Sixteen
Kat
Dragged Out – Chelsea Wolfe
The scent of burned wood fills the air. I look over and see my third incense stick has burned out, yet the smell of damp remains. Like it always fucking does.
With a sigh, I take the wet cloth and clean the counter for a third time, but it’s still not enough. I stare at the coffee on the table that has long since gone cold. I can’t stop, because if I stop, I’ll think. And thinking has done me no favors these past few days.
I love this little apartment. Over the last few months, I’ve been doing everything I can to make it feel more like home, and it’s slowly getting there.
But for the past few days, it’s beginning to feel like my prison, trapped alone with my thoughts and the smell of damp.
I end up cleaning just to feel something.
I grab my phone out of my pocket.
ME:
Hey girl, wanna come over?
HARPER:
Just finishing a date with N. Everything ok?
ME:
Yeah, just need some girl time :)
HARPER:
Say less! Be there soon!
Pocketing my phone, I begin to pace, my hand toying with the necklace at my throat.
It’s been three days since the incident at Headstone with Kirk.
Despite my cleaning frenzy, I’m doing okay.
The thoughts don’t tend to hit me most of the time, but when I stop—that’s when the tsunami of emotions crashes. Today is one of those days.
Fuck this.
I walk towards my bedroom, the subtle scent of sandalwood and vetiver making my body instantly loosen.
I pull out the old milk crate that holds all my records and start flipping through the modest stack.
It doesn’t take me long to find the one I’m looking for.
I gently place the vinyl on the platter, followed by the needle.
The turntable spins to life with the familiar, comforting soft crackle and pop.
The haunting lyrics of Dragged Out by Chelsea Wolfe follow me into the bathroom. I turn on the shower, and it splutters to life as I pull off my clothes. The sweatpants and old, thrifted Jackass t-shirt fall to the floor as I turn to the shower, avoiding the mirror.
The water hits my chest, and my breathing slows as the warmth envelops me in a steamy hug.
As the water cascades down my body, my thoughts drift to the other night, as they always seem to do the last few days.
Despite the heat of the water, an icy chill creeps into my skin as I remember the feeling of Kirk’s hands on my hips, his mouth against my neck.
My skin feels thick with his touch. I grab my loofah and scrub at my skin with force, the painful sting erasing his touch.
Warmth slowly replaces the chill as my thoughts drift to Elias, his icy sapphire eyes pulling me back to my center.
The way he literally carried me as if I weighed nothing, his hands digging into my thighs.
Or the way he talked me through my panic attack.
My panic attacks can last for hours sometimes, and he was able to return my breathing to a normal rate just by talking me through it.
I wonder how he’d feel about being on speed dial for the next one?
What would have happened if I had invited him in that night? The unbidden thought hits me out of nowhere. What would his hands feel like on my skin? What would his beard feel like against my face, my pussy?
Heat pools low in my stomach.
As my thoughts drift to his mouth, my hand lowers.
A familiar yet distant ache builds between my legs.
I let out a sigh as I dip my fingers inside myself, using the wetness to swirl around my swollen clit.
My fingers move faster as I imagine him here, in the shower with me.
My face pressing against the wall as he pushes himself inside me, whispering in my ear how much of a good girl I am.
My breathing turns ragged as I imagine him slamming into me, my nipples pressing into the cold tile.
“Yes,” I breathe.
The sensation in my stomach grows unbearably hot as electricity sweeps up my spine. I move my fingers frantically now, chasing the high. My breathing stops as my whole body tightens.
“Elias!” I cry out as my orgasm wracks my body, my pussy tightening and feeling unbearably empty.
As my breathing evens out, my senses return. Heat prickles my face as my throat grows thick. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I feel more unsatisfied after that orgasm than before.
What the fuck did I just do?
Steam curls around me, thick and stifling. My pulse still pounds between my thighs, but something sour knots in my stomach. I scrub myself clean and wrap a towel around myself.
This isn’t me.
Stepping out of the shower, the chill from the window seeps into my bones.
I press my palms to the tile, letting my forehead rest against the cool surface.
Just moments ago, I was scrubbing Kirk’s touch from my skin.
Now I’m getting off at the first guy who showed me a little care and concern?
Is that all it takes? A pair of piercing eyes and basic human interaction?
Wiping away the steam, I look at myself in the mirror. I know I should stay away from him, but it feels impossible. Everywhere I turn, he’s there. And I don’t want to run anymore.
“I bring goodies,” says Harper cheerfully as she swings my apartment door open. She holds up a bag of doughnuts and two coffees.
“You are my knight in shining armor, Harper Milano,” I say as I take my coffee from her hand, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. We make our way over to the couch, and she places the doughnuts onto the table, taking one for herself and using her palm as a plate.
“How was your date?” I ask, taking a long sip of my americano, enjoying the feeling of the warm liquid sliding down my throat.
“Eh,” she sounds with a shrug of her shoulders. “It was okay. He’s just as dry as the Sahara, Kat. The conversation is zero.”
“Then why do you keep him around?” I laugh, cradling the hot paper cup in my hands.
“Because the sex is amazing, duh,” she exclaims with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
I roll my eyes, pushing back the shame of my earlier shower.
“But he has been a little MIA recently,” she continues, her eyes downcast.
“In what way?” I ask, quirking a brow.
“Well, there have been a few times when he’s not been reachable. He says his phone died. Who lets their phone die in the twenty-first century?”
“Maybe his phone did actually die,” I reply with a smirk, which earns me a glare.
“The messages were delivered. They wouldn’t deliver if his phone was off.
” She sighs. “We’re not together or anything, but I’d like to know if he’s fucking someone else.
I don’t want to catch any STDs.” She shivers before taking a sip of coffee.
“Or maybe,” she says, the sound muffled by a bite of doughnut.
“I can tell the other girl, and she and I will become best friends and team up against Nathan and then go for world domination.”
We both laugh, my head coming to rest against her shoulder.
“That’s impossible. I’m your best friend,” I say with a small smile.
“Of course, Kat. Forever and always.” She places a small kiss on my forehead.
I want to be more supportive of her, the words are lodged in my throat.
But I can’t seem to push them through with the weight of everything else sitting heavily on my shoulders.
So I don’t say anything. I just stay there, leaning into her, listening to the faint sirens in a distant part of the city through my windows.
“So, how’s everything with you?”
I sigh, pulling myself up to a sitting position. “Weird,” I confess, taking a deep breath, ignoring the look of concern painted on Harper’s face. “After you all left the other night…”
I tell the entire story through blurred eyes, the setting sun casting dramatic shadows across my apartment by the time I’m finished.
“Kat…” Harper sighs before pulling me into a hug, my ribs tightening at the contact. “Why didn’t you call or text me?”
“I didn’t think. Everything happened so fast,” I whisper.
She gives me a sympathetic look, and I bite down the reaction that comes with the look. “And you still don’t know what happened to Kirk?”
“Nope. Not a clue,” I reply, half-truthfully. I definitely have an idea of what happened to him, but that’s definitely not something I want to give voice to just yet.
“Good. I hope that fucker is six feet under,” Harper says, twisting the lid of her now-empty coffee cup.
A moment of silence passes.
“Is it wrong that I’m more scared of Elias than I am Kirk?” I whisper quietly, unsure if I even say it out loud.
“Oh, Kat, not at all,” she replies, her hand coming to rest on my knee.
“Something about him screams danger. But I feel like my heart is running towards him anyway,” I say, my eyes fixed on the dirty, beige carpet.
“You can’t help how you feel, Kat,” she replies, giving my knee a light squeeze. “Keep your guard up, but don’t close yourself off from it. He could be the best sex of your life.”
My eyes dart up and grow wide. Harper laughs in response.
“I’m just jealous, girl. He is absolutely fine,” she says, licking her full lips on the last word.
“You’re feral,” I say, playfully shoving her across the couch before we collapse in laughter.
Harper pulls her phone out of her pocket and checks the screen. “Fuck, sorry, Kat, I gotta go. I have Pilates,” she says, standing up from the couch and throwing her coffee cup into the trash can. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”
“Yes, mom,” I drawl as I pull her into a tight hug. “Now go, you don’t want to be late.”
After I push her through the door, I fall onto the couch and stare at the ceiling for a moment, listening to the faint hum of the dying refrigerator.
It’s amazing how quickly the energy drains from a room once someone leaves it.
A heavy and claustrophobic stillness rings out through the apartment.
Picking up the doughnut from earlier and taking a bite, I can’t help but think…
do I really have anything to lose by letting go, even just for a little bit?