Page 22 of Unbound
I’m not sure why, but she doesn’t say anymore. Most girls would call me an asshole about now or even walk out, but this girl just lies here and says nothing. My curiosity gets the better of me and I turn over to get a better view of her face. She’s blonde, or at least I think she is. It’s no surprise. I’m a sucker for them. Sophie’s blonde and when you’re attempting to fill a void, you go for anything that reminds you of what you really desire.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I can’t look at her anymore. Eventually I drift off to sleep, but it doesn’t stop my mind. It surges like the storm outside, a constant reminder that you can try and leave, flee from your mistakes, but there’re decisions you’ll never outrun.
“Why are you here?”
I don’t answer Kate. I can’t. I don’t have an answer. All I know is I want to forget what I’ve heard and the boulder-sized lump lodged in my throat since I heard the words, “I slept with someone else when I was in Mexico. I didn’t mean to. It was a mistake. I swear, Rawley. I’d never hurt you like that.”
But she did. Right then she reached inside my chest and ripped out my fucking soul.
Never in my life would I have expected Sophie to do that to me. When she said she was going with her friends to Mexico for spring break, I was excited for her to get away. Her mom is kind of a nutcase and she’s been dealing with her shit for so long by herself, I wanted her to have some time to lay low.
My parents made me stay home since I wrecked my dad’s car the week before. I didn’t mind because it’s not like I wanted to go to Mexico. Now I wished I had.
My hands shake and I grab Kate by the shoulders. “Can I come in,” I ask, unable to stop my pounding heart from turning my motions jittery as though I’ve had too much caffeine.
“Okay….” Kate eyes me, still trying to understand why I showed up at her house at midnight. “But be quiet, my parents are sleeping.”
She takes me by the hand and leads me down the hall to her room. The fact that she’s leading me to her room reminds me that yeah, she’s Sophie’s best friend, but the chance to be alone with me is something she wants. I’ve known for years Kate’s had a thing for me. Before Sophie and I were official freshman year, I finger fucked Kate in the 8th grade against the lockers in the boy’s locker room. I’m sure Sophie doesn’t know that, and it’s not like I was dating her at the time.
Inside her room, I sniff and look around. Kate’s different from Sophie in so many ways. Even her room. While Sophie’s room is white, Kate has plush reds and black curtains, a direct reflection of her slutty behavior. Which is why I’m here. She’ll let me fuck her.
I push her up against her bed because if I don’t act now, I won’t do it at all. I’ll chicken out like the scared motherfucker I am right now. My eyes burn and my heart feels like there’s a fucking hole in it so deep nothing will ever fill the void. It’s endless, like space and time, no end in sight.
My kiss is smothering, no control, only movements and actions she can’t quite keep up with until she does and takes over.
Kate’s arms slip over my shoulders, under my hoodie and then she’s removing my shirt, straddling me. I work on my buckle, then lift her nightgown over her shoulders. It happens quickly, so fast I don’t even remember where I’m at or what I’m doing because when I blink, I’m on top of her, between her legs. I stroke myself, knuckles brushing her thigh and if I move, if I go forward from here, I’m nothing but a piece of shit. I know that.
“I can’t…,” I mumble, disappointment rolling through her with a slow shake of her head.
“Well, if you’re not here to fuck me, then why are you here?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t know.
I’M IN MY room, I think, though I don’t know what time it is. Blinking, I lay awake and stare at the ceiling trying to recall the day, or even for the briefest moments, where I am. Familiarity greets me, my ceiling, the same ceiling spinning the night before.
Moving around in the bed, I realize I’m lying on sheet music. It’s a crumbled-up song but on it is a number written in lipstick. Must be that chick from last night. I wad it up and toss it on the floor. I don’t plan on ever calling her.
Raising my hands up, I cover my face and breathe out a slow, steady breath. My stomach tightens, hunger pains coiling deep within. It’s been days since I’ve had real food.
What time is it?
My bedroom door swings open, the handle hitting the wall and Linc comes barging in. He throws a pillow that’s on the ground at me. Peering over at him, I notice he’s dressed and ready, his jet-black hair artfully slicked back. “Rawley dude, what the fuck? It’s fuckin’ seven and you’re not even ready to go yet.”
I stare at him trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about when it hits me that we’ve got a gig tonight and because of me, we’re running late. As usual.
Linc doesn’t do late. He’s chill about any other crap I may pull, but being late is where he’s draws the line. It turns him into a crazy person, and I’m in no mood to deal with that.
“Yeah, okay, sorry. Give me just a minute and I’ll be ready to go.”
He points at me. “You’ve got exactly one minute, Rawley, or I’m going to come back in here and kick your sorry ass all the way to the bar.”
As soon as he turns to leave, I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Scrubbing my hands over my face trying to wake up, I stop, staring at the last line of coke left on my nightstand.
I know I shouldn’t….It’s killing you.
I try not to feel anything, let alone pain, but despite my attempts, numbness doesn’t even offer relief anymore.
