Catching Raven (10 page)

My face goes from playful to serious as I prepare to tell her off.

“Hey, I bent over backwards trying to get you to come around. You
wouldn’t budge. That’s on you, not me.”

She coils her fists and steps in my lane, going from 0 to 100 real quick.
“You tried once. Once! And that was after you were out whoring around in bars
and bragging about it on Facebook the very next day. How do you think that made
me feel? What happened between us was a huge deal for me. I put myself out
there in every way possible, and you moved on to the next thing without even
blinking. It’s all part of the fun, right? The game doesn’t work if someone
doesn’t get played, and it had to be me.” 

I reach over and slam the bottle down on the counter, drawing lots of
unwanted attention. “Is that what you think? That this is all a game to me?
That I don’t have real, genuine feelings for you? That I haven’t wanted you
from day one? How many times have I pursued you over the years? You don’t need
to tell me what we have because I’ve seen it all along. And if you would’ve
waited long enough for me to explain myself instead of storming out of my
apartment like some scorned ex-girlfriend with an axe to grind, you’d know how
much I wanted to make this work.”

“Then why did you freak out when I mentioned a relationship?”

I rake my hands through my hair. “Because the thought scares me, okay?
I’m not used to commitment, and I’m afraid of losing you. Imagine my
disappointment when it took me less than five minutes to fuck everything up
once I finally had you. Do you think that’s fair to either of us? Now I’m
second-guessing what I’m capable of giving you. I should’ve read between the
lines when you told me you didn’t want to be like all the other girls, but I
didn’t want to assume anything, especially with our history. I was so fixated
on the bigger picture I missed what was happening right in front of me. I’m
sorry. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel inadequate. And for the
record, I wasn’t out in bars picking up chicks. Erase that shit from your
mind.”

Tons of curious partygoers are watching the scene play out like a bad car
accident. Pretty sure some are placing bets on my fate. They’re not the only
ones hanging on the edge of their seats. I’m anxious to see how this argument
ends, too.

She backs up, confused. “What do you mean you’re second-guessing what
you’re capable of giving me?”

Levi casually leans against the fridge, slipping into the conversation
like a hot poker ready to brand Raven. “He’s saying you aren’t worth the
hassle.” His bloodshot eyes find mine. “Told you she was a buzzkill.”

I glare at him. “Shut up.”

“Screw you, Levi,” Raven snaps.

He motions towards the door with his beer. “Y’all can leave now. I don’t
need this drama at my party. Thanks to her, there’s a new rule in effect: No
Cunts Allowed.”

Raven’s eyes grow wide with shock. The room becomes a blur. Before I can
process what’s happening, I turn and swing my arm as hard as I can until my
fist collides with Levi’s face. Sharp pain flares over my knuckles. He stumbles
sideways into the poker table, spilling all its contents. Chair legs scrape
against the tile, backing away. Half-naked players jump out of their seats,
dropping their cards and clearing a path. Something dark and sinister takes
root inside of me as I lunge for him.

“Eric! Stop!” Raven cries.

I ignore her plea and channel all my rage into tearing up Levi’s face,
unleashing years of pent-up resentment and aggression. He returns the favor,
getting a few solid hits of his own in and knocking me to the ground. Two girls
scream and flee the room.

I grab him by the collar of his tee and bring his face close to mine.
“You ever talk about her like that again, I’ll break your fuckin’ jaw,” I
threaten.

He laughs deliriously. “You ain’t shit. Never have been.”

I raise my fist to deliver another crushing blow, but someone puts a stop
to the madness and pulls me into a standing position.

“Enough!” Chase steps in front, using his body as a barrier. He puts a
hand on my chest and looks over his shoulder at Levi, then back at me. “Reel it
in before the cops get called.”

My gaze floats to Raven. She’s studying me with trepidation. Her chest is
rising and falling as rapidly as mine. I catch my breath and glance down at my
crimson-stained knuckles. A surge of heat floods my body, making the throbbing
intensify. Adrenaline must be wearing off.

Guests trickle back into the kitchen, sharing hushed conversations about
me like I’m not here. So fucking awkward. Levi stands and wipes the blood
leaking from his nose. He checks his booze and blood soaked clothes and
evaluates the damage. His furious eyes find mine. “Get the fuck out and take
your friends with you. We’re done here.”

Famous last words.

“Come on, let’s go,” Chase urges.

I reach behind for Raven’s hand and pull her into my side. The three of
us head for the door. Abruptly, Raven stops and shakes her hand free. She
scurries back into the kitchen to grab her sangria off the counter and holds it
up in front of Levi. “This is mine, asshole.”

I crack a smile through my split lip, registering the metallic taste of
blood. We dash out the door without bothering to look back.

When we reach the parking lot, Chase slows his pace and says, “I can’t
take you two anywhere, can I?”

“Apparently not,” Raven mutters. “Thanks for showing up when you did. You
saved Eric from getting arrested.”

“Aw, were you worried about me?” I nudge her teasingly.

“Not really. I just don’t want you to be immortalized in an orange
jumpsuit. Mug shots last forever. The color doesn’t suit your complexion.”

“I’d be more concerned about him dropping the soap,” Chase argues.

I groan. “My face aches. How bad is the damage?”

“Not as bad as Levi’s.”

“I can’t believe you hit him. What were you thinking?” Raven chides.

“You said you wanted to be out of there early. Sacrifices had to be made.”

She pushes my shoulders.

“Easy, woman. I’m wounded.”

Chase turns his head. “Seriously, though. What happened in there?”

“He called Raven a C U Next Tuesday.”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Yeah,” Raven scoffs. “Threw me for a loop.”

“What a dick. He deserved every punch.”

“Guys, where are we going?” Raven asks.

We all stop and give each other blank stares.

“My place?” I suggest. “There’s beer.”

“Works for me,” Chase says, whipping out his phone. “Let me text these
girls I contacted earlier and tell them the party’s off.”

I look over to gauge Raven’s mood. “What about you?”

She shrugs. “Count me in, I guess.”

She’s down to hang. A promising sign. Does this mean things will go back
to normal? Because I firmly believe defending her honor and getting my face
bashed in deserves across-the-board forgiveness. Regardless, this is the first
time she’s going to set foot in my apartment since last Thursday. I’m hoping
that won’t interrupt the healing process.

If this complicated mess has taught me anything, it’s that I’m not willing
to risk the friendship a second time. It doesn’t change the way I feel about
her, but I need her in my life. She’s too valuable. If that means I’m the guy
she cries to instead of for, then so be it. I’ll be the demoted, non-gay bestie
with a comfortable shoulder, an ear primed for bitch fits, a freezer stocked
with Ben & Jerry’s, and ’round the clock blue balls. Serves me right for
trying to fix something that wasn’t broken in the first place.

r     a     v     e    
n

I’m struggling to keep up with all
the insanity. Eric torpedoes through life at a ridiculously high speed, racing
through every moment like a shooting star in the night sky. Just when you think
you’ve caught a glimpse and zoom in, he’s moved on to the next thing. The only
traces left behind are his spasmodic paintings. Me? I can’t move that fast. My
four-inch heels won’t allow it. I like to hang back and window-shop my way
through life, absorbing all there is to see. Whirlwind events are about as
common in my world as a fashion faux pas.

Despite all the chaos, Eric keeps dusting himself off and blasting
forward with no real set goal or plan. That fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants
mentality comes in handy for nights like this when it all gets to be too
overwhelming. He doesn’t even have to stop and think about it. Unfortunately,
that’s not a quality I possess.

Another quality I don’t possess: the ability to sweep things under the
rug and pretend like nothing ever happened. Eric may be over our little spat
and his blowout fight with Levi, but I’m not. No matter how hard I try to shed
the memories, they won’t die. Violent images and bittersweet words are
permanently seared into my skull.

“Hold still,” I tell him.

He winces under the ice pack.

“Shit, that’s cold.”

“It’ll help with the swelling.”

“You know what else helps? Having my own personal nurse.”

“You hear that, Chase?” I holler. “Eric wants you to dress up and play
nurse.”

Eric pinches my inner thigh, making me jerk.

Chase emerges from the bathroom and heads for the fridge. “Wouldn’t doubt
it.”

Eric perks up. “Hey, grab me another beer while you’re at it, will ya?
The alcohol’s dulling the pain.”

Chase obliges.

Eric pops the cap, tosses his head back, and drains half the bottle. I’m
momentarily dazed by the way his throat moves when he drinks, his lips pressed
firmly to the rim of the glass. Recollections of how good those lips tasted and
felt when they were moving with mine come rushing back.

Stop picturing these things.

Chase sits down next to me on the coffee table and inspects the corners.
“Where did you get this thing?”

“Goodwill,” Eric answers.

“That explains a lot. These corners are chipped to hell.”

Chase makes a living as a carpenter for his dad’s company. He’s extremely
picky when it comes to furniture. It’s borderline obnoxious, actually.

“Screw you,” Eric says. “Not all of us come from money or get paid what
we’re worth. I work hard for the shitty things I have, thank you very much.”

Chase holds up his hands. “No judgment. Just stating the obvious. I can
refurbish everything if you want me to.”

“And how much is that gonna cost me?”

He laughs and leans forward. “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll fix the coffee
table for free in exchange for a new side piece. I’ll choose a girl from your
contacts list, and you introduce me to her at your next party.”

“There’s no shortage of females in your phone. Call up one of them.”

“I want someone new. Don’t get it twisted, though. She’s gotta be single
and platonic where you’re concerned. I’m not looking to turn our bromance into
an eskimo brothers thing. You’ve got plenty of female friends. I don’t.” He
turns to look at me. “Other than you, of course.”

“Nice save,” I tease.

He gently bumps his shoulder into mine and refocuses his attention on
Eric. “Start scrolling.”

“If I introduce you to a homegirl, you keep it one hundred with her. Make
it abundantly clear what you’re looking for. I don’t need any extra drama
between friends. And no going back on your word if she’s not into you, either.
You get one shot, and one shot only.”

“Duly noted.”

Is this really what these guys do during their spare time?

Eric blows out an exasperated breath and raises his hips to retrieve his
phone from his back pocket. He swipes the screen and sifts through his
contacts, showing Chase profile photos of the girls for feedback.

“Next,” Chase dismisses.

“What about her?”

“Pass.”

Eric’s list of female contacts is endless. I knew it was extensive, but
this is absurd. My grip on the ice pack tightens infinitesimally. Thinking
about him with other girls brings out my jealous streak. I don’t want him to
suspect anything, so I play it cool and keep my emotions bottled.

“Whoa, hold up. Who’s she?”

Eric looks at the screen. “Mia Foster.”

“She’s cute.”

Before I can squash Chase’s intrigue, Eric beats me to the punch. “She’s
a no-go, dude. She only lives here for the summer.”

“Even better.”

“Absolutely not,” I interject. “She isn’t just Eric’s friend, she’s mine.
Besides, she doesn’t do casual hookups. Pick someone else.”

It’s nothing against Chase, but I don’t want him using Mia. She’s got
enough problems to deal with back home. This is the one time during the year
she can let loose. She doesn’t need boy problems spoiling her fun.

“Cockblockers,” Chase mutters.

The slideshow continues. Somewhere in the middle, my arm begs for a
break. I get up and walk over to the kitchen and drain the loose water from the
bottom of the Ziploc bag. I open the freezer up and fill it with more ice, then
rewrap it in a hand towel and return to my spot on the coffee table just in
time for them to finish up their stupid little wager.

Chase’s phone buzzes. He glances down to read the text.

“Uh...change of plans, guys. Gotta bounce.”

I turn my head. “Are you serious? You’re ditching us?”

“Afraid so.”

He stands and finishes his beer. This has to be a booty call. He wouldn’t
be in such a hurry for any other reason. I’m surprised, but I can’t say I’m
disappointed. Ultimately, this works out in my favor. Eric and I need to have a
conversation and figure out how to resolve our issues without Chase lurking
around.

“Thanks for saving my ass tonight,” Eric tells him.

“Sure thing. I’ll text you tomorrow,” Chase replies, setting the empty
bottle on the kitchen counter. “Raven, always a pleasure.”

“See ya later. Thanks again for all your help,” I respond.

“Anytime.”

As soon as the door closes, Eric’s sharp blue eyes find mine. Uncertainty
and silence fill the empty space between us. It’s sobering. All it does is
remind me how fractured we really are. I’m emotionally exhausted, and we haven’t
even cracked the surface of our issues yet.

With all the extra time I’ve had to think over the last few days, I’ve
realized something important. No matter how much Eric thinks he’s ready for a
relationship, he’s not. Pursuing me is one thing, committing to me is another.
He wants sex and companionship without the burden of intimacy. That’s a deal
breaker. I’m not willing to compromise and beg for scraps. I meant it when I
said I wanted a real, honest friendship over a phony relationship. His lack of
effort and fleeting affection can go to someone else. As much as it kills me to
imagine that possibility, the alternative is worse.

Question is, what comes next?

Before I can verbalize the thought, he rests his hand on my upper thigh,
distracting me. A jolt of heat shoots up my leg and settles on my sweet spot. I
blink, trying to concentrate on icing his wounds. His fingertips lightly dance
over my skin, stirring a rush of excitement inside me. No other guy has ever
made me feel this way. It’s fantasy-shrouding insanity. If that’s what’s in
store for me, sign me up for a straightjacket. As long as it’s custom-made with
Italian leather, I’m in.

My body is charged, humming with desire, acutely aware of everything
that’s happening. His fingers glide higher. Before I lose any and all common
sense, I slap his hand away and deny him access.

“Ah! You’re adding to my injuries.”

“If you’d learn to keep your hands to yourself, you wouldn’t have any
injuries.”

He grins proudly. “I did it all for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

His smile falters. He runs both hands through his hair, visibly
aggravated. “I can’t win with you, can I?”

I rest the ice pack on my lap and assess his wounds. The bleeding has
stopped but the swelling looks the same. “I appreciate you sticking up for me—really,
I do—but you shouldn’t have hit him. That’s taking it too far. I’m perfectly
capable of defending myself. You don’t need to jump in and manhandle the
situation like Mike Tyson. What if the cops had shown up? What if Levi presses
charges? Or worse yet, what if you’d ended up in the hospital? You could’ve
been seriously hurt because of me.”

“No, not because of you. Because of Levi and his big mouth. He was out of
line, so I put him back in his place. End of story. I stand by my actions. The
price I paid was worth it—all of it. Even losing him as a friend. I’m not
saying it wasn’t a reckless thing to do, but it sure as hell wasn’t pointless.”

“Eric, I don’t want to be the reason why you get hurt or wind up in these
scenarios. If I hadn’t been there tonight, none of this would’ve happened. I
should’ve followed my instincts and stayed home.”

“None of this is your fault. Quit making it about you. He’s the one who
made the comment and I’m the one who lost it and retaliated. Big deal. Shit
happens. No use in blaming yourself or analyzing it to death. It’ll drive you
crazy until you deflect or self-destruct. Those are my traits. Capiche? Don’t
go stealing them. You’re the dramatic one, I’m the impulsive one. That’s how
this works. It’s way too late in the game for switching.”

I suppress a smile and drop my gaze. I stare impassively at the ice pack
in my lap. When I lift my head again, my expression is replaced with sympathy.
“I’m sorry you lost a friend tonight.”

His eyes soften. “It is what it is. It’s not like I didn’t see it
coming.”

Knowing that information doesn’t make me feel any better. As much as I
couldn’t stand Levi, I didn’t want Eric to lose another person in his life.
He’s already had enough people skip out on him. How does someone who’s been
through so much abandonment learn to trust? No wonder he’s afraid of getting
attached. And who can blame him? None of us want to be damaged goods. I may be
willing to put myself out there, but it doesn’t make it any less scary. That’s
what life’s all about—taking chances and sharing your journey with people who
enhance you. Forget about wanting someone to complete you. That's overrated.
You need to be able to stand on your own as a strong individual. Someone should
always add to who you are, not make you who you are.

Speaking of standing on your own...

“What did you mean earlier when you said you aren’t sure what you’re
capable of giving me anymore?”

A few beats of silence pass. He leans forward and exhales a breath so
heavy my hair sways. All signs are pointing to another major letdown. As if my
heart could take another trampling.

Sayonara remission.

“You have no idea how much I want us to be together, but I can’t give you
what you want. That’s already been proven. You need full disclosure about my
past, and I’m not willing to give it. We each have certain expectations for
what we want out of a relationship. Problem is, they're not matching up.
Thursday night was a wake up call. I’ve never seen you get so angry to the
point where we're not communicating. It made me realize I’m not willing to
jeopardize the friendship again. If the stakes weren’t so high, I would’ve had
you a long time ago, so don’t mistake anything I’m saying for regret. I
wouldn’t take back a single moment with us, even in hindsight. You’re my girl.
Always have been. Always will be. But please understand I can’t afford to lose
you.”

It’s taking every ounce of courage I have not to break down and cry. I
feel like he just poured a bucket of acid over my heart and he’s watching it
slowly corrode away when he’s the one who should be protecting it. In all our
years of playing catch and release, he’s never been the one to reject me. How
did he survive this repeatedly? It feels like my entire world is collapsing.
Deep down I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make this any less painful. “Are
you breaking up with me?” I half joke. “Cause it sure sounds like a breakup,
and we’re not even dating.”

He grabs my chin and uses his thumb to caress the side of my cheek. I
can’t tell if the gesture makes everything hurt more, or less. I’m just trying
to get through this conversation in one piece. “I blame your age.”

“Why?”

“Because if you weren’t so young when I first met you, and you hadn’t
made yourself indispensable, this probably would have worked out.”

This probably would have worked out...
meaning it’s never going to? I know
the timing isn’t right, but he’s making it seem like we don’t ever stand a
chance. He’s setting us up for failure before we even get out of the starting
blocks.