Maizyn
Chapter Nine
Sometimes my own chaos bites me in the ass; this is one of those times.
I challenged him to do the trend, thinking there was no way he would be able to do it.
There was no way a man I officially met one day ago should’ve known my body well enough to pull it off.
He dropped to his knees and my jaw almost followed.
I tried to remain in control of the situation.
I thought I still had the upper hand. I was wrong.
The moment the word ‘go’ left my lips, I knew I had lost. Having his head between my legs, even fully clothed, had my body reacting in a way it definitely shouldn’t.
I wanted him there without clothes between us; the thought rattled me.
The way Atlas is currently smiling at me, followed by his questioning, means he noticed every bit of what I was feeling.
It doesn’t mean anything. Nothing happened.
I run from the room before he can ask me any more questions.
I can’t give him the answers he wants right now.
I don’t even know how I feel about what just happened.
I rather not think too hard about it right now.
I make my way to the living room, Atlas hot on my heels.
Explaining my panic attack is the last thing I want to do right now, especially after what happened a few moments ago, but I would prefer to get this conversation over with.
It's embarrassing to look this weak in front of anyone, but I dragged them into it the moment they had to pull me out of one.
The least I can do is explain it to them so they know my triggers and we can try to avoid it next time.
I grab a deck of playing cards from the bookshelf and plop down at the table in the corner. I need the distraction. I won’t be able to get everything out if their full attention is on me.
“Let's play Ring of Fire. We don’t have beer, so we will have to play a different version of it. Can one of you grab the bottle of tequila?” My voice sounds miles away as I move on autopilot.
Atlas stands from his seat, heading to the kitchen to grab the bottle and three shot glasses. It’s not the first time Atlas and I have played this game, so he is not surprised when I suggest it. Gavin, on the other hand, seems confused. “Have you ever played this game, Gavin?”
“No, can’t say I have. What are the rules?”
“It’s pretty simple. The normal game is played with beer, but we will do shots instead.
Each card has a different action. For this version, if you draw an ace, everyone takes a shot.
Numbers 2-4 the person who draws it gets to pick the action.
An example would be if you draw a three and say table, the last person to touch the table has to drink.
If you draw a five, guys drink, six girls drink.
If you draw a seven or the heaven card, the last person to raise both hands into the air drinks.
Draw an eight, pick someone to do a shot with you.
Nine is rhyme, ten is categories, and Jack is never have I ever.
If you draw a queen, you ask a question and whoever answers it does a shot.
Last but not least, if you draw a king, you pour a little bit of tequila into the center cup.
If someone draws the fourth king, they have to down the whole cup. Any questions about the rules?”
“Uh, not really. It seems pretty straightforward as long as I don’t forget what the cards mean.”
“If you forget what the card means, you can show Atlas or me; we will tell you.”
“How does this game help us discuss everything?”
“After each round, you two can ask a question I have to answer. At a certain point, I am sure I will be drunk enough we can stop playing the game. Sound good?”
“Yeah, Chaos.”
“Alright. Gavin goes first.”
“Why do I have to go first?” The grimace on his face is almost comical.
“Because you never played before, duh.” My eyes roll involuntarily. I can’t help if they have a mind of their own.
“Fine.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.
Then shoots me a death glare as I fill the three shot glasses.
I flip him off in return. I may regret it later, but I rather enjoy pissing him off.
He flips a card from the deck in the middle of the table; it’s a six.
I down my shot in one go and refill it for the next round. Atlas speaks up first.
“What do you remember about last night?”
“I remember dancing on the bar top and Gavin pulling me down because you punched someone. I remember getting carried out and placed in the car.”
I draw the next card. It’s a two. “Floor.” Atlas and I both touch the floor before Gavin even realizes what happened. “Drink, Gavin.”
He throws his shot back. It’s his turn to ask a question. “Do you remember having a panic attack?”
“Yes, I remember having one. I also vaguely remember you pulling me out of it. Thank you for that, by the way.”
“It’s no problem.” He doesn’t make eye contact when he says it, his cheeks tinting a faint pink.
Atlas draws next, pulling an eight from the deck. He points to me; we both drink. He may think he is being clever, but I know he is only trying to get me drunk faster so we can stop playing this game and move on to the real conversation.
“Do you remember what you saw during your panic attack? Anything that would let us know what could have triggered it to begin with.”
I knew this question was coming. Atlas doesn’t like wasting time, so of course, he would come right out and ask. I take another shot for shits and giggles before responding.
“It was as if I was reliving the accident. One moment I was in the car with both of you, the next I was in a different car entirely, bracing for whatever came next.”
“The accident Trevor caused?”
My attention snaps to Gavin. “What are you talking about?”
“Damn it, Gavin! I haven’t told her about any of it yet!”
“I thought she knew!” The panic in his voice conveys he honestly didn’t mean to upset me.
I stand from the table and start pacing back and forth. “Someone better explain to me right now what the hell y'all are talking about!”
“Okay. Okay. Just sit back down; we will tell you what we found out.”
I sit back down with more force than is needed. “Start talking!” The demand comes out in a tone I don’t recognize as being my own voice. Turns out the dickwad’s name is somewhat triggering. Who would have thought?
Gavin stays silent, waiting for Atlas to steer the conversation. Smart man.
“I’m not sure where to start.” He mumbles.
“Oh, I don’t know? The beginning would probably be nice.” My hands fly into the air in exasperation.
He sighs as if I backed him into a corner before continuing. “You know what Gavin and I do for work, right?”
“Yeah, you own a security firm. What about it?”
“It’s a bit more than that. Gavin is one of the best hackers I know.”
“How is that related to the conversation?” My brain is struggling to connect the dots, yet it's as if the dots keep moving.
“Because when I found you again, well, when I found Emily, we started digging into both Emily's and Maizyn’s backgrounds. I started looking for any connection between the two of you to prove that I wasn’t going crazy.
I traced Emily’s hospital stay to be around the same time as the accident and had Gavin hack into the hospital records. ”
“How did you know about the accident, at the time I mean?” The words hold no trace of the emotions I am feeling. They are clipped and monotone as I try to protect myself
He picks the skin on his thumb, avoiding eye contact with me.
I brace myself for what he is about to say because it isn’t like him to not look me in the eye when he answers.
His voice breaks a tiny bit as he responds, but he covers it quickly.
“Y- you left me a voicemail… It cut off when the taxi was hit. I heard the impact and your reaction. It’s the only reason I knew.
The police report about the accident doesn’t even mention a passenger in the wreck. ”
Tears prickle in my eyes. I remember it now. It was foggy until he mentioned it. I asked the taxi driver if I could borrow his phone. It was my last-ditch effort to convince myself not to turn around and go back. I wipe my eyes before telling him to continue.
“We hacked into the cameras outside of the hospital and saw a man leaving you outside of the emergency room med bay and driving off. The damage on the vehicle matched what could have caused the wreck. I- we- didn’t put the clues together until after he kidnapped you.
I don’t know how we missed it, but I am so sorry. ”
Several moments with Trevor flash through my mind. Every little snide comment could prove it was him, replayed over and over again. All the dots connect into a perfect, fucked up picture. Of course, it was Trevor. I don't know why I didn't put the clues together myself.
“Thanks for finally telling me.” My voice comes out flat. While I’m not exactly surprised, the betrayal still hurts.
Gavin finally speaks up. “Do you want to talk about it? The kidnapping, I mean.”
“I'm not drunk enough for that conversation yet. I need a snack and we definitely need another bottle of tequila for this.”
I stand up and head to the kitchen, needing a bit of space from the conversation. Opening the fridge, I grab a handful of grapes and shove them into my mouth. I don't actually feel hungry, but I needed an excuse to leave the room.
A warm body presses against my back, freezing me in place.
Tattooed arms snake around me. One hand grabs a bottle of water.
The other is on my hip, guiding me out of the way so he can close the fridge.
The touch ignites heat in my entire body.
Gavin comes into view as I take a few steps away.
He reaches into the cabinet above the fridge, retrieving an unopened bottle of alcohol and placing it on the counter next to me.
My eyes trail his body, drinking in the way his grey sweatpants and black shirt look on him.
He is mouth-watering. I think this is the first time I can get a good look at his tattoos.
He has a sleeve similar to Atlas’, but where Atlas only has one sleeve on his right arm and two single tattoos on his left, intricate black designs cover both of Gavin's arms. Roses and vines intertwine, creating most of his sleeve.
One tattoo stands out above the rest. On his right forearm sits a paper airplane. I wondered what it means.
Trailing my gaze back up his body, I don’t realize I am basically undressing him, until I see the cocky smirk he is wearing.
Shit. I shouldn’t be looking at Atlas’ best friend like this.
I should have stopped drinking at least four shots ago, but I am not one to back down from a drinking game.
You would think I would know by now that alcohol and I don’t get along, even if it makes shit easier to deal with.
“Like what you see, Little Demon?”
“In your dreams, pretty boy.”
“So what I’m hearing is you think I’m pretty?”
“Nope, I just didn’t want to hurt your fragile ego.” A smile cracks across my face at his antics. Of course, that would be what he heard. My smile falters and my eyebrows scrunch in confusion as what he called me finally processes. “Why did you call me that?”
“Call you what… Little Demon?”
“Tornado, Demon, take your pick.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes, asshole. Why the fucking nickname?”
He smiles, but it's not sweet. It's wicked. He leans in close. His lips brush my ear. I feel his breath against my neck as he whispers, “Too bad I’m not going to tell you.”
With that he walks out of the kitchen and back into the living room. I flip him off again even if he can’t see it. The man gets on my last nerve.