Riley's Pond (New Adult Romance) (18 page)

“Taylor? Phone’s for you. It’s
Michael
.”

Damn!

I grabbed the phone from her and stomped upstairs to my room, slamming the door. Grammy undoubtedly stood in the hall with a glass to the wall. I opened the window and sat on the floor below, facing the wall to deflect the conversation from her curious ears.

“Hey, Michael. How’s Boston?” I asked, trying to sound like I cared.

“Lonely. When are you coming back? I thought you were just going for a couple of weeks, not the whole summer. I miss you, Taylor.”

“That was my original plan, but I’m just not ready to come home.”

Face my parents...see you.

“
I heard about the divorce. Sorry, kid.”

“Don’t call me
kid.
You know I hate it.”

“What’s with the attitude? I’ve always called you ‘kid’
.
You are three years younger than me, which I like, by the way. Keeps you
teachable.
”

I knew what he meant and cringed at the memory, instinctively curling into myself. “Don’t go there.”

A dark chuckle sounded. “Oh come on. You can’t be serious. That’s ancient history and was nothing, you know that.”

If it’s so “ancient” how come you knew immediately what I was talking about, Ass.

The whispered rumors about Michael’s fetish for girls who “put out” were dismissed as frat party antics worthy a college boy. Deep down, I knew otherwise. The silver-spoon-fed-trust-fund-baby thought rules didn’t apply to him. However, his ultimate bragging right, the one he announced to the world whenever he had the chance, was that he’d only marry a
virgin.
I represented his “prize.”

I, on the other hand, decided after my last “lesson” from Michael, when my moment of surrender came it would be with the body of the boy
I
loved….not my family’s choice. Michael didn’t fit that mold. Riley did.

But just as I felt free of my dark past, the harsh reminder of a promise I’d made in a moment of fear, spoke through the receiver.

“Taylor? Babe, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Michael, I think we should cool things. I’m not ready for marriage. I’m only eighteen. I want to wait a couple of years.”

“
What?
But I’ve planned a fall wedding, right before the holidays press in. We can honeymoon in Los Cabos for a few weeks and be back by Christmas. I’ve found an apartment close to campus and when you come back next week, we’ll go shopping for furniture.”

“
Next week
? I’m not coming home next week. In fact, I might stay with Grammy until I start Harvard in January.”

“If I didn’t know better, Taylor, I’d think you were breaking our engagement. Is there someone else? What about your sworn ‘promise’ to me?”

A promise made in fear…an oath pledged for sanctuary.

On the eve of my eighteenth birthday, I saw the dark side of Michael—one the elite society of Boston didn’t know. His mother threw me a “pre-birthday” dinner party, but only invited
her
friends. A couple of Michael’s fraternity brothers stopped by and Mr. Barnes invited them to stay. After dinner, I joined them and Michael for a game of pool, during which, the glasses increased on the bar counter, the stares my direction becoming long and awkward.

Michael watched me intently as I chalked the end of my pool cue. I placed the cue over the knuckle of my first finger, crinkled one eye to target a green striped ball for the corner pocket, and gave him a flirty wink in hopes his steely glare would soften.

His friends made a couple of crude comments about how I rubbed the cue between my fingers and the way my butt looked bent over the pool table. I scraped the tip of the cue stick across the felt when Michael slammed his glass on the bar. Shards of glass rained across the deep maroon fabric, sparkling like diamonds under the overhead lamp. I jumped back, clamped my hand over my mouth to silence the shrill.

Michael leveled a deadly glare at this comrades. “Get out. Game’s over,” he ordered. He glanced at me, frozen in the doorway. Behind me, the party ensued unaware of events playing out a few feet away. “Taylor, get my keys and wallet off my dresser. I’m taking you home.”

I mentally counted the empty glasses behind Michael.
Driving
didn’t seem the best idea.

“Michael, it’s okay, I can call my dad—”

“Didn’t I tell you to do something, girl? Don’t argue.”

The room seemed to tilt when I stepped backward, clumsily knocking the doorjamb. As I climbed the main staircase, Michael took the one off the kitchen. When I walked in his room, something felt off—the air warm, perfumed, the inky blackness too thick. The hairs on my neck rose. I flipped the switch, but no lights came on. From the faint light in the hall, I could see the glint of his keys and the black leather wallet folded to the side.

When I lifted wallet, the light from the hall disappeared and the door clicked shut. My heart bounced and I fumbled for the toggle to the lamp. A hand covered mine, the scent of expensive cologne choking the air I fought to breath, the weight of a body pressed behind me.

Michael.

“
Don’t. I like feeling my way through the dark and listening to your reaction to my touch,” he whispered in a husky timbre. His lips pressed my neck. “Tonight, I want show you something new.”

Warning bells clanged in my brain. I didn’t need to learn something
new
. “Old” still felt like a learning curve. When I stiffened against the touch of his fingers gliding down my arms, Michael’s lips curled over my ear, his breath hot.

“Relax, baby. I’m not going to do anything you won’t like, trust me.” The fingers on one hand tangled with mine, his other hand sliding around my stomach. He wrenched my arm behind my back.

“Ouch! Michael, that hurts.” I made the mistake of reaching back with my free arm, and he grasped both hands in a grip behind my back.

I tried to wiggle free when his hand deliberately explored my chest over my silky blouse before slipping underneath, and he wrenched my arm tighter until I folded to the floor. His body crushed mine into the carpet.

“What the hell was that about tonight? Flirting with my friends to make me jealous?”

“No I wasn’t,” I argued.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, but—”

In the blackness I didn’t see it coming, but the painful sting tingled over the top of my head and along the side of my left cheek. The coppery taste of blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. I pressed a hand to my face, feeling the throbbing against my palm from where he’d slapped me. I started to cry.

“See what you made me do!” He stroked my cheek and pressed a kiss to my bruised lip. “I’m sorry baby, really, but you’ve got to understand, no one can ever love you as much as me. I won’t let them.”

Champagne slobbered in my mouth and his tongue hit the back of my throat, making me gag. He tugged at the zipper on my jeans and when I fought against his hands, he pinned my arms with his knees.

“Stop fighting me! You’ll
never
win.”

“D-Don’t force me to do this,” I choked, struggling to stay calm.

“
Force
you? Baby, when I’m ready to take you, and I
will,
you won’t fight me.” His hand moved over the front of my jeans and cupped hard between my legs—a place no boy had ever touched. “No, I’m not taking your precious virginity tonight, but you’ve got to realize you’re mine, Taylor.” His fingernails scraped my skin as pushed his hand inside my pants, his fingers probing deep. I gasped against the pain. “Swear you’ll never let another guy touch you.” When I didn’t answer, he pushed hard.

“Okay, I swear!”

Michael pulled his hand away, slapped my thigh. “That’s my good little girl.”

I curled into a ball, shoved the wallet that had fallen to the floor between my teeth to keep from screaming. Michael bent around me, pushing my hair away so he could kiss my neck.

“Marry me, Taylor. I’ll give you a good life.” I flinched when his hand rounded my hip. “Say you’ll marry me. Tell me you love me.”

I whimpered the words he wanted to hear, knowing he’d keep attacking if I didn’t. When I begged him to let me go home, Michael brushed the hot side of my face.

“Give me your word you won’t say anything about our rough play? I’d hate for your daddy to get the wrong idea. After all, he’s up for partnership.”

I rolled back, pushed against Michael’s chest. “Leave my dad out of this. He’s earned that partnership. Playing this against him isn’t fair.” He held his hand flat, inches away from my cheek. “If you hit me again, he’ll figure it out.” His fingers curled into a fist and my stomach dipped. “I promise I won’t say anything.”

No one would believe me, anyway. You’re “Michael Barnes.”

Luckily, my parents never waited up for me so I snuck upstairs without anyone knowing. I scrubbed my body in the shower until my skin felt raw and the water turned cold.

By morning, the red mark faded, leaving only the corner of my lip swollen. I pushed what had happened into the deep recesses of my brain, stupidly dismissing Michael’s behavior to too much champagne, even convincing myself I shared the blame—until I rounded the corner to the kitchen. The ugly events of the night before suddenly became the tip of a larger iceberg about to slam into my lifeboat.

Mom and Dad sat formidably across from each other at the table. Neither even held a cup of coffee. Dad’s suitcase sat waiting in the corner by the back door. Mom stared out the window, avoiding any eye contact when I walked in. Dad shifted in his chair, his eyes darted from me to my mother.

“Taylor, honey, sit. We need to talk to you,” he said, his tone flat.

They announced their divorce in such a casual, cavalier declaration you would have thought they discussed paint colors. I decided the “happy news” about my forced nuptials could wait. In fact, I decided a lot of things in the twenty minutes I sat numbly listening to them advise me of the visitation schedule they’d so thoughtfully planned.

Happy Birthday to me.
A sentiment, by the way, I never heard from either of them. Mom’s steely glare at Dad and his sheepish expression clued me to the finer details without them being disclosed.

No way did I want this lifestyle.
Ever
. No marriage—no Michael and his controlling, abusive behavior, and definitely
no
splitting weekends between Mom and Dad’s new family. I decided that moment to leave Boston and go live with Grammy.

**

The nightmarish flashback gave me renewed resolve. I deserved better and had found what I needed in Riley. Kind, loving, and accepting. The opposite of Michael Barnes…of my parents.

I sucked a brave breath. “Michael, I’m not the same frightened girl who left Boston a few months ago. Yes, I guess I am ending our engagement, if you want to call your physical threat such a term of endearment.” For once, I hoped Grammy
did
eavesdrop.

“Taylor, I did
not
threaten you.”

“Are you joking? You know what you did to me! I told you I’d marry you only to stop you from hurting me.” Tears pushed forward and I dropped to the edge of my bed to keep from fainting.

Michael calmed, but his tone scolded. “Taylor, I was drunk. I felt awful the next morning when I realized what a jackass I’d been. But by the time I got off work, you were gone. I never got a chance to say goodbye, let alone apologize.”

I didn’t give him an inch, sent back a snarky response. “So why now? I’ve only received a handful of texts or emails since I left, none mentioning an ‘I’m sorry’. This is the first time you’ve even called. I figured you found someone else to ease your guilty conscience.”

“I get it. You’re hurt and mad. But don’t direct your anger at your parents’ breakup at me.”

“You’re a piece of work, Michael. My parents have nothing to do with this.”

I bit my bottom lip hard to push down the rage. I inhaled another deep breath, fearless with Michael thousands of miles away.

“You know what, Michael Barnes? You disgust me. I’m not forgiving you and I never want you call me again. We’re s
o
done!”

I tossed the phone onto the bed and screamed into the quilt lying to my side. Brushing frustrated tears from my cheeks, I marched to the closet and proceeded to get ready to meet Riley. Midnight curfew tonight would be violated. I needed to erase Michael and all the bad memories, and the best way to do that would be to make new ones. Before leaving my bedroom, I dropped
two “
lozenges” into my purse.

Nineteen

A GLIMPSE INTO THE FUTURE

Riley

Taylor’s silhouette framed against the shaft of afternoon light when the door opened, started my heart racing. I’d already ordered our cheeseburgers and fries, waiting until she sat her perky bottom on the chair before punching the time clock. I wanted every single second of my thirty minute break spent with her.

She wore my favorite light blue sweater with a neckline low enough if she bent forward, I got a view of what bra she wore, not to mention catch a whole lot of fries.

“Hey, baby. How’s my favorite girl?” She leaned across the table and pecked my lips. Blue and pink stripes covered my two favorite “hand holds.”

“Are you checking out my bra?”

“Guilty as charged. I don’t think I’ve seen this particular one. Is it part of a matching set?”

She laughed, “Yes, not that you’re going to see, however.”

I clutched my heart. “I’m wounded! Why would you deprive me from the simplest joy?”

Taylor pushed a torn, crinkled foil packet across the table with her finger. “Grammy found this.”

“Shit. Busted. Too bad. If I remember, it smelled like strawberries.”

“Riley you’re impossible!”

“And you’re beautiful. So I’m thinking I get off at seven. Why don’t we order a pizza and hang at my place and make-out until your carriage turns into a pumpkin?”