Jaded (11 page)

As I moved down the hallway to unlock the front door, I found a note that had been stuffed underneath the door. I opened it and read:

Whores get stoned to death. Are you the stone or whore? Or maybe you’re death.

I laughed and crumpled it up. After a quick toss to the garbage, I pulled out a frozen pizza and warmed the oven. It took two minutes for the oven’s pre-warm up bell to ring and as I slid the pizza in, my front door opened. Bryce and Corrigan were both laughing as they made their way inside.

“Grab the beer from my trunk,” I shouted over their laughing.

Corrigan hollered, “Will do.”

Logan was the first to appear around the corner. She was hesitant, but seemed to relax when she saw an easy grin on my face. I still hadn’t formally met the girl, but I was determined to be in a gracious mood. There was no bitchery allowed when it was beer and pizza night.

I crossed my feet as I leaned against the corner and stared at her.

She changed her expression back to caution and edged, hesitantly, onto one of the stools.

Neither of us said a thing.

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Logan stared at anything except me. Her hands also seemed to fight with each other. She’d hold them still, then they’d start trembling, and she’d jerk only to start it all over again.

When I heard footsteps jog down the stairs, I smiled to myself at her predicament.

She’s with a guy, one of the most popular, and thinking she’s his new girlfriend. She’s in his other best friend’s house, who’s a girl, who’s known to get her jollies by taunting girls just like her. What to do?

Predicament.

A moment later, Bryce and Corrigan both walked in with a case in their arms.

Awkward silence time was done…for now.

I raised an eyebrow and murmured, “You could only handle one case?” I said it in disdain.

Corrigan wasn’t affected and grinned cockily. He jumped onto the counter right in front of Logan and shot back, “I’m just conserving my energy for more pleasurable activities.”

He ran a hand down the side of Logan’s face and lingered at her lips.

Logan flushed, but didn’t move her head back. She even relaxed her lips and

Corrigan slipped his finger inside where, after a moment’s hesitation, she sucked it. Her eyes looked somewhere else. Not at Corrigan, Bryce, or myself.

Bryce whistled in appreciation and asked, “Why don’t you do that for me?” He held up his hand.

I punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” He cradled his arm, but smiled endearingly at me.

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Corrigan sniffed the air and asked, “Please tell me that I’m smelling pizza?”

“You are.” I knew my eyes were frosty as I watched Logan take two of Corrigan’s fingers into her mouth.

“Hey,” Corrigan suddenly said as he noticed something in the front hallway.

“You have a voice message on your machine.” He looked at me, confused, “Since when do you use your machine?”

I’d been distracted with creepy notes. I hadn’t noticed.

“When was the last time someone even called your landline?” Bryce asked.

Corrigan jumped off the counter and hit the play button.

A second later, I stiffened when I heard my mother’s voice echo around the

house’s hallway and kitchen.

“Hello, dear. This is your mother. I am calling because your father and I are getting a divorce. I won’t be returning home for Thanksgiving and I have no idea what your father is planning over the holiday. I’ll be in touch with my new number. Love you, honey. Hope you stay out of trouble.”

The air was thick in silence when the machine clicked it’s end.

All three watched me, but I was paralyzed.

Finally, I choked out, “God.”

Corrigan reached inside one of the beer cases and offered a bottle. Bryce took it, opened it, and moved it into my numb fingers.

I downed it.

Another beer came along and I downed that one.

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A third proceeded the same until I spit it out and threw the bottle across the kitchen.

The buzzer rang on the oven, but I ignored it and walked upstairs. I passed my bed, headed straight for the bathroom, dropped my clothes, and stepped into my shower. I turned it to a scalding temperature and stood there, with my head hung downwards. After awhile, I slid down and wrapped my arms around my legs, hugging them to my chest.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, but I stayed when I felt the first chill. I didn’t move until my entire body trembled from the cold. And I wasn’t too surprised to see that Bryce had taken root on my toilet seat when I climbed out. I wrapped a towel around my body and moved into my bedroom. After I closed the door, I just crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me.

Bryce stood beside the bed. He watched me.

After awhile he slid to sit on the floor beside my bed. He didn’t watch me, but just stayed there.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t do anything.

“Do you want a beer?” Bryce asked sometime later.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He stood up and returned a little later with four beers. He uncapped two and handed one to me. I sat up and downed it. I passed him the empty bottle as he held out the second. The third and fourth went down the same way.

After the fourth, I looked up and asked, “Is this a wrong coping mechanism?”

Bryce flashed a grin and my heart beat.

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He leaned down and whispered, just before he touched his lips to mine, “Coping is coping, baby. Either way, you get through it.”

I captured his lips in mine and found myself in his arms. I had one knee firmly between his legs on the bed and raised my body so I was kneeling above him.

“I don’t want her in this house.”

Bryce nodded and left. I heard the front door shut a few minutes later. With a tentative knock at my door, Corrigan called from the hallway, “Can I come in for a minute?”

I didn’t answer and the door was pushed open.

I had laid back down, still wrapped in my towel, but I knew my face was void of emotion.

Corrigan’s eyes skipped over the empty beer bottles.

“Hey,” he murmured and moved to sit beside me. His hand came out to smooth

down my hair, but I shoved it away.

“Sorry,” Corrigan breathed, ruefully. He took a deep breath and commented,

“So…drunk orgy is the way to go?”

Drunk orgy was the way to go.

He nodded and patted my shoulder. As he moved to the door he stopped short

said, “If you want to go hustling, give me a call.”

“I will,” I murmured, hoarsely.

Corrigan threw me a tender smile and moved through the door.

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I laid there and heard a murmur of voices from the front hallway. A second later, the door shut again. Another minute and Bryce appeared in the doorway. He had the case of beer underneath his arm.

A grin slipped past my lips at the image of him.

He grinned back and moved to sit on the side of the bed.

After setting the case on the floor, he asked, “You want another one?”

“Yes.” I sat up and leaned against the headboard.

Bryce took two out. He handed one to me and downed his own.

I didn’t down this one, but took some sips as I watched him stand up and empty his pockets. He placed his phone on the nightstand and then pulled his shirt over his head.

He grabbed a handful of condoms and placed them on the nightstand before he sat back on the bed.

He met my gaze.

I took another sip and asked, “Do you think I’m a whore?”

He frowned, but asked, “How many guys have you slept with?”

“Three.” I didn’t hesitate.

“No,” he answered and I knew it was the truth. He had thought about it.

I murmured, “Brian Kincaid. He was my first.”

“Our first time was the end of freshman year.”

“He was before that, long before that. He was my first boyfriend and I thought…I thought it was what I was supposed to do.”

Bryce took a drink from another beer and rubbed a hand over my leg. It wasn’t meant to be seductive, but soothing. Comfort.

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“Nah,” he murmured. “Girls don’t have to do anything they don’t want to do.”

“I know that now.” I hadn’t then. I took a deep breath and finished my—I hadn’t been counting—. Bryce took it out of my still numb fingers and placed it in the case.

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said quietly and laid back down.

“Yep.” Bryce nodded. “We became really good friends in…?”

“When we were ten.”

“That’s right. And in seventh grade, you kissed me.”

“You kissed me.”

“No.” He shook his head and moved to lay beside me. He flipped on his stomach and threw one arm over my waist. His head rested on my shoulder and he gazed up at me.

“Yes. I remember because it was during recess.”

“No.” Bryce smiled at me, a beautiful sight. He inched closer. “It was during lunch, but you kissed me because you wouldn’t let me go and play football with the rest of the guys. I wasn’t happy with you at all. Why would I kiss you if I wanted to play football?”

I noted, “You’re supposed to always say that you were the one who kissed me.

That’s what a gentleman does.”

Bryce laughed a full laugh and teased, “You admit that I’m right? You kissed me.”

I poked him in the arm. “You’re supposed to be a gentleman and say that you

kissed me first.”

Bryce studied me and then said softly, “You’re right. I kissed you first.”

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“I know. That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.” I flashed him a blinding smile.

Then I remembered my mom’s call and the smile vanished.

Bryce lifted his head, cupped my cheek and kissed me softly. It was the softest kiss I’d ever gotten. I think my heart stopped and then it slammed back into me. And it didn’t take long before I straddled him. My towel was shoved off as Bryce lifted up, his mouth still fused with mine. I worked hungrily at his pants. When I managed to get the zipper down, Bryce lifted me up and kicked his pants down with his feet and legs.

When he would’ve rolled me over, I pushed down on his shoulders and tightened my thighs.

Bryce fell back and I slowly nipped at his mouth, his bottom lip, his chin. I slid my mouth down his neck and lingered over his chest.

He groaned, but held still for me. I needed to ravage him.

I inched backwards until my mouth lingered at his trim waist.

I swooped down and I grinned when I heard his sudden intake of breath. His legs convulsed and his back arched slightly.

He swore and I pressed on. Later, when I heard his gasp, I finished it off and licked my way back to his mouth.

Bryce groaned and flipped me over. With a condom already in hand, he sheathed himself and slammed inside.

This time, I was the one who collapsed against the pillow, wrapped my legs

around him, and hung on.

It was hot, savage, and I melted as I curled onto my side.

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Bryce padded barefoot into the bathroom. After a quick shower, he dressed, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Where are you going?” I asked, the bedcovers wrapped around my naked body.

“I’m going to run home and get some clothes. I’ll be back.”

“Take one of my keys. You can let yourself back in then.”

He pressed another kiss to my forehead and lips before he grabbed one of the sets and darted down the stairs.

I got up, showered, and dressed in a jogging suit. I wasn’t planning on jogging, but it looked cute and it was comfortable. Plus, I’d gotten a little drunk from the beer.

Sex with Bryce had helped, but it always helped no matter the circumstances.

Bryce had already placed all the empty bottles in the case, so I took it downstairs and placed it beside the other. The pizza was still left, untouched, on the stove. I wrapped it up and put it away in the fridge as leftovers.

And then I took a deep breath and took my cell phone onto the patio that extended off of my parents’ bedroom. As I curled on one of the patio loungers, I dialed my father’s phone number.

“Hello?” he asked, slightly confused. My father always seemed to be confused.

“Hey, dad,” I said quietly and wished I had grabbed a blanket.

“Oh, sweetie. How are you?” He even sounded cheerful.

“Mom called. She left a message.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, sweetie.” He didn’t sound it. He still sounded cheerful.

“What

happened?”

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“You don’t need to bother with those details. What’s important is that your

mother and I are making the best choice for all parties.”

“Where’s

Mom?”

“I think she may be in Paris, but who knows with your mother. She could be in Japan, for all I know.”

“Are

you

coming

home?”

There was a slight pause before he said, unapologetically, “Oh dear. I’m sorry. I can’t bring myself to come home. The memories, you know, sweetie.”

Again. I didn’t know. I hadn’t even known there were problems.

“I haven’t heard from you in three months and the first I hear anything—it’s a voice message saying that you’re getting a divorce?”

“Oh honey. That’s not fair. You could’ve called too, you know. Communication is a two-way street.”

“In marriages,” I said, surprisingly unemotional. “Not when it comes to parents and their children. I haven’t seen you guys for five months.”

“We’ve been over this before. Your mother and I wished to spend time in Italy.

Your mother wanted to reconnect with her family roots—”

I couldn’t believe—I stared at the phone. I could still hear my father, but I slowly, ever so slowly, closed my phone.

My father’s voice was no longer and I was left without even a dial tone.

I took a deep breath before I stood and moved back inside. I wrapped a blanket around me and moved back into my father’s study. I slid one of the bookcases aside and Tijan Jaded