Threat (26 page)

So why do I just want him to hold me?

“You have every right to be mad at me—”

“Why are you even here? You got what you
wanted. You won. So did you come here to rub it in or torture me?”
I don't hide my vitriol when I speak to him. He pauses, his throat
bobbing when he hears my response. What, did he expect this to be
easy? Did he think he'd come back and sweep me off my feet?

His tone remains calm. “Can I come in and
talk to you for a second?”

“I don't want anything to do with you.”

“There are things you don't understand—”

“I understand perfectly. I know I was
just an object in a sick game between you and your asshole father.
Now I see where you get it from.”

He drops his head, fingering the space between
his brows. He almost has me convinced his remorse is real, but I know
Threat better than that.

“I wouldn't be here right now if that was
how I thought of you. You're not some stupid ass bet to me. That bet
ended a hell of a long time ago, regardless of what my father might
have told you.”

“And you were never going to tell me if
he hadn't, were you?”

“I—I didn't know how to tell you,
and that was a mistake. I just didn't want you to get hurt.”

I let out the loudest, shrillest bark of bitter
laughter I've ever heard myself make. “I guess that plan
backfired majorly, didn't it?” I ask. “Don't fucking
pretend like you care about me, Threat, because I know you don't.”

Now he looks angry. “That's not true. You
fucking
know
that isn't true.”

“Oh do I? You don't exactly have the best
track record with honesty. I don't want anything to do with you;
please just leave me alone.” I try to shut the door but he
stops it with his palm.

“You know that's going to be kind of hard
considering the fact that we're siblings now.”

“Step siblings,” I correct him,
once again, “and no, that doesn't mean I have to forgive you,
let alone put up with you.”

He shrugs. “I'm just saying', you'll have
to put up with a lot of me. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Spring Break,
Summer.”

“My dad doesn't even want you in the
house.”

“I made up with my mom. Apologized to her
and everything, and I plan on apologizing to Colin too.”

I scoff. “You know, my dad's not as dumb
as you think he is. He can see through your fake bullshit.”

“Do you still think I'm bullshitting
you?”

His demeanor is different, I can't deny that.
It's so rare to see Threat without his tough guy facade that you
can't exactly miss when it's not there.

“It doesn't matter. If you're there, then
I won't be. I can stay here during breaks, I can study abroad in the
summer.”

“Really, you'd avoid your family just to
keep away from me?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “If
that's what it takes.”

He nods slowly. I expect a cocky, witty
comeback, but all I get is a flash of pain in his eyes. “You
really hate me that much.”

Yes.

No.

“Don't try and make me feel sorry for
you, it's not going to work.”

“I don't want your sympathy. I do want
your forgiveness, even if it takes a lifetime to get it.” I
open my mouth to protest but he holds up a hand, silencing me. “Just
listen, please? I never should have entertained that bet and I'm not
making excuses for what I did. But I didn't take the shop, Leah. I
didn’t even tell him about us, I told him to fuck off. He's a
liar and a cheat and an awful person—I should have seen it
earlier, but I was blinded because all I wanted all my life was a
father.” He stops and sighs as I listen intently. “Again,
I'm not making excuses, and I know what you're thinking, 'the apple
doesn't fall far from the tree'. Well, you'd be right. People like
him and I, we're not good people.”

“You
are
a good person,” I whisper. God, why am I so quick to defend
him? He was willing to use me for his own gain, and I don't know if
anything he just said was true, but somehow I know there's goodness
in him, even if I can't forgive him right now.

He reaches out for me, but I flinch away. He
steps closer, until I can feel the heat of his body on mine.

“You fixed me, you know that?” he
says. “And I didn’t even know I was broken.”

I blink back tears. There's a lump in my throat
and every part of my body wants to let him in, but my mind knows
better. He hurt me once, he hurt me twice—how can I be stupid
enough to hurt him again.

“God Leah, I've never...” his voice
trails off, I can hear the choking in his voice too. “I've
never fucking loved anyone. So of course when I finally do...I hurt
you.” He touches me lightly on the neck, sending shivers
through my body. I close my eyes tight, a tiny tear escaping on to my
cheek.

I look up and get lost in the dark pools of his
eyes. He cradles my face with his hands, gazing down at me like he's
staring all the world's riches in the face. My lips quiver, waiting
for the facade to crack. Waiting for him to pull back and laugh at
me, to tease me like he did all those years in school. But he
doesn't, and somewhere deep down I know he won't.

He runs the pad of his thumb over my cheek,
brushing away my tears, and then touches my forehead lightly with his
lips. “I'm—I'm sorry Leah, for everything. And I mean
that.”

“You hurt me so much, David,” I
reply. “I trusted you once, and I want to trust you again, but
I can't.”

He sighs. “You might not forgive me now,
and I don't blame you, but I swear I won't stop until I'm worthy of
you. I'm not good enough for you now, and I know that. But one day I
will be.”

“For your own sake, I hope to God that
that happens,” I say through my tears. “One day I'll
forgive you. But...but I won't be able to trust you again.”

It crushes me to say those words. I can't bring
myself to look him in the eye afterward, but I can feel his sadness.

“It won't stop me from trying,” he
whispers to me.

“I know it won't.”

He presses his lips against my forehead softly
once more. “Goodbye, Leah.”

LEAH

Tap. Tap Tap.

The music is loud and this place is rowdy, yet
the only thing I can focus on is my fingers tapping nervously against
my water glass. Out of the corner of my eye I can see my roommate
Alicia looking me up and down.

“Would you chill? And drink something
other than water?” she asks.

Bad idea. “He's going to card me,”
I whisper.

She rolls her eyes hard. “Try to be a
little louder, why don't you? And no, he's not going to card you, the
bouncer already did. They only check once.”

I groan. Truth be told I already knew that, and
I'm just stalling. “I don't even know what to order. Do they
serve wine here?”

Alicia laughs and then stares at me like I'm an
alien. “Wait, you're serious?” She rolls her eyes again,
this time with a huff. “Christ, where would you be without me?”

Well, thanks. Truth be told, I'd still be in
our dorm, pretending to study while I enviably watch her get ready
for another raucous weekend. Of course, I lucked out and got roomed
with the party girl. You know, the one who's never home on weekends
and rotates guys like shoes. Of course, it took almost an entire
school year for her to finally extend me an invitation. And now I'm
regretting taking it. That's on me though—it's my fault for
ignoring the red flag in my mind and thinking a little bit of her
would instantly rub off on me or something.

“I got this, okay?” she says. She
leans over the counter and flags down the bartender, and orders two
of something with a weird name that I don't exactly catch. A few
minutes later she turns back to me with two clear shot glasses in her
hands.

Her brows wiggle. “Ready to party?”

I take one look at them and say, “Oh hell
no.”

“What? It's just one shot. It's like,
tiny.”

Please, I might not be a big drinker but I'm
not stupid. “It's
clear
.”
I take a sniff, which alone is almost enough to make my eyes water.
“And strong!”

“If you're used to red wine you can
handle this, okay? Just trust me, okay? Plus, you promised you
wouldn't be a stick in the mud if I brought you out with my friends
tonight.”

I let out a long sigh, reluctantly taking the
shot from her hands. I can feel the burn just holding it.

Alicia's eyes light up as she holds the drink
out to me. “Here's to the end of freshman year, and to passing
finals next week.”

That's not a bad thing to drink to at all.
“Cheers!” I reply and we clank our glasses together
before downing them. Holy hell! It slides down my throat like fire.
It's even burning my nose! I gasp and grab my water, chasing it with
big gulp. Good to see Alicia finds this hilarious.

“Did that seriously not burn you?”

“You'll get used to it. Should we have
another?”

What is she, a functioning alcoholic?

Never mind, scratch the functioning part.

The second I turn back towards the bar I feel a
cold hand on the back of my neck. And I know it's not Alicia's.
“Ladies,” says a smarmy sounding voice from behind. “What
are we drinking tonight?”

I look up and see an obviously tipsy guy with
dreads standing between me and Alicia, cupping the back of our necks.
It's not entirely comfortable, but he's surprisingly not bad
looking—tall with an olive complexion and light eyes. He looks
artsy but with the same douche bag air as every other frat boy.

“Water for me,” I mutter as I take
a sip.

Alicia waves me off. “My boring ass
friend and I would love a Malibu Barbie.”

A what? Whatever that is, it sounds too sweet
for my blood.

“Hey, Doc.” The guy whistles loudly
to get the bartenders attention, piercing my eardrums. He orders
three of the drink Alicia requested. This night is not going to end
well.

I can tell he's staring at me as we wait for
the drinks. I didn’t ask for this. I don't even want this
drink! And I sure as hell don't want to have to pretend like I'm
interested in this guy. “So what's your name, cutie?”
He's now massaging my neck while he talks to me. The dirty look I
shoot doesn't seem to phase him.

“I'm Alicia,” she interjects,
grinning up at the guy like a complete fool. Is this how she normally
acts around men?

His eyes barely leave me, unfortunately. “Oh,
and this is my friend Leah,” Alicia adds bitterly.

His smile spreads into a knowing grin. “Oh
yeah, Like princess Leah!”

“No. That's
Leia
.”

He chuckles hard. “Close enough, right?”

Totally...except they're two completely
different names.

Before I can correct him, Alicia inserts
herself right back in the conversation. “So, do you go to
Stanford too?” she asks as she primps her bleached locks. Yes,
please, keep this guy entertained and away from me.

“Hah, no, I'm not nearly smart enough for
that.”
You don't say.
“I go to a local arts school.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, I love art!”

I've never heard her mention a single thing
about art in the past.

The bartender finally slides three short drinks
in front of us. It's bright pink, and doesn't look or smell too
strong—okay, I can handle this.

“Cheers!” says the nameless guy,
raising his glass.

I watch Alicia take a sip first. She turns up
her nose and demands the bartender add more vodka to hers. Sheesh. I
take a sip as well—my face instantly puckers. It's tart as hell
but surprisingly good. I can handle this. “Hey, what's in
this?” I ask as I stir my ice around, but Alicia is too busy
flirting with Mr. Art School. No biggie.

My eyes dart right to his arms as he lifts his
glass. They're both covered in tattoos, from shoulder to elbow.
Familiar tattoos that bring a flood of memories with them.

I try to push the image of Threat out of my
mind, but I've been pretty unsuccessful at doing that over the past
nine months. I haven't seen him since he came to my dorm last summer,
but I don’t think a day has gone by when I didn't think about
him. I used to range between anger and sadness when I he popped into
my mind, but now when I think of him I just feel numb. And empty.
Sometimes I ponder what I would do—what I
will
do when I inevitably see him again. There are times when I want to
shun him completely. There are other times I want to burrow myself in
his arms and never let go.

And on the longer nights, all I want is him to
slam me against a table and—

Mr. Dreads snaps in my face, pulling me
violently out of my reverie.