by Diana Nixon
God, why did he need to be so understanding?
"No. But I'm not ready for this… For any of this." I stepped back and ran my hands through my hair.
He sighed. "No chances, at all?"
I shook my head. I didn't know what else to say. I needed to make myself clear, but I knew it would hurt him.
"Friends then?"
I breathed a sigh of relief. "It's what has always worked for us."
He nodded. "Okay. But you still owe me a homemade pizza, remember?"
"Pizzas are not for couples only, right?"
He chuckled. "Right. Now let's take you home." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and we walked to his car.
An uneasy feeling crept up my chest. For a guy who wanted to date a girl and not just sleep with her, Kenneth seemed to accept my resignation too easily. Was he angry at me? Was his reaction just a way to hide his true emotions? Whatever it was, I hoped he wouldn't hate me for the rest of his life.
As for my headache and the rest… Someone was standing behind it all.
And he had a name - Jeffrey.
No matter how hard I tried not to think about him, my mind kept replaying the moments from the day that bothered me. His eyes radiated intensity. Whatever he was thinking when looking at me, it wasn't just a pretense, he meant it. Like the way he touched my tattoo, tenderly, thoughtfully, as if afraid it would disappear. He knew it wasn't just a tattoo; it screamed pain. At some point, I got scared he would start asking questions.
I wasn't ready to answer them.
But there was something about the way he acted around me that made me want to see him again, feel his gaze on me, his touch on my skin, his lips on my lips, his body over mine…
And no matter how wrong all those thoughts were, I always liked wrong; I'd never been a fan of right, and I never wanted to change it.
Chapter 4
Jeffrey
I was having a dream and even though I knew I was dreaming, a part of me didn't want to see what would happen next. I was standing in the middle of my parent's living room, I could hear the voices coming from my father's office. He was talking to a woman, who clearly was not my mother. I got curious and took a few careful steps closer. The door was half-open, so I let myself look inside the office.
My dad's guest was a stranger. I'd never seen the woman before. She was around my father's age, with black hair done in a ponytail. She was wearing a simple blue dress that looked like she had been wearing it for days. My father was standing close to her, with his palms on her shoulders.
"I know I'm running out of time, Eugene…" The woman said in a trembling voice. I couldn't see her face, but I knew she was crying.
"Stop saying it, Abby."
"But it's true. I don't know how much longer I can keep this secret from everyone."
"What is your doctor saying?" Dad helped the woman into the nearby chair, then leaned against his desk, watching her.
"He keeps telling me to hope for the best, but we both know there is no hope in my case."
"Abby…"
"Please, Eugene, don't say anything. It's all for nothing…" She lowered her head and her shoulders shook. "Promise me you will help my baby. She's just twelve."
"I told you I would keep an eye on her. You know I always loved her as if she were…my own daughter…" Dad sighed and shut his eyes tight, as if trying to shut out a bad memory. When he opened his eyes again, the look he gave Abby didn't promise anything good. "What about Dennard?" He asked. His voice sounded angry.
"What about him?" Abby looked up at my father. "You won't fire him, will you?"
"Why would I do that? He's been with me for years."
"Yes…because you felt like you owed him an apology."
Dad cursed aloud, then turned away from Abby and walked to the window. "I still feel the same way… I should have listened to you. I didn't have any right to do what I did."
"We did it together, Eugene. It was my fault too."
My father turned to look at his guest. Something about the way his eyes glistened when looking at her made me want to stop eavesdropping, walk away and forget about the conversation I had heard as if it never happened at all. But I stayed.
"We were so young, Abby… I loved you so much. I still do."
The woman shook her head. She didn't want to hear what my father was saying. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"It does. If it didn't matter, you wouldn't come here asking for help. You know I can't say 'no' to you. And I give you my word that I will help your daughter the best I can."
Abby stood up and nodded. "Thank you, Eugene. It's all I needed to hear. I'd better go now. I don't want Dennard to see me here."
Dad didn't protest. He followed his guest to the door, and I barely had half a minute to hide behind the couch so they wouldn't see me. My heart was racing in my chest. Dad said he never stopped loving her… But who was she anyway? And why hadn't I ever seen her before tonight? My eyes traveled to the calendar standing on a coffee table.
August 29th, 2007.
Only now did I realize that my father looked much younger than he did last time we met. The reflection in the mirror caught my attention. I looked more youthful too. In fact, I looked like a twelve-year-old myself. Carefully, I looked at the door. My father was saying goodbye to Abby. I couldn’t hear his words anymore, but she suddenly smiled at him and brushed his cheek with the back of her palm. Then she turned and left the house, closing the door behind her.
I opened my eyes and a new reality stared back at me.
I sat up in my bed and rubbed my head. It hurt from the mere thought about leaving the bed, not to mention taking a shower or starting a new day. Fucking hangover.
I groaned and leaned back against the pillows. I shouldn't have drunk that much last night. I never drank more than a few shots. Last night was obviously an exception.
My thoughts traveled back to the dream I had.
What a weird dream… Or maybe it wasn't a dream, but a memory. I couldn't tell for sure. I didn't remember meeting Abby or hearing anything about her at all. Was she even real?
I grabbed my watch from the bedside table and swore. 6:30 in the fucking morning. On Sunday.
Great, just great.
My head felt like a clap of thunder had been roaring through it all night long; every millimeter of my skull hurt like hell. No hope for a quick recovery, that's for sure.
Muttering a promise never to drink a single drop of alcohol, ever again, I dragged my half-dead body to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. It felt like cubes of ice against my skin. Running both hands through my hair, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The look in my eyes was troubled. I still couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. I could call my father and ask about the mysterious Abby, just to make sure that she was nothing but the result of my imagination. But something was telling me, there was more to it. Could she possibly be my dad's lover? Did mom know about her? I always thought that my family was the picture of perfection. I didn't remember a single time my parents fought over something more than the list of guests for Christmas dinner - mom wasn't my grannies' number one fan, but she was my father's mom and both women had to smile at each other and pretend to be besties, at least once a year. Christmas drama aside, I had always been sure my folks loved each other to the moon and back.
Vomit taste in my mouth reminded me about the number of shots I ordered last night; the bright morning light coming from the window made everything even worse. The bathroom swirled in front of my eyes.
Fuuuck…
I took my toothbrush and opened the shower cabin (not without an effort), hoping to feel myself more or less alive after I washed the hangover off myself.
I needed to stop overdramatizing. If my dad did have a lover, I would know something about her; her name at the very least, right? Or maybe she was just history and never affected my parents' marriage. Anyway, it was probably so long ago, it didn't matter anymore. I'd better focus on my present, not someone el
se's past.
With those thoughts in my buzzing head, I turned the water on and let it do its magic.
After taking a shower, I got dressed and went to the kitchen to drink some much-needed coffee.
"Double Americano with an aspirin," Levy said, giving me a cup of steaming drink.
"Will it help?" I asked, looking doubtfully at the contents of my cup.
"My best recipe. Always works."
"Bad night?" Just now did I notice Kenneth's presence.
"Bad is not the word," I muttered in response and took a sip of Levy's 'curative' drink.
"Drain it dry," he said, watching me intently.
"It makes me sick."
"Trust the proof – you will feel better in no time."
"Okay… I'll wait for it to cool off first." I put the cup on the table and took a seat on one of the bar stools. "What are you guys up to? It's just seven in the morning."
Levy spoke first, "I'm an early riser."
Then Kenneth said, "I have work to do."
I'd be damned if I shut up and held back the desire to ask my next question. "How was your date last night?"
Levy gave me a curious look.
"Good," Kenneth responded, though there was nothing 'good' in his word.
"Rhea isn't an easy nut to crack, is she?" Again, I'd be fucking damned if I stopped myself from asking these stupid questions.
Kenneth's face turned into a stone. "How would you know that?"
I made a surrender gesture. "Sorry, dude, it's none of my business."
"Sure, it's not." The cup he put on the table clank pitifully against the wooden surface; a part of the drink spilled out and made a dirty spot. Without saying another word, Kenneth left the room.
"What the hell, man?" Levy asked. "Just don't tell me you laid your shameless eyes on his girl. He won't let you anywhere close to her."
"She's not his property, right?"
"Wrong. You wouldn't want any other guy near your girl, right?"
"Last I heard, they are just friends."
Levy smirked. "Not for long. Kenneth said they have a pizza date next Saturday, in her room. You know how dates like that end, don't you?"
My fists hurt to knock that all-knowing grin off his smug face. "Actually, I don't. Girls never made pizzas for me."
"You could ask Rhea to make one for you… Oh, wait – she has plans with someone else! Seriously, man, there will be so many hot chicks out there, you will forget Rhea's name sooner than you know it."
Doubt it… She had such a beautiful name, it was nearly impossible to forget it. Not to mention I couldn't stop thinking about everything that stood behind it.
I took another sip of my disgusting coffee, then spit it back into the cup. "I don't think I can drink it." I pushed the cup away from me. The smell made me want to puke. "I'd better wait for Starbucks to open and save me from coffee starvation."
Levy looked offended. "As you wish. By the way, do you have any plans for tonight? One of my friends is throwing a party two floors up."
"Is Rhea coming to the party?"
"You are hopeless. You know that? And yes, she will be there too."
"Then I'm all for it." I reached for my phone lying on the table. "What time shall I be there?"
"Seven-thirty. And don't forget about my warning."
"Your warning?"
"Stay away from Rhea."
I smiled. "Can't promise you anything. I have a soft spot for sexy rebels."
Levy shook his head, but said nothing. Apparently, he thought that trying to reason with me was a waste of time. I couldn't argue with that. Not in this particular case, anyway.
***
I could hear the music coming from one of the rooms. It was loud enough to be heard even from the other end of the hall. Can't say I was thrilled about joining the party, more about meeting one particular guest. No matter how much I hated the idea of her dating my roommate, I couldn’t stop myself from seeing her again. In less than two days, she turned from a stranger into my secret obsession. I wondered if that was the fault of her tattoos. Or was I simply losing my mind over Cherry?
"Want some punch?" A girl with red hair asked. She looked too young to be a student.
"Only if it's alcoholic," I said, following her into the room where the party was taking place.
She laughed. "Students are not allowed to drink alcohol in the dorm."
"I know. And so do you, right?"
She nodded and winked at me. "My name's Lidia, by the way. This room belongs to my brothers."
"How old are you?" I asked out of curiosity.
"Old enough to bring you some punch." She disappeared in the crowd of dancing people.
I looked around the room. There were about thirty people in there. I didn't know any of them, except Levy, who was busy talking to a cute brunette. She looked like one of those models stepped right from a magazine cover: long legs, impressive tits, and perfectly applied makeup. In any other situation, I would try my luck with her.
But I was looking for someone else…
Luckily, she didn't make me wait for too long. About ten minutes after I finished my first glass of punch, she walked into the room, wearing a jean mini-skirt with a high-cut black top and heels. Her lips were painted blood-red; hair – long and loose. I kind of missed her last night curls. They made her look a little vulnerable – a completely different girl who I was sure had secrets that no one was allowed to see.
"I almost died waiting for you, Cherry," I said, coming closer.
"Next time, I'll do better."
"Good girl."
"I'll make you die waiting." She smiled as politely as humanly possible.
Sandy giggled standing next to her.
"Don't be a scratch cat. I came here only because I knew you would be here too."
"To what do I owe the honor?"
"To the fact that you deserve so much better than my roommate."
She smiled with the corners of her lips. "So you think you are better than Kenneth?"
I shrugged, as if it was up to her to answer that question.
"Unbelievable…" She started to walk away, but I stopped her.
"Dance with me," I said, holding her by the elbow. I was sure she would send me to hell or even further, but her response surprised me.
"Sure. Why not?"
Kenneth was nowhere around, so I hardly cared he might not like us dancing. Honestly, I wouldn't care even if he stood there watching us, with a gun in his hands, ready to shoot me right then and there.
But all thoughts of Kenneth flew out of my head the moment my palm slipped around Rhea's waist, my skin touched hers, and I felt like a fifteen-year-old at my first prom. The only difference was the girls at my first prom were not wearing miniskirts and high-cut tops that would let me touch them the way I was touching Rhea now.
I wasn't the only one affected by the dance. Rhea looked…shy. Who would have thought she was the shy type? I was sure when she was a kid, she would hide behind her mom's back to take shelter from whoever wanted to ask for her name.
I dared to press her closer to my chest and she didn't mind the closeness.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. Our gazes locked and neither she nor I seemed to be able to look away. It was a bit awkward. I never felt this way when around a girl.
She looked like a paper flower, painted in black – too tender to protect her petals from wild winds, hiding her true beauty under the wraps of a dangerous look.
Soft blush blossomed on her cheeks, giving away so much more than she was ready to reveal. She bit her lower lip, and my desire to kiss her hit the sky. I couldn't think about anything but those devilishly inviting lips of hers. The thought of kissing them was intoxicating. They looked soft and delicious, promising sweetness never known.
The music roared around us, but I couldn't make out a word of the song. The closer I leaned to her mouth the faster the world around us spun, taking us far away from here and now, and to the land where no one
and nothing but us existed.
Neon lights flashed all around the room, with the bright sparkles reflecting in her deep blue eyes. They were like an ocean to me – a blending of alluring and dangerous, full of flaws and perfections; wild and disobedient. They would make me lose my mind in the blink of an eye, and I wouldn't even notice drowning in them, where no gravity existed.
Fascinated, I didn't realize her lips moved in a question.
"What did you say?"
"What are you thinking?" She asked again. She never stopped watching me, as if she wanted to read something in my gaze.
"You don't want to hear that," I said, with my lips millimeters from hers.
"Try me," she breathed into my mouth.
I swallowed my desire to show her what I was thinking at that moment. "There are too many people around us."
Her mouth twisted in a challenging smile. "Coward," she said into my ear.
I licked my lips. "Aren't you afraid your boyfriend might see us together?"
She watched me for a long minute, no less. I didn't even know how many songs had passed since the moment I asked her for a dance.
"I gotta go," she suddenly said, ending 'the game' even before the fun part started.
"Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"I have a long day tomorrow. I need to rest."
"Then why did you come to the party?" I leaned closer and asked one more question, "Did you want to see me?"
"Actually, yes…" She stepped back and gave me another thoughtful look. "I wanted to check something."
"And? What are the results of your exploration?"
"Unexpected…"
"Is it a good sign?"
"Time will tell." She then turned away from me and started walking to the door, pushing through the crowd that seemed to be growing bigger with every breath.
I stood there, with my eyes following her every step. She was nothing like the girls I used to hang out with. She left secrets behind her, like a ball of string that you needed to untangle to see what was hidden at the end of the road. It felt like the closer I got to her, the harder it was to see the real Rhea. But I was full of intentions to go as far as she would let me, just to get a glimpse of what our small game promised.
