“Uh, yeah. Like, you two aren’t even on the same planet.”
I sat down next to him. “At least she’s interested in my anatomy.”
“Ouch, burn.” He held his heart as if I’d stabbed him. I took another sip and sat down next to him on the couch.
“You’ll live.”
Allan and I sat in silence, drinking and wallowing. I’d never wallowed about a girl before. It felt like shit.
He poured more scotch and I started to feel the effect.
“Do you really think she’s out of my league?” I said.
“Well, yeah. Katie is like…Miss America and you’re…you.”
“Thanks, Allan that really clears things up.”
“No, no, that came out wrong. It’s not that she’s better than you; it’s just that you’re not the kind of guy a girl like her would go for. She goes for football players and guys with money and guys with clean criminal records.”
“Wow, Allan. You’ve managed to insult both her and me all at once. Thanks, that was so helpful.” I patted his leg. He threw his head back in frustration.
“Shit. You know I’m bad at this. I told you I wasn’t Oprah. But you know what I mean, right?”
I did. I knew just what he was saying. It was what everyone said when I left the room. It was the reason Katie’s mother hadn’t wanted me to stay. I would contaminate her pure daughter.
If only she knew that her pure daughter was the one who fucked so many times.
I nodded and swallowed another mouthful of the scotch. Tonight was a night for getting drunk. Blessedly, mind-numblingly drunk.
So I did.
***
Right around the time Allan started crying about how much he loved Zoey, I decided to call him a cab. It was a miracle I could even dial the number on my phone. He nearly fell down the stairs, and I wasn’t much better, but I got him inside and gave the guy the address, slurring my way through it.
“I’ve taken a lot of drunk directions, kid,” he said and I shut the door as Allan started wailing again.
I crawled all the way back up the stairs and collapsed on my couch. Allan had left the bottle of scotch, so I poured myself another drink. The bottle nearly slipped from my hands, but I caught it in time. My reflexes weren’t drunk enough yet.
A knock made me look up. Probably Allan. He’d been thrown out of more than one cab before.
I stumbled to my feet and went to my door to find someone standing there, but it wasn’t Allan.
“Your front door was open,” she said, giving me the once over.
“Ric.” This time she had a thin t-shirt on, thin enough for me to see her nipples, under a leather jacket, with a pair of jeans that were so ripped they could hardly be called pants. There was one particular rip on her thigh that showed a pair of black lace panties.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough night.” She strolled in and spun around to face me. “So I heard you and the pink bitch are on the outs.”
“Don’t call her that,” I said, walking past her, but I misjudged how close she was and our shoulders bumped.
“Hey,” she said, putting her hand on my chest to stop me. “I’m sorry. I just came over to see if you’re okay.” She sniffed, smelling the scotch on my breath.
“Looks like Allan already beat me to it. Scotch?”
“Yep,” I said, stepping away from her hand. “So, I’m fine.”
“Hey.” She reached for me again, putting her arms around me. “It sucks, okay? It’s okay to talk about it.” Her hair smelled like cigarettes and some sort of spicy perfume.
She didn’t smell like Katie.
Hesitantly, I returned the hug and she pressed herself against me and I could feel her tits pressed into my chest. Her hands meandered up and down my back and she breathed softly.
I dropped my arms and broke the hug.
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”
Her blue eyes widened for just a moment.
“Then we don’t have to talk,” she said, her hand moving down my back and dancing on the hem of my shirt. “We can forget all about it.”
“What about Baxter?” I said as she started to pull at my shirt and move closer to me.
“We broke up. He’s not the one I want.” She lifted her chin and I couldn’t look her in the eye. Blue eyes. Not brown.
Not Katie’s eyes.
Her lips were close to mine and I could feel the heat coming off her skin. She was taller than Katie, so I wouldn’t have to bend as much to kiss her.
“You’re the one I want,” she said just before she closed that last whisper of space between us and placed a kiss on my lips. They were dry, and didn’t fit my mouth quite right, but after a moment, I gave in, putting my hand on the back of her head and holding her in place. Her hands went to my shirt, pulling it over my head and throwing it on the floor. Hers was next, and no, she wasn’t wearing anything under her t-shirt.
“Finally,” she said, hooking her fingers into my belt loops and pulling me toward the couch. I kissed her again and let my eyes close as I fell on top of her. Her hands ripped at my belt as her lips tried to devour me. Our noses crashed a couple of times, and she couldn’t seem to get the belt undone, which was odd, because she was the sober one.
“Got it,” I said, taking her hands away from it as she worked at her own pants and I heard a tearing sound as she ripped them even more in her hurry to get them off. Raking her hands on my chest, she yanked me down for another kiss. I shoved my pants and boxers down to my ankles and paused for a second above her.
“Fuck me hard, Stryker. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Her boobs were too small and her hips too narrow and her legs too long and her lips to thin and her eyes not brown.
Not Katie
.
She put both hands on my dick and guided me down.
“Fuck me hard.”
I plunged into her and her eyes went wide and she made a little grunt. I only gave her a second to adjust before I pulled back and slammed again. Her hands went around my neck and she tried to kiss me. I let her because I didn’t want to look into her not-brown eyes.
Over and over I pounded into her as she urged me on.
Not. Katie. Not. Katie. Not. Katie
.
Her ankles didn’t wrap around me, she didn’t make those sweet little sounds, she didn’t dig her fingers into my back.
Not. Katie. Not. Katie. Not. Katie
.
“Yes, yes, fuck me harder.” Her voice invaded my mind and I tried to shut her out by kissing her again so she’d stop talking.
Thankfully, I was able to finish a second later. I pulled out immediately, yanked up my pants and stumbled to the bathroom to turn on the shower.
Katie
Mom didn’t discover my wall until the next morning when she snuck in to clean. I never kept anything secretive in my room because she snooped through all of my drawers. My secret hiding place was in Kayla’s room, under a floorboard.
Her shriek carried all the way down the stairs. “Katie! What did you do?”
I looked at Kayla and Adam. We’d been having a discussion about the worst ways to die. I thought drowning, but Adam was all for fire.
“Looks like I’m in trouble, as usual,” I said, getting up from the couch and walking up the stairs to face my doom.
“What is this?” Seeing her face made me reconsider the drowning thing as the worst way to die. Getting glared to death by my mother had moved its way to the top of the list. She waved her hand at my wall.
“It’s art.” Okay, okay, it was a snarky response and totally set me up for pissing her off more, but I couldn’t help it. Holding back from fighting with her all week hadn’t been easy.
“This is not art. This is graffiti. This is going to take forever to wash off, Katie.” She put her hand to her forehead, like I was giving her a migraine. If I hadn’t already, what I was about to say definitely would set her off.
“I don’t want to wash it off.” I moved to stand in front of the wall, as if I was protecting it. In a way, I guess I was.
“Katie, be serious. You’re not five years old anymore. I will not have this crap all over my walls.”
“Well, it’s not crap, and it’s on my wall. If you don’t like it, don’t look at it.”
Mom’s glare got narrower and meaner and she put her hands on her hips.
“Katherine Ann, you are acting like a child.”
I most certainly was, but it was my go-to defense mechanism when I fought with my mother.
We faced each other, at an impasse.
“I don’t know who you are anymore.” Her voice was more frustrated than mad.
I started laughing, thinking about what Stryker had said.
“Yeah, me neither.” Once the giggling started, it was hard to stop. Now Mom looked worried.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just great.” I gave her a thumbs up as I tried to stop laughing. She backed away from me and picked up the duster she’d been using as an excuse to come into my room.
“Well, when you get yourself together, I want that cleaned off before you go back to school. Don’t make me ask you again.” She closed the door with authority and I leaned back against the wall.
The laughter slowed and I caught my breath. Turning my head, I saw the word “Love” and traced it with my finger.
I should have used paint instead of marker.
Chapter Fifteen
Stryker
“Stryker?” Ric’s voice, not Katie’s said to me through the closed bathroom door. I’d gotten into the shower without even taking my jeans off. The urge to wash myself off was so powerful after…after everything with Ric that I couldn’t be bothered to get them off.
I didn’t answer her, and I didn’t hear her footsteps so I knew she was still waiting.
Not Katie. Not Katie. Not Katie
.
“Are you okay?”
Fuck no.
I braced my hand on the wall of a shower, feeling how solid it was. I needed something to hold me up, brace my shaking body. The hot water coursed down my back, pattering on the floor of the shower. Each little splash said something to me, blurring together until I couldn’t tell them apart.
NotKatienotKatienotKatienotKatie
.
“Look, I’m sorry about that. It’s just that I’ve been in love with you for so long and I took my chance.” Ric wasn’t in love with me. Not really. She’d just told herself she loved me so many times that she’d started believing it.
“Go away, Ric.”
“Stryker, I —”
“Just…leave.” I spat the words out through my clenched jaw.
I was being a dick to her, but that was what I did. I was a dick. I pushed people away. It was so much easier than caring.
“Well, um, thanks for…thanks.” Her footsteps retreated and a few moments later my door closed.
I stood in the shower until the hot water turned cold, but I didn’t move. It was like, if I moved, the reality of what I’d done would see me out of the corner of its eye and come rip my throat out. Part of me wished it would so I would stop thinking about it.
When my shivers became too much, I shut off the shower and finally took my pants off and grabbed a towel. I rubbed myself dry, wishing I actually felt clean. My fingers had pruned up from being in the shower so long. Avoiding the couch because it still smelled like sex, I grabbed the bottle of scotch and headed to my bedroom.
I pulled on a pair of boxers, realizing only after I got them on that they were the ones Katie had worn just a few days before. I’d only washed them when her scent had faded, but somehow, I could still almost smell her.
I took another hit off the scotch bottle and lay back on my bed. The apartment was too quiet, but if I put on any music, I would think of her, so I didn’t.
I’d literally tried to fuck my sorrows away, and now it was time to try to drink them away instead. It was no use, because they’d find me eventually, but maybe I could avoid them for a few more hours.
Maybe.
I lit a cigarette, even though I never smoked inside. The glow of it and the haze of the smoke were comforting.
Not. Katie. Not. Katie. Not. Katie
.
Katie
I had no doubt in my mind that the second I left the house, my mother would have a scrub brush and a bucket of industrial strength cleaner out quicker than you could say, “Mr. Clean”. That was fine. Next time I was home, I’d do the same thing again. What was she going to do? Scrub my walls every time? Remove all the markers like I was five?
Dad was feeling better and up and about, and gave me a nice long hug before I left.
“Believe in yourself, Katiebug. I know I do.”
Mom’s hug was quick and limp. She was still pissed about the cleaning, but she told me she loved me and I said it back, because, at the end of the day, I did love her.
Kayla had left the day before with Adam because they had to get back to Africa. She’d given me a gigantic hug and said that she was planning to buy a computer so we could Skype. Adam also gave me a hug and a wink and said he’d see me on the flipside. I gave Kayla a look, but she just gazed adoringly at him.
My drive back to school seemed to take longer than normal, and it wasn’t because I drove slower. Or maybe I did, unconsciously. I was more than eager to get back to the dorm, back to my life, or whatever it was now, but there was just one little thing holding me back. Well, one big thing. Named Stryker Abraham Grant.
I had no idea what his parents were thinking when they named him, but for some reason, his name made complete sense.
I turned on the radio, irritated at myself for thinking about him. Why did I feel like I’d just been through another breakup? We weren’t even together. Stryker and I…we weren’t even friends. So why did I feel like I wanted to wallow in misery and never leave my bed again?
Stupid boy. Stupid boy and his stupid blond hair and his green eyes and his musical talent and his lips that kissed like he was trying to put out a fire and his smirk and his tattoos and his hips and his hands and…
Stupid, stupid, stupid boy.
***
“I’ve missed you so much. Is that weird? I know I just saw you a few days ago, and we talked on the phone, but it feels like forever and I’m just really glad you’re back,” Lottie said the second I walked into our room and dropped my bag. Damn, I’d even missed her verbal vomit.