Sweet Ride (8 page)

I went into the
adjoining bathroom and located a towel and cleaned up between my
legs. Once I returned to the bedroom, I found my clothes in a pile on
the floor and redressed, opened the door, and walked quickly out in
the hallway and down the stairs. When I made it to the foyer to head
out the front door, I heard Jarod as he bragged to the rest of his
teammates as they listened intently with wide grins on their faces,
“You should’ve seen her up there. She was so fucking hot for the
three of us that …” I couldn’t stand to hear the lies that
spewed from his mouth and ran out the door before I could hear him
finish what he was saying.

I pulled my cell
phone out of my pocket and called a cab to pick me up at a gas
station that was just up the road from Krissy’s. As I waited, I
wondered how in the hell was I going to keep this from everyone,
especially Ella. She’d know something happened to me.

The cab finally
showed up after twenty minutes, and I got in. By that time my skin
was absolutely crawling. I felt so filthy and couldn’t wait to get
home to take a very long, hot shower to wash them off me. Oh God, I
was going to be sick again. “Stop the cab!” I shouted out to the
cab driver and covered my mouth with my hand. He stopped immediately,
and I opened the door and threw up again. I wiped my mouth with the
back of my hand, closed the car door, and sat back on the cheap vinyl
seats in the cab as he continued the drive toward my house.

Once the cab pulled
up to my house, I gave him a twenty and told him to keep the change.
I jumped out and ran inside. Thankfully, everyone was already gone to
bed. I went directly upstairs to my bedroom, stripped off my clothes,
and went to my bathroom. I turned the water on as hot as my skin
could stand and stepped in. I scrubbed and scoured my body until my
skin was raw, but I still couldn’t get clean. I wiped the washcloth
between my legs and winced when I felt the stinging pain. When I
removed the cloth I could see blood staining it. Even though I washed
myself over and over again, I could still feel them leaking from
between my legs. My body crumpled on the floor of the shower, I
brought my knees up and hugged them to my chest and finally broke
down, sobbing into my legs to muffle the sounds. I kept crying until
the water turned icy cold, and I got out.

When I stopped in
front of the mirror, I saw large purple bruises in the shape of a
hand, around my throat. Holy shit, how was I going to hide that? I’d
have to worry about that tomorrow morning. I walked back into my
bedroom and threw on a pair of flannel pajamas. I then grabbed my
clothes that I stripped off earlier, walked downstairs, and put them
in the trashcan. I emptied the trashcan and replaced the bag with a
new one and put the old bag outside. I couldn’t let anyone see my
clothes in the trash because they’d ask me why, and I wouldn’t be
able to give them answers. Before I left the kitchen, I poured myself
a glass of water and downed a couple of ibuprofen to ease the
throbbing in my head and between my legs.

I climbed the stairs
again and went into my bedroom to lay down on my bed. My head
pounded, and my stomach rolled. It felt like I was hung over, but I
knew I only drank two beers at the party, and that was well over two
hours ago. I knew it wasn’t because I was drunk. Obviously, that
cocksucking motherfucker had put something into my drink, and these
were the side effects. I started crying into my pillow so no one
would hear me and eventually cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, I
woke up, and got another extra hot shower. The bruises around my neck
were even more pronounced this morning. After I got dressed I went to
my dresser and found the really pretty cream-colored silk scarf Ella
gave me for Christmas last year. I tied it loosely around my sore
neck and inspected myself in the mirror. Yep, bruises were completely
covered. Now I just had to figure out how to act normal when I got
downstairs and saw my family.

When I entered the
kitchen, Evan, Ella, Mom, and my stepfather were all sitting at the
table. I thought about going back upstairs and locking myself in my
room and never coming out again, but they’d know something was up
then. As I looked at my sister and my other ‘sister,’ Ozzy’s
threats echoed in my head. There’s no way I could ever let anything
like that happen to them; they’re too good. I fought back the tears
that threatened to spill, plastered on a fake smile, and walked
toward my family.

“
What up family?”
I asked, cheerfully.

“
Well someone’s
in a good mood this morning,” Ella said and winked at me. She
leaned over and whispered, “Did you hook up with Jarod last night?”

“
Yep,” I
answered and winked right back at her, but secretly cringed inside.

“
Someone was out
late last night,” my stepfather said as he studied me over the top
of his newspaper.

“
Time flies when
you’re having fun, Daddy-o,” I told him. I jumped up and gave him
a kiss on the cheek then walked over to get a glass of orange juice.
While I had my head buried in the fridge I fought back the tears that
formed, but a couple escaped. I wiped my eyes in my sleeve, and I
made my way back to the kitchen table and sat down again.

“
What’s with the
scarf?” Evan asked next to me, as she scrunched up her cute little
freckled nose.

“
I got a couple of
hickeys and needed to cover them up,” I answered.

My mother gasped,
“Payton!”

“
Oh, lighten up,
Mom. Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten a hickey before.” My
mother laughed at my remark and continued to sip at her coffee.

“
What’s a
hickey?” Evan inquired. I explained it to her. “Ewwww, gross! I’m
never letting a boy do that to me,” she whined.

“
You say that now
because you’re only thirteen, but just you wait, Evan. You’re
beautiful, and in a couple of years you’re going to be absolutely
boy crazy, and they’re going to be knocking down the door to get to
you,” I told her. I prayed that she’d get a good guy that would
love, cherish, and protect her. I hoped the same thing for Ella.

Everyone turned
their attention back to breakfast. I couldn’t believe I pulled it
off. They thought I was okay when I was anything but.

That following
Monday morning at school rumors buzzed about my night with the three
bad boys of football, and I did absolutely nothing to set the record
straight. I couldn’t set the record straight because Evan and
Ella’s safety depended on it, and I wouldn’t screw that up. Ella
had already gone through enough shit, with the car accident and
losing her family. And my sister was still just a baby. She hadn’t
even gotten her period yet, for Christ’s sake. No fucking way I’d
say anything about what happened. It would be my burden to carry.

When I made it to my
locker to get my books for first period, the word SLUT was written
across my locker door in permanent marker. Several groups of students
stood around, and I could hear them as they taunted and laughed at me
behind my back. Then I heard one girl as she coughed out, “Tramp!”
I closed my eyes and forced the stinging tears back. Then I spun
around and glared at the group of vicious girls and aimed my angry
gaze at the leader of the pack, Krissy Bitchface Smith.

I knew she had a
boyfriend, so I strutted up to her and said in a bitchy tone, “You’re
just jealous because I can please your man in ways that you could
never dream of.” I then turned on my heels and walked away. Weeks
later I made good on that statement. And that, my friends, is how my
slutty reputation began. I didn’t fight it. People thought I was a
tramp, so I acted like one.

I became very
popular that final year of high school. The boys wanted to ‘do’
me, and eventually the girls acted like they were my friends. I knew
they only stuck close because I was lethal and would take every
single one of them and their boyfriends down, if I could. It’s like
the saying goes: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Somehow, I managed
to keep my reputation somewhat hidden from Ella. She still knew that
I slept around, but not to the extent that I actually did. Maybe
because she was still going through her mourning stage and was in
denial. From things I’ve heard her say, she thought everyone loved
me in high school. The truth of the matter is, I was the school slut,
and everyone hated me. Most of our classmates gave Ella a hard time,
so why they never told her about me, I’d never know.

BANG! BANG! BANG! Dag’s
fist starts pounding on the door, breaking me away from my dark
thoughts. “You okay in there, querida?” Dag asks, sounding
sincerely concerned. I don’t know if he’s actually concerned for
me or for him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.
I’ll be out in a minute,” I answer back.

“Get your sexy ass
out here, babe. I’m so fucking hard for you right now.”
Why
won’t he just leave already?
Oh yeah, I know. I came up with
this stupid idea of pretending we’re a couple. Fucking brilliant!

“Like I said already,
just give me a minute.” I hear him sigh and walk away from the
door.

I stand up, brush my
teeth, and gargle a bit of mouthwash to get the taste of vomit out of
my mouth. I reach for Jack’s t-shirt and put it on. I don’t know
why, but just feeling it against my skin somewhat calms me. I walk
back into my bedroom and lie back in bed, pulling the comforter up
over me. I feel the heat of Dag’s body as he moves closer. His
hands are suddenly all over me and when one starts moving down my
body, I know where the final destination will be—between my legs.
Panic starts to set in.
I don’t think I can do this.
I grab
his hand and push it away from me. “Not tonight, Dag. I’m not
feeling well,” I mumble.

“Seriously?” he
asks, sounding like he’s going to laugh.
What? Does he think I’m
joking?
He must’ve heard me puking my guts out in the bathroom
earlier. “You seemed fine a couple of hours ago when you were
riding the hell out of me,” he mutters, his hands starting to grope
again, trying to lift my shirt. I grip the hem and hold it firmly
down, keeping him from pulling it up my body.

“I’m dead-fucking
serious. I’m sick and not in the mood.” I’m really hoping he
gets the point because I won’t hesitate to knock him the fuck out
if he continues. Lucky for him, he stops touching me and moves away.

He lies back in the bed
and sighs, “What am I going to do about my little problem?” he
asks, pointing down to ‘Little Dag.’

Oh my God! What an
idiot. “There’s lotion and tissues in the bathroom; knock
yourself out,” I suggest. To my disbelief, he actually gets up and
saunters over to the bathroom, closing the door. About ten minutes
later, I hear the water running in the shower. He’s either cleaning
up or taking a cold shower. Either way, I hope it keeps him away from
me for the rest of the night. He eventually comes out of the
bathroom, walks over and stands by my side of the bed; I keep my eyes
closed and try to keep my body from tensing.

“Babe, you awake?”
Dag whispers. I stay silent, praying he thinks I’m asleep. Just
leave me alone already, shithead. After a minute, he returns to his
side of the bed and lies back down. Not long after that I hear him
snoring.

I slowly get out of the
bed, hoping that I don’t wake him. Heading out in the living room,
I need something to calm and soothe me. I snag the book,
Eclipse
,
by Stephenie Meyer as I walk by the built-in bookshelves by the
fireplace. I’ve already read the book series about a million times
and can probably recite it in my sleep, but I don’t care. I started
reading it again a couple of weeks ago. The love depicted in this
story is something that I seriously crave.
Why can’t I find my
own Edward?
I curl up on the sofa and start reading. Before long,
I fall asleep.

A rumbling sound coming
from the driveway wakes me up. Sitting up on the sofa, I listen to
the familiar sound.
Is that my car? Who the fuck’s driving my
car?
Just as I’m thinking these questions, the front door flies
open and in walks Dag holding two Starbucks coffee cups in his hands.

“Mornin’, sexy,”
he greets.

“Dude, please tell me
that was not my car that I just heard,” I say, shooting him my
are-you-fucking-kidding-me look.

“Yeah, I went out to
get us coffee. I didn’t think it’d be a problem,” he says,
lifting up the coffee cups as evidence.

“News flash. It’s a
huge fucking problem. Nobody drives my car but me. Comprende, amigo?”
I hiss. Yeah, I’m being a bitch, but this guy’s seriously working
my last nerve. “We have coffee here, ya know,” I add.

“Shit. I just wanted
to do something nice for you. I even picked up some of those
chocolate croissants you like.” I look and see the small bag in his
hand.
How does he know I like those?
I don’t think I’ve
ever gone to a Starbucks with him before. Creepy. A small shiver runs
down my spine.

“How’d you know I
like those?”

“You told me one
time,” he says, but I’m pretty sure he’s lying. His eyes shift
back and forth, clearly looking uncomfortable. I’ll forget about it
for now.

I move my lazy ass off
the sofa and stomp over toward him. “Keys, now,” I demand, with
one hand hitched on my hip and the other palm up motioning for him to
place them in my hand. He lifts his hand to give them to me, but I
snatch them out of his grip.

“Don’t do it
again,” I snap.

He gently grabs my
wrist and pulls me into his body, wrapping his arms around me and
placing his mouth in the crook between my shoulder and neck. “Sorry,
babe, I crossed the line. It won’t happen again. Forgive me?” he
mutters against my skin.