Very Wicked Things (29 page)

“You still wear it,” he breathed as if to himself, his fingers twisting it around.

What could I say?

“Don’t break it,” I said, afraid he’d destroy the fragile glass like he had my heart.

He gazed down at me. “I lay awake at night wondering if what you felt for me was real or just because I was your first. That I could have been anyone, and you would have loved them.”

What?
My brow wrinkled. If he’d been stringing me along last year, his comment made no sense.

I looked up at him.
“It was real. How could you doubt it?”

He got all twitchy and dropped the pendant, his face intense. “Do you still love me? Don’t lie to me, but then, fuck,” he ground his teeth, “don’t tell me the truth either. I don’t know if I can take it.”

My pulse pounded at his broken words. But they made me angry too. “Why are we doing this?”

He paced away from me, his voice escalating. “I’ve tried for a year to ignore you, and I just can’t do it anymore.” He pounded his fist against the desk in the room once…twice.

“Try harder,” I shouted. “You fucked up with me. And I won’t let you do it again. Stop with the games and lies, already.”

And then.

He rushed over to me. “I never lied to you. Not one single time,” he whispered, his eyes crazy with need and sadness and so much emotion that I wanted to...

“Dovey,
please
believe me.”

I shook my head and pulled away, but his big body followed, backing me up until I had nowhere to go.

“We haven’t kissed in a year,” he growled, eyeing my lips.

I licked them, and he groaned.

He moved in closer until we were nose to nose. “That mouth is mine,” he said, his eyes blazing. Cupping my cheek, he took my mouth hesitantly, almost as if he were afraid I’d run, or perhaps, he was afraid he’d run. His lips feathered over mine gently, his tongue massaging mine, reigniting flames that had never been distinguished to begin with. And heaven help me, our kiss was fire and ice rolled into one. Love and hate, light and dark, our lips made a perfect symmetry.

“I hate you,” I lied when we came up for air.

His eyes darkened. “I like how you hate me, Dovey,” he said in a raw voice, grasping my chin with firmness, dipping his head and owning me, our tongues dueling it out to see who’d come out on top. I nipped at him, and he nipped back, but in a soothing way, as if trying to placate me.

My lips recognized the perfect weight of his, my body arched toward his, remembering home. I let him dominate my lips, taking liberties as his sucked on my upper lip and then my lower one. He took my mouth like he needed it to breathe and heaven knows,
I needed his.
Nothing had changed. I still craved him, all his edges and sweetness.

I vibrated from that kiss. I spun out of control. I lost all sense of where I was and life became all about being with him. I ran my hands through his thick hair and held on, the pain of the past unraveling, thread by thread.

God, I’d been fooling myself. I
still
loved him.

A loud clanging bell permeated my consciousness, saying we were late for Lit. And then I heard Mrs. Whitman getting ready for her study hall class in the library.

What was I doing?

I pushed until he rose up, his eyes full of heat.

“The bell,” I said, shifting out of his arms, needing some space to think, but he pulled me back.

“Don’t run, Dovey. Stay here. Talk to me. Let’s figure out—”

There was nothing to say
. What could he possibly say to change the fact that he was going to be a father or that I was going to be a call girl? And that is a euphemism.

“Explain Emma,” I said.

He wore a somber look on his face. “Can you trust me when I say there’s nothing between us? I can’t tell you much more because I gave Emma my word I wouldn’t talk about the baby or the circumstances until she was ready.”

“Emma, Emma, Emma. It’s funny to me that you
claim
to not be any good at relationships, but that is only with
me
. With her, you’re perfect.”

He lasered in on my pendant. “You still love me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Your kiss said otherwise,” he said huskily, his eyes examining mine.

“I’m good like that. I fuck well too. It makes all the guys think I love them, even the one I give my virginity to.”

He flinched at my words, and I wanted to yank them back. He sighed heavily. “That day on the quad last year…it hurt me to say those awful things to you.”

“Then why do it? Why wall yourself off from me for an entire year?” Unless…

I bit my lip. “Do you blame me for your mother’s death? Is that why we broke up?”

“No.”
He swallowed, his throat seeming to bob painfully. “That’s not why we ended. Maybe I’ve led you to think that, by not answering your questions, but I don’t blame you.”

I was so confused.

He continued. “All that fault lies with
me
. For Cara too. Don’t you see? Time after time, I put my needs in front of others. That night in the car with you, I chose to ignore her calls. She wanted me home, and I didn’t go. And I knew she wasn’t right. I knew she was teetering.” He beat his fists against his leg. “I don’t deserve you.”

Oh.

My voice came out thin and high. “You destroyed us because you don’t think you deserve love?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

My heart fluttered, and I sagged down in a seat working through the truth, seeing that entire day through different eyes.

This beautiful man had loved me.

“All these months of ignoring me…” I petered off.

He nodded. “On purpose but not why you think. I didn’t use you or lie to you. It’s just…we can’t be together, Dovey.”

My heart seized. “You gave me up? What we had?”

He looked away, his lips set. And that was a
yes
.

Because that’s the penance he wanted.

I wanted to be comforted by this new knowledge, but I wasn’t, imagining him forever lost in his void of nothingness with other girls, punishing himself. All those years in the future when we’d think of each other and know the other held someone else in their arms.

For him, it would be some floozy he didn’t give a shit about. Emma.

With limbs that felt too heavy to lift, I stood. “I’ve been where you are when I was a kid. Living is the most important thing you can do for those around you. You have to stop wallowing in your self-pity—”

“Stop,” he said. “Don’t hit me with your psychology. It won’t work. I’m done with real relationships. I only disappoint. And hurt.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“You drove me home to Ratcliffe when my car didn’t start. You even had my car fixed. You took me to your house when my tires were slashed. You’re still taking care of me. And I see
you
. I do. You are a good person, and you can’t base your whole life on one mistake, one decision. I know deep inside you, you still want to have hope.” I paused. “Because living without love is a terrible thing.”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes on me. “I know.”

I continued. “Sarah told me once I could be anybody I wanted, even though I was nothing. And she was right. After bad things happen, it’s up to us how we go on. The sun may be gone, but the stars are
still there
, waiting, always giving you light.”

I took one of his hands and pressed it against my pendant.

“You’d said you wanted my forgiveness, that you needed it, so I’m giving it to you. I forgive you for lying to me, for hurting me, for pushing me away, for everything. But, Cuba, your life can only begin when you
forgive yourself
.”

He made a strangled sound, or maybe I did. He pulled me tight against his chest, and I closed my eyes and felt wetness falling, falling, and I don’t know if it was his tears or mine. I pressed a final kiss to his shoulder, my hands touching the blood-dipped thorns on his arm. Didn’t I know what they meant now? Blood for the ones he’d lost, for Cara, his mother and me.

I stepped back, and when he didn’t cling to me, it felt like he wanted me to go.

So, I walked out of his life, beginning another one.

“
Love and pain
.
You can’t have one without the other
.”

–Dovey

THE YELLOW CAB came to a stop underneath the covered portico of The Dorchester in downtown Dallas. Built in the twenties, the five-star hotel practically oozed old world charm and opulence. I rarely came to this part of town, so I took it in, from the ornate style of the exterior to the red-coated bellhops who ushered in the privileged.

From the backseat, my eyes fixated on the very top of the twenty-five stories, staring at each of the high windows, wondering if perhaps the penthouse was my destination tonight. I didn’t know the details of where the
thing
would take place, only that I was to meet The Man in the main bar. Of course, I’d googled the hotel before I came, researching the exits and the number of floors and restaurants. Like it mattered. I was committed to doing this deed.

I’d made my decision and there was no changing it.

The cabbie turned down Bruno Mars on the radio. “It’s fifty-one dollars,” he said, turning to face me, tapping his fingers on the cracked vinyl of the seat, eyeing me. I knew exactly what he saw. A girl in a party dress and stilettos that he’d picked up in Ratcliffe. A girl who didn’t belong here.

I dug around my purse and pulled out the roll of quarters I’d taken from the shoe box under my bed. I held it out to him. “Sorry about the change.” Things were tight at the moment.

“It works,” he shrugged, taking the five cylinders of change and the extra one dollar bills I’d tucked in there as a tip.

“You headed to a party tonight? Nice place for one,” he commented, giving me another inquisitive glance. Just a nosey man looking for conversation, trying to make the night pass, but it made me fidgety.

“Something like that,” I said, keeping it brief.

“You meeting somebody?”

“Yeah,” I said, and as the truth of that statement settled in me, nausea unfurled in my stomach. I didn’t help that the backseat smelled of stale beer and cigarette smoke. The need for fresh air clawed at me, and I opened the door with unsteady hands and stepped out onto the pavement.

A bellhop opened the door for me, giving me an approving once-over as I passed. Fingering my vintage dress, I tugged on the hem. Made of soft black silk with a lace overlay, it had understated class, but was short, as most dresses were on my long legs.

The concierge at the front desk directed me to the hotel bar. With brisk steps, I passed posh sitting areas, a couple of boutiques, and even a steakhouse restaurant. People milled around everywhere, making me nervous about seeing my classmates.

But, it was nearly eight o’clock which meant the BA dance had started an hour ago. I gave myself a pep talk, trying to convince myself I was fine and safe, that no one would see me. But then, all of a sudden, I wasn’t safe when I walked past a ballroom where live music drifted from under the closed double doors. A fancy easel sign outside the room told the story:
Welcome Briarcrest Academy Students to the Sweetheart Dance
.

Cuba and Spider were both in that room, having fun, living their lives.

I paused, pulse racing as the band cranked up. I told myself to run, to get the hell away from that door, but I waited, catching the sound of a singer belting out a Train song, the timbre sending shivers over me. Had to be Sebastian.

And then I heard Spider’s guitar in the mix. His sound took center stage, reminding me of all the times I’d listened to him play for me in his apartment. He sounded perfect, and in the middle of my own hell, I smiled.

Have to go
.

I flew past the door, continuing my journey.

A few more minutes, and I entered the spacious bar, my eyes searching the faces of the men. The Man wasn’t hard to find. In fact, he came to me, his eyes roving over my dress, lingering on my breasts and legs. Perhaps he knew me from my pale face and young age. I mean, he’d wanted a virgin, and at eighteen, I wasn’t one, but he didn’t know. All part of this dangerous game. My heart felt like it might thump right out of my chest at his perusal. I held it together by picturing Sarah and how I’d left her at home, playing checkers with Heather-Lynn as they’d sipped on tea. I clung to that image.