Chapter Fourteen
Everett Young
I take Ashley back to my house. Ash and Felicita are out on a date, and her roommates are home, so it seems to be the only viable option.
She is wearing red lingerie, and it hugs her body nicely; lace lies over her breasts to show her peaked nipples, and a G-string thong runs low over her hips. It’s a beautiful color against her skin that’s smooth and glistening with excitement.
She’s spread out over my bed, gazing up at me like I make her whole world spin on its axis, and she loves it.
I should be happy.
I should be hard as a rock and ready to devour her the way I would have been just weeks ago. But instead I’m limp in my pants and drunk off Tequila with an aching face.
She has a hand pressed to my neck, gently rubbing at me as she smiles.
I was drunk the last time we had sex, too—just horny enough to do her while thinking of someone else entirely. I feel like shit; I feel like a horrible person.
Ashley is a really good girl, kind and brilliant. If I told her I wasn’t interested, she would take it with grace. But every time I mean to, I hear Ash’s voice in my head. I feel that pang of terror, that fear of failure, the phantom caress of his fist.
The last time I came home, he made sure to remind me, good and well, what his expectations are, and tonight I’m set on making this beautiful girl my girlfriend—someone I can bring home to impress my adoptive parents.
“Baby?” Ashley prompts, dragging me from my thoughts.
I give her a lazy smile, kissing her neck. “Sorry, busy mind tonight.”
Her answering giggle tells me that she forgives me. I kiss down the length of her neck to her collarbones, nipping them gently, then continuing down to her breasts. She gasps as I pull one peak into my mouth, her soft body arching into mine.
“Everett,” she moans, hands tightening around the back of my neck.
I give attention to her other nipple before kissing down her stomach, licking at her navel. As I work my way lower, I find no desire to speak; to praise her, to hear her. This is how I know I’m not really here—not truly into this.
If I were, I wouldn’t be able to shut up. I’d be desperate, I’d be delirious.
Just as I was with… when… Anyway, I kiss her thighs, watching her legs fall open for me as I settle between them. And right as my mouth lands exactly where she wants it, she screams, hands fisting the blankets around her.
Ashley tastes the way most women do—the way I’m familiar with. As I lick into her, she cries, and normally that would egg me on. But instead, I find myself bored; I find myself soft. Even the Tequila coursing through me feels like a drag.
But I refuse to think of him the way I did last time. I refuse to replay the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands all so I can get hard and get off.
I’d rather feel nothing than be tormented by the memories of him.
I am present—I am with Ashley.
I tongue over her clit, suck it against my tongue as two fingers slip inside of her. She’s wet, tight, and warm; everything that would normally excite me.
“Oh, fuck. That feels so good,” she cries as I pump my fingers, curling against her walls as I devour her.
But there’s no enthusiasm. Every time I think of how lackluster this feels for me, she must feel it too. She has to know; women are intuitive creatures. But she entertains me anyway; she lets me continue, though she does not get close—not without my desire being at play as well.
Eventually I pull off of her, crawling back up the length of her body and capturing her mouth with mine. And as if she’s testing me, seeing if I really want it, she cups me over my jeans.
And of course, as I’ve been reminding myself all night, I’m soft.
“Everett.” She sounds stern, almost irritated. “You’re not hard. What’s going on?”
I sit back on my heels, staring down at her. “I don’t… I…”
But I don’t know what to say. After doing this dance with her for so many days, after the dates and the phone calls and the sex, lying feels like a cruelty I can spare her. I don’t want to be mean anymore—not when she’s so kind.
I kind of wish she were a bad person.
“Is it me?” she asks.
“What?! No!” And I’m not lying, because it’s not. It never was.
It has never been her, and that’s the problem.
“Then… is it someone else?” Her question feels like a bullet to the chest, and as I don’t answer, she sits up. And she must see the tortured look in my eyes because her face softens as she cups my cheek and adds, “What’s hurting you, Ev? Tell me. I’m not mad, I promise.”
“I can’t.” I swallow back the rising tears and close my eyes. “It’s… I just can’t.”
“Is it someone I know? Is it unrequited?”
“I actually don’t know if it’s unrequited because I can’t… I can’t be with them.” My voice is shaky.
Ashley is too insightful for her own good as she says, “It is a guy?”
My eyes shoot open in shock and obvious fear, but Ashley just smiles. And because I have issues and crave love and warmth and understanding, the tears fall.
“I can’t want him. I’m not allowed to. They won’t let me.” It’s a choked-out sob, a desperate admission to the girl I’m supposed to love—the girl I’m supposed to bring home.
“Allowed? Everett, no one can tell you who to love but you. I know I’m not in your position, but…
” She runs a finger over my black eye, acknowledging it.
“You should know that there is nothing wrong with loving another man. And unless you want to regret it for the rest of your life, don’t let anyone or anything stop you from telling him. ”
“But I’ll lose the only family that’s ever wanted me,” I confess, letting her soothe me—letting her hear my dirtiest truth; one that no one else has ever heard outside of my own mind.
Ashley rests her forehead against mine. “Is he not your family? This boy you love so much you feel like you’re dying?”
Something deep inside of me rattles, breaks open, cuts deep. I want to shatter onto the floor like an antique vase, like a priceless China dish set. I want to disappear.
How stupid am I? And how stupid is this cruel world?
“But what if I’ve already fucked it up?” I murmur. “What if I’ve already hurt him? I… What if I’m a bad guy?”
Ashley pulls away from me, her expression still kind but now also stern and motherly as she places a hand over my heart. “Everett, do you actually want to figure this out? Do you want to run to him and tell him you want him, or do you want to sit in this misery?”
I stare at her, unsure how to respond. Beyond the realization that I want Skylar more than anything else, I didn’t consider how comfortable I’ve become with being miserable.
Ashley continues, saying, “From where I’m sitting, it sounds an awful lot like you’re content to hang onto the misery. I think it’s safer for you to feel this pain than to step out onto the ledge. Maybe you should consider that piece for a while.”
Ashley leaves not long after our heart-to-heart. We never had much time anyway.
I’m in the kitchen taking another shot as Ash and Felicita come home. They’re laughing as they walk through the front door, and I try to slip back up the stairs before I’m spotted.
Felicita catches me, asking, “Everett? You’re up?”
“Uh, yeah. Hey.” I try my best to appear sober, to seem functional and not like I’m in the middle of an identity crisis.
“Have you been drinking?”
Okay, so I failed.
I offer her, and Ash, who has come up behind her, a smile. “Yeah. I’m celebrating a test I just aced.”
Lie. There was no test.
“Well, don’t drink too much,” Ash lectures, but I can see it in his face that they’ve been drinking too.
His eyes are glazed over, and he’s smiling at me. He never smiles at me without an audience.
“Yes, sir.” I turn to head back up the stairs, but he stops me.
“Why don’t you come hang out with your old man?”
I freeze. “I actually—”
“It wasn’t a request,” he interrupts.
Before I can say another word, he turns and heads for the living room, swiping a bottle of Brandy from the kitchen along the way.
In the living room, he pours us both a glass, handing one to me as we sit on the couch.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“You know that I’m hard on you because I care,” Ash randomly says. His voice sounds wistful and full of pride.
“About me or your image?” I want to say, but even drunk, I can’t.
“I know,” is what I say instead, because I’m a bitch.
He smiles. “Good. So, how’s that girlfriend hunt going?”
I take a deep breath, swallowing thickly. I can hear Ashley in my ear.
Do I want to live in this misery? Do I want to be under his thumb until one of us dies? Will I ever be able to become who I want to be, even in the shadow of his death?
I don’t have to mention being into guys; I can just say I’m not interested in dating, right? How mad can he truly get? Plus, he’s in a really good mood, all hopped up on expensive booze.
If I don’t stick up for myself now, then when?
“Ah, well. It didn’t work out with that girl I was seeing. But that’s okay; I’m going to graduate, and then maybe I’ll meet someone at the office.”
Perfect. Nothing is revealed, and I can put a stop to this ridiculous relationship hunt. It can’t be affecting his image that much, my being single.
But the room has fallen silent after my little speech, and eventually I gather the courage to look at him. He’s staring at me, almost in awe—as if he can’t believe I’m turning away his bulletproof plan on how to be successful.
“I… you… What?” he stutters out.
I squirm, taking a drink of my Brandy. “I’m just going to focus on my studies right now.”
His glass shatters against the wall across the room.
“Excuse me?” Ash is all panting breaths and barely restrained anger. I resist the urge to run like a child. “You’re going to do what? Deliberately disobey me?”
I shake my head quickly. “No! I just—nothing’s working out, you know? And I—”
His fist slams into my cheek so fast that I don’t see it coming. He’s also so quick, which I guess is better than watching the wind-up.
I cringe. “Dad—”
“Do you not care about everything I’ve done? You’re complaining about getting a girlfriend? Are you fucking serious, Everett?”