the one who's wrong here. If you need more than an orgasm you should have mentioned it.”

  “It is just sex. But we know each other now, I don’t want to date you, but I still care about you. Your lack of care for me is what I’m bothered by. I’m sorry your night was shit, I’m sorry you’re stuck between your friend and your brother but that doesn’t make it okay to completely neglect my feelings when I’m simply trying to be of help. We fuck, it’s what we do, but nowhere in that does it say we use one another. You need an outlet? Great. But you need to give as much as you take because you made me feel like shit. Never in my life have I felt gross after sleeping with someone. Last night, I legitimately felt like a whore. I didn’t make myself feel like that.”

  “All over eye contact? Because I was getting my shit together so I could leave?”

  �
��It’s not just that.” I growl in frustration, “I’m not someone you can treat like that.”

  “How the hell did I treat you? I told you to leave me alone, you wouldn’t. You wanted to fuck, we did. I needed to go, so I did. What am I missing?”

  “You got off and basically ran off. You hurt my feelings!”

  “How?!”

  Grabbing my hair, I pull at the roots, “I don’t know.” I shrug, “I guess I just can’t put it into words then.”

  “But it’s still a problem?”

  “Yes!”

  “How can I apologize for something that you can’t even understand? How am I supposed to make it right when you don’t even know what I did wrong?”

  “I don’t know, Drew. I guess you can’t.”

  Growling in frustration, he rubs the pad of his hand down his jaw. “I’m sorry I made you feel like a whore. I don’t view you as one, never have, never will. If I made you feel used, again, I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intent. In the future I will be more mindful of how I act and make sure you’re good before running off.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” I sigh. The last of my anger slipping away.

  “No, apparently I do. I don’t mind doing it, I just have to be made aware of things before you go getting mad.”

  “I should have been more understanding.” I say, feeling like a spoiled child who just labelled a minor situation DEFCON1.

  “I agree, but we both focused on ourselves instead.”

  “I’m sorry I got so mad right now.”

  “Are you good now?” I offer a nod as an answer, “Thank fuck, dude.” He breathes. “Is it too early to ask why you went batshit over me cussing?”

  I laugh with unease, “It’s a thing. If I’m pissed and someone cusses at me, I go nuclear. It’s one of those buttons.”

  “I cuss all the time.”

  “I know. When I’m pissed it doesn’t matter.”

  “Alright, cuss at you and you go psycho, got it.”

  I start to huff, but he winks at me. Deciding to let this whole thing go, I breath out a sigh, “How’s Haley?”

  “She’s fine. Her and Parker had it out tonight after she beat the fuck out of Parker’s ex. It was glorious.”

  “She beat up his ex?”

  “No. She annihilated her. Like I said; it was glorious.”

  “Nice. So, are they good now?”

  “She says they aren’t but I’m pretty sure they’ll be humping like bunnies before the night it over. So, now that you aren’t mad,” He dips his head so he’s level with me, his eyes searching for confirmation.

  “I’m not mad.” I offer him a small laugh to seal the deal.

  “Just checking. But yeah, since you’re not mad anymore, what the hell are you doing to my living room?”

  “Oh god. Nothing apparently.” I start, walking back out to the disaster, “You don’t have any Christmas decorations and with it being Christmas Eve, I wanted a tree but I can’t figure out how to put the stupid thing together.” Bending low, I pick up the instructions and show him, “The photos on here are completely different from the tree, look at the bottom of each piece,” I point to the thin metal rod on the paper, then show him the thick plastic wrapped around the tree on the ground. “I don’t get it. And they don’t come off so I don’t understand what to do.”

  Looking at the instructions, his eyes flick across the pieces on the floor as he reads. “Alright, let’s see this thing.” Setting the paper between his lips, he bends low to pick up the section of artificial tree. His thick hand wraps around the plastic while the other holds the pole. With a twist of his wrist, the plastic comes off with a sickening crack. “There we go.”

  “I tried that.” I protest, taking the plastic from him to inspect.

  “But did you try with a super buff sex machine in the room? No. You gotta read the fine print, Angel.”

  “It does not say that,” I roll my eyes at him, grabbing the top piece while he pulls the plastic off the middle one. I pull so hard my skin screams in protest and the fucking thing doesn’t even budge. “What the hell?”

  “Let me see that before you hurt self.”

  I glare at him but offer the tree to him. With great ease he pulls it off.

  “I loosened it.”

  “Of course you did.” He winks at me. “Where’s the base thing?”

  “The what?” I look across the floor like I might magically understand what he’s referring to.

  “This thing,” He grabs the plastic peg X off the floor. “Where do you want the tree?”

  “Your house.” I shrug.

  He gives me an unimpressed look, “You were going to put it up before I got here. Where was it going to be?”

  I point to the spot between his workout room door and the entertainment center, “There.”

  Without words, he sets the plastic X on the floor and slides each of the three pieces together until a lopsided tree stands in front of me. We both go to work, sliding each metal branch out and separating the fake needles.

  “Looks pretty good to me.” He says, standing back to look at our little tree.

  “You wanna help put on the lights and stuff?”

  He nods, “Sure.”

  “Over there in one of those bags.”

  He searches through them while I busy myself threading each of the plastic ornaments with a metal hook.

  “I thought your dad was having a party tonight?”

  “He is.” I answer, still weaving the green wire through the little golden tops.

  “I went by the clubhouse looking for you before I came here when your cousin said you’d gone home this morning.”

  “Are you fishing?” I laugh.

  “Yeah, kinda.”

  “My dad pissed me off. I’ve spent every Christmas Eve and Day by myself so I went and bought all this shit. Nothing beats tradition.”

  “That’s sad, hon.”

  I roll my eyes playfully, “No, it’s not. I like it. I get to decorate and I don’t have to worry about buying people a bunch of shit or worry that my reaction to their gift is good enough to avoid hurt feelings. I just get to enjoy the lights and watch corny movies without judgment.”

  “Are you planning on spending tomorrow by yourself?” He asks, plugging in the last string of lights. Red and gold light reflects off the polish of the wooden floor.

  “Mhm.”

  “Come with me.”

  “What?” I look up to find his face is cemented in seriousness.

  “Tonight. Come to my family’s house. We’re doing a dinner and then we binge Christmas movies in the living room until we pass out. When we wake up in the morning we have a breakfast that’s guaranteed to give you diabetes and then open presents. It’s a lot of fun. Come.”

  “That’s really nice of you but, I like being by myself.”

  “No one likes being alone. Especially on Christmas.”

  “I do.” I shrug. “I’m used to it, that’s what Christmas is to me.”

  “I want you to come.”

  I offer a little laugh as I finish the last ornament. “And I want to stay home. It appears we’ve come to an impasse. Here, help hang these.” I hand him one of the oval containers, ornaments dangle from the edges.

  “Will you come if you get lonely?”

  “To your parents?”

  He nods

  “Sure. If I get lonely, I’ll come.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. On the count of three?” I hold up an ornament and he smiles, holding up his own, “One, two, three.”

  Chapter Forty

  Emma

  Christmas Day. Happy children opening presents, Christmas music playing while a fire roars in the corner amplifying the heavenly smells of a magnificent meal to come…yeah that’s hallmark bullshit. My Christmases were spent cleaning puke off the floor or working a double shift to cover for those with real families.

  Once I had enough of my mother, I moved into my own place, and I start
ed my own traditions; A gallon of milk, a box of Oreo cookies, and a corny Christmas movie marathon that makes me ugly cry with their perfectly timed music and happy endings.

  So, here I sit. Stuffing my face and wiping my snotty nose on my sweater sleeve, when the magic of Christmas is interrupted. Motorcycle engines roar down the street.

  Climbing to my feet, my stomach turns cold as I desperately wipe at my face to clear the tears as I make my way to the window. Sure enough, three motorcycles can be seen turning down my street; Lynch, Moose, and dear old dad.

  “Fuck.” Running down the hall, I turn into the guest bath and look at my reflection.

  My green eyes are electric against the red circles surrounding them. My nose is pink and my hair is mess. I look like hell.

  The roar of engines grow louder as I race to my bedroom, grabbing a clean sweater off my bed post. Quickly changing, I knock over counter items in search of anything that may hide my red stained face.

  A knock at the door happens as I smear concealer under my eyes and around my nose. Saving the blending for my walk to the front door.

  With a deep breath, I pull the wooden door wide revealing my biker family.

  “Merry Christmas, Kid.” Moose says first.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “What’s wrong?” Barks my dad.

  “And Merry Christmas to you too. What are you doing here?”

  “It’s Christmas.” He answers like I’m an idiot as he invites himself into my house. “Where’s the roommate?”

  “At his folks. Again, why are you here?”

  “Again, it’s Christmas. We agreed on no presents, never in that agreement did we say we wouldn’t see each other.”

  “So, call. Don’t just show up.” I huff, staring as the three uninvited guests sit down.

  “Well, if I did that, I wouldn’t have seen how miserable you are here by yourself. I might have bought a lie about your happiness and settle for meeting up later.”

  “I’m not miserable.”

  Even Moose deadpans me.

  “So, you weren’t crying?” My dad asks as one eyebrow lifts.