11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Nathan
It’s a rainy, miserable fuckup of a morning. And what makes it even more miserable? Daniel’s not here.
He didn’t come over yesterday, so I had to spend the night alone, and as a result I got barely two hours of sleep. My head hurts, my chest hurts, everything fucking hurts, and it’s his fault.
When my phone pings, I know it’s him. Who else would it be?
Come over this afternoon. I want to show you something.
My heart lifts in my chest, and my mouth curls into a smile. Just as soon, I squeeze the phone in my hand, scowling at my own reaction. I don’t need to come running to him; he can come to me. Once he realizes I’m not showing up, he’ll come here without a doubt.
I roll a joint out of my rapidly dwindling stash of weed and sit on the porch. Sometime this past week, the leaves have rotted off the trees, and the gusts of wind blowing through my hair are harsher and colder than before. The dreary clouds and pouring rain fit my mood just fine.
The wind lashes through the house, and the wood creaks ominously. I get what Daniel means; the place is creepy as hell. It’s mine though, and the darkness here is in me too. I was born in that darkness, and it’s followed me all my life.
Five years of escaping it hasn’t changed a thing. I’m still that terrified boy, curled up in the corner of my room. I’m still that pissed-off teenager, plotting to kill my mom for all the shit she put me through. And the greatest irony of all? She went and pissed me off one last time, by dying before I could do the deed myself.
Jagger barks somewhere up the road. Old Ennis is probably trudging along, business as usual. He better not come around here though. I don’t mind company per se, but last time we spoke ended up a disaster.
Whenever I feel like this—like a thousand ants are clawing at my insides—I would go to Moe’s Den in a heartbeat, but the thought of a sweaty, hairy biker panting down my neck isn’t nearly as appealing as it used to be.
Daniel must really have done a number on me. Monogamy is one thing. This obsession, this need to be close to him . . . That’s a whole other animal, and it should bother me more than it does. But for the most part, it feels . . . good. As long as I’m with him, that is. As long as I’m nuzzling into his jaw while his strong arms close around my waist.
Alone, I’m no good at all. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams.
The weed does a decent job of calming me down though. Some of my restless energy dissolves, and together with my head clearing up, the truth hits me like a wave.
None of how I feel is Daniel’s fault; it’s all mine. My fault for depending on him. My fault for letting him see me a blubbering, crying mess. My fault for living on the impossible hope that this thing between us won’t fall off a cliff steep enough to shatter my bones.
If it does, I have my backup plan, of course: my grandpa’s shotgun in the hallway closet. I don’t know how to use it exactly, but I’ll figure it out.
I flick the joint away and pull my knees to my chin, hugging my legs. This just proves it, doesn’t it? I’m the same as before. I’ve always been shit at being alone. I need people, even though I hate needing them. Anyone used to suffice—anyone who’d give me their company and their dick, no matter how horribly they treated me.
Not anymore. Now I need Daniel. Fuck, I need him so bad.
I tap my thumbs on the steering wheel to the furious rhythm of a metal song.
I pass the local antique shop and the shabby-looking middle school I attended before my transfer to Daniel’s class. Oh, and there’s the grocery store where Wayne Hastings caught me red-handed.
It feels like ages since I last left my hovel. Maybe the isolation was getting to me a bit. Anyway, as soon as I see Daniel, I should be all right. I ring the bell to his house, and a black-haired girl with tattoos opens the door. It’s that girl from the party. What was her name again? April.
“Oh,” she says, beaming at me. “What gives me the honor?”
If I’d had less of a bad day, I wouldn’t mind putting my charm on and playing the game of social niceties. But not today. Today I go straight to the point.
“Where’s Daniel at?”
Her smile doesn’t budge. “He’s still at work. You’re welcome to wait inside if you’d like.”
“No, thanks.” The words come out on their own. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because April gives off the same vibe I used to get from my English teacher. They both strive to make me feel comfortable in their company—comfortable enough to make me spill my inner thoughts.
In third grade, Miss Allister sat me down in her office. Her eyes looked so warm and so patient that I almost told her everything. Only the thought of the beating I’d get if my mom ever found out kept me from it.
No one would beat me now, but the apprehension remains.
April grabs my wrist, her hand cool and soft. “Come on. I’ve got a pot of tea brewing.”
I grimace but allow her to pull me inside. So what if she wants to ask me questions? I can simply refuse to answer, or do what I do best: lie.
April smiles at everything I say, laughs at my jokes, and feeds me copious amounts of snacks. This isn’t so bad. It’s pretty fun actually. I’d rather hang out with Daniel though. The clock on the kitchen wall is approaching four, yet he still hasn’t arrived.
“I get it now,” April says in between giggles. “I get why Daniel likes you so much.” She sends me a thoughtful look. “He’s changed since you arrived, you know.”
“Changed how?”
“For one, he’s smiling more. He used to spend hours alone in his room, drawing or brooding or whatnot. When he wasn’t hanging out with his girlfriends, that is.”
“Oh yeah? How many girlfriends are we talking?”
“You’re not jealous, are you?” she teases.
Jealous isn’t the right word, but the thought of Daniel with someone else . . . Well, I don’t like it. Not one bit.
“You shouldn’t be,” April says. “Daniel never cared about any of them like he cares about you.”
“How do you know?” I keep my voice casual, but inside I’m aching for the answer.
“Well, he never argued for any of them to move in with us.”
“He didn’t have to do that,” I mutter. “I’m fine where I am.”
“He’s probably just worried about you.”
“What’s there to worry about?”
April grows quiet for a moment and leans her cheek in her hand. “That house you live in, did you grow up there?” She says it lightly, as if she doesn’t care for the answer either way, but I know better: This is all just a ruse to get my guard down. And it’s working.
“Yeah. With my mom.”
“Have you talked with someone about it?”
“About what?”
“About your mother.”
I frown and lean back in the chair, away from her inquiring gaze. “Why would I do that?”
“She passed away. For most people, that’s complicated stuff, too complicated to sort through on your own.”
“I’m not on my own.” I have Daniel.
“There are people you can talk to, you know.”
“What, you mean a shrink?” I scoff. “They’ll just push a bunch of pills on me. Been there, done that.” When I was eight, the doctors wanted to put me on ADHD meds for my supposed attention disorder, but the pills made me even more sleepless than I already was and laced my anxiety with fits of anger I couldn’t control. Besides, they were far too expensive for my mother to pay for.
“It’s worth a try,” April says. “I talk to a therapist myself, I could give you her number if—”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are, but we all need someone who listens to us at times.”
“Daniel listens to me.”
April makes a face halfway between a grimace and a smile. “Daniel’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong, but he has his head in the clouds most of the time. He’s more of a hands-on type than a listener. That guy doesn’t see more than two feet in front of him, too wrapped up in his own world. Not like you. You like to escape yourself, am I correct?”
“I don’t think ahead. I just do what feels good.”
“But what feels good sometimes leads to bad things, doesn’t it?”
My mouth pulls tight, and I don’t feel like saying much more, so I don’t. Somewhere along the way, I lost control of this conversation, and I need to get it back.
April’s warm brown eyes study me for longer than I’m comfortable with, and her voice grows quiet and soft. “I get why he wants to help you so badly.”
“Help me?” I smirk, hoping to throw her off guard. “All men want is a tight hole to fuck.”
She huffs out a startled laugh. “Is that what you think?”
I thread my fingers behind my neck and lean back in the chair. “Well, that and fat stacks of cash.”
“What about Daniel?”
“What about him?”
“He seems to want more from life. From you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Maybe he’s just fooled himself I’m worth his time. Once he finds out what a fuckup I truly am, he’ll be disgusted with himself—with me—and completely regret the effort.
“What do you do out there anyway, at that house?” April asks.
“Nothing much.” I disintegrate piece by piece, plagued by memories of my messed-up past.
“If you want something to do, there’s an animal shelter up north. They always need staff. Doesn’t pay much, but if you want to stay in town, it might be worth looking into.”
I roll my eyes. “I take it Daniel’s been yapping about me?”
“He doesn’t say much, but when he says something, he really means it.” Her eyes twinkle. “Unlike . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, unlike me. What can I say? I’ve got a talent for running my mouth.”
“I get it. George is the same.”
Me? The same as George? I resist the urge to dry-heave at the idea.
“How are you able to stand that guy anyway? You’re . . .” I gesture wildly at her. “You’re actually nice. Unlike him.”
“George can be nice,” April says, “if you’ve earned his trust. What can I say, I like a guy with steadfast principles.” She leans over the table and speaks in a softer tone. “He doesn’t hate you or anything, you know. He’s just protective of Daniel and worried you’ll hurt him.”
“I don’t plan to hurt him.”
“I didn’t say you do.”
Footsteps creak on the porch outside.
“I know!” George exclaims as the door swings open. “But that’s just the thing. We’ll never get it under control if we don’t—” He stops in his tracks as he catches sight of me. “Oh. You’re here.”
I sling my arm over the back of the chair. “Lovely to see you too.”
Daniel pushes past his cousin. The sight of him in gym clothes and sweaty hair makes saliva pool in my mouth.
“You’re late,” I tell him. I get up from the chair and cross my arms, leaning against the table.
“Gym session. If you’d checked your phone, you would’ve known.” His eyes flit between the three of us. “April, can you make sure these two don’t kill each other while I go change?”
“Sure thing,” April says.
George rounds on me. “So he doesn’t even check his phone?” he says, talking to me in third person as if I’m a child. “What does he do?”
“Go back to your law books, Georgie.”
“Fuck off,” he growls.
A thrill goes through me, sizzling down to my very bones. Once I smell blood in the air, I’m hopeless to resist. Today I’m strung tight enough to snap, and given the right opportunity, I will. George’s face in front of mine is an opportunity if I ever saw one.
“Why are you here, anyway?” he asks. “I don’t see an invitation.”
“Daniel invited me. I guess he needed a break from you.”
“It’s you he needs a break from. You were always like this—popping up where you weren’t wanted. Following him around like a lost puppy.”
“Why do you care so much about him anyway?” I cup my jaw in exaggerated contemplation. “It’s a little creepy if you ask me. Is there something you haven’t told us?”
April snorts with laughter. “Oh, honey, come on, that was pretty funny,” she says when George shoots her a glare.
He turns back to me, nostrils flaring. “You should leave. Nobody wants you here. Well, Daniel might, but he sure as hell doesn’t need you.”
“Daniel needs me,” I say. Right on cue, Daniel comes down the stairs, looking hot as ever in a tight blue T-shirt and ripped jeans. “You need me, right, babe?”
He gestures to the hallway. “Let’s go. My car’s low on gas, so we’ll take yours, but I’m driving.”
George whirls around. “Where are you going with him ?”
“See?” I stick my tongue out at George as I pass him in the hallway. “Daniel loves me. He hates you.”
“Now listen here, you little shit . . .”
“He eats my ass too.”
“We’re leaving.” Daniel grabs my arm and pulls me outside, but not before I get one last glance at George, who looks like he’s about to explode. He’s lucky Daniel’s grip on me is tight like a vise. I wouldn’t mind staying a bit longer and showing him exactly what it means to mess with me. But I better not.
Daniel chose me. He chose me over George. The thought is enough to put a spring in my step as I hurry to keep up with his long strides. He climbs into my car and slams the door shut. As soon as I land in the passenger seat, he turns to me.
“Would you stop acting like a three-year-old around him for one fucking day?”
“Me? What about him ?”
“Look.” He sighs. “I want you to get along with my friends, okay?”
“George is your cousin, not your friend.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“They should be.”
“Can you at least try to be civil with him?”
My lip curls. “Why?”
He starts counting on his fingers. “One: I live with him. Two: He’s my friend, whether you like it or not. Three: It’s a small town. You two are bound to run into each other.”
“Daniel, he hit me.”
“You hit him too.”
I give him a sharp look. “Oh, so you think ’cause I broke his nose six years ago when he was being a jerk, he should be allowed to hit me whenever he wants?”
“You know that’s not what I think, and I talked to him about it.”
“And?”
“He’s . . . sorry.”
“Sure.” Arms crossed, I slump back in the seat and send him the side-eye. “Admit it—you like me like this. You like my bite.”
He raises a hand and runs his thumb over my lower lip. “I like you better when you’re begging for my cock.”
“That so?” I reach over and slide a hand over his thigh. “How much begging are we talking?”
“Today, not so much. You owe me one.”
I owe him a blow job for fucking around with George? Fine by me.
“Did you tell him about us, by the way? He seemed more pissed at me than usual.”
“He figured it out.” Daniel leans back, unzips his jeans, and pulls out his cock. My mouth waters at the sight. “Hurry up. The sun’s setting.”
“Where are you taking me anyway?”
“Mumphrey Hill.”
I lean over the center console, and he pushes me down with a decisive grip on my hair. My throat tingles as I inhale his musky scent through my nose, tongue gliding down his girthy shaft.
Mumphrey Hill, huh. And what memories does he want us to pull up from that old shithole?