Rex (24 page)

What the fuck?

The reality of who I am and where I come from smacks me hard in the face, the chest, the knees, nearly knocking me off my feet. The oxygen slowly being drained from my lungs allows very few words to slip out.

“What is this?”

Vanessa turns around at the sound of my voice, her bright smile transforming into a line of confusion across her brow when she sees my face.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask again, and her response tells me she must think I’m joking.

I’m not.

“What do you think this is?” She balances a plate in one hand and the other one on her hip. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday.”

I dig my hands into my hips as my feet begin pacing the floor in circles, my breathing uncontrolled. “You had no right to do this. I didn’t say you could do this. I didn’t give you a key so you could come in here,” I flail my arms in the air, “and do this.”

And then I snap, and it’s as if someone flipped a switch inside of me. “How the fuck did you know it was my birthday?” I spit. “Were you snooping around? Asking more fucking questions? I don’t celebrate my birthday
ever
!” I shout, my neck corded tight with anger. “You don’t fucking know me. You don’t know what this day means to me. I don’t fucking celebrate it!” I yell again. “So you need to take your fucking flowers and your fucking balloons and get the fuck out!”

She stares at me blankly as if she’s looking into the face of a stranger. “
What
did you just say?” she asks, an eerie calm in her tone. But I see the storm coming, as I watch every single ounce of happiness drain from her body on a heavy exhale of breath. “You think I was fishing around for information about you? That I was going behind your back?” She takes a few steps forward, still gripping the plate with her fingers, dealing me a menacing glare that has no effect because I can’t see past my rage. “What kind of person do you think I am? Because I’ve got a news flash for you. I wasn’t sneaking around, plotting and scheming when you weren’t looking. Your
brother
told me about your birthday.

“What
is
all this?” She gestures toward the room with her free hand, her voice rising to a shriek. “The
fucking
flowers and the
fucking
balloons. I wanted to do something for you. I know how little happiness you’ve had and I thought I could change that for you, give you a little piece of something good. But you know what?” She lets out a foul laugh. “I’m the idiot. I’ve never done anything like this before and now I know why. Because assholes like you don’t appreciate it. Because you’re not capable of appreciating it.”

I don’t know why she’s still standing here talking to me after everything I’ve said. But I need her gone. So I do what I do best, what I’ve become a master at—I push away. Because the reality is, I’m not good enough for her. I’m not even good enough for myself.

The filter for my mouth completely dissolves until suddenly I have no control over my thoughts or my words, self-hatred spewing out of me and I’m helpless to stop it.

“What do you think we’re doing?” I gesture between us, then scrape a rough hand through my hair, staring at the carpet so my eyes don’t reveal the truth. “We have a good time. We fuck and it’s amazing. I love fucking you. But that’s all this is. Don’t make this something it’s not.”

And when I finally dare to look up, that’s when it happens. My life passes right before my eyes, moving in slow motion as if I’m watching a scene in a movie unfold.

Shock forces her eyes to widen, mouth to hang open as the plate she’s holding clatters to the ground, shattering, sauce splattering on the wall, the floor, her dress, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she shoots daggers at the asshole standing in front of her.

Good. I want her to hate me. She couldn’t possibly hate me more than I hate myself.

Even from this distance, I can tell her eyes are glistening, her lower lip quivering, and I know that I’ve hurt her. But it’s for her own good. As soon as the next words leave her mouth, though, my heart squeezes so tight I find it difficult to breathe.

“Thank you, Rex, for making me feel like a whore for the first time in my life.”

Refusing to look at me, she walks over the broken plate, the pieces crushing under her heels. Eyes glued to the door, she’s looking for a way out of the hellhole I’ve just created for her. When she reaches it, she pauses, her head turning slightly to the right, but still she doesn’t meet my eyes.

“You were right about one thing. I definitely don’t know you. Because I mistook you for someone who was worth it.” She laughs bitterly. “And you’re
so
not worth it.” Her hand reaches for the knob before everything crashes down around me. “Goodbye, Rex.”

The lock clicks, the door slamming so loudly behind her, frame rattling on its hinges. The noise confirmation to my ears of what I’ve always known.

She’s right. I’m not fucking worth it.

The silence that follows her departure leads to a different kind of insanity. One that I’m not familiar with… loneliness. But it doesn’t last long before rage wraps itself around me, keeping me in a tight hold. I haul back and punch the nearest wall, needing an escape, but the only thing I get is what I deserve—a balled-up fist covered in blood—and even then it’s not enough. So I hit it again, pain my only friend now, a way to numb the absolute agony I’m suffering. And it’s my own fucking fault.

I pace the room, breathing heavy. Blood drips onto the floor, but I make no attempt to soothe myself. The only soothing balm I’ve ever known just slipped through my fingers. And who’s the fucking asshole? I am. Because I let her go. I didn’t just let her go. I kicked her out the door.

Devastation seeps through every pore of my apartment: food covering the walls, smeared blood mixing with faded white paint making for one hell of a fucked-up piece of art. I stomp to the kitchen to escape the view, sagging back against the counter when I see the birthday cake. Jesus. She even made me a fucking cake. My gut twists and I can’t bear it any longer so I flee the kitchen and collapse onto the couch, burying my head in my hands as life deals me yet another blow. I’m not sure how much more I can handle.

After a few minutes, I finally manage to lift my head, my eyes blinking slowly as I take in the scene around me. Something shiny on top of the television cabinet draws my eye in and I move closer to it, hesitating in my tracks when I see it’s a birthday gift. My feet continue to move slowly toward it, almost as if it can bite, before I’m finally standing in front of it. I let out a hesitant breath, then snatch it down, tearing open the card. The picture on the outside is a rose tattoo, and when I open it, it reads:

I rub my forehead in confusion before I anxiously rip open the package, staring at the picture in disbelief. My legs buckle and I drop to my knees, clutching it to my chest. When I feel like I can bear to look at it again, I hold it out in front of me. It’s a close up shot of Tyler and me at the baseball field, hats backwards, goofy smiles on our faces, Tyler making a peace sign behind my head. I run my thumb over his cheek, over the freckles that I couldn’t remember.

One lone tear sneaks out from my eye, pain burning a path down my skin. “Blondie,” I whisper, the horrid realization of what I’ve just done drowning me like a fucking tidal wave.

My eyes survey the room, staring at the wreckage of efforts born out of kindness. She thinks I’m worth it. Or at least she did. I pick up the card from the carpet, rubbing over the letters of her handwriting, desperate to feel her aura around me. But I feel nothing. Because she’s gone.

A different type of pain that I’ve never experienced before lances through me, and now the only thing I want is to take back the last fifteen minutes of my life—roll back the tape so I can try again—so I can have another chance.

I spring to my feet, placing the picture frame on top of the cabinet before grabbing my keys from the floor and hightailing it out the door. Determination to find her and explain fuels me, my heart racing as I punch her number into my cell phone and it repeatedly goes to voicemail. But I won’t let that deter me. I head in the direction of her apartment, figuring I can catch the subway, when I spot her through the window of Ryder’s bar.

Vanessa is standing next to Ryder, and the moment she sees me walk through the door, her lips lock with his, my blood boiling in response.

He has no right to kiss her; she’s mine.

“What the fuck?”

She breaks away from Ryder’s lips, wiping her mouth, shoving a chunk of hair over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I ask, all the while knowing I have no right to the answer. She doesn’t owe me a God damn thing now.

She stares back at me, deadpan. “Just living up to my reputation. Once a whore, always a whore, right?”

I wince, feeling the color drain from my face, limbs going completely numb. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things, Blondie. I just need a chance to explain.” I sound lame, even to my own ears, but I don’t know what else to say to make this better.

“Don’t call me Blondie,” she huffs, folding her arms protectively over her chest. “My
name
is Vanessa, and anyway, you were right. All you were was a good fuck, so there’s nothing to explain. I’m pretty sure we’re done here,” she says, devoid of emotion, scanning the bar as if I’m wasting her time. “Is there anything else?”

The sting of hearing those same words I dealt her is like a knife twisting in my chest. “No,” I respond in defeat.

“Good, then we’re done. Goodbye, Rex.” She turns her back on me, her voice flat, empty, and inside I’m completely gutted, because deep down I know what I just lost.

The best thing that ever happened to me.

The minute Rex walks out the door, my legs give out on me and I collapse behind the bar. I’d like to think I’m strong and tough, but as I try to fight the tears from falling, the only thing I realize is that I’m a big ball of hurt. His words made me crumple inside, and now all I want to do is suck into myself and disappear.

I’ve never felt so low in my life. I finally allowed myself to begin to care for someone only to have it thrown back in my face. No one has ever made me feel like this before. And no one ever will again.

Ryder crouches down on the floor beside me. “Hey,” he wipes a single tear away with his finger, “you okay?”

“I’m great,” I reply, still trying to maintain my tough exterior.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” I glance up at him, begging him with my eyes. “Take me home with you. Please, Ryder, I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

The way he closes his eyes and sucks in a breath tells me maybe he’s not as over me as I thought. But selfishly, I need him tonight. I can’t be alone. I don’t want time to think about Rex, where he can creep into my mind, crawl back into my heart.

“
Please
,” I plead again.

He finally opens his eyes with a new resolve, laying a gentle hand on mine. “You know I can’t say no, Vanessa. When it comes to you, that word isn’t in my vocabulary.”

“Thank you,” I reply, squeezing his hand.

“Okay, let me get Vince to take over and we’ll get out of here.” He reaches for something under the counter and comes back with a box of tissue, handing me one. “Here.”

“Thanks, Ryder.”

About five minutes later, he returns, and I still haven’t moved. My ass is stuck to the sticky, dirty floor and I couldn’t care less.

“Come on,” he lifts me from the ground, “let’s go.” His strong hand grips my elbow, tucking it underneath his arm as we make our way outside.

Silence floats back and forth between us, but I can tell he wants to say something. “So, are you going to tell me what happened? I mean, that kiss was rocking and all, and I played along with your game, but now you owe me an explanation.” He doesn’t look at me, but from the side I can see his lips twitching at the corner.

“Rocking, huh? Well, you always were a good kisser, Ryder.” I elbow him, even though he can see right through me and my tactics.

“It won’t work with me. I know you too well, so stop redirecting.”