Pucked (42 page)

“
Huh.” He makes a scrunchy face. “That wouldn’t be so good, would it? ’Specially if you hyphenated. Hall-Balls.”

I continue to laugh until I start crying, which turns into hysterical, desperate sobs. I don’t want to end up as Violet Balls. I wanted to be Violet Waters—it sounds so romantic—and Alex ruined it all.

My life sucks Randy’s balls.

Buck has no idea what to do. He offers to go out and get more ice cream, but my stomach is already cramping thanks to my dairy intolerance.

“
I’m sorry, Violet. I didn’t realize how serious you guys were.”

“
It’s not your fault.” I swipe my tears away, but there are new ones to take their place.

“
I introduced you to him. I should’ve stopped you from meeting up with him.”

“
How were you supposed to know I was going to hook up with Alex? Besides, you tried to warn me. I’m too much of an idiot to take your advice, that’s all.” I believed he was a hockey whore in the beginning, and I still slept with him.

He flexes his biceps. “I can punch him in the balls if you want.”

“
That’s kind of you to offer, but if I ever see him again, I want to do it myself.”

Buck pats my shoulder and gives me an awkward hug where my face ends up in his armpit. I hold my breath until it’s over.

“
I’ll totally let you beat me.” He motions to the TV.

I indulge Buck in a few rounds, but he has to work pretty hard to lose. After an hour of Xbox, it becomes pretty obvious I’m not invested in the game, and my stomach starts to gurgle.

Buck puts a beefy hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

“
The sundae isn’t sitting well.”

“
Shit. You’re gonna have the moops, aren’t you?”

I grimace as another stomach cramp rolls through. “Yeah.”

“
I should probably head out and leave you to it.”

I follow Buck to the door and watch while he shoves his feet into his massive shoes. We exchange a quick hug, and I open the door. We’re immediately assaulted by the stench of body odor. Melvin must have been in the hallway recently.

Buck frowns. “What the hell is that smell?”

“
That’s my next door neighbor Melvin.”

“
That’s from a
person
? It smells like a rotting sweaty corpse was dragged through the hallway.”

“
I know. Rank, isn’t it? That’s nothing compared to his taste in music.” As if on cue, the death metal starts up.

“
Is this guy for real?”

“
The music doesn’t last too long.” Only two or three hours. I don’t tell Buck that Melvin also stops by almost every night to see if I want to hang out.

“
You let me know if you want me to have a word with this guy,” Buck says with a shake of his head.

“
I’m good. Thanks, though.” I give him another hug, mostly because I’m desperate for affection, and send him down the hall. He stumbles past Melvin’s door—the odor is horrendous—and then rushes on to the elevator.

After a lengthy time-out in the bathroom, I go to bed. The ensuing ice cream coma is neither restful nor peaceful. I dream of Alex and his air hockey table, except in my dream it’s not me he’s banging, it’s some other hockey hooker.

Two days later, there’s a knock at my door. I assume it’s Melvin because it’s about the right time of the evening for him to come knocking. If that’s the case, I can’t even pretend I’m not home because he can hear my television through the wall much like I can hear his death metal serenades. I peek out the peephole and discover it’s not Melvin, but Alex.

All sorts of weird things happen inside my body. I feel like my stomach is going to come out of my throat. My heart is pounding like I’ve had a massive orgasm. My beaver is so excited she’s gnawing at my underwear—which, incidentally, are hideous—and tears spring to my eyes. After almost a month I should have a better handle on my emotions, but I don’t.

He looks exhausted but gorgeous, as usual, even with the full beard he’s currently rocking. Especially with that damn beard. He’s all rustic and lumbersexual looking.

I squeak when he raps on the door again and clamp a hand over my mouth.

“
Violet?” His forehead comes to rest against the door so I’m only able to see his fuzzy jaw, and I hear him sigh. “I know you’re in there. I saw your 4Runner in the parking lot and I heard you make a noise.”

Hands pressed against the steel panel separating us, I say nothing. Even though I hate him, I love him, and it fucking hurts so bad. I just want it to stop. I wish he hadn’t done this to us; I want him to leave, but I want him to stay. I also want to know how the hell he managed to get up here.

I have to bury my face in the crook of my elbow and bite my hoodie to stifle my pathetic sob.

“
I know I fucked up, Violet. I just want to talk to you. Please, baby? I miss you. I made a mistake. If you let me explain, maybe we can work things out. I wanna work things out.”

I take two or three deep breaths and clench my fists so I don’t reach for the doorknob. I want to talk to him. I want Alex to have a reason for what he did to us. But whatever it is, it can’t be good enough. There’s no justification for that kind of humiliation.

Knowing this doesn’t prevent the ache in my heart from flaring until it reaches yeast infection levels of discomfort.

“
Baby, open the door. You don’t have to let me in. I’ll stay here in the hall. You can even leave the chain lock on. I only want to see you.” He pauses and waits a few endless seconds. His head thumps against the door. “Everything sucks without you. I was under a lot of pressure. I didn’t mean what I said—”

“
Then why did you say it
?” I scream and then cover my mouth with my palm, horrified I’m too weak to maintain my silence. I put my eye back to the peephole in time to see him lift his head and brace his hands on either side.

“
Because I’m an idiot. Please, Violet. Don’t make me talk to you like this. Give me a chance to explain.”

“
Why bother? Everything you say is bullshit anyway.”

He stares directly into the peephole as if he knows I’m on the other side, coveting his beautiful, annoyingly perfect face. “You know that’s not true. People make mistakes. This is a really huge mistake, and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I close my eyes, the pervasive ache inside rippling outward. I want so badly to believe him, but I’ve learned my lesson. “But you did, Alex, and you’re right, you can’t take it back. Nothing you say is going to change that.”

“
Baby, please. Hear me out.” The desperation in his voice is echoed in his eyes.

“
You need to leave.” My words are at complete odds with what my heart wants. More than anything, I want to open the door and do exactly as he’s asked: hear him out. If I do, there’s a good chance I’ll be tempted to give him the second or third chance he’s looking for, and my poor beaten-up heart can’t take that right now.

“
All I want is five minutes. Can’t you give me that?”

I have to hand it to him; he’s persistent to the point of infuriation.

I’m about to threaten to call Buck and have him escort Alex out of the building by his balls, when the door across the hall opens. It’s Ms. Bullock. She’s a feisty little old lady with a mop of white, permed hair.

She eyes Alex with suspicion. “Excuse me, young man. Do you need help with something?”

“
He was leaving!” I shout through the door.

“
Violet, please.” Begging might have worked once, but it isn’t going to now.

I rest my forehead against the door and cringe at the crack in my voice. “Just go, Alex.”

Ms. Bullock takes a long drag from her cigarette and raises her drawn-on eyebrow at Alex. “You heard the young lady. It’s time for you to go.”

Alex rubs a palm over his face and winces. “I’m not giving up on us.”

Ms. Bullock goes back into her apartment, but leaves the door open. Alex returns to the peephole. “I get it if you need more time, but I care about you too much to walk away.”

“
You sure have a shitty way of showing it.”

My hand is on the doorknob. Thankfully, Ms. Bullock comes back with a whisk broom. She doesn’t give Alex a chance to leave peacefully. Instead, she starts whacking him on the shoulders.

“
When a lady asks you to leave, you leave, dammit!” Ms. Bullock shouts.

God bless her violent, ancient heart.

Alex covers his head with his arms. “Okay! Okay! I’m going.” He stumbles out of my line of sight. “I’m not giving up, Violet. I’ll find a way to fix this.”

“
Good luck with that,” I mutter as Ms. Bullock follows him down the hall, still beating on him.

I wait about thirty seconds before I turn the lock and crack the door. Ms. Bullock is still in the hallway, wielding her broom like a sword. From down the hall, Melvin sticks his head out, death metal and rank body odor seeping into the hall with him.

“
Is he gone?” I whisper.

She purses her lips and gives her head a quick, almost imperceptible shake. Her cigarette is perched precariously between her lips. Her bright orange lipstick has bled into the creases around her mouth, making it look like a messy starburst.

I hear the ding of the elevator from the other end of the hall. After a few protracted seconds, Ms. Bullock clamps her lips around her cigarette again and takes another haul. Blowing out the smoke in a long stream, she finally gives me the nod. My shoulders drop, and the tension leaves my body.

I unlatch the chain lock and open the door. “Thank you.”

“
It seemed like you weren’t all that interested in talking to him. Too bad. That’s one nice looking boy.” Her cigarette bounces between her lips as she speaks. The ash is more than an inch long.

I can still smell a hint of his cologne, even with the pungent cigarette smoke and Melvin’s body odor. “Don’t be fooled by the pretty. He’s bad news.”

“
Must be if you’re keeping him out in the hall instead of inviting him to jump in your bed.”

I choke back a laugh. Ms. Bullock is probably my favorite person in the building.

Melvin waves from his door. “Everything okay, Violet?”

I wave back. “Everything’s fine, Melvin. Thanks for asking.”

“
You wanna play Guitar Hero?”

“
Maybe another time.”

His face falls, but he nods. “If you change your mind you know where to find me.” The door to his apartment clicks softly, his stench lingering in the hall.

“
Now that’s a nice boy.” The ash finally falls, landing on Ms. Bullock’s flower print slipper. “Too bad he only showers on full moons.”

“
Really?”

She shrugs. “It certainly smells that way. That’s saying something because my sense of smell is almost nonexistent thanks to these.” She points to her cigarette. “Well, dearie, Wheel of Fortune is starting, and I don’t want to miss out on Pat Sajak.”

“
Thanks again, Ms. Bullock.”

“
Anytime.”

I turn away, considering a junk food binge to combat the emotional exhaustion this whole debacle has caused.

“
I hope you give him a chance to tell you how he feels about you.”

I swallow hard, fighting back tears. “I already know how he feels about me.”

She nods solemnly. “Ah. So it’s a case of unrequited love, then.”

“
Is it so obvious?” How pathetic am I that my ancient neighbor lady can tell I’m in love and brokenhearted.

“
Poor boy. He’s like a lovesick puppy.”

She disappears inside her apartment before I have a chance to correct her. Alex doesn’t love me. I was a game he played until he got bored. Then he broke all my pieces and threw me in the trash.