Anywhere But Here (5 page)

The footsteps stopped and Kellen uttered a string of curses under his breath. The needle stopped again and I heard Derek’s soft chuckle, before he muttered. “He’s really going to kill me now.”

The sting of the needle returned, and within two minutes, he was pulling away, saying, “There, all done.”

He wheeled his chair around, two handheld mirrors in his hand. He gave me one and held one over my back and we moved them around until I could see the finished work. “I love it. Thank you,” I said softly. He gave a single nod, and then went to work bandaging it carefully. When it was finished, he asked if I wanted him to send in one of the girls to help me redress. I declined the offer and he left me alone. Forgoing the bra, I carefully slipped my loose tee on and then shoved the under garment in my purse.

I steeled myself and then drew the curtain back, avoiding the heated pair of eyes I could feel burning my skin. “How much do I owe you, Derek?” I walked over to where he was leaning against the counter.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Isn’t that sweet,” Kellen sneered. I squeezed my eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath.

“Man, it’s not like that and you know it,” Derek retorted.

Not wanting to listen to whatever argument was going to ensue, I reached into my purse, pulled out a fifty and thrust it at Derek. “Here.” I didn’t even wait for him to take it. I just let it fall to the floor and hurried to get out of there.

“Is that a tip for services rendered?” This time Kellen’s dig was aimed solely at me.

I froze, spun and marched toward him, letting the walls down on the anger I was holding inside. “You don’t get to say a word. You painted a naked picture of me on your damn wall,” I screeched, flinging my hand out to point at the angel with the faint but oddly specific birth mark on her hip that I’d missed the first time because it was almost covered by one of the wings and the same pert little nose and barely tinted green eyes I saw in the mirror every day.

His lips parted and I narrowed my gaze, just daring him to deny it. His mouth snapped shut and his mouth pulled into a tight line.

It was my turn to storm out and leave him standing there.

Kellen

April 29

Present . . .

“What the fuck man?” I practically shouted once she was out the door.

“Take it the fuck down a notch.” He bent and retrieved the bill from where it landed on the floor. “You’re acting like a jackass for no reason.” He pocketed the money.

“Why did you have her behind the curtain?” I was being irrational, but it didn’t matter. She came out of there obviously braless, which meant he was in there with her topless. How the hell was she okay with that when she couldn’t even stand to look at me, let alone allow me anywhere near her?

“Calm down and think about what it is you’re asking me. You know damn well you’re overreacting. I inked a little fucking bird on her back. That’s it. Didn’t see or touch shit besides that. Although, I don’t see how it matters considering you did paint her tits on the wall for the whole fucking world to see.”

He’d never once brought up the painting before. I always suspected he knew, but we didn’t talk about her. Ever. And seeing a black and white painting of something was not the same as seeing it in real living color. Fucking trust me on that one. I stepped up to get in his face. “There’s a fucking difference, so how closely did you check to confirm the likeness?” I growled.

He shoved me back. “Seriously, dude? What the fuck? I already told you I didn’t see shit, and I didn’t need to. I steered her over there and her reaction confirmed it for me.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because you’re both so fucking hung up on the past, but neither one of you wants to admit it.”

I scoffed. “The only thing that girl is hung up on is hating my guts.”

“
That girl
couldn’t hate you if she tried, but she sure as hell is trying.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She hated me alright. It was all in the eyes.

“I know that she’s still fucking inside you man, that you’ve never gotten her out, and after today, I’d bet money it’s the same for her. All that hate you’re seeing, I don’t think it is hate. I think it’s pain and anger, and you can ask the girls on this one, but seven years seems a long time to carry around that amount of hurt for someone that doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“Leave me out of this.” Marcy lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t want any part of your man drama.”

Laurel had no such reservations about butting in. “I agree with D. She definitely has some strong feelings, and while they’re not positive, fluffy feelings, that kind of passion only comes from one place. For you to have hurt her that bad, she had to have loved you a hell of a lot, and it’s my experience love like that burns itself inside of you in a way you can’t just put it out.”

“We were fucking kids. What the hell did either one of us know about loving anything?” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. Denying that I’d loved her was like denying everything I was. If I hadn’t loved her so fucking much, I wouldn’t have done what I did. Not that, I’m sure, she would ever see it like that. Didn’t matter that I regretted it, that now I wished I had made different choices. My world was small and dark back then, and she was at the center of it, the only bright spot in all that darkness. At seventeen, I didn’t see a whole lot of options ahead of me, but the one thing I’d known for certain was that I’d do anything for her, give up anything for her. So I did. I gave up everything and we both hated me for it.

“Right. So then you won’t mind if I go try and catch up with her and tell her the truth.”

Squeezing my fists into a tight ball, I held myself in check. He was pushing, but I had to make one thing very clear. “You’re not going breathe a fucking word to her about what you think you know.”

He snorted disapprovingly. “Why not? It’d clear shit up real fast. You want her to stop hating you? Let me tell her what really happened.”

“No,” I ground out through a clenched jaw.

“Yeah, tell me again about how you didn’t really love her.”

I took a step back. “Just leave it alone, D. If she wants to hate me, let her.” What difference would it make now? “I’m out. Make sure you guys lock up.”

It was Laurel’s voice I heard as I pushed my way through the door and into the night. “What the hell happened back then?”

Just before the door swung shut behind me, Derek answered her. “So much.”

That about summed it up.

Fate, chance, whatever you wanted to call it, almost eight years ago it intervened in the lives of two kids who never should have crossed paths, and played a cruel joke on them. Sometimes I thought back to Ms. Renner’s English class and wondered what would have happened if she’d never assigned that stupid project, or if Shae and I had drawn different numbers. Our lives would have gone on like normal, neither one of us knowing what could happen when the troubled bad boy going nowhere and the unattainable cheerleader with a bright future were thrust together.

So what did happen? Something that never should have been, because only in fantasies do guys like me get
the
girl, and there was no question, that Shae was her.
The
girl
every guy wished he could have. The worst part was, none of them even knew her. Guys like her douchebag ex-footballer, Jeremy Black, and the rest of them, they just saw the same thing I saw before that year. Perfection. The kind you want to touch and own, just to see if it could be real.

Jeremy wanted her to make himself look good. He actually believed he deserved her, was entitled to her.

It was a lie though. All of it. He never deserved her, and she wasn’t perfect. She was more than that. Perfection isn’t real. It’s an idea, the thing we all reach for, but can never quite touch, the one thing we think we need and then we’ll have it made. The truth is, even if we could somehow reach that image of perfection we have in our heads, it still wouldn’t be enough, because like I said it’s a lie.

Nobody wanted to look deep enough to see the lie in Shae’s eyes, the truth behind the girl they thought they knew. I made the mistake of looking. It wasn’t perfection I found, but something better, something worth actually fighting for. She was flawed, so beautifully flawed, but it’s in the flaws that you find the real beauty of a person. Their strengths and weaknesses. Their hopes, dreams and fears. The secrets they keep, their deepest desires and the thoughts they don’t share with anyone.

Knowing Shae wrecked me, turned my whole world upside down, because how could the real thing, the messy person underneath the perfect façade, be better than the image I’d built up in my head? It was, and like Derek said, she worked her way deep inside me, down to the bad in my bones, and replaced it with something else. Something good, something I never thought I’d have or could ever hope to be, but she made me want it. And then it was gone.

The only thing worse than living your whole life in the dark, is getting a glimpse of the light and knowing what you’re missing. You can shut off the light, but every time you close your eyes, you still see it. Real light, the kind that comes from inside a person, it leaves a mark on you. The mark she left was more like a brand. Permanent.

And I wasn’t the only one marked.

“Is it true she’s back?”

I was inserting the key into the lock of my apartment, when she caught me in the hall. Another two seconds and I would have been safely inside.

At fourteen, my little sister Trinity, who like me hadn’t known a lot of good in her life up to that point, thought Shaeleigh Bradford stepped into our lives straight out of a Disney movie. At twenty-one, I could still see it in her eyes when I turned around to face my baby sis.

“Wow, what the hell happened to your face?”

“Shae’s back, but I don’t think she’s staying long, Trin.”

It’s like she stopped listening after I confirmed Shae was back in town, because her face split into a wide grin, clearly not all that concerned about my face anymore. “Do you know where she’s staying?”

“It didn’t exactly come up when I ran into her. She wasn’t real thrilled to see me.” I gestured at my face.

Again, she wasn’t listening. “Think she’s staying with her mom?”

“Doubt it. More than likely, she’s staying in her grandmother’s house.”

“You think it would be okay if I stopped by tomorrow?” She bit her lip nervously.

“I don’t know, Trin. She’d probably love to see you, but . . .”

“But what?”

“Shae’s not the same girl we knew, so just don’t be disappointed if she’s a total bitch to you.”

She frowned. “Why would she be a bitch to me?”

“I don’t know. Guilt by association. I just know that she isn’t thrilled to be back in town.”

I watched the features of my sister’s face soften and fill with sympathy. I could practically read the thoughts on her face. “It’s not fair,” she whispered.

“Don’t do that, Trin. It is what it is. I’ve been over Shae for a long time. Now, if you want to come in, I can fix us some dinner, but I’ve had enough of the past for one day.”

She didn’t look like she believed me, but she followed me inside the apartment and didn’t bring Shae up again for the rest of the night, until I walked her to her apartment down on the second floor. She looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Sometimes life does give us second chances, Kell. You know that.”

I leaned down and kissed her head. “I already used mine up. I don’t think life is going to do me any more favors. Best not to even go down that road, Trin. Ain’t nothing but heartbreak and disappointment back there.”

“I just want my big brother to be happy, and none of the girls you’ve been with since her have made you happy.” Simple explanation for that; none of them were her.

“Don’t worry about me. You just worry about keeping yourself out of trouble.”

“I always do, but asking me not to worry about you is pointless.”

“I’ll be just fine.”

“That’s what you said last time too,” she pointed out, concern pinching her brow.

“Ain’t gonna be like last time. I promise.” I’d come too far to go back there, even if seeing Shae had me thinking about old habits and how they really do die hard.

Kellen

September 6

Senior year . . .

I think today was the first time in the history of my school career that I was early for a class. It was rare that I was even on time, but I was never early. That should have been the first sign that things were changing.

I didn’t want to miss her face when she came in, or Jeremy’s pissed off expression, because for fifty-five minutes his precious girl was all mine.

Shaeleigh Bradford, Conway High’s very own prissy little princess. She was going to be fun to play with. Maybe knock her down off her pedestal. But the real pleasure was going to come from fucking with that dipshit boyfriend of hers. The only thing that would make it sweeter would be actually nailing his girl. And the thought of stripping her down and finding out if she was still all prim and proper in the sack, held a whole different kind of appeal.

How many of these stuck up bitches walked down the hall, holding the hands of their jock boyfriends, only to scream my name behind the bleachers, or upstairs at a party while their boyfriends were busy getting drunk? I was good enough to fuck in secret, but never good enough to take home to Mom and Dad. It was fine by me. I got what I needed.

Would Shaeleigh be any different?

She sure held herself above everybody else. She rarely came out to party with her friends, which I think suited her fuck-up boyfriend just fine. It would serve him right if she wasn’t loyal. Number one in our class, head cheerleader, head of the homecoming committee and every other committee. Hair and make-up always done to perfection, dressed like she was coming off a runway. She was consistently a hot topic in the guys’ locker room, and girls looked on with envy. Girl was born with a fucking silver spoon in her mouth. Might be a man’s world, but a girl like her could easily bring a man to his knees.

Not this one.

The two of them walked into the classroom hand in hand. Cute.

Her eyes found me, and I swear she looked a little nervous.

Jeremy’s eyes found me too. He just looked pissed, as expected.

She gave him a little nudge toward his seat, and he reluctantly went. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin before making her way to the back of the class and smoothly sliding into the seat next to mine without making eye contact. She rifled through her bag and pulled out a binder, notebook, our current reading assignment, a pen and pencil, laying them all out neatly before her.

“Does it ever get tiring being so perfect?” The thought slipped unbidden from my mouth.

She stopped straightening, a pink flush crawled up her neck onto her cheeks. “You know, I’ve never asked anyone to think I was perfect.” Her words were so quiet I almost couldn’t make them out. “Because I’m not.”

I leaned a little closer. “Well then, congratulations, you’ve successfully fooled everyone.”

Her head turned slowly and pale green eyes pinned me in place. God, she was pretty.

“It’s not my fault no one bothers to look past the surface.”

“So what, you’re just misunderstood? Such a rough life you have. I can imagine how hard it must be being so rich and well liked by everyone.”

Everything in her expression hardened and she snapped her head forward, ending the conversation, but I wasn’t ready for it to be over. Despite my sarcastic and asshole comment, I detected real anger and pain in her. Sharing feelings wasn’t my strong suit though, so rather than ask her about it, I just pushed more. “What? You’re done talking to me just because you don’t like hearing the truth.”

“No, I’m done talking to you because I realize it’s a waste of time and breath. You’re not worth either from me.”

I bristled at her words. My whole life I’d heard them, been told I was a waste. Worthless. Of all the insults she could have thrown, she found the words that had been carved into me so many times it was like they were branded there, and hearing them from her mouth stung more than it should have. I was about to tell her she could take her attitude and go fuck herself, when she faced me again.

“What? Isn’t that what you expect from me?” She waited for me to say something. I didn’t, so she did. “Doesn’t feel very good when someone tells you who you are without bothering to actually know you, does it? I would have thought you of all people would realize that what people see, isn’t always the truth.”

“Well played,” I muttered, and then turned my attention to the front when Ms. Renner started class.

“For the record, I didn’t mean it,” Shaeleigh said softly.

“Whatever, you wouldn’t be the first person who did,” I replied quietly, keeping my eyes up front.

“I think what matters is whether or not you believe it.”

Shit,
how did this conversation end up here? I felt her eyes on me, and realized I’d underestimated her. She was perceptive, too perceptive for my liking. I locked down my thoughts and relaxed my expression, showing her that I was not affected by anything she had to say. I shifted my gaze and held her stare. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes?”

She looked away, something unsaid on her pretty pink lips. For the rest of the period, she kept her attention on the class discussion, sneaking only the occasional glance my direction in between scribbling notes across her paper in what had to be the messiest, girly scrawl I’d ever seen, and raising her hand to participate in the discussion. Like the day before, Ms. Renner gave us the last ten minutes to talk about our project, and just like that, things shifted back in my favor. I had the upper hand.

“So, what’d you think of
The Delta of Venus
? Anais is very insightful, isn’t she?”

Her lips pursed a little. “I wouldn’t know. I couldn’t get past the first couple pages.”

I rotated in my seat and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table and invading her personal space. “And how did they make you feel?” A cute blush blossomed on her cheeks and I couldn’t hold my grin in check. “Don’t get shy on me now. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that you’re trying to get a rise out of me,” she retorted.

“Did it work? Come on, tell me how those pages made you feel?” I teased.

“Like you’re an ass.”

I chuckled and lowered my voice. “You seem a little tense. A few naughty words didn’t get you worked up did they? I’m sure Jeremy would be a good boyfriend and help you work out some of that tension.” Her cheeks flamed brighter, and her eyes darted momentarily to her boyfriend, but his attention was elsewhere.

“Stop,” she bit out, turning her gaze back on me.

I held up my hands and leaned back in my seat. “Fine, I can see it isn’t to your tastes. Perhaps we should do our project on
Lady Chatterly’s Lover
instead.”

“Somehow, I’m guessing that one wouldn’t be any more appropriate,” she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“You’re not familiar with the story?” If I was being honest, I’d never read the book either, but a Google search in first period had provided me with the title. Yes, I’d actually put some effort into getting under her skin.

She shook her head. “And I don’t think I want to be.”

“Oh, but I think it would offer you insight. See, it’s about a high class woman stuck in a passionless relationship with a man who could never hope to satisfy her, so she seeks out intimacy elsewhere and finds it in the arms of a man very much beneath her. He awakens all sorts of things in her she’s never experienced before,” I let her hear the suggestion in my voice, enjoying this more than I’d expected. Her frown deepened, only causing my smirk to spread. “Ms. Renner did say we should choose something we could relate to.”

“Then I don’t see how that one makes the cut,” she replied sharply.

“I think you do.”

“And I think perhaps we should go with one of the Greeks, a lesson in hubris maybe,” she threw back at me.

I laughed. “I like your suggestion,
The Odyssey
maybe. I’m sure we could get creative about what happens on Calypso’s island while Odysseus is trapped there with her. Or maybe we could go with James Joyce’s modern spin in
Ulysses
. I believe there is a very inspiring scene where his dear wife is at home entertaining her lover while he’s jacking off on a beach, or my personal favorite scene at the end where Molly gets herself off.”

She let out a deep groan of frustration. “What is wrong with you? Have you memorized every sex scene ever written? I don’t even know if I believe you’ve read all those books.”

Because obviously a guy like me doesn’t read. I shrugged off the jab. “I don’t give a shit what you believe, princess.” I ignored her startled frown. “Oh look, class is over.” The bell rang in that moment and I wasted no time grabbing my shit and bailing. I didn’t realize she was going to chase after me in the halls.

“Nash,” her voice called after me. I didn’t slow but she caught up to me and grabbed my arm. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” I asked snidely.

“That. You’re pissed at me all of the sudden, and I want to know why. Is it because I said I didn’t think you’d actually read the books?”

I lowered my face almost level with hers. “It may come as a shock to you sweetheart, but some of us low-life losers
can
actually read, and more than just the Sports Illustrated articles I’m sure your boyfriend is partial to.”

She shoved my chest with more strength than I would have guessed she had in her tiny arms. I stumbled back a step, laughing at her little display of anger. “How cute, going to defend Jeremy’s honor?”

“This isn’t about him. That’s the second time today you’ve implied I somehow think I’m better than you, and I’m sick of it.”

“The second time?” I cocked a brow, trying to recall the first time.

“
Lady Chatterly’s Lover
. A high class woman lowering herself to be with someone inferior? You think I didn’t get the point you were trying to make with that little suggestion? Well your assumptions about me are every bit as insulting as if I
had
implied I didn’t think you read. But that wasn’t my intent, I was simply surprised that for every suggestion I made, you countered with sexual innuendo. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Homer or even a Joyce fan. If I had to guess, I would say that along with Vonnegut– Kerouac, Palahniuk and Cormac McCarthy were more you style. Maybe Hunter Thompson, but I also have no doubt that you could pull some Dostoevsky reference out of your ass.”

I was shocked, not only because she knew who Hunter Thompson was, but because she was right. I thought Homer was boring as shit and James Joyce was long-winded and his work overstated. I’d been forced to read
The Odyssey
last year, and then had decided to pick up
Ulysses
after my teacher made reference to it as a modern narrative following Homer’s character’s experiences. Stream of consciousness, more like stream-of-bullshit.

“So are you a fan of Hunter Thompson, or are you just trying to impress me now with your ability to pull references out of your ass?”

She sighed. “Neither. You mentioned
Slaughterhouse Five
, so I looked up similar books I thought we both might actually be able to get interested in.”

My brow pulled into a frown. “You were trying to pick something that would interest me?” Why would she do that?

“Shaeleigh!”

We both turned our heads to see Jeremy barreling toward us, his usual scowl in place. “What are you doing? Why’d you take off after him?”

Without pause, she held up the notebook she hadn’t had time to tuck away in her backpack. “He forgot his notes in class and then we were discussing our project. We still haven’t made a choice yet and we need to get started on the plot and character analyses.” The partial lie flowed smoothly from her lips.

“His notes?” Jeremy looked skeptically at the notebook. I tried not to smirk. We all knew I didn’t take notes.

“Mmhmm,” she replied, almost convincingly and then shoved the notebook at me. I had no choice but to take it.

“Right, thanks for bringing me my notes, Shae. I’m sure you’re right and
Pride and Prejudice
won’t be nearly as boring as I think. See you both in gym class.” I winked at Shae and gave Jeremy the one-finger salute before leaving the two of them standing there.

“Shae? Since when do you go by Shae?” Golden Boy asked her. I didn’t hear her response and didn’t care.