by Bijou Hunter
Stella hesitates. “I’ve only smoked pot once, and I cried a lot.”
“No worries, baby,” I say, leaning down to kiss her sweaty throat. “I cry all the time when stoned. You’ll be in good company.”
Smirking at my obvious lie, she takes the joint, bites her lower lip, and finally gives it a try. A little coughing later, she enjoys a solid inhale and hands it back.
“Do you get stoned a lot?” she asks.
“Define a lot.”
“Every day.”
“Then, no, I don’t. Maybe twice a week, assuming I don’t have anything big happening. Clearly, if I have a meeting or family get-together where I need my wits about me, I don’t do anything mind-altering.”
“Why do you need your wits for a family get-together?”
“I have three sisters, Stella,” I say, gesturing toward the table. “They’ll drive me batshit insane if I don't keep my guard up.”
“Are they awful?” she asks, fighting laughter at my situation.
“No, but there’s three of them, and there’s only one of me, and I know they must be jealous of my status as the cool one.”
Full-on giggling now, Stella nods. “How could they not be?”
“It must be tough for them, but I try not to rub my coolness in their faces. My parents do enough of that already.”
I don’t know if the pot works fast or Stella just needs to be alone with me, but her earlier tension disappears. She smiles easily now, and I’m fucking hooked on the casual way she leans over to kiss me.
After I nibble at her sweet lips, we get down to the business of pigging out. I have her try everything from the buttery corn to the fried pickles. She moans blissfully no matter what I offer. I’m a sucker for her approval and nearly feed her at one point.
We fill up quickly, and I shove what we don’t eat into the fridge. “Do you think our leftovers will satisfy Kori or should I pick her up something else on the way back?”
Stella bursts into laughter. “She’s six.”
“I know, but she’s a kid, and I want her to be happy.”
“That’s weird,” she says, sounding stoned.
“Fine, I want her to like me, so she doesn’t talk shit to you about me.”
“I don’t care if she talks shit. I’m a grown-up, and she’s six, and she doesn’t understand how anything works.” Stella stands up suddenly and sways to a song only she hears. “She knows you’re amazing or she wouldn’t have talked to you. She doesn’t like men.”
“What song are you hearing?” I ask, curious about what’s happening in her pretty head.
“That Pat Benatar song, ‘We Belong.’”
“Nice,” I murmur, finding it on my phone. Once the song begins to play, her face lights up, and she kicks off her tennis shoes.
“I’m sorry if my feet smell,” she says, giggling. “I’m so bad at seduction.”
I adjust my erect dick in my jeans and groan. “You’re doing just fine.”
Stella sways to the music before wandering to the living room where I find her on the couch, holding her head.
“The world is swimming,” she says as I join her.
Before I can ask if she needs anything, Stella’s against me. Our lips meet as she straddles my hips on the couch. Every kiss before meeting Stella was only practice for the perfect way our mouths meld together. Her tongue darts into mine, stroking my flesh. She teases me and tastes what I have to offer. I smile at how her movements are both confident and insecure.
My fingers enjoy the soft strands of her blonde hair before moving to the delicate sunburned skin on her face.
“Whoa,” she says, pulling her lips free and blinking rapidly.
“Feeling sick?”
A smile brightens her face as she slides off my lap and wraps herself along the side of me on the couch. “I just need to catch my breath. Is that okay?”
“It’s not a race, Stella. We have all the time in the world.”
Stella gives me an odd look—skeptical maybe. She exhales unsteadily and nuzzles my bicep.
The song ends in the kitchen, and another by Benatar starts up. Stella doesn’t seem to notice as she traces the lines on my Reapers club tat.
“What is your dream?” I ask, enjoying my buzz.
Without missing a beat, she says, “To have a home.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s everything. A place where I know I’m safe and I won’t have to leave,” she says and rests her forehead against my arm. “But I don’t want to be alone. I want to be close to someone. Feel them next to me and know they’ll care if I die.”
“I want more for you than that.”
Stella looks up at me wide-eyed. “I get scared sometimes when I think of Rae and Kori leaving me.”
“Why would they?”
“I’m not blood, and they don’t need me.”
“They care about you. At the very least, your income helps them.”
“I can’t make more money. I’m dyslexic, and I can’t read worth a crap. I’m okay at basic math, but I learn slow, and people notice that, and they don’t want to hire me. Rae loves to read, and now Kori does too, but I sit next to them playing games on my tablet because I read so slow that I end up frustrated,” she says and grips my arm. “And they don’t like watching TV, but I do. I want to have the story told to me, but they want to read the stories. When I watch TV, it bothers them.”
“Do they tell you it bothers them?”
“No, but I know they wish I read like them. I wish I did too.”
Cupping her face, I hate how she feels miserable over such a small thing. “They have books on tape that’ll read the story to you.”
“Not for free.”
“I’ll get them for you.”
“I don’t want you to buy me things,” she says through tears.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want someone to love me and stay with me, but they never do, Colt. They like me in the beginning, but then they scratch at the surface of who I am and see something bad. Then they don’t want me around anymore. I want to fix what they see, but I don’t know what it is. I can’t see it, and Rae won’t tell me. She says she doesn’t know, but I’m not sure if I believe her.”
“You know what I see when I look at you?”
“Don’t look too close,” she says, gripping my face. “If you see what they see, you’ll leave, and I’m not ready for you to go.”
Her expression kills my boner and makes my heart hurt. “I see a sad, beautiful woman who works hard and cares a lot about the people important to her. I see someone who is going to teach me about stuff I don’t know and who is going to learn from me about stuff she doesn’t know.”
Pot sometimes makes people depressed. I never understood why since it always makes me mellow as fuck, but then I noticed my sister MJ stoned awhile back. She got paranoid about Gary Lee coming for her even though he’s been dead for years. The pot brought down her walls and left her exposed. I suspect the same thing happens to Stella because she looks terrified suddenly.
“I’m going to find you a better place to live and a better job,” I promise.
“I don’t want those things. I want to know I’m not alone.”
“I’m right here.”
“But you’ll get bored or find someone better. Or you’ll realize I’m a burden, and you’ll leave.”
“That’s not true. I’m hooked on you, Stella. Can’t you feel that?”
Stella shakes her head. “You shouldn’t be. I’ve done everything wrong.”
“Yeah, exactly. I’ve known hundreds of girls—”
“Hundreds?”
“Dozens, okay?” I say rather than try to explain how they weren’t all hip-buddies. “They did everything right, and I didn’t care. They never clicked. I don’t know why, but you came along and did everything wrong, and I was done for. It just works that way. It doesn’t need to make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. You’re amazing and so m
uch better than me. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”
“Because it’s not true,” I say, wrapping her into my arms and snuggling her against my body. “If you grew up with my life, you’d have everything you think you lack. You’d have a job and feel safe and loved. It’s not your fault you ended up with a shitty mom and a no-show pop. That was just bad luck. Like how I ended up with a great mom and an always-present pop. Luck doesn’t make me good and you bad.”
“My mom is a good parent to her other kids. I think it was just me that made her bad.”
“That’s fucked-up little-kid thinking,” I say, gently tapping her forehead. “You’ve got to know that bitch was the problem, not you.”
“Her other kids say she’s the world’s best mom.”
“Fuck those other kids. Maybe she acts better now, but that doesn’t change how she ditched you.”
“I guess.”
“Tell me why you ended up in foster care and I’ll tell you if she’s a bitch or if you were a bad kid.”
Stella smiles at my words, patting my cheek. “You’ve got too good a heart to tell me the truth no matter what I say.”
“Naw, baby, I can be brutally honest when need to be,” I snicker, feeling the pot doing its thing. “Just tell me, and I’ll be square with you.”
Using my chest as a pillow, she stares up at me. “I was three. Or was I four? I used to remember. I think the pot made me dumber.”
“It makes everyone dumb.”
“Her parents are hardcore religious types, and she wanted to mess with them. Or she was so desperate to be free of their rules that she went nuts. I don’t know, but she was doing drugs and drinking and partying, and she got pregnant with me.”
Stella stops talking and looks around. I wrap her tighter, so she knows she’s safe now.
“They threw her out of the house, and she struggled to find somewhere to live. I know that because she wrote a long post on Facebook once about how she only survived by the kindness of her friends back in the day. She never mentions me when she talks about the past,” Stella says, falling silent again. I can’t imagine knowing your parent doesn’t care if you live or die. I grew up spoiled with love from my parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, gram, and even my pop-pop who died when I was little. I basked in so much love that I expect it now. Stella only got crumbs which explains why she looks at me in awe whenever I pay her the least bit of attention.
Stella’s gaze finds mine, and she looks so thankful for my affection that I feel like a pig for wanting anything from her.
“I don’t remember anything about moving around as a kid,” she says, sharing again. “I think I remember the day she left me in the car. I remember being stuck in my seat. Sometimes, I dream I’m trapped like that. It was so hot, and I was crying, but I don’t know what happened. I learned later that she went to jail for leaving me like that. That’s when she got off drugs. Child Services wanted her to take parenting classes so she could have me back.”
Stella hesitates. She doesn’t want to talk about her past, but she can’t hide from me. If she has secrets, it’ll drive me fucking bonkers. I need to know everything about her. Stella’s already become part of me, so her secrets are like secrets about myself.
Maybe she understands this fact because she continues, “For years, I heard how Child Services planned for me and her to be together, but Mom rarely visited. The truth was she didn’t want me back. She had a new life that was better without me. Child Services tried to make her do right, and I think she got in trouble with the state for abandoning me. No one ever really explained anything. I just knew that at one point Child Services was saying things were temporary and then they didn’t talk about that anymore. By the time I was twelve, I realized she wasn’t coming for me, and no one was going to adopt someone my age.”
“I’m ready to rule,” I say as my fingers slide along her sunburned face. “Your mother is a cunt. I’m sorry, but that’s a fact, and my ruling can’t be overruled.”
Stella laughs in a way that tells me the pot is chilling her out nicely. “Cunt,” she mumbles between giggles. “My grandparents would faint if they heard that word.”
“They’re cunts too because they could have helped you. Those religious types are Mister and Missus Cunt.”
“I come from a family of cunts apparently.”
“But they didn’t raise you,” I say quickly before she can claim her family’s failings. “They didn’t have a chance to turn you into a cunt too. You got lucky, darling.”
“I feel lucky,” she says, proving she’s fallen under the charms of Mary Jane as well as mine. “I met you, and you’re better than any fantasy man I could dream up.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
Stella stares at me dreamily, and I struggle to control my horny urges. Her touch makes me overheated in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s as if she’s turned me into a virgin and this is my first chance to get laid. Retaining self-control isn’t easy, but I don’t want her stoned during our first time. She’ll always second-guess things, and I refuse to be the latest in a long line of people who’ve left her feeling used.
THE UNWANTED
Colt and I get as close to sex as possible with our clothes on. Rather than give in to our desires, he focuses on feeding Kori and Rae. Of course, his concern for them only makes me want him more.
“It’s only day two,” he says when I don’t want to leave the house. “Save something for tomorrow.”
So hooked on him, I’d remain in his presence even if he didn’t acknowledge me. I don’t let myself say that aloud, but I do end up admitting something equally awful. “I’m going to stalk you when you dump me.”
Colt’s strong fingers feel like feathers against my face. “I almost want to dump you just to see what your stalking involves, but I don’t think I can survive without you.”
“Don’t ghost me,” I say, grabbing hold of his wrist. “If you dump me, tell me, so I know where I stand.”
Colt takes me by the hand and tucks the leftovers under his other arm. “Pot makes you paranoid. Good to know.”
“I’m not paranoid. I’m fixated on your amazing ass,” I say and then wonder if I said that out loud.
Based on his satisfied smirk, yeah, I did say it. Colt helps me into his truck as I make him promise to never wear a loose shirt.
“It’s a request from the women of the world,” I say before trying to sexually molest his shirt off his body.
“Pot makes you horny,” he says once he frees himself and slides into the driver's seat. “Good to know. See how I’m learning so much today?”
“Don’t learn too much, or I’ll never see you again.”
“There’s the paranoia again,” he says while starting the truck. “You need to settle your britches, young lady, and trust that I’m sufficiently hooked on your sweet self.”
“I have no trust in that whatsoever.”
Colt shakes his head and pulls away from the house. “You need a refresher course on your inner awesome, and I’m the guy born to teach the class.”
I smile at his words. My hand instinctively rests on his forearm, craving the heat of his skin. Each mile closer to the motel, the worse my heart hurts knowing I won’t be in his presence soon.
“I brought a phone for you to use,” he announces as we stop at a light. “I want to be able to check on you, and you said Rae has the phone most days.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know. It’s not like I think you’re my job. No, you’re just the chick making me crazy.”
“Do I make you crazy?” I ask, needing something to hold onto tonight since I can’t cling to him.
“Super nuts,” he says and does the Mel Gibson move from “Lethal Weapon.”
Laughing, I ask, “When will I see you again?”
“Tomorrow, of course. I’m not great at depriving myself.”
“I’m working in the afternoon after Rae finishes at the hotel.”
“
I’ll pick you up from work then. Just tell me what time,” he says and scratches at his scruffy jaw. “I was thinking about your car. I’m not great at that shit despite my earlier attempt to make myself look like Mister Fix-it. My pop tried teaching me, but he sucks at it too, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him. That’s why I’m going to get a guy I know to come by and check out the car tomorrow. If he says it needs more work than is possible in a parking lot, he can tow it to his place and get it done.”
“You’re doing too much.”
“Funny because I’m not finished yet,” he says, surprising me with a quick kiss as we wait at a stop sign. “I’m going to find you a better place to live. The motel is bullshit and not safe. I know rental places are scarce, but I have a few ideas, so let me ask around, okay?”
“I just want you to kiss me. This other stuff isn’t necessary.”
“It is for me, and like I said, I don’t do deprived well.”
“How does helping me help you?”
“I need you to be safe and happy. If you’re not, then I’m not, and I like happiness. Get it?”
Overwhelmed by how quickly he’s taking over and improving my life, I stammer, “I guess, but I don’t want you to think I’m using you. I’m sure other girls try.”
“If your goal was to use me, you’re doing a shit job, Stella. You don’t ask for anything and look guilty whenever I offer.”
“When I ask for too much from people, they leave,” I say, adding in a whisper, “Rae is the only person willing to put up with me.”
“You’re thinking of it in the wrong way. Instead, imagine yourself as a key. Some people are like those universal keys that’ll fit any lock. Those people are popular, but not particularly special. They can own anyone’s heart. But you’re a rare key capable of only opening the hearts of special people. That’s why Rae, who doesn’t seem interested in most people, lets you close. It’s why a poonhound like me who’s been incapable of a deep relationship suddenly finds himself tied up in knots over you. You’re the key made special for my heart.”
I can’t speak because my words won’t be good enough after hearing his. Colt just turned my failure at getting anyone to love me into a sign of my worth. I’d tell him that he’s wrong except I don’t know if he is really. The way he sees the world is so alien to how I view it. We might as well be speaking different languages, so telling him he’s wrong feels, well, wrong.
