Long After (Sometimes Never) (3 page)

4

Hands Open

Chase

I’m dumbfounded for several seconds, my brain trying to put together what the hell just happened. I close my eyes against the harshness of the overhead lights as they flicker on. And then the pain sets in.

I let out a long breath, groaning as I open one eye. “What the hell?”

“You all right, man?” Guy asks, offering me his hand. I take it and let him pull me up. Annie’s standing perfectly still, her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

“What the fuck just happened?” Park asks as he storms around the corner. He pauses, his gaze shifting from me, to the broken table on the floor, and then to
Guy. “What the fuck happened?” he repeats.

Guy and I both look at Annie and she drops her hands. “
It was his fault,” she insists.

I raise my eyebrows and my jaw works as I grind my teeth. “How about, ‘I’m sorry, Chase’? Or maybe, ‘Are you okay, Chase?’ Anything?”

She straightens her back and crosses her arms defensively. “You were touching me.”

I shake
my head and throw my arms out at my sides. “It’s Hide and Seek in the dark. I can’t see. I have to touch.”

“You were about to touch things you have no right to touch,” she hisses. Park chuckles and I glare at him for a second before turning back to Annie.

“Trust me, you have nothing I’m interested in.”

Not true. She has plenty I’m interested in, but if she ever knew that, she’d use it against me every chance she got.
Not to mention, Guy would probably kick my ass.

Annie’s cheeks blush pink.
She glances away, focusing on the wall. “I didn’t mean to push you. I was just trying to stop you before your hands got too high.”

I’m not pissed off because she pushed me. I
was
about to feel her up—not because I’m some asshole pervert…okay, maybe I
am
a pervert—what guy isn’t?—but in this case, I did that because I was confused as to who the hell was in the room. It was a gut reaction on her part. But: “When most people do something they didn’t mean to do, they still apologize.”

She looks at me, confusion crinkling her brows. “I did.”

I lick my lips slowly as I take a long breath through my nose. And then I release it on a dry laugh. “No, you didn’t.” God she is frustrating.

Guy picks glass off my shoulder
and examines it. “I always hated this table.”

“Clean that shit up,” Park says before retreating back to his room.

“You guys should’ve moved the table before you started the game,” Annie says suddenly. She’s searching for any possible way to cast blame on somebody other than herself, which drives me insane, but she’s right. We should’ve moved it. Still doesn’t take away from the fact that she can’t just tell me she’s sorry.

“Why are you here?”

Annie’s body tenses in response to my question, her face flaming. “Gretchen wanted the room. I need a place to stay tonight.”

She’s embarrassed, but I’m not sure why.
The way she can’t look at me or Guy makes me feel like shit. And now I’m wondering how I ended up feeling like an ass when she’s the one that pushed
me
into a table.

“She can have my bed,” Park says as he glides past us. “I don’t plan on coming home tonight.” He slams the door after him and Annie sighs. She picks up her bag and starts for the room Guy shares with Park.

“Where are you going?” I ask incredulously.

“To study?”

I open the closet door and pull out the broom and dust pan, holding it out to her. “I didn’t break it by myself. I’m not cleaning it by myself.”

Letting her bag fall from her shoulder, she yanks the broom from my hand. “Fine.”

“Fine,” I repeat.

Guy brushes the hair out of his eyes and settles onto the couch. He lifts his feet to rest them on the t
able that is no longer there and then drops them quickly with a chuckle.

~*~

The co-ed building is setup with three bedrooms, one common area, and one bathroom to a dorm room. Though the building is co-ed, the dorm rooms themselves are not, but nobody ever cares when a girl stays. Nobody except my roommate, Pauly.

I waited too long to make the college decision. By the time I made up my mind to enroll, Guy and Park had already requested to room with each other. Even though we all ended
up in the same dorm room, I got stuck with Pauly for a roommate.

You kno
w those super annoying, know-it-all types? Those guys that look down on everybody that’s different from them for no other reason than they’re different from them?

That’s Pauly.

I think it’s a pretty accurate assumption that he hates everybody. Like all people. All the time.

As soon as he co
mes home and lays eyes on Annie in her pajama pants, studying on the couch, I know he’s going to start shit. In a preemptive attempt to keep the peace, I try to distract him by being nice.

“Hey, Pa
uly, how’s it going, man?”

“Don’t call me Pauly.” He looks from Annie to me, as he lifts his hand to toss his keys on the table that isn’t there. It’s going to take some getting used to.

“Where’s the table?”

“Yeah, uh, it broke.”

“Did you let the RA know?”

Did I also mention that Pauly likes rules? In fact, he likes rules so much, he follows them. All of them. Even the stupid ones. Whereas I don’t give a shit about rules, per se.

It must be hell for Pauly to room with me.

“I’m right on top of that, chief.” I salute him with two fingers and Annie makes a garbled noise beside me, regaining Pauly’s attention. I’m not sure, but I think she may have laughed. Or tried not to. Either way, it doesn’t matter because now he’s not only reminded of her presence, but pissed she was laughing (or trying not to laugh) at his expense.

Well, I tried
to keep peace—poorly, I’ll admit—but I did try.

“It’
s after midnight,” he announces. “Your friend can’t stay.”

“Who?” I ask. “Her?” I point at Annie
. “She ain’t
my
friend.” I see Annie squirm out of the corner of my eye. I don’t know if it’s because I claim she’s not my friend or if it’s from my use of “ain’t.”

Pauly looks at Guy expectantly. “What? She’s not my friend, either,” he says.

“I have no idea why you guys are both such assholes to me,” Annie states.

“Technically,” Guy begins, “you’re not my friend. You’re my step-sister.”

I laugh and Annie kicks my leg. “Just because I’m your step-sister—”

“Evil step-sister.”

She glares at me before continuing. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“I think it’s more that you’re a bitch than the whole step-siblings thing,” I say with a grin.

Pauly’s head swings back and forth, trying to follow our dumbass conversation.

“
Maybe I wouldn’t need to be such a bitch if you were nicer to me,” Annie states slowly.

“Maybe we’d be nicer to you if you weren’t such a bitch,” I retort. “Break the cycle, Annie.”

“I want to break your neck right now,
Chase.
”

“You couldn’t break an insect
’s neck.”

“What’s happening?” Pauly asks.

“I could break an insect’s neck and shove it up your ass.”

“You want to shove things up my ass?” I wiggle my brows. “I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

“There’s plenty you don’t know about me,” Annie says coolly.

“Thank God for small favors,” I reply.

“Speaking of small favors…” Her eyes flick down to my pants, then back up to my face.

And then I lose because I laugh. But it’s not a total loss since Pauly gave up and retreated to our room at the
first mention of the word kinky.

“You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy or I’d show you just how un-small my favor is.”

“Nice, my ass,” Annie snorts.

“What about your nice ass?”

“You’re getting on my nerves,” Guy sighs. “I’m going to bed.”

“He means you,” I whisper, wiggling
my finger in front of her face. She smacks my hand away. I flip my wrist, showing her my middle finger.

“It’s your finger, you fuck it.
”

“I’m not that hard up.”

She smirks as her eyes rake over me. “Your impotence issues are no concern of mine.” She gets up, trailing after Guy and my eyes follow, hypnotized by the swing of her hips.

Damn.

Not only did Annie get the last word, but she bested me on insults. Sans water boarding, I’d never willingly say this aloud, but I actually like Annie’s bitchy attitude. When I get her angry, that’s when she’s the most fun.

5

The Descent

Annie

Something most people don’t know about me is I have a mild form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Self-diagnosed.

Everything has a place. Organization is key. If you can’t keep your belongings in order, then how can you manage your life?
Seriously think about that for a moment. Chaos breeds chaos.

There is a wrong way to do a task, and then there’s a right way—
my way
. And it bothers me when people don’t perform a task in the way I would.
Bother
may not be the correct word, either. It’s like watching someone purposely walk into a burning building for absolutely no reason. My heart races and I get slightly panicky. I want to stop them. Help them. Save them. And when they ignore my offered corrective criticism, it gets worse. In which case it usually ends with me acting in such a way that I get called a bitch.

I try not to think to
o hard about this as I make the bed. I had the worst time sleeping last night. It may have been the fact I was in Park’s bed, and not that I’m judging, but the boy has turned into a man-whore since school started. Or maybe my sleepless night had more to do with sleeping across from my snoring step-brother. Either way, I stepped off the cranky side of my borrowed bed this morning.

Picking up my bag, I slip out the door, careful not to wake Guy. I got up early partially because I couldn’t sleep anyway, but mostly so I could get into the shared bathroom befo
re the other guys in the dorm room wake up. Showering while some random guy relieves himself in the urinal across the room is something I’m not real comfortable with. And yes, I could go back to my own dorm and take a shower there, but I never let people see me without my hair and make-up being done.

I set my playlist and hop into the shower. It’s the same set of songs I listen to every morning.
I chose them purposely for the fast paced beat and easy-to-sing-along-to lyrics.

I have a playlist full of inspirational songs that I work
out to. And one that’s specifically for when I take the next step in a relationship. A good make-out playlist is a must.

I’ve just rinsed the shampoo
from my hair when my music abruptly stops mid-song. I’m habitual when it comes to charging my electronics—you never know when there might be a power outage—so I’m almost positive it had a full battery.

“How can you listen to this shit?” Chase asks, his unexpected voice startling me.

“Oh, my God. Get out,” I call as I automatically attempt to cover as much of myself as possible with only a loofah and my hands. I may be hidden behind a thick shower curtain, but I’m not taking any chances. I mean it’s a shower curtain, not a locked door.

“Hold on,” he replies with a sigh.
“I’m putting on some good tunes for you.”

“I want the music I had on.” What the hell? Why is he messing with my routine? I have a process. There are certain cleansing
and moisturizing procedures I perform for the lengths of certain songs. He’s completely throwing me off. How will I know how long I have my conditioner in my hair without Party in the U.S.A. playing?

“Your music is crap. I can hear it through the wall and it’s making me want to
insert sharp objects into my eardrums.” The screech of a guitar fills the room as music begins to play. “This is Bob Mould. Listen. Learn.”

I wait, but he doesn’t say anything else and then I hear the door open and close.

I peek around the shower curtain, my eyes trailing through the empty room.
Um
…
okay
… I glance over at the counter where my iPod was sitting. In its place is Chase’s.

He
totally just stole my iPod.

~*~

Even though I was furious with Chase, I had to take the time to put my make-up on and dry and straighten my hair. By the time I’m completely ready, most of my previous anger has faded. It helped that I actually kind of liked the music he had playing on his iPod.

Okay, I liked it a lot.

I knock on his door, preparing my argument in my head. There’s no answer, so I knock again. When I’m greeted once again with silence, I open the door slowly, peering inside.

Chase is sound asleep, his arm flung over his eyes. I pause, trying to decide what I want to do. I should go jump on him and demand my iPod back, but he looks so…

I’ll come back later. It’s not like he’s going to keep it. I have his as collateral.

I go back to my own dorm, but I just drop my stuff off and head over to the library because
, by the dark-haired guy lying in Gretchen’s bed, I’m guessing things went well for her. I hate that I envy her. I’ll never understand how things come so easy to the people that seem to never try.

I say a quick hello to Lynn, the librarian, and settle into my usual table. I like this one because it’s close to the exits in case there’s an emergency, and the windows, so the lighting is good. But it’s still far enough from both that I’m not easily distracted.

I always sit facing the doors. I like to be aware of my surroundings. It’s good to know who is coming and going.

Ella Hamilton’s a few tables away with a large cup of coffee and several books. I smile as
I recall what I told her about Chase, which she takes as an invitation to come talk to me.

Great
.

“Hey,” she says as she pulls out the chair across from me. “
Are you going to that pool thing?”

“What pool
thing?”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leans forward. “That party thing the swim team’s having on Friday.”

I vaguely recall Chase mentioning that. He’s not on the swim team because that would re
quire commitment and responsibility on his part, but he likes to swim. Somehow he managed to become buddies with the entire team. I even heard a rumor they tried to talk him into joining. And true to form, he blew it off.

I shrug. “I might stop by.”

Really I have no intentions of going. Pool parties mean swimming suits. I work my ass off to maintain my 115 pounds, which is exactly the recommended weight for my height, age, and activity level. I’m in great shape. But years of cheerleading have rewarded me with zero hips and my chest is still a lot smaller than it should be. I barely fill a B cup. I feel like a boy when I stand next to other girls in swimsuits.

“It should be fun. I love pool parties.” Ella grins and I stifle an eye roll.

Of course she loves pool parties. I’m sure Ella adores any excuse to put on a bikini and flaunt her hourglass figure in front of all the half naked boys. To girls like Ella, a swim party is like a boy smorgasbord. She can just walk up and down poolside and point her finger at whatever she wants. And get it.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Me too.”

She smiles again before returning to her table. I’ve gotten so good at lying it’s scary. People are so eager to believe you when you’re agreeing with them. This is how I made it through high school. I just followed what everybody else was saying and doing. Joined in on the gossip. Wore the right clothes. Connected myself to the right groups.

It was easy.

It was also incredibly lonely. Because at the end of the day, I didn’t have any real friends. I disliked everybody that I hung out with. Except for Guy and his friends. But we were from different social circles. And my circle didn’t associate with his. So neither did I. Not really.

After my U
ncle Donnie died in a car accident with Hope’s mom, my family started fostering Hope. When she came to live with us, everything changed. Again. She was this quiet drummer girl with ridiculously dyed hair and crazy clothes. She had a bad attitude and got bad grades. But everybody loved her.

She did everything in her power to hide herself. Make herself unappealing. But it was like, the more she tried to hide, the more people began to notice her. I was doing everything I could at that age to stand out, to be noticed by somebody. Anybody.

I hated her instantly.

She moved into my bedroom, crowding me with her obnoxious band posters and musical instruments.
And she took Guy away. Not that Guy ever really liked me, but he was
my
brother. Not once had he ever claimed me, but when Hope came around, he told everyone that would listen that she was his sister.

So I hated her more.

It was a bad time for me. Too much change at once. I was stuck in this hole that I had dug myself and all I wanted was a way out. It felt like Hope was just filling in the hole with me still in it.

It wasn’t until senior year that I finall
y started to see the real girl underneath her hard exterior. I made some mistakes and Hope was the one that stood by my side. I let my guard down and allowed her in. It had taken a long time, but I realized she pretty much felt the same way I did all my life. Where I felt like I was being buried, weighed down from pressure, Hope felt like she was drowning in it. Something changed between us, and though I’ve never been able to tell her this, she became my best friend and favorite person.

I sigh, my gaze moving through the library.

I miss her.

Pulling my cell phone out of my purse, I pull her number up, and stare at it. I think about hitting send, but she hasn’t called me once since she left. I remind myself that just because she became my best friend doesn’t mean I was ever hers.

I tuck my phone back into its spot and try to focus on studying.