Chapter 15 Tahoe #2
“Are you sure?” She narrows her eyes, and her mouth turns down in the corner.
“After all of this time, and all of your rules? When you’re being a complete drunk asshole?
You pick now?” Something about the way she insults me and swears flips the goddamn switch.
The one usually reserved for when I need to be a monster.
Maybe because she’s right, and subconsciously I know that.
Maybe it’s because I’m the best person I know at ruining a good thing.
Perhaps it’s a mixture of the two sparked with bourbon, but I grab her wrists and pin her back against the seat, trying and probably failing at keeping my weight off her.
Between her legs, I settle my hips. My head spins, and my stomach flips, because for as drunk as I am, I still know exactly what is about to happen. Leaning down, I chase her lips.
Caroline swallows hard and turns her head away, the pulse at her neck hammering against my lips.
“Stop being a cunt,” I rasp into her ear.
“I am not a drunk asshole. I fucking love you.” I reach between our bodies and unbutton and unzip my pants.
“I love you so fucking much that you’re making me insane. ”
She whimpers, and the noise breaks my fiery haze of desire. Pushing up on my arms, I stare down at her and see the stray tear lingering on her cheek. The moon provides the right amount of light to reveal the travesty. “Are you crying?” I blurt out.
“Will you at least kiss me?” she says, words jagged, wiping under her eyes.
My heart starts pounding out of my chest. The adrenaline and realization mixing in that horrific kind of way. “Kiss you?”
She nods her head furiously. “Tahoe,” she whispers. “I’m a virgin.”
If there were words that could have sent me running, those are the words. “What the fuck?”
Caroline sits up and scoots away from me, wrapping her body with her arms. “I thought you knew,” she says, sniffling once.
I run a hand through my hair as her words sober me faster than anything in the history of time. I basically just mounted her. A woman I’m in love with, a virgin on top of that, in a dirty parking lot. “Why didn’t you tell me before? You know what they say about assumptions?”
She cries, and my heart breaks. “You wanted to wait. I figured it was because you knew. It was too quick tonight. And you’re so drunk. I’m sorry. I panicked. I should have just gone with it.”
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? I just tried to fuck you in this disgusting truck!
” I roar. “I knew you were innocent, but fuck, Caroline. I thought it was an act or something.” I shake my head.
All of the encounters come to mind as I’m reminded that it should have been obvious, but my judgment is always clouded when it comes to her.
“I didn’t know virgins your age existed.
” Especially beautiful fucking ones. Her wide gaze flicks over me, judging me.
If I could disappear right now and never come back, I would.
“Everyone told me not to tell you. That it was a non-issue. At first it was a non-issue. We were friends. Then when things changed, too much time had passed, and I thought maybe you might think of me differently if you knew I hadn’t slept with a man before.”
She’s right. I would have. I probably would have run as far and as fast as possible if she had been honest about that up front.
I’m the type of man you fuck before you find Mr. Right.
I’m okay with that. I’m the man that you tell your friends about because he does a cool trick with his tongue in bed.
I’m not the fucking man to take your virginity.
That impression lasts too long. Being embedded in anyone’s mind longer than a little while is scary.
Impressionable. As I look at Caroline, I realize what I need to do regardless of how I feel. Because it’s the right thing to do.
My stomach is a steel trap, I never vomit.
Right now? It flips so fucking hard I barely get the door open before spilling the alcoholic contents all over the ground.
I open the glove compartment and hunt for napkins to wipe my mouth.
This would be a tough conversation to have sober.
Drunk? Implausible. I realize now that her pure innocence is what made her different, kept me interested, and I open the door to heave once more.
At least I won’t have a hangover tomorrow. Not from alcohol at least.
“You called me a cunt,” she says.
I nod. “I’m sorry.” That’s the least of my offenses at this point, right?
Still, my stomach flips at the reminder of my cruelty.
There are moments in your life where you can’t see the future because it hangs in the balance of whatever you say or do next.
That moment for Caroline and me is right now.
It’s a real shame because it’s not just her and me.
There are also fuckers named bourbon and keg beer here too.
Several seconds pass as I stare out into the moonlit field. “Say something,” she whispers.
“What the fuck am I supposed to say? That I almost stole your innocence with angry drunk fucking? That I never thought for one moment to make love to you? That I’m sorry?
Nothing I could say would take that back or make it seem genuine.
Not right now, when the world is spinning and you’re sitting over there afraid of me.
” She is afraid, too. The combination of my messed-up eyes and my actions has created the perfect villain.
One that in the movies would fuck her and leave her crying—never looking back.
She pulls her knees into her chest, and something in that deep cavernous place that lies dank and dormant comes to life. “You should have told me.”
“What difference would it make?” she asks. “If you take my virginity here or in a bed? It’s all the same to me. From the second I met you, I knew I wanted it to be you.”
Shaking my head, I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t want it to be me. This right here is testament.” Gesturing to the truck cab, my face, and then to her timid, shaking body.
Caroline presses her lips together. “Let’s do it right now. It’s going to be you, Tahoe. Why not right now?” Instead of rattling off the many reasons I won’t, I think about how I missed the signs. I dwell on mistakes. That’s what type A folks do. It’s how we better ourselves regardless of cost.
“Have you messed around with a guy before me?” I can’t help the question. It’s typically one my pride would never let me ask. Now, I need to connect the dots, and I require her responses to help ease this pain.
She stays silent. “Have you kissed a man before me?” I ask, my voice cracking.
Caroline doesn’t say a word. I swallow down the disbelief. “I’m getting the fuck out of here before I take anything else from you, Caroline. I’ll catch a ride home with someone else. Take my truck and go home.”
Her defiant reply comes, “No.”
“I’ve taken a lot of things in my lifetime.
I can’t be the one to take this from you.
I don’t deserve it. You deserve someone who can give you the world—at the very least someone who can offer you a promise for a bright future.
” My future will sometimes involve trudging through gutters and subway tracks hunting bad people.
When you juxtapose me next to her, I can’t understand how I could have been so blinded by our differences.
Love. I was blinded by it. By the thought that maybe I deserved it.
Could keep it. There was never any keeping it.
Not in my world. There’s only losing it slowly.
Piece by piece. She’s still whole—intact. I have to respect that.
Her jaw twitches. “Don’t tell me what I want,” she says.
“You live in this insane utopia where you think everything needs to be perfect. Maybe I don’t want perfect.
Maybe I want to lose my virginity to you, drunk, in this truck.
Maybe nothing else matters because I’m in love with you.
Even despite you being completely out of your mind right now.
” What did I almost do? How did this happen?
“Fine, if not tonight, let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re in your right mind.
” Her voice sounds desperate, and it calls out my need to protect her.
I can’t protect her from this monster. I am what she needs protecting from.
With my hand on the handle, I survey my feelings using the part of my fuzzy brain that isn’t completely wrecked by alcohol. “I’m not the man for that job. Never will be.” I shake my head once. “Get home safe, all right?”
“Fuck you, Tyler Holiday. You really are an idiot!”
Gritting my teeth, I open the door and fall out.
Blessedly landing on my feet in the pile of my own puke.
My chest stings, and there’s no way I can look at her right now.
Turning around to survey what I’ve done would only drive the nail into my chest deeper—create more empty space, where she is. Where nothing else will ever be.
I close the door on her loud sob and trudge back to find someone to give me a ride home.
And another bottle of something to replace what I just lost.
This is one of my seconds. The seconds that change everything. The lonely, taking ones that will keep me company for the rest of my life.