Catching Raven (13 page)

She sits up on the couch and types furiously on her phone, hunting down
answers.

“So, apparently there was a recent study conducted at Ohio State
University where they had both men and women use clickers to record how often
they each thought about sex, food, and sleep throughout the day.”

“And?”

“According to this article, they found that the average man thought about
sex 19 times a day, and the average woman thought about it 10 times a day. Men
also thought about food and sleep more.”

“Sounds legit.”

“Yeah, but it begs the question: Were the participants holding back? I
mean, if you were asked to be honest about every sexual thought you had, would
you cop to it in a study?”

“Where is all this coming from?” I ask, amused.

“When Chase and I were on our date the other night, I swear he thought
about stripping me naked the whole time. And that’s not me being conceited. I
could see it in his eyes.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I was definitely entertaining the possibility. No questions asked.”

“Okay. So?”

“So it got me thinking. Was his reaction due to the fact that I was
sitting right there for visual stimulation? Or are these images constantly
playing through his mind?”

“It’s because a hot girl was sitting directly across from him,” Eric
announces, kicking the front door shut behind him. “He was provoked into
thinking about it.”

Mia looks up at him in disbelief. “The hell? You could hear us talking
from the other side of the door?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says like it’s a no-brainer. “Y’all are loud. As soon as I
heard the word sex, I stopped everything to eavesdrop.”

Mia looks over at me, mouth all agape. I shrug and concentrate on
stirring the sauce.

Eric leans down to drop a kiss on Mia’s head, then strides over to do the
same with me.

“Smells delicious,” he praises. “Is there enough for me?”

“I wasn’t put on this planet to cater to your every dire need, Eric.”

He takes a considerable step back. “Well, excuse me, Gloria Steinem. Are
you planning on serving me some food with that sass? Or do I have to fork over
both balls in order to get a plate?”

“Don’t start,” I warn.

I have zero patience for his hate-flirting these days.

“You started it the moment I walked through the door. I’ve done nothing
to you. Pause and reset, or I’m leaving.”

“You two act like a married couple sometimes, I swear.”

I stiffen.

Eric spins around. “Interesting observation, Mia. Let’s review the facts,
shall we? I never seem to do anything right, I’m constantly getting bitched at,
we aren’t having sex, and she finds me childish and incorrigible. Sounds about
right. But at least with marriage you get the tax breaks,” he sneers.

Irritated doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling. My face is as
red as the spaghetti sauce. If looks could kill, he’d be dead right now.

Eric eases up, noticing my hostility. I inhale a deep breath. I’ve been
so focused on not letting my true feelings slip that I’ve gone too far in the
opposite direction. Now I’m snapping at him for no reason. It’s always been a
struggle to keep my emotions in check when he’s around. You’d think I’d be a
pro with all the practice I’ve had, but it’s only gotten progressively worse.
The more time passes, the more I find myself coming undone. Like someone
gradually tugging on the loose thread of a sweater until it completely
unravels.

“Are you coming to ACL with us this weekend, Strawberry?”

Mia glances back and forth between Eric and me, then nods.

“Yeah. Raven pitched the idea to me a couple days ago.”

“Want to ride along with me? I’m heading down there for the morning shows
and making it an all-day drinking and jamming extravaganza. Be my guiding
light. Save me from the pathetic, miserable existence that is my life. Well,
save me from existing alone in it, the
patheticness-ness
of it all.”

I roll my eyes.

“Jesus. Next time warn me before you go dark,” Mia tells him.

“Is that a no?”

“No, I’ll go with you. Chase offered to give me a ride, but I’ll just
text him and tell him I’m riding with you instead. Besides, he and Raven won’t
be able to make it until the evening.”

“Solid. Everybody wins.”

Beep!
Saved by the timer. I strain the spaghetti and slip on some oven mitts
to retrieve the garlic bread. Mia hops up and saunters into the kitchen,
grabbing us plates and silverware.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Eric declares, twirling his keys around his
index finger.

I glance over at him. “You’re not staying?”

“Not unless you remove that Texas-sized chip on your shoulder.”

“Rich coming from you.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, drifting toward the door. And he’s
gone.

A wave of disappointment washes over me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t
want him to stay, but begging is for amateurs. Why can’t he just step up and
fight for me? Whatever. It’s probably for the best. Wouldn’t want to break the
torturous cycle we have going and actually come to a resolution. What would be
the fun in that?

r     a     v     e    
n

I’ve never been one for large crowds.
Too much chaos and claustrophobia. Having said that, if you’re willing to
surrender yourself to a predominantly hipster population with questionable
fashion judgment, Austin City Limits Music Festival is the way to do it.
Everything’s spacious, outdoors, and low-key. Perfect combination for all day
drinking and lounging with friends. You can listen to all the hottest bands and
still manage to hold a semi-coherent conversation, depending on how hammered
you are.

Too bad I’m the DD tonight.

When you’re the most responsible one of the group, everyone looks to you
for money, rides, guidance, support, and logical decision-making. Then, when
they all sober up, they berate you for “mommying” them. Need someone to hold
your hair while you puke your guts out? I’m your girl. Need to be bailed out of
jail? Dial my number. Yup, that’s me. Loyal and reliable to a fault. You make
the mess; I’ll clean it up.

Don’t ask me how I’m always the one drafted for this position. It’s a
mystery. As if I’m incapable of having any fun myself.

I brush off my stormy mood and focus on finding my friends in a crowd of
thousands. The heat is positively blistering. A cold anything sounds pretty
good right about now. I finally come face to face with Mia and confess, “I need
a drink.”

“Rough night at the restaurant?”

“Very.”

“Should we make it a double?”

“No. I’m driving tonight,” I remind her.

“Oh, right. Good call.”

We head toward one of the beer tents.

“Let’s stop at the bathrooms on the way,” she says.

“Broke the seal, did you?”

She nods gravely, causing me to laugh.

Mood improved.

After we purchase our beers, we weave through the masses, searching for
Chase and Eric. We reach the stage where Foster the People are currently
belting out the song, “Are You What You Want To Be?” and we stop to mingle and
watch from a distance, taking it all in. I sip on my beer and barely avoid
colliding with the person next to me. Once the song’s over, we move on to a
less crowded area and scan.

“I don’t see them anywhere!” Mia yells in my ear.

“Me neither!”

Off to the side, I spot Eric and Chase enjoying the AWOLNATION show. My
smile falters when I notice two attractive girls flirting with them.
Ugh.
Why am I not surprised? Is it impossible to leave these guys alone for five
freaking seconds? I tug on Mia’s arm and nod in their direction. She follows my
line of vision. Her fists clench up when she sees the shady exchange.

The blonde hanging off Eric proceeds to wrap her arms around his neck and
leans into his chest. She rises up on her tiptoes to say something in his ear.
My jealousy flares.

“What the fuck is she doing?” I hiss.

Mia spins around and shoots me a confused look.

“Seriously, why is he even entertaining the thought of her? He’s supposed
to be with me. Clueless idiot!” I shout.

Mia glances back and forth between Eric and me, clearly not picking up on
the vibe. Suddenly, the entire picture falls into focus, creating a clear-cut
image. No use in hiding it anymore. She’s privy to what everyone else has known
all along. I can tell she’s hurt by the newfound knowledge.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Rave, tell me what’s going on.
Now.”

“Later,” I mouth, my eyes pleading.

She drops her arms and shakes her head. I don’t blame her for being
upset. I should’ve told her a long time ago, but I didn’t want her to feel torn
between Eric and me. We’re all she has down here.

I step forward and adjust both our outfits so the boys have something to
drool over. When I’m pleased, I grab her hand and power through the crowd.

“Come on. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you sweat. That’s giving
them a satisfaction they don’t deserve.”

The guys sense our presence the moment we approach and spin around to
face us. My guarded eyes find Eric’s. I study his expression for any trace of
remorse or longing and come up short on both counts. His hand slips around the
blonde’s waist possessively. He’s testing me, itching to get under my skin. I
smile sweetly, refusing to let him have it. If this is the way he wants to play
it, I’ll beat him at his own game.

“Are y’all going to introduce us to your friends, or are we just supposed
to pull their names out of thin air?” I ask.

Chase and Eric glance at each other. Mia uses the opportunity to stare at
me like I’m crazy. I shrug and give away nothing more.

“Mia, Raven, this is Tamika. Tamika works with me at Surge. This is her
friend, Sasha,” Chase motions to the girl around Eric’s arm. “I was just
telling her how surprised I was to see her here. I figured she was working the
bar tonight, but she happened to get the night off.”

I step forward to shake both of the girls’ hands. Mia follows suit.

I turn to focus my attention on Sasha.

“So, how do you know Eric?”

“I met him at Chase’s place, actually. Tamika invited me over one night
and we all hung out together.”

Of course they did.

Mia stiffens when she hears that interesting tidbit. She’s been on a date
with Chase, just last week.

“Is that so?” I ask coyly. “Well, Mia and I were thinking about doing
some bar hopping tonight to meet some guys. Y’all should join. It’ll be more
fun as a group. What do you say, ladies?”

Tamika hesitates, her eyes darting back and forth between Chase and Eric.
“Um, sure. Sounds like fun, I guess.”

“Excellent!”

I can feel Eric’s angry gaze burning a hole through the side of my head.
I don’t feel the least bit guilty. He’ll get over it. Lord knows he’s put me
through similar situations.

We settle on the last club of the night—Surge. It’s packed wall-to-wall
with tons of gorgeous guys, mood-setting lights, pulsating beats. We waste no
time hitting the dance floor.

My prude complex shatters to a zillion pieces as I grind my hips
provocatively into the guy who asked me to dance—the guy I’ve never seen before
in my life. My mind screams not be
this
girl, but I ignore it. I’m sick
of being good all the time. I want to let loose and have fun like everybody
else.

When I catch Eric staring, I ramp up the dirty dancing. I want to gut
him, make him suffer as much as he’s made me suffer. From the look in his eyes,
it’s working. He retaliates by fisting the back of Sasha’s hair and crushing
his lips to hers.

That one nearly destroys me. No way can I keep up that pace. I’m...not
that girl.

Suddenly, I don’t feel like dancing anymore.

I slowly back up, stunned. Bastard is ballsier than I gave him credit
for. I keep my eyes zeroed in on their lips, watching the man I love more than
anything passionately kiss another woman. A sharp pang spreads through my
chest. I force myself to stay put and absorb it. Remember it. I need this.
Without it, I’ll slip back into old patterns and forget all the reasons why I
should stay away from him.

When I’ve had my fill, I wander off the dance floor and seek refuge in
the girl's bathroom to purge my trapped tears. The chick in the stall next to
me is puking. Every time I sniffle, she hurls. Quite melodic. What really sucks
is I can’t even get drunk to numb the pain. Can’t a girl catch a break?

Why do I always let Eric get the best of me? And why can’t I get him out
of my head? Short of cutting him out of my life, I’ve tried everything. Nothing
helps. Every guy who waltzes in and challenges that is nothing more than a
temporary replacement. Terrible, but true.

Drunk Girl flushes the toilet, the stall door swings open, and she
stumbles into the sink. This saves me from my own pity party; I should check to
see if she’s okay. Just as I decide to unlock my door, I hear, “Rave?”

I place my hands on either side of the stall and tilt my head back to
stare at the ceiling, mentally cursing the sound of Mia’s voice. I hate it when
people see me crying like a hot mess. So not cute.

“I know it’s you in there. I’d recognize those Brian Atwood knockoffs
anywhere. Open up,” she demands.

Time to woman up. “These are
not
knockoffs.”

“Like I’d know. Got ya out here,” she smiles.

Damn, I love her.

Drunk Girl slinks past Mia and exits the bathroom, leaving us alone to
talk. 

“What happened between you and Eric?”

“Which time?”

“Any time.”

I sigh and glance at my haggard reflection in the mirror, barely
recognizing the girl staring back. Since when is vengeance in my repertoire?
I’ve always considered myself a lover, not a fighter. Maybe I’m not as
wholesome as I thought.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she reassures. “I
just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“No, I’m not. But I’m working on it.”

“Have you guys hooked up?”

My eyes find hers. I swallow and nod.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Long story. I swear I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, but I can’t
tonight. I’m drained.”

Without saying another word, she walks over and pulls me into a tight
hug. I close my eyes to keep from crying all over again and squeeze her back.

“You know I’m here for you. You can talk to me about anything. Even
Eric.”

My body relaxes.

“I know. And I love you for it, baby girl.”

She releases me and turns to grab the handle on the door. “Come on. Let’s
get out of here and go home. I’ll ride with you.”

“Did you and Chase work everything out?”

She bits her lip suggestively. “Maybe. You cool if he comes back to our
place tonight, or do you need some space?”

“Depends. Is it going to be a chill session, or a Do Not Disturb
session?”

She shrugs. “Haven’t decided yet. Probably both.”

I laugh and follow her out, feeling eternally grateful that friends like
her exist in my life.

After a twenty-minute car ride filled with 19.5 minutes of boy bashing
and thirty seconds of self-reflection, I’ve decided not to go down without a
fight. Eric doesn’t get to have the final word, or in this case, the last kiss
(with some random blonde bombshell). I’m determined to settle the score by
racing over to his apartment, breaking down his door, and beating the living
shit of him.

The moment I hear Mia hop in the shower, I grab my keys off the kitchen
counter and beeline toward the front door to avoid an inquisition. If she knew
what I was up to, she’d stop me. Especially after the way Eric treated me
tonight. All the more reason to keep it moving.

Just before I reach the doorknob, three loud knocks resonate, scaring the
crap out of me. I fling it open and come face to face with Chase.

“Mia’s in the shower. She’ll be out shortly. You can either hang out here
or head into her room and wait. Either way, don’t be a pervert about it.”

I slip past him without waiting for a response.

On the way over to Eric’s apartment, I rehearse all possible conversation
starters—assuming he’s home. Going in blind is risky business. I haven’t even
thought about how I’m going to react if Sasha’s there. If I know him like I
think I do, he’ll already have her stripped naked and spread-eagled. Marvelous.
Cockblocking is worth extra points.

I park the car and jump out. My heart is racing. I tell myself it’s
adrenaline leftover from my rage. It definitely has nothing to do with nerves
or anticipation.

I bang on the door like a cop searching for a criminal. I hear shuffling
sounds, followed by the deadbolt unlocking.

Eric opens the door and glares. “What do you want, Raven?”

He’s fully clothed. There’s no sign of Sasha, or any other girl for that
matter.

Thank God.

I shove my hands against his chest.

He stumbles back a couple paces, then looks me up and down, angry and
confused.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“You,” I hiss, slamming the door shut behind me.

Before he can react, I push him up against the wall and seal my mouth
over his.

There. That’ll show him.

He secures my face between his hands and kisses me back, no holds barred.
This kiss is ten times more potent than the one I watched earlier—one part
hate, two parts love. And it’s the best kiss I’ve ever experienced.

We stagger toward the bedroom, but don’t make it out of the living room.
Best decision ever. His bedroom is a whole ’nother twelve steps away. Might as
well be twelve miles.

He breaks the kiss to ditch his shirt. He bunches it up in his hands and
throws it at me. “You’re such a fucking pain in my ass.”