Текст книги "Abandon"

Автор книги: Cassia Leo

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Six

I wake up just after 7 a.m. with Chrissy’s cheek resting on my abdomen just above my dick. She’s lying crosswise on the bed and my hand is on her back. Her ass is even nicer with her clothes off. My head is killing me and I have a vague memory of Chrissy telling me that Link, his girlfriend, and Link’s family would be here in the morning to celebrate Thanksgiving. It’s 7 a.m. We still have time for one more goodbye fuck.

I slide my hand over her ribs and reach over to grab her breast. She groans softly as she turns over to face me, her head still resting on my abdomen. Her make-up is smeared all over her eyes and her lips look a little swollen, but definitely still fuckable.

“Sit up,” I order her and she looks confused.

“What time is it?”

“Seven o’clock. Sit up.”

Her eyes widen as she sits up on her knees. “They’re gonna be here in less than an hour!” she cries. “We have to clean up.”

Her eyes dart around the dimly lit bedroom in the cabin, which isn’t really a cabin. It’s a tiny house on a farm forty-five minutes outside of Raleigh. Though it does look like a cabin from the outside, there isn’t a mountain in sight.

“Calm down. An hour is plenty of time.”

I sit up and grab the back of her neck. She looks me in the eye as my other hand slides between her legs. Her panic melts as I stroke her clit. I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her up until we’re both standing on our knees on the mattress facing each other. She whimpers as I plunge two fingers inside her wet pussy to unearth her moisture. I hook my middle finger inside her, using my thumb to keep pressure on her clit as I massage her g-spot. Her shoulders begin to curl inward as she gets close to climax, but I tighten my grip on her hair and pull her head up.

“Do you want me to finish you?”

“Yes!” she cries, panting between gasps. “Yes, please.” I ease the pressure off her clit and her mouth drops open as I remove my finger from inside her. “No, no, please. Please finish,” she begs as she reaches for my hand.

I grab her hand and force it behind her back as I lean in and whisper in her ear. “I’ll finish you, but first you have to sit back and do what I say.”

She nods her head and immediately obeys when I instruct her to lie back with her shoulders against the headboard. I’m out of condoms so I’ll have to make do with what’s available. I straddle her chest and her eyes widen at the sight of my cock in front of her face.

“That’s … that’s kind of big,” she whispers.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”

I slide my hand behind her head, to control the movement and to protect her head from the headboard, then I slide into her mouth. I go slow at first, to let her adjust to my girth, but she soon reaches around to grab hold of my ass and push me farther inside. The pressure of her lips and the warm wetness of her tongue are perfect, but her teeth are killing me.

“Open your mouth wider,” I groan and she mutters something I can’t understand with my cock in her mouth. “Fuck.” I can’t fuck her. I’m out of condoms and I’m not making that mistake again, but I can’t take the scraping. I pull out of her mouth and her lips look red and stretched. “Turn around.”

She quickly turns onto her belly and I grab her waist to pull her hips up into the air. I shake my head to shake off the doubts then I glide an inch into her pussy, just to get my dick wet, then I pull out. She gasps as I slide my heat between her cheeks and press gently against the opening.

“Feel free to scream,” I say as I slide inside, just a smidge farther with each stroke.

She buries her face in the pillow with the flannel pillowcase to muffle her screams and I’m glad for that when I hear my phone vibrating on the nightstand. I should let it ring, but my thoughts bounce to all different sorts of scenarios. Maybe Grandma’s calling about the brown sugar I was supposed to bring her last night, or Molly is calling for her cider. Or maybe it’s Senia finally coming to her senses.

I quickly pull out of Chrissy and reach for the phone. When I glimpse the name on the screen, I can’t believe my eyes. It’s Elaine. She knows I’ll never answer her calls, so I’m not sure why she even tries. I hit the ignore button and I’m not at all surprised when I look down and see I’ve lost my erection.

I look back at my phone and see a voicemail notification from Molly. I press the play icon and listen: Tristan – wait! Oh, sh—’

I laugh as I imagine her dropping her phone. I’ll call her back once I’m out of here.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“You have a dirty mouth,” I tell Chrissy as I hurry up and start gathering my clothes off the wooden floor to get dressed.

“Are you leaving?” she shrieks as I pull on my pants.

“You said your friends are getting here at eight. It’s seven thirty.” I pull on my shirt and shoot off another text to Senia wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving. She can’t ignore me forever.

“Don’t you at least want my number?” she says as she jumps out of bed and follows me to the front door naked.

“No.”

“Fuck you!”

“Already fucked you and it wasn’t that great.”

She swings her open hand at my face, but I open the door in time to block it. Her hand smacks the inside of the door hard enough that it makes me a little nervous.

“Your hand okay?” I say with a chuckle, but I quickly slam the door shut as she reaches back to take another shot.

I laugh as I turn around and Link and his girlfriend, whose name I can’t remember, are coming up the paved stone walkway.

“You bastard,” Link says with a smile as he slaps my keys into the palm of my hand. “I knew you’d hit that.”

“You guys are pigs!” his girlfriend shouts, elbowing Link in the stomach as she makes her way to the front door.

“Do you always have to resort to violence?” he barks at her.

“You might want to give her a few seconds to get dressed,” I say over my shoulder.

Link shakes his head, a smirk materializing beneath his painful grimace. “Happy Thanksgiving, bro.”

“Same to you.”

I slide into the driver’s seat and immediately attempt to call Molly. After four rings, I get her voicemail greeting.

Why are both Molly and Elaine trying to reach me?

I hang up and toss the phone onto the passenger seat as I pull away from the cabin and start off down the long dirt road that leads off the farm and onto the highway. I speed along the highway back to Raleigh, shaving a good ten minutes off the forty-five-minute drive.

When I pull up next to the curb outside Grandma Flo’s, I’m not surprised to see Elaine’s shitty Nissan parked in the driveway. If it weren’t Thanksgiving and if I weren’t so worried, I’d peel the fuck out of here. I rush out of the car, not at all looking forward to seeing Elaine when I’m hungover and wearing last night’s clothes. But I guess it’s better that she thinks I’m a worthless drunk who’s pissing his millions into the toilet. The less she knows about me the better.

I race up the front steps then open the door, preparing my psyche for the inevitable rage that will follow the sight of her emaciated face. The living room is empty, so I quickly move to the only logical place for Grandma to be on Thanksgiving morning: the kitchen. The kitchen is also empty and the turkey is still swimming in the bucket of brine. Grandma usually gets it into the oven by 6 a.m. Something’s wrong.

Chapter Seven

Senia

The gods of Thanksgiving and I have a secret pact: I eat all their tasty offerings and they agree to not let me vomit or gain more than five pounds. Unfortunately, they never seem to hold up their end of the bargain on the weight gain and, when December rolls around, I find myself renewing my pact with the treadmill gods. But I think I may have been a bit overenthusiastic in my commitment to consuming the tasty offerings of the day. I feel sick, which gives me the perfect opportunity to skip out on family karaoke hour so I can handle some covert business.

Once Claire is deeply entrenched in a karaoke battle with my cousin Nico, I sneak out of the family room and race upstairs. It’s a few minutes past one in the afternoon. Tristan texted me about six hours ago. I know I’m going to regret this.

Me: Thanks for the kind message. Now kindly stop texting me. I’m not interested in being one of your concubines.

I actually get a pain in my chest after I hit send. I know I’m supposed to hate Tristan and I’m sure as hell not supposed to talk to him, but I can’t help but feel like I’m misjudging him. Like we’re all misjudging him.

That’s so stupid! That’s exactly what guys like him want girls to think. Oh, poor misjudged Tristan who fucks anything that breathes.

I met Tristan a little more than three years ago after a show they played in Durham. Claire and I had been friends for a total of five weeks, but I already knew, from the moment she shared her love of Vampire Diaries with me, that she and I were destined to be best friends forever. She actually had to drag me to the show. I was pretty shy before college. Most of my friends throughout junior high and high school were math geeks, like me. Unfortunately, none of my high school friends ended up attending UNC Chapel Hill. Starting from scratch is difficult for any eighteen-year-old, but for a kid with moderate social anxiety, it’s torture. Thankfully, Claire supported me through my drink-till-you-don’t-give-a-fuck stage of development. So, of course, the first thing I did when I arrived at the club in Durham to watch Chris, Tristan, and Jake perform was get shit-faced drunk.

Needless to say, my eyes were glued to Tristan all night as crazy thoughts of marriage and babies – and hot sex – raced through my socially inept and highly inebriated brain. Eventually, about halfway through the show, he finally cast his smoky gaze in my direction and smiled – a smile that I would later learn he and Chris refer to as their crowd smile. But, let me tell you, when he directed that smile my way … I’m not ashamed to say that I think I may have peed a little.

I am definitely never going to text him again. Unless it’s to send him a pic of my awesome bunion, as I promised Claire.

Never. Again.

Tristan: Whatever you say.

Great! Now I feel like an asshole.

No. I will not allow him to do this to me. I will not text him again.

I sigh as I lie back on my bed and close my eyes. I try to push the images from that day outside Yogurtland out of my head, but it’s no use. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past twelve days. It was so different from all the other times Tristan and I have come close to having sex. It was almost as if seeing me on the phone with someone else spurred some competitive streak inside of him and he needed to outdo Eddie. And, let’s be honest, as amazing as Eddie is in bed, he could never be Tristan.

What the hell am I thinking? Stop it, Senia!

Oh, great. Now I’m yelling at myself inside my head.

It wasn’t just the sex. He wanted to know who I was talking to on the phone. That’s not just sex, right?

No, it was sex combined with typical male territorial issues. It wasn’t just sex. It was a fucking pissing contest. I am not anyone’s property! Especially not anyone’s property to piss on.

Okay, that settles it. I am not texting him back.

Me: Are you okay?

Tristan: No. I’m at the hospital.

Me: What’s wrong?

Tristan: Can I call you later?

Shit! I’m so stupid. I stare at the text for a few minutes before I begin typing. The bedroom door flies open and Claire walks in. I quickly tuck the phone underneath me before I can finish typing my response.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks, looking winded and flushed from singing.

“Nothing. Just trying to digest the twenty pounds of food I’ve eaten. No better way to make sure it goes straight to my ass than lying down and doing absolutely nothing.”

Claire raises an eyebrow. “Why are you acting like I just caught you masturbating?”

I laugh as I sit up and discreetly push my phone underneath my pillow. “Please. You’ve caught me masturbating plenty of times.”

“Oh God, please. I don’t want to talk about you touching yourself.”

“Whatever. Let’s go downstairs. I think I’m ready for some more pumpkin pie.”

I glance over my shoulder at the pillow and shake my head as I close my bedroom door.

Chapter Eight

The emergency-room doors open and I race through, clutching the note Molly left on the refrigerator: Went with Grandma to hospital. She wasn’t breathing. Get here quick. Don’t call me. I dropped my phone in the toilet.

The entrance to the emergency waiting room is right before me. I storm in and find Molly sitting in a chair in the far corner with Elaine two chairs away from her. Molly’s eyes are closed as she leans her head back against the wall. Her light-brown hair is pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head – the way she always does it before she goes to bed. Elaine looks at me and I quickly look away as I head for Molly. I shake her knee and she jumps a little as she opens her eyes.

“Shit!” she cries as she’s startled awake.

I’ve told Molly that she needs to stop cursing so much, but that’s like trying to tell a fish to stop breathing water. She grew up with me as her role model. She’s always looked up to me and, unfortunately, I haven’t always set the best example.

“What happened?” I ask her as she sits up straight in the mauve chair.

“She took too many of those pain pills the doctor gave her,” Molly replies.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Elaine leaning forward as if she’s going to get in on this conversation. She knows I won’t speak to her. I haven’t spoken to her in nine years. I don’t care if she thinks her presence here earns her Brownie points. There’s no good deed she can do that will ever make me think she is anything other than a selfish, depraved human being.

“Is she okay?” I ask, still unsure whether I want to take a seat next to Molly.

“Yeah. They know she wasn’t trying to commit suicide because they have her medical records, so we don’t have to wait for the psychiatrist to check her out. They’re just keeping her here for another few hours until her blood pressure comes back up, then we can take her home.”

“She needs someone to keep an eye on her.”

Elaine’s voice makes my skin prickle. Molly glances at her then back to me, foolishly wondering if I’m going to respond.

“I’m going to the cafeteria. You want to come with me?” I ask Molly and she nods as she stands from the chair.

After a long silence, punctuated by the occasional squeak of our sneakers against the shiny floor in the hospital corridors, Molly finally says something. And what she says makes me sick.

“I think you should talk to her.”

She doesn’t have to say her name for me to know she’s talking about Elaine. I pretend not to hear her, but she doesn’t give up.

“I’m serious. Do you want Grandma to die thinking that you never spoke to her again?”

“Don’t use Grandma in your emotional blackmail scheme.”

“You’re so selfish.”

I get a flash of pain in my chest at these words spoken from Molly’s lips. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry,” she says as we turn into the cafeteria. Her face scrunches up as if she’s trying to keep from crying. “I’m just so scared of having to live with her.”

“That will never happen. Go sit down. I’ll get you something.”

She rolls her eyes as she heads for a table in the corner. I make my way through the cafeteria line behind two other bleary-eyed patrons. I grab a couple of turkey sandwiches from the refrigerator case and some juice. When I arrive at the table with my tray of food, Molly’s elbows are propped on the table and her face is buried in her hands.

“Eat your turkey dinner,” I order her, but she doesn’t move. Then I see the glistening puddle of tears on the surface of the table.

“She’s gonna die,” she whispers. “Why?”

“Because life fucking sucks.”

“Not the answer I wanted.”

“It’s the truth.” I unwrap the plastic wrap on her turkey sandwich and push the tray toward her. “You can’t expect anything good to last or you’ll always be disappointed. Everything dies.”

She groans as she wipes the tears from her eyes and looks up. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?”

“You need to be prepared.”

“You need to talk to Elaine and tell her I’m going to live with you. She was blabbing to me in the waiting room about how nice her new apartment in Durham is.”

“Nice compared to what? A fucking cardboard box?”

“I don’t want to live with her. She said she has a new boyfriend.”

“You’re not going to live with her.”

I lean back in the uncomfortable steel chair and try not to think of what I’ll have to do to prevent Molly from being placed with Elaine. No one knows what Elaine is capable of except for me. Everyone thinks she’s just a drug addict with a long list of ex-boyfriends and STDs. If I have to tell everyone the kind of person she really is, I will do it – for Molly’s sake. I’ve never told anyone, not even Chris, about the summer before seventh grade.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out immediately. When I see the name on the screen, it’s as if the clouds have parted and shined a light on this tiny corner of the hospital cafeteria. Then I read the message and I resist the urge to throw my phone across the room.

Senia: Thanks for the kind message. Now kindly stop texting me. I’m not interested in being one of your concubines.

I probably don’t deserve anything better than this from Senia, but it still feels like a kick in the nuts right now. In any case, I don’t have it in me to chase her any more. It was sort of fun for the last twelve days to bug her with cheesy text messages, but it just feels stupid and pathetic now.

Me: Whatever you say.

Molly stands up and I grab her hand before she can leave. “Where are you going?”

“I have to go to the restroom. Want to join me?”

“You think that’s funny, but I actually—”

“Potty-trained me. I know. You’ve told me a million times. It’s gross.”

“Get out of here before I tell everyone in this cafeteria about the time you shit in Grandma’s flower pot.”

“There’s no one here.”

“Then I’ll write a song about it.”

“You haven’t written anything in years,” she mutters, then she walks away.

My phone vibrates again and a tremor of regret reverberates inside me for all the ways I haven’t been good enough for Molly. I must be such a fucking disappointment to her. I used to write songs for her all the time and I’d sing her to sleep. I stopped writing three years ago. It’s pointless. No one needs me to write songs. They need me to play my fucking instrument and bring the band the occasional bit of bad press.

I turn my phone over on the table to check the screen and this message brings the faintest hint of a smile to my lips.

Senia: Are you okay?

Me: No. I’m at the hospital.

Senia: What’s wrong?

I don’t have to tell her anything. Something tells me that Senia will probably come running to my side if I speak the right empty promises. But I really don’t feel like fucking her.

I just need to talk.

Me: Can I call you later?

She makes me wait a torturous forty minutes for her response. Molly is back from the restroom and seated across from me, using my phone to text her friends, but even Molly smiles when she sees the text message pop up on my screen.

Senia: Fine. But you’d better not tell me you’re pregnant.

Chapter Nine

Once the doctor releases Grandma, I help her to my car and Molly climbs into the backseat. Grandma’s blood pressure was still on the low side, so they asked us to keep a close eye on her and to make sure she gets plenty of rest.

“Molly will make the turkey tomorrow,” I assure her as she leans her head back and closes her eyes.

“The turkey’s been sitting there in that brine for too long. It’s no good any more,” she replies softly. “I’m sorry I screwed up. I just didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Grandma, why don’t you just try the chemo?”

“Because it won’t do a damn thing but make me sicker. I don’t want you two cleaning up my messes. I just want to go quietly.”

Molly sniffles loudly in the backseat and I resist the urge to look in the rearview mirror. I don’t want to see what this is doing to her.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Grandma says, reaching into the backseat to comfort Molly. “I don’t mean to scare you.”

“Too late,” Molly grumbles. “Can you take me to Carissa’s?”

“No, you’re staying home with me and Grandma.”

She groans roughly, the sound garbled by the tears clogging her throat.

“Just take her to her friend’s house,” Grandma insists.

I crane my neck a little to get a look at Molly in the rearview mirror and I find her hugging her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. Normally, I’d tell her to get her dirty shoes off my leather seats, but she doesn’t need that; she needs a friend.

After I drop her off at Carissa’s, Grandma and I arrive home a few minutes later and I’m overcome with a pang of guilt as I remember that I never brought Grandma the brown sugar or cider she asked for. I help her out of the car, though she keeps insisting I stop all this fussing over her.

By the time she’s taken a bath and slid under her covers, I’ve cleaned up all the half-prepared food in the kitchen and refrigerator – to purge the house of all reminders. Then I sit back on the sofa and sigh. This is it. The moment I’ve been looking forward to and dreading all day.

I haven’t had a conversation with a girl, on the phone, for … years. I’m not sure what possessed me to ask Senia if I could call her. All I know is that I want to hear her voice. Just the thought of needing anything – anyone – like this is terrifying.

“You are going to hate me,” she says.

This is not the greeting I expected when I dialed her number, but I’m intrigued. “Why am I going to hate you?”

I half-expect her to tell me that she doesn’t have time to talk or that, on second thought, she really does want me to stop texting her. But the two words she whispers next make my balls shoot straight into my throat.

“I’m pregnant.”

“What the fuck? Is this a joke?”

“I wish.”

These two words catch me even more off guard, then it hits me. “Wait a minute. If you’re pregnant, why did you tell me to stop texting you?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know when I sent you that text message. But then I got sick a couple of hours later, and I knew something was wrong. Thanksgiving is my holiday! I can eat an entire pumpkin pie and not get sick. I was made for this day. Then I realized I’m two days late. I’m so lucky Claire’s gone for the night. She can’t know anything about this.”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Do you keep pregnancy tests on hand for this sort of thing?”

She clears her throat nervously. “Um, yes. You don’t want to know what I have in my goodie drawer.”

I chuckle. “Actually, I think I do want to know. I want to know very badly.”

“Shut up. This is serious shit. I’m pregnant!” She whisper-shouts the last two words and this makes me smile.

I’ve never gotten anyone pregnant. Before I found out about Grandma a few weeks ago, I was always extremely careful not to become reckless like Elaine. I suppose I should be disappointed in myself, but I can’t help feeling a sense of pride for my little swimmers. They did their job on the very first try, as if they’d been training for this performance all their lives. Well, I guess they have had lots of practice.

“So what do you want to do?” I ask. I think that’s what I’m supposed to ask. I don’t think telling her to get an abortion is the way these things are handled, but I doubt either one of us is ready for a baby.

Then an evil but brilliant idea flashes in my mind. I immediately try to push it out, but it keeps nagging and poking me as I wait for Senia’s response.

“I don’t know.”

Crap. She’s crying.

“I’m not trying to tell you to get rid of it,” I insist.

She chuckles. “Yeah, like you want to have a kid. You’d probably rather get cancer.”

I can’t even move my lips to form a response to cover up what I’m feeling right now. She had no way of knowing what she just said would affect me so deeply, but she can sense something in my silence.

“I’m sorry. That was a real jerk thing to say considering I have no idea why you were at the hospital today.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. My grandma … She has stage-four breast cancer.”

“Oh, no. And I was telling you to stop texting me and now I’m calling you to tell you I’m pregnant. Oh God. I feel so selfish. I’m so sorry.”

She starts crying again and I get a strange urge to kiss her tears, to taste them the way I did before.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know. But I have a way you can make it up to me.” She groans and I laugh. “Not sexual favors. I was kind of hoping you might want to come hang out for a little while. My sister’s gone so I have to stay here to keep an eye on my grandma. It’s kind of lonely.”

Did I really just say, It’s kind of lonely? What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Did you just tell me you’re lonely?”

“You know you want to come over,” I say, trying to recover a bit of my dignity.

She sighs before she responds and the sound of her breath in my ear gives me goosebumps. “Text me the address.”