5. Tucker
5
TUCKER
“ A nyway, they both ended up wearing me on their tongues.” Carter’s triumphant smile is only in place because Wren got up to grab herself a drink from the soda machine. I can tell he’s been waiting all through lunch to tell that story. As it turns out, both Allie and Alex were hungry for his dick during the party and had taken turns on him until he came across their tongues. Funny how boring the story sounds when I recap it in my head.
What am I going to do, tell him that? Especially when he’s walking around on Cloud Nine, acting like the world’s biggest stud. “That’s, like, bucket list-level shit,” I decide, lifting my fist to bump his when he holds it out.
“Glad I could help you get your dick wet last night.” Briggs shakes his head, laughing dryly. “I should throw more parties. Am I a pimp now?”
“You’re just not used to having house parties,” I remind him. It’s not like we’ve never done that kind of thing before. I’ve probably gotten off in most of my classmates’ bedrooms over the years. But Briggs is usually a visitor, not a host.
“What the hell happened to you last night?” When his attention swings around and lands on me, I wish I had never said anything. He’s only curious, the way any friend would be, but it’s a loaded question. He just doesn’t know it.
“You were talking to a pair of tits attached to a girl with red hair, right? What’s her name? Emma?” Carter shrugs. “Anyway, I would love to fuck those titties. Tell me you did, please.”
“I never thought I’d say this, but you need a hormone suppressant or something.” Briggs laughs, giving him a look that says he’s not completely joking. “You just got done telling us how a pair of blonde twins took turns sucking your dick last night, and you’re hoping Tucker fucked some girl’s tits?”
“Hey, I’m a healthy young man.” Somehow, Carter manages to keep a straight face. “At my sexual peak, let’s not forget. I’m only doing what nature compels me to do.”
“Right. The survival of the species depends on how many faces you spray your cum all over.” Briggs and I share a laugh as Carter rolls his eyes.
Of course, when Wren comes back, that part of the conversation is over. Right now, with the mood I’m in? I kind of wish she had never left the table. Like I want to hear about Carter getting off last night, when I was too pissed off at Maya and myself to do anything but sulk until I went home early.
It was bad enough I was in a shit mood. I didn’t need to be reminded of all the fun I could and should be having. I didn’t need to have it thrown in my face that I was too caught up in the past to enjoy my life right now, with girls throwing themselves at me the way they normally did. I couldn’t find it in me to respond the way I knew I should, so it was better to take myself out of the equation.
Now I’m even more pissed at myself for letting her get to me the way I did.
For letting her ruin my sleep.
I can’t get it out of my head, even as I fight to keep up with the conversation going on around me. Maya wanted it, didn’t she? There isn’t a doubt in my mind. She was there, in the moment with me, practically ready to hump me out on the street when there were still bands of light lingering on the horizon. It wasn’t even dark enough to hide us out there, but she didn’t care. Neither did I.
Not until I felt whatever it was on her leg. Something rough, so different from the smoothness I had felt otherwise. And it had freaked her the fuck out.
That didn’t mean she had to slap me. She had no right to look at me the way she did. To act like I was the problem, like I was scum. She was just as into it as I was. But no, I was the cretin.
“It’s a shame you didn’t decide to have people over tonight, instead,” Wren muses while checking her phone. “It’s just going to get hotter today. I can’t wait to get in the pool when we get home.”
I barely hear half of what she said, since a certain somebody catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.
Right away, there’s an obvious difference between Maya and every other person in the cafeteria: she’s the only one wearing pants. The other girls are in shorts or skirts, since it’s hotter than the devil’s crack outside. I’m in a pair of shorts, sitting in an air-conditioned cafeteria, and I still have the beginnings of swamp ass going on. It’s nasty out there.
But she’s in jeans. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail that swings back and forth as she hustles her way through the room, grabbing a bottled smoothie before paying for it up at the register. She’s got to be dying in those pants, which, of course, gives me the perfect look at her round, full ass. Fuck, I came so close to touching her last night, didn’t I? I came close to a lot of things.
“I’m going to talk to her.” Wren is already on her feet by the time I register what she said. I can’t exactly tackle her to the floor to keep her from bringing Maya anywhere near me after last night’s disaster, but the idea does occur to me as she walks past on her way to her so-called friend.
“She needs to socialize a little more or something,” I decide, once again losing my appetite at Maya’s presence. I’m going to have to start charging her for the money she’s wasting me in lunches. “She needs some new friends. Maya is not worth it.”
“She does need to meet some new people,” Briggs agrees. “But that’s none of my business. She’s happy being friends with Maya, that’s all that matters.”
If only he knew how wrong he is. “Wren doesn’t need to be hanging around with a girl like Maya.”
“What is it about her?” he asks, sitting back and looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like we’re strangers, like I’ve ever needed a reason to dislike or even fucking hate somebody. Suddenly, the rules have changed. Wren has, I don’t know, soothed him or something.
“Shit, I’m gonna be late for class,” Carter interrupts things, and I want to thank him once I notice the time. Not because he’s keeping me from being late, but because he’s just the distraction I needed. I’ve never admitted to my friends what happened between us, and I never will. I’m not one of those people who gets off on being humiliated.
It’s a shame I have to rush across the quad in this heat, but my PoliSci professor has a hair up his ass when it comes to people being late. Even though I’m not exactly a nobody around here—if anything, he might want to make an example out of me. I don’t need Dad bitching me out.
The whole way, with the sun blazing down on me and heat practically sucking the air out of my lungs, there’s only one thing I can think about. Only one person whose image sits in the front of my mind. I might be looking at a beautifully landscaped campus, but I see Maya’s blazing, hate-filled eyes. Maya’s sneer. Leave me alone. God dammit, why do I let her do this to me?
So, of course, I’m in a bitter sort of mood by the time I drop into the first empty chair in the lecture hall. She hasn’t come in yet. Maybe she was too busy talking to Wren and being a shitty friend to notice the time. The girl tries so damn hard.
And to think, Maya has the nerve to talk shit at me for having a change of heart. Coming around, accepting my friend’s girlfriend. Meanwhile, she has to know she’s Wren’s only friend and that it makes her unhappy to basically be ignored. Does she care? No.
Here she is. Just like in the cafeteria, she’s the only person wearing pants. Her face is red, shiny with sweat, and the hair at the nape of her neck is darker than the rest. What is she trying to prove with the fucking jeans? Everybody’s already sweaty as hell as it is.
By the time class starts, it’s pretty obvious to me what’s going on—she’s hiding. It’s the same reason she slapped me and shoved me away last night when I got too close to what she’s trying to hide. The same reason she didn’t want to put on a bathing suit. Why did it take me so long to figure it out?
Oh, right. Because I was too busy being pissed that she pushed me away. Again.
Not this time. This time, I want answers. I want to know what she’s doing to herself. I didn’t imagine what I felt under my fingertips. The jeans only convince me I’m right. I knew she was fucked in the head, but I didn’t think it went this far.
Especially since the last time I had my hands on her, there were only a couple of scars that could easily have been explained away if I had asked about them, I’m sure.
That was a long time ago. Obviously, she’s been busy. I want to know how busy. I don’t know why and don’t feel like trying to figure it out. I only know by the time class is over—a class I paid no attention to—that I will not leave campus today without seeing for myself what she’s trying to hide. Let her hide it from the rest of the world if she wants to. Not from me. If anything, she owes me. This doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.
I’m out of my seat before the professor has fully dismissed us, the first one out the door so I can wait in the hall for Maya to leave the room. She can only come out this way, so there’s no avoiding me. It doesn’t take long for her to bolt through the door like there’s a fire behind her, almost running with her head down and her shoulders up around her ears. Like that is going to do anything to spare her from me.
“Hey. I have to talk to you.” It takes no time or effort to catch her and clamp an arm around her waist. Her body goes stiff in response before she tries to pull away, but she’s no match for me. She never has been.
“Why can’t you leave it alone already? What is wrong with you?” Her mouth is moving, but I don’t give a shit about what’s coming out of it as I pull her into an empty room and close the door, standing with my back against it so there’s no hope of her getting out until I say she can.
“I want to see.” With my arms folded, I stare her down, prepared to wait all day if I have to. “Your leg. I want to see your leg. Both of them, since you probably don’t stop at just one.”
“What are you talking about?” There she goes again, folding her arms over herself.
“Can you stop with this pointless bullshit?” Truly, it’s exhausting. “I know what I felt last night.”
“My hand against your face?” She has the nerve to look smug when she smiles. “Otherwise, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” And I am sick to death of it. “There were scars all over your thigh. That’s what I touched. That’s why you stopped everything. You’re going to show them to me.”
It’s obvious at first she doesn’t believe me, eyelids fluttering, her head snapping back before a laugh bursts out of her. “What? This is stupid.”
“You’re a terrible liar, and you’re wasting your time. I know what I felt. Just like I know that’s why you’re wearing pants when everybody in their right mind is wearing as little as they can on a day like this. So, either you show me what you’re trying to hide, or I will show myself. And trust me,” I add when she scoffs, “it’ll be much easier if you do it yourself. You won’t like it if I’m the one who does it.”
“What gives you the right?”
That’s a good question. All it does is set my teeth on edge. “Who said anything about rights? But now that you mention it, it’s an interesting question. What gives anybody the right to do anything?”
I watch it happen in real time. The way she shuts down once she realizes she set her own trap, then stepped into it with her eyes wide open. I watch as the color drains from her face and the light from her eyes. She goes away, plain and simple, leaving a silent shell behind.
“You see,” I murmur while she shuts down, “some people would ask what gives a person the right to do something of their own free will and enjoy the hell out of it in the moment, then threaten to lie and say they didn’t. That it wasn’t their idea. I would have to ask what gives that person the right. Do you wanna talk about it some more?” I tip my head to the side. “Or are you going to drop your fucking pants and show me what I know is there?”
When she speaks, her voice is flat. Like all of the life has drained from it. I might as well be listening to a robot when she asks, “If you know it’s there, why do you need to see?”
“I know, right? It’s a real bitch, curiosity. Now do it before I do it myself.”
She has no choice. She knows I’m not fucking around. By the time she unbuttons her waistband, she’s silently resigned. She doesn’t say a word—I’m not sure she blinks once before bending at the waist to lower her jeans to her knees.
I didn’t know what to expect. I only know what I feel, and what I feel is nowhere near the extent of what exists on her legs. A spiderweb of crisscrossing scars marring her otherwise perfect skin. “Holy shit,” I mutter, staring with my mouth hanging open. I can’t look away. It’s ugly. I can’t understand why she would do it, but I can’t take my eyes off it.
Finally, I pry my gaze from the wreckage to look into her eyes. “Are you trying to make yourself as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside? Because you’re doing a pretty good job so far. What, you want the whole world to know what a freak you are?” I ask with a laugh before moving closer, bending a little to get a better look. “Fucking insane. I’m sure if you wanted somebody to hurt you, you wouldn’t have to look far. I can’t be the only person whose life you tried to fuck with.”
Goddamnit. Why won’t she say something? Anything, so long as I’m not talking to myself. “What happens when you run out of clean skin on your legs? Are you going to move onto your arms? Pretty soon, you’ll have to walk around in a snowsuit twelve months out of the year.”
All she does is take a deep breath, which she releases slowly before murmuring, “Are you finished? Or are there a few more childish insults you feel like throwing my way?”
“I’ll throw whatever the fuck I wanna throw your way.” Standing upright, I glare down at her, my fists clenching when all she does is stare blankly back. There’s no fear, no anger, no resentment. There’s nothing but emptiness.
And it’s unnerving as fuck. A chill runs down my spine, but I shake it off.
Scoffing, I back away. She doesn’t move, staring at me, waiting for me to leave. There’s something broken about her. Something deeply wrong. Otherwise, how could she stand there so completely still and silent?
She doesn’t move until I open the door, in fact. A door I leave open, standing against it to hold it open so anyone passing by can see. If I can’t get a reaction out of her, maybe they will. “For fuck’s sake, Maya,” I call out, turning my face toward the hall so everyone out there can hear me. “Pull up your fucking pants. You look desperate.”
I don’t bother looking back at her to catch her reaction. Hearing the laughter and whistles from everyone nearby is more than enough for me.