Текст книги "Bad Reputation"

Автор книги: K. B. Nelson

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

20

Sand beneath our toes.

Waves crashing along the shore.

Skies that are Toy Story blue.

A sun that glistens against our skin.

Wind that curls through our hair.

It’s the most romantic imagery I could ever imagine, but it’s all a façade. I know I’m playing him, but I’m starting to question if he’s playing me.

A half-drunk bottle of whiskey in my right hand.

A half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his left hand.

We’re perfect strangers, but we fuck like animals.

We carry the burden of secrets.

I know the game I play, a dangerous game of deceit and betrayal.

I can’t discern his.

My hair lays flat against my back, trailing past the top of my all-black bikini. Jensen looks as sexy in the burning light as he does in the pitch-black dark. Whether it’s the sun, or the moon kissing him, he glows enigmatic. Everything about him is wrapped in secrecy. I know nothing of his past, or his plans for the future.

I know it’s ridiculous to believe I should. Like I said, we’re perfect strangers and no matter how hard I try to put the pieces of the puzzle together, I can’t make the pieces fit—that’s what the whiskey’s for.

We find the most recluse spot we can find and drop a pair of towels onto the warm, white sand. The sun is too violent for the spring air, and I forgot my sunglasses in the room, so I lay on my stomach. I rest my eyes for only a moment…

I peel my eyes open and take notice of the plateaued, pink sky. The sun has begun to go into hiding underneath the line of beach houses behind us. I’m groggy and confused as I set up onto the towel and look out over the ocean where the pink sky reflects off the rolling tides.

“I watched you while you slept,” Jensen says from beside me. Not creepy at all. His head is rested on his hand, and his elbow sinks in the sand. “Reapplied your sunscreen every thirty minutes so you wouldn’t burn.”

With my finger, I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You looked peaceful.” His smile morphs into a grin. “Also, I like the silence and you have a penchant for being loud and rambunctious.”

“Shut up.” I swat at him. “What time is it?”

“Sunset.”

“That’s not a time.”

“It used to be.” He sighs and rolls onto his back. “Back before the world became so busy, back when life was slower.”

“That’s beautiful.” Did I really just fucking say that?

“So are you.” He’s on his back so it’s hard to read his face.

“What did you say?” I climb to my feet and scrape sand from my legs.

“I said you’re beautiful.” He sits up and runs fingers through his hair. “No need to make a fuss.”

“What are you doing?” I’m irritated and tired. I dig my feet into the sand and shake my head.

“Relax babe.”

Babe? “Did you smoke crack while I was asleep?”

“What?” He smiles as he dusts himself off and stands. “You know what you need?”

“Another drink.”

He steps toward me, and bites into his lip. Just when I think he’s about to say something witty, he scoops my body into his arms and takes off toward the sea. I throw an arm around his neck, and cling to him with an iron grip. “Jensen, no,” I scream, but he pays no head.

His feet land against the current as it washes onto the shore. I’m met with splashes of cold water as he tramples further outward. When we’re far enough out, and deep enough in, his running turns into a slow walk as he trudges against the tide.

The water rises with every step, until the sea collides against his nipples. Most of my body is submerged underwater, and I know my fate is in his hands. I attempt—and fail—to climb further up his body.

He treats my body like a barbell as he begins exercising. When he dips outward, my entire body, except for my head, goes under. He’s so cute, thinking we’re at the gym when we’re almost buried under the weight of a frigid ocean.

He drops his arms and swings my body side to side, taunting me. “Does Apple want to swim?”

“No.” I shake my head furiously. “She does not.”

“Does Apple know how to swim?”

“Of course I know how to swim. I’m not a fucking toddler.”

“Good enough for me.” He drops me into the water and the last thing I hear before I’m under the surface is the implication it was an accident. “Oops.”

I fumble under the surface, waiting for the crash of a large wave before kicking upward. The water is deeper, like he threw me off the edge of a drop-off. The first thing I see when I surface is Jensen swimming toward land.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” I scream at him.

“Did you say you’re going to stick your finger my ass again?” he hollers back, much to the dismay of the children swimming with their father to the right of us.

He claps his hands and bends to his knees. He’s a quarterback prepared to catch me—the ball—in his strong hands. I’m not aiming for his hands as I find my footing in the sand and charge toward him.

His brows furrow and he spins to the right. He’s not fast enough as I lunge myself onto his back, throwing my arms around him and pulling his body into the water with me. He throws his hand against the wave, spitting out a mouthful of ocean-water.

I throw my head back, laughing as I run my fingers through his short hair. “Your hair is so sexy right now.”

“You like me when I’m wet?” He scoops his arms around my back as we stand waist-deep in the water. “I would say you’re beautiful, but you tend to get pissy about little things like that.”

“I wasn’t pissed—“

“Bullshit.”

“Men call women beautiful when they want to fuck them—“

“I’ve fucked your pussy twice, and your mouth once,” he points out.

“They never mean it,” I continue, ignoring his words.

“What could have been my ulterior motive?”

“I don’t know. You’re a man.”

“Careful now, I might have to throw your ass back under the water.”

“Try me.”

He tries me, dipping me backward and submerging me under the surface once again. I swallow a large gulp of water, and when I come back up, my first instinct is to breathe.

But I can’t.

He’s kissing me on the fucking lips.

He’s kissed every part of my body, but never my lips. The occasion in which he chooses to rectify this, I’m already fighting to breathe. His lips are smooth against mine, and he steals whatever breath I have left from being forced under the salty water.

He’s a succubus, drawing the life from me and I should fight it. I should beat my hands against his chest. I should crawl away from his touch. I can’t.

When his lips pull away from me, and his eyes are fixated on my own without so much as a blink, I choke on the rush of air swimming into my throat. I have so much to say, but he’s not ready to hear a word.

“I’m going to kiss you again.”

I don’t protest.

21

Darkness creeps against the horizon as the pink clouds fade into hues of dying blue. Jensen chases me out of the water, and the cool evening air chills me. I shake as I reach for my towel and wrap it around my wet, sandy body.

Jensen—apparently being immune to the cold—opts to sit on his towel instead. Droplets of salt water trail down his abs as he shakes the water from his head. “Have you ever seen a sunset?” he asks and turns onto his side.

That’s an odd question. “Almost every night.”

“No, I mean, have you ever really seen one?”

“Like over the ocean?” I pull my hair into a ponytail and search through my bag for a hair tie. “Can’t say I have.”

“You should.” He peers out into the vanishing distance. “It’s the most beautiful sight in the world.”

“Why don’t you take me there sometime? Take me somewhere where I can see it for myself?” I unravel the towel from around my body and place it along the sand next to Jensen.

He chews into his cheek and scratches his chin nervously. “What am I to you?” There’s a seriousness engraved in his tone, and I immediately know we’re about to have our first real conversation.

I sigh, because I can’t answer his question with the truth, and for some reason, I can’t bring myself to lie. “That’s hard to quantify.”

“Try,” his voice is needy, but stern. He wants an honest answer.

But I just shrug. “I don’t know.”

He gestures with his hands. “Take an educated guess.”

“This is hard for me, you know.” I stare him down, waging war with the way I dig into him with just one look. “We fuck and then we don’t talk. And when we do talk, it’s never about anything that matters.”

“We hardly know each other.”

“That’s my freaking point.” I jump to my feet and slide the back of my palm against my head. “You ask me what I am to you, but how am I supposed to answer that?” For wanting something out of me, he remains closed-off and distant. “You called me your fuck buddy in the note you left me this morning. I guess that’s what you are to me. You’re my fuck buddy.”

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head sheepishly. “It was a stupid question.”

“You shouldn’t apologize for asking questions.” I bend down to my knees in front of him. “You should apologize for other things, like making me wake up in a hotel alone after a great night, not knowing where you were or what you were doing.”

“I told you. I had to take care of a few things.”

“God knows what the fuck that means.”

There’s a long pause where neither of us say anything. He sputters his lips, looks away from me and digs his fingernails into his knee. “I visited my wife and daughter today.”

“Your what?” I’m back on my feet in an instant. “You are just like the rest of them.” My feet kick against the sand as I hurry away from the scene. I could punch him in the fucking jaw. I know it’s ridiculous for me to feel this way, and I couldn’t even explain the logistics of why I do to myself.

“They’re dead,” his voice cracks in half.

I’m frozen—my body running cold—and can’t bring myself to face him. I’m trapped in a vacuum where his words tangle through my being, slicing me open and draining me of feeling. I could cry if I weren’t such a heartless bitch, and yet I’m broken.

“They died years ago,” he continues.

I turn to him in what seems like slow motion. He’s lost in a world that only exists between him and the sea. He stares out into nothing, but for the first time since I’ve known him, I’m able to read him.

His face is buried, haunted in shades of pale colors contrasted against the soon-to-be night sky. His spirit is sunken, pushing his body deep into the sand. I’m looking at a broken-hearted ghost.

I sit back on my towel and stare off into the horizon with him. There’s nothing I can say—nothing I should say. It’s why he’s always lost in silence. Perhaps, he’s dreaming of a life that was torn from him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? You weren’t supposed to know.”

More silence, and for once, I understand it. Sometimes words aren’t enough. Sometimes, they’re too much. I take refuge in the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Most everyone has packed up and gone home, but here we are—two lost souls dreaming of a better life against the almighty tides.

“You asked me what you meant to me,” I say quietly, but it still cuts like a knife through the silence. “I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. You mean the world to me. You’re my escape from this fucked up world.”

He nods, taking it in. “I’m terrified of you, Apple.”

“Why do I scare you so much?”

“Because I fall in love too easily.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales through thin lips. “Every fucking time, and it always ends the same—with a broken heart.”

I’ve been there and my understanding of his pain is transcendent. The same suffering he endures is my constant motivation in this war I have been waging. Men come into my life only to break my heart.

“I used to be somebody else,” he continues. “I didn’t used to be this way. I was everything you’d expect a good person to be. I went to church and waited until I was married to have sex. It didn’t do me any good, but neither does this life. I fuck and then I run, so I don’t get attached.” He turns to me with sunken eyes, reminiscent of a sad puppy. “I’m attached to you for some inexplicable reason.”

“You shouldn’t be,” I warn him. “You don’t know me.”

“That’s why you terrify me.” His eyes search over mine, as if they see something. “We don’t know each other as well as we could, but when I look into your eyes, I see something. Something I’ve been missing.”

I dust off my thighs and climb to my feet. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“I drank most of that bottle,” he says and peers over to an almost empty bottle of whiskey, “I don’t know if I’ll make it very far.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him and offer my hand. “If you keel over, I’ll carry you back.”

He chuckles, but reaches for my hand anyway. “Right.”

We walk down the beach, where the water meets the land—the point where dreams are washed upon sand, waiting for the next tide to be carried back out into the eternal sea. For drinking an entire bottle of whiskey, I’m amazed by his ability to stay upright as the wind whips around us.

“Are you from here?” I ask.

“Born and raised.” There’s a short pause before he continues on, “After the accident, I had to get away. I was ready to flee to California, but couldn’t bring myself to leave the state.” He chews into his lip and bows his head.

I place my palm on his sandy back and caress him. I’m not a caregiver by any stretch of the imagination, but it feels right. Still, I couldn’t pretend to know what to say.

“The last time I saw my wife… I was fucking her.”

Everything suddenly makes sense. I’m hit by a freighter train while sitting in an idle car on the tracks. I feel everything as my soul is torn from my body, but I never saw it coming. It’s why he fucks and runs, because he’s consumed with the potent destruction of guilt.

“It was an early summer morning when she left the house with our little girl. The police came a few hours later, pounding on my door. I knew something was wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, but I know it’s not enough. Nothing ever could be.

“I had just graduated with my Masters degree. We spent years together, living paycheck to paycheck, and right when I was about to be someone, my life was stolen from me.”

I hurt for this man I’m supposed to destroy. It’s karma for every fucked up thing I had planned for him.

“And now, I have an identity crisis. It’s like I don’t know who I am. Am I the smart, educated professor? Am I a sexual deviant? Am I some thirty year old trapped in the body of a twenty year old fratboy?”

“Maybe…” I begin, but take a short pause, trying to make sure I’m saying it right. “Maybe, you’re all of those things, and none of them are so bad.”

He nods as if he agrees, but there’s still a haunted strip of a movie glazed over his eyes. “Maybe that’s one of the reasons I’m so attracted to you. When I look at you, I see youth. I see a second chance to be with somebody where my past doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe…” I look like a ghost, I’m sure. I’m lost in the moment, reflecting on my own past, wondering to myself if it’s possible to escape it.

“What about you?” He stops walking along the sand and turns to face me. “Anything fucked up ever happen to you?”

I purse my lips and shake my head. “Not so much.” It’s an obvious lie, one I’m not certain I want to continue lying about. I should be able to open up to him, but I can’t. Not when I know what he’s supposed to mean to me—nothing.

“You have to carry some baggage with you.” He forces a smile, but it’s more out of yearning for something, and not so much about being happy in the moment. “Everyone does.”

“There’s not much to say.” I shrug and avert my eyes to the horizon. “I was born to a mother who had better things to do than parent. My dad was a drunk. They’re both still alive. I don’t know anyone who has died.”

“Loss isn’t defined by death.” His hand falls on my shoulder and I find myself gazing into his eyes. “You can lose anything in this world and it can affect you. If a young girl loses her favorite stuffed animal, it hurts. It doesn’t matter if it’s trivial in relation to the rest of the world’s woes. Pain or loss is never relative.”

“I lost sight of who I used to be,” I say somberly. The admittance almost feels treacherous to myself. I’m not supposed to open up, especially not to a man.

“And who was that?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I sink my teeth into my lip, holding back a floodgate of emotions. “She’s gone.”

“Sounds serious.”

“You do what you do because you’re trying to get the old you back.” I dig into him with an intense glare. “I do what I do because I want to make sure the girl I used to be never exists again.” My palm rolls into a fist—the very mention of her angers and saddens me. “She was weak and she was trampled on. I won’t go back to that life."

“Tell me what happened.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me close. “Please. It’ll help me not feel so alone.”

“I really miss the old times, when we were too busy throwing jabs at each other to engage in these deep conversations.” I laugh uncomfortably and drag my palm across my eyes, wiping away any trace of emotion that could be there.”

“You need to open up to someone, Apple. Otherwise your problems will swallow you whole.”

“Some people can’t be saved.”

“I think Jesus would disagree.”

“I think you haven’t opened a Bible in years.”

“You’d be correct, but it doesn’t change the fact that nobody is too far gone.” His lips curl into a comforting smile. “You don’t seem too bad.”

“Nothing is as it ever appears,” I warn him gravely, but he doesn’t look afraid. Not anymore.

“Show me who you really are.” He leans in close, and over my shoulder. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m a bitch,” I whisper back.

“Sometimes.” He smiles wickedly.

“I use people.”

“It’s okay.” He wraps his arm around the small of my back and pulls me into a tight embrace. “I like being used.”

“See? Doesn’t this feel so much better?” I lean my head on his muscular chest, betraying the idea I had just set forth. “No emotions. Just fun banter…”

“I’m tired of being upset about the things I can’t change.” He inhales, followed by a rough exhale and kisses the top of my head. My eyes fall shut and the world around me goes dark, but I can hear everything.

The freedom of the waves crashing onto the shore.

Birds taking one last flight before night falls.

His beating heart.

We sat along the shores of the ocean until the moon had chased the sun into the next continent. We cuddled under the clear sky, and I counted the stars until I fell asleep in his loving arms. But not long after I had fallen asleep, I woke with a stirring spoon in my gut. I always knew I was doing what had to be done to guard my fragile and easily broken heart. I became somebody else under Brick’s guiding arm.

It’s a terrible conundrum I now face.

I have a bad reputation and I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to break Jensen’s heart, because in the process I’ll be forced to break my own. Brick said I fall in love too easy, and I was too stubborn to admit he was right.

I’ll break Jensen’s heart because it’s who I am. It’s what I am, but for the first time since I set out on this journey of revenge against the opposite sex, I can feel my heart shattering like glass. Nobody escapes unscathed when two cars meet in a collision course. Screeching tires. Busting glass.

Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. I’ve always been prepared to dig my own. I never thought I’d have to dig another for somebody I care about. I never thought I would care again.

I can’t begin to describe it—this feeling inside of me. If it’s not love, it’s the precursor for it. Love is a disease—the worst kind of entropy. It’s always fragile, and never unbreakable. Falling in love is a dangerous game, an escalating spiral of chance formed over the course of parting glances and broken pasts.

Some might say it’s impossible, to love someone you hardly know. I think about who I used to be, back in the days when I was protected under the guiding wings of innocence, I was a dreamer. I look into Jensen’s eyes and I dream.

My mother used to say nobody could change you, only change how you see yourself. I oftentimes wished someone would have changed her, but maybe she was right about one thing. Underneath all the bullshit and pain, maybe that dreaming, innocent girl still exists.

I’d love to see her again, to meet her at a crossroads where she’d guide me to make the right decision. If I play it safe to avoid a broken heart in the future, and to defeat Brick, Jensen and I will still lose. If I turn my back on who I’ve become, and Jensen isn’t who he appears, I lose. I’m tired of losing, and the look on Brick’s face should I win… Priceless.

Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t. I think I read about this once, something in philosophy called the prisoners dilemma. Like so many other things you learn in a lecture hall, I thought to myself, when the fuck will I ever use this in real life?