Landon
I HAVE HAD TWO men circling my mind since New Year’s. And no, it’s not rare for me to have several men on me or around me at once, but I am new to obsessively thinking about more than one.
Julian? He’s always there. A constant vision behind my eyes; a forever reminder of how wonderful, or how beautiful, he is.
Only now, it’s his face as I told him I’d give him up like he wants me to, right before I left Chastain Castle.
His enamored eyes as he stared at Atlas, one of his boss’s sons, while we stood over the Pacific, and the young, pretty thing watched the waves.
Now, as Julian circles my mind, it triggers pain. It is a constant reminder that I will never have what I’ve craved since I was fifteen. Not without manipulating him, forcing him.
Speaking of… that brings me to the other man circling my brain. Nathaniel Barfred. The man who treated me like I was nothing, like I was a threat to be disposed of. He seems convinced that I’m that kind of person—the kind who would brainwash someone into loving me.
If I were, wouldn’t I have Julian?
Exactly. All I do is mundane things: requesting my tea how I’d like it, getting more than one drink at a limited bar, convincing some asshole to get out of the parking spot I was eyeing.
And I know someday I’ll be required to use it at my father’s business. Movie investments are tricky, and we’ve stayed successful thanks to my uncle, who can always dig the truth out of someone.
But I’m not a monster. I’m not sure why Nathaniel thinks that.
I find him righteous and conceited—this Nathaniel Barfred. Sure, he has the looks to back up his ridiculous demeanor, but the personality? Yeah, I don’t think so.
My brief interaction with him told me two things: I’m oddly attracted to him, and I hope to god I never have to see his stupid, smug face again. Something tells me he’s simply the kind of man you either love or hate.
And me? Hate. And if not yet, it’s soon to develop. There’s an ever-changing loathing that is building inside of me the longer it exists in my mind.
At least I can guarantee my distance from him now that I’m back in California.
Getting on the plane last night was sad. Between Susie crying because she misses Julian and my heart being broken over watching him ogle Atlas, giving him soft smiles, it was a devastating flight.
I never thought he’d fall for a guy like him. I never thought he’d fall for anyone but me. And now I have to move on. I have to leave him be.
It’s cruel. We were each other’s first kiss, first everything.
I groan, rolling over on my bed as I stare blankly at the wall.
It’s nearly dinner time, and I’m meant to report to my parents’ house, but I’m tired. I’m sad.
A knock sounds at my bedroom door, and then moments later, Susie barges in.
“You gonna hide all day?” she asks me, placing her hands on her hips as attitude rolls off of her in waves.
“Yes,” I answer shortly.
“Lan, I get it. I miss him too. But—”
“You don’t get it, Sue,” I interrupt. “I don’t just miss him; I’m mourning him. Us.”
Susie’s expression softens, her hands slipping from her hips as she sits next to where I lie on the bed. “You’re actually backing off?”
“It’s what he wants. Julian’s clearly into that guy he works for, so I might as well get my head out of my ass and leave him be.”
“I’m proud of you,” she says. “You deserve to be happy too, you know? You need to find someone who loves you, who wants you as desperately as you want them.”
As she speaks, the darkness rolls in. It circles my ankles and climbs steadily up my mattress as I breathe in contaminated air. I normally do so well at ignoring and adapting to the sadness that lives inside of me, but right now, it’s too much to bear.
In the face of what I’ve lost with Julian and the reality that it’s always me who wants, loves, and craves more than others, I can’t seem to fight off these bad feelings.
It makes me hopeless. It inspires me to fall into the thick darkness inside of me, to soak it up, to drown in it.
What’s the point in continuing the fight against my pointless, baseless misery when I have nothing to fight for?
If there is no one close enough to me to see inside, to witness the unfolding of the dark and scary things, then why should I care to stop the onslaught?
“Is this why you’ve been moody since we landed?” Susie asks, running her fingertips over my shoulder gently.
“Losing Julian?” I clarify.
Susie rolls her eyes. “You haven’t lost him, Lan. You’ve both set boundaries; that’s all.”
That’s all. It sounds so simple when she says it. Not that I can blame her; I’ve never let anyone other than my family in on my darkest parts. Susie and Julian have no idea that I battle this part of myself.
Her ignorance to the tidal wave of fresh agony coursing through me is my own fault. How do you explain to your friends that you’re perpetually sad when nothing’s wrong?
Even now, as I do have something to whine about, this pain doesn’t originate from it. There’s too much to explain, too much to convince her of.
And I’m not brave enough to give them that effort.
“You’re right,” is what I say instead of explaining. As if it’s brought me comfort, as if it quells this feeling inside of me even a little. “I have to get ready for dinner.”
Susie gives me a gentle smile and leaves the room. Silence settles around me, grasping me by the neck and squeezing.
With labored breaths, I get ready to meet my family.
Dinner is going well. Or, as well as it can when surrounded by people who know the deepest depths of your soul and deem them in need of fixing.
I don’t fault my family for seeing the worst parts of me and attempting to stifle them—but I am tired of hearing their probing.
“You seem sadder today, Landon,” my mother observes, her short brown hair brushing her shoulders and framing our matching green eyes as she stares straight at me.
“I guess,” I say, shrugging.
“What is it this time? Did you stub your toe on your way in?” Scarlet jokes.
It’s good-natured; Scarlet isn’t a horrible person. She is a bit jealous that it was I who inherited our family’s gift, but she never wishes bad things for me.
“Very funny,” I answer blandly, poking away at my carrots as she laughs, sitting poised and perfect at the table.
She looks just like Mom. In fact, we all look incredibly similar to one another. That’s family, I guess.
Only, as Dad speaks, I have to drop my gaze. I hate seeing myself within him—who I might be someday. Not because I find him repulsive, but because I can’t live up to who I’m meant to be. Not like this.
“You’d feel better if you finally made something of yourself,” he tells me. “When do you intend to come and work with us?”
Scarlet already works at Ocean View Entertainment, the company my family owns. Mom still works part-time, but she mostly stays at home these days.
“Soon, maybe,” I answer noncommittally.
It’s not that I don’t want to work with my family. It’s more that I want to experience life on my own first. If I rush right into being the CEO’s son, I doubt I’ll have the time to just be Landon.
I’m not ready to lose this freedom yet. I’m a snobby, ungrateful kid, I know.
“I still don’t understand why you chose to work at that Burger King with your friend rather than here, with us,” Dad complains, his thick brows pinched as he takes another bite of his steak.
In his tailored suit and with his perfectly groomed mustache, he looks the part of a wealthy, secure man.
I will never have a mustache.
“I wanted to experience it,” I tell him, and I can hear how defensive I sound.
I wish we would stop talking about this; it makes me think of Julian. Of picking him up for our shifts, laughing as we take drive-thru orders, and of going back to his place afterward to slip into his bed and touch.
That settles it. I’m going to the club soon, and I’m getting laid. No more of this; it’s dragging out that murky darkness from within me.
The conversation drifts to less devastating things, such as Scarlet’s new car and Dad’s big win at the office. Apparently, he’s invested in a movie meant to bring in over 10 million next year.
As everyone is saying goodbye, with me heading to my condo with Susie, I head out to where my car is parked in the large driveway.
Scarlet still lives at home, so she retires to her own room as my parents settle in the living room.
I couldn’t stay here, not with Dad breathing down my neck about joining Ocean View Entertainment. Plus, again, I want to experience the world. And the first step? Living with one of my best friends in a run-down condo far from the wealthy neighborhood I grew up in.
As I approach the driver’s side of my car, I spot a motorcycle parked across the street outside of our gated property. And leaning against it is a man, tall and domineering. The longer I stare, the more I recognize him.
I believe I might have stepped right into a different dimension, because what the fuck is Nathaniel Barfred doing here? At my parents’ house?
I sneer, sliding behind the wheel.
I don’t know what his deal is, but I’m about to find out. Maybe I'll call the police on him or throw a punch.
With no hesitation, I pull out of the gates and park in front of his bike, jumping out of my car with an anger that is not new to me, but new to being aimed at another person.
“Are you stalking me?” I demand, standing a few feet from where he’s leaning against his bike.
And more irritating than his being here is his appearance.
His muscles bulge beneath the black shirt he’s wearing, his thighs on beautiful display in his jeans.
He’s wearing some unfamiliar brand of black combat boots, his helmet resting on the seat of his bike as he runs a hand through his black hair.
Nathaniel has very interesting eyes, which is enough in itself to piss me off. They’re tilted up at the ends just slightly, his lashes thick and his pupils larger than any man’s that I’ve ever seen. The color is concentrated around them, giving them a cat-like appearance.
Deadly, vicious, untrusting. That is what I read from Nathaniel.
“Not stalking,” he tells me, his deep voice running laps around my body. “I’m here to take out the trash.”
His eyes narrow, letting me in on his designating me as the trash he’s speaking of.
“The trash?” I repeat, my own voice raising an octave in disbelief.
“Someone has to make sure you’re not running around, forcing people to obey you with that sick little gift of yours.”
“Like you could do a damn thing to stop me,” I huff, and before I can get my arms fully crossed over my chest in defense, he’s right in front of me.
With strong, capable hands, Nathaniel snatches me up right in front of my own family’s property. He’s breathing hard, the scent of something dark and heady bleeding from his body.
I have never experienced someone being so rough with me. It’s kind of intoxicating, though I’ll never admit it.
My hands wrap around where his are gripping my button-up, but he’s unmovable.
“I know how to drain someone until they’re nothing, little Lanny. I will not hesitate to do just that to you and your smart little mouth.”
Ugh, that name. Little Lanny. Why does he call me that? Why does it feel good?
I can’t fucking stand this guy. He’s presumptuous and cruel. There is an arrogance in the way he carries himself. Like, what? Does he think he’s Batman or something?
My eyes narrow, but Nathaniel continues to speak. “It’s disgusting, targeting people less powerful than you and bending them to your will. Well, guess what? Now it’s your turn.”
“For someone who thinks I’m so disgusting,” I start, “you sure can’t seem to stop touching me.”
But he doesn’t loosen his hold as I thought he would. Instead, he pulls me tighter against him, sneering down at me.
“You’re right,” Nathaniel agrees. “I’m trying to find the crack in your rich boy armor so that I can dismantle and decimate you.”
Something hot and angry burns inside of me at the threat. The promise of it. How he intends to dismantle me, I’m unsure. But he won’t ever get the chance. This man will never get close enough to me to see the broken parts—the ones that are easily exploitable.
“You’re very confident, using those big words to make yourself appear as more than a lowly servant. But guess what?” I lean in closer, letting each word slam straight against his skin. “Even our pool boy could conjure threats this boring.”
I shove away, and Nathaniel’s hands finally release me, his chest heaving as he glares.
“Now,” I continue, “get lost. You’re annoying me.”
And with that, I get into my car and speed away.
I refuse to acknowledge him any further, to give him the satisfaction of my being angry or attracted to him.
Nathaniel Barfred and his antagonist ways can fuck right off. He can find a different man to dismantle.
It sure as hell won’t be me.