Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016 (2 page)

I was wary of him but then he’d surprise me with kind gestures. Like the time I showed up to class with a cold and he slipped out before the lecture, and returned with a cup of hot tea and honey for me he’d snuck out of the teacher’s lounge. Another time he jumped to my defense when the pompous ass, Chet Randall, belittled my theory connecting Gothicism with Romanticism in the 18
^th
Century. I guess chivalry wasn’t dead.

Of course, then the more I resisted him, the more determined he became. I’ll never forget the day he cranked up his game, stopping me in the Classics building and then pressing a hand on either side of the hallway wall to trap me. He smelled like a combination of fancy cologne and freshly laundered sheets. The long waves of his hair tumbled over his forehead and his eyes sparked electric green and dangerous.

“Let’s do our homework together, Angelina.” He leaned close and brushed his lips against my ear. “... at my place.”

I bit my lip, suppressing a groan, but there was an ache between my legs of longing for something I couldn’t have.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” I replied breathlessly.

His eyes darkened. “He doesn’t need to know.” He reached over and took a strand of my hair and wound it around his fingers, tugging on it just enough to make my mind spin. “Come on ... you must know you’re making me crazy, girl.”

The more I resisted him the stronger he came on, sitting next to me in class and then barely skimming the end of his pen along my inner forearm, back and forth, until I shivered with goose bumps while the teacher lectured. He showed up to class one day with a wild rose from the garden next to the English building and placed it on my open journal with a hand-written note.

“We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in

bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.”

~Hemingway

“I want you, Angelina,” he whispered in my ear, and then he sat back and watched me squirm. It didn’t take long until I was picturing him when Matthew was making love to me, pressing my mouth shut in between kisses so I wouldn’t chant the wrong man’s name. I was falling away from my first love in the thrill of seduction, and didn’t see that I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

There was a close call early on when Matthew and I were at a coffeehouse on the edge of campus and Brett suddenly showed up, sitting down on the couch next to me, flashing that killer smile. “Hey, Angelina,” he said. “What’re you doing?”

My mouth fell open and I looked up at Matt whose annoyance was palatable.

Matt leaned forward. “Who are you?”

Brett elbows me. “You didn’t tell him about me?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked defensively.

He turned to Matt. “We sit next to each other in English Lit. Renaissance. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you about me.”

The tips of Matt’s ears turned red. “Why would she?”

Brett shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve heard I’m unforgettable.”

“Matt this is Brett, and he’s annoying.”

Brett placed his hand over his heart. “You wound me, Angelina.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “What’s with this Angelina stuff? My
girlfriend’s
name is Angie.”

“Good to know,” Brett said with a smirk. “Well, I’ve got to run. Nice to meet you, Matt and see you in class,
Angelina
.”

Matt stared at me as Brett walked away with an expression I’ve never seen before. “What the hell was that about?”

I shook my head, hoping my cheeks weren’t burning hot pink. “Who knows? That guy is crazy. Just ignore him, that’s what I do.”

Matt stared at me a little longer as if he was doing a complicated equation. Meanwhile I busied myself by acting like the paper I was attempting to write was the most fascinating thing in the world.

As the weeks passed Brett got more daring and I slowly got tangled in his web of charm. One afternoon he asked me if I could phone him about the chapters we needed to read since he had to leave class before they were assigned. He wrote his number with a heart around it in my spiral notepad without it ever occurring to me that that simple act could be so dangerous.

I left him a message with the chapters, and in turn he began stealing my notepad and scrawling lines of poetry on the pages ... some famous, some obscure. The poems he wrote were about unfulfilled longing, and a woman he believed would make his dreams a reality. All the words began to weave together, begging me to calm the savage hunger he had for me.

I was coming undone over this man and was selfishly thrilled about it, craving and then needing the obsessive attention like it was crack shot straight into my heart.

Three nights before the Alec Lowell concert, Matt let me know that he’d be working really late in the lab on his final project. As always, Brett teased me, whispering in my ear about coming to his place but this time I shocked him by agreeing to come. His resulting satisfied smile was cocky, which annoyed me but didn’t outweigh the thrill I felt at the idea of being alone with him. In my mind I was going to finally test myself to see if I could resist his charms. I was holding onto my last strands of honor, albeit with a weak grip. My love for Matt was strong which should supersede all, right?

Yet deep down in my gut, I knew resisting Brett was a test I’d likely fail. His spell on me had become all consuming, taking hold of my heart and deepest desires.

We rushed out of class and jumped into his BMW. The ride to his grand 1920’s apartment in West L.A. was a blur, as was the elevator ride to his floor. As soon as the door to his place was closed, he had me up against it in the most passionate kiss of my life.

“Lovely, Angelina,” he whispered as he ground his hips against me and scraped his stubble along my jaw before kissing me again. “You’re finally mine.”

A wave of sickness flashed through me, the sheer wrongness of him claiming me when I still belonged to Matt. What kind of girl, or more accurately, what kind of cheap girl was I, to even let him kiss me? These thoughts tumbled through me as he took my hand and pulled me toward his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt and fly before we’d even approached his huge bed.

“I can’t wait to fuck you. You’re so damn sweet,” he whispered with a rough voice.

For all of my guilt, it was far outweighed by my desperate desire, a wildfire burning over me. I never had wanted Matt this much, my heart thundering, a desperate need clawing up my back as I imagined pulling my legs wider and wider apart...begging for him without words.

With a parched throat and shaky fingers, I could barely hold my head up as he undressed me. Smoothly sliding his long fingers under the edge of my panties before slowly pulling them down.

His fingers eased between my legs as the corners of his lips turn up. “You really want me, don’t you, baby?”

“God, yes,” I groaned. “Please. Please. Stop torturing me.”

He got that cocky look again as I laid back across the sheets. When he pushed his jeans off it was as if he was waiting for me to appraise him. My gaze was fixed on where he was hard, and of course bigger than Matt. Everything about this man felt bigger than Matt and I was desperate to know how bigger would feel.

I rocked my hips up, legs spread wide, and after he rolled on the condom he took me. It wasn’t tender like with Matt, nor as attentive. He groaned hard, mumbling something about how tight I was, and it made me feel dirty, like my dress was stained with cum. Yet he was so stunning naked, a chiseled God filling me, and I wantonly begged for more. 

Being dirty was new in my world and disturbingly hot, but while he fucked me, an emptiness lingered from the pretense of sophistication that felt like it’d been bought from a Vegas vending machine. I pushed the thought away that this was
about
Brett, and
for
Brett, because if I accepted that, then I truly was a whore.

He redeemed himself somewhat with his kisses so passionate and deep that I turned inside out. He fucked me hard at that point and I could tell he wouldn’t last much longer but there was something about how his pelvis rubbed against me with each thrust that made me crash into a climax that was like a heart attack. I was shaking uncontrollably as I clenched hard around him and he joined me with a loud groan.

After, we both laid stunned, catching our breaths until we were coherent enough to sit up. He got up to fetch a bottle of wine and glasses. I hurried to the bathroom to clean up, leaning close to the mirror as my fingers grazed my cheeks, trying desperately to recognize the girl who stared back at me.

When he returned to bed, I noticed that his bronze skin was flushed, lips swollen and red. He was mesmerizing to watch as we sipped our wine...perhaps the most beautiful man I’d ever known and that beauty teased shallow me into thinking we mattered. I trailed my finger around his nipple and across the ridges of his chest. He gave me a dark look as he slid his large hand up my inner thighs, spread me open and fucked me again.

When he finished I laid next to him silently, recovering from the shock of all of it. I finally glanced over at the clock.
Damn it.
I should’ve been home already.

After an awkward parting I headed out, and back in our apartment I took a long hot shower attempting to wash my shame away. I was disgusted with myself for my weakness and betraying Matt. How would I face him? I made sure that I was in bed pretending to be asleep when an exhausted Matt crawled into bed just past midnight.

When deep in sleep he reached out for me, I slid away like a traitor.

My state of denial and betrayal continued. I was relieved yet hurt by the radio silence from Brett the next day, but the day after he started leaving me poetry again, but this time it was lines he seemed to have written. My heart soared and then crashed in guilt over and over with each gesture he made. I wondered how much longer I could do this before the shame crushed me completely. I knew I needed to somehow face the consequences of my choices and tell Matt what I’d done, but every time I tried to imagine the conversation I felt sick. I knew it would be the end of us. How could I break his heart? I knew not telling him would only make the inevitable worse, but I was a coward. Besides what if I just had to get this out of my system and then Matt and I could go on? Lust had rendered me a fool.

The night of the Alec Lowell concert I stayed too long after class with Brett kissing me against the back of the Classics building. “Come to my place. I want you so fucking bad.”

“I can’t, I have a concert tonight. It’s important.”

He pulled back with his lips in a straight angry line. “I’m not going to share you.”

I slipped my hand down to grasp him over his jeans where he was rock hard, and huge in my grasp, and it made me ache between my legs. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

He narrowed his eyes but nodded as he stepped away. “I’ll be waiting.”

I half ran, half walked back to the apartment, the guilt growing as I got closer. Tonight should’ve been special for Matt and I, and now I’m late getting home because I was kissing and wanting to fuck another man. My disgust with myself was becoming unbearable.

I burst into the apartment and threw my shit on the couch and it scattered everywhere. As I began pulling off my T-shirt I notice Matt staring at me, his face flushed.

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you. We’re going to be late.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just give me five minutes to shower and I’ll be ready in a flash.” I ran to the bathroom before he could respond, but I couldn’t help but notice the suspicious look in his eyes.

I took the fastest shower of my life and ran a comb through my hair before pulling on my best jeans and boots.

“Okay, ready to go!” I exclaimed as I rejoined Matt in the living room. But instead of being poised by the front door with his keys in his hands, he was sitting on the couch with his jacket carelessly dumped on the floor.

I leaned down to pick up the jacket. “Your good jacket? Can you be more careful?” I asked.

He looked up at me and the only way I can describe his expression is that it was full of rage. I felt like all the blood and air had rushed out of my body and my knees went weak. It was that moment that I realized he was holding my notepad in his hands.

“What are you doing with that?”

He looked up at me with a steely gaze. “Getting to know the real you.”

“Matt,” I whispered.

“He’s quite a poet, this Brett fellow. He’s the one from the coffee house, isn’t he? You must be pretty pleased with yourself.”

“No, please give me that back.”

He held his hand up to silence me. “I can’t wait to have you back in my bed tomorrow. I’m going to fuck you to the moon and back.”

I grabbed the edge of the couch to keep from falling over.

“Matt, I never met to hurt...”

“Shut up,” he snapped. “I don’t want your fucking pity.”

My mouth fell open.

“When were you going to tell me about this? Were you going to shatter my heart after the concert...on this night that I though meant so much to us?”

“It does mean a lot,” I said between tears, sounding false and pitiful.

He stood up and reached into his pocket and pulled out the tickets. “This is what it means now.” And with barely contained rage he tore the tickets into pieces and let them fall to the floor like dirty snow.

“I’m sorry,” I chanted over and over between sobs.

He walked over to the front door and opened it. “Go down to Mel’s for at least an hour so I can get my shit out of here. I’ll come for what I can’t carry tonight when you’re in class tomorrow. I don’t want to see your face again.”

The reality of my world turning upside down finally hit me and I started to sob uncontrollably. How could I have hurt him like this?

“Go!” he yelled.

I cowered as I walked out the door, pausing in front of him. I saw that his eyes were glazed with tears.

“Matt...”

“What an idiot I was. I thought I wanted to marry you ...”

My head dropped, I had no words ... he wouldn’t listen to them even if I did. As soon as I took the first step into the hall, the door slammed shut behind me.