But…the way she looked at me sometimes. The way she held me. The way she kissed me on the cheek, then blushed. I couldn’t get it out of my head. I couldn’t get her out of my head. Ever. She was always on my mind. God, I just wanted her to care about me. I didn’t want to be the only one feeling this. I cared about her so much. I loved her so much.
Whoa. Back the fuck up. I loved her? Did I even know what that meant?
I hopped out of my bed like someone had just tossed a bucket of ice water on me. Thankfully, Kiera didn’t move when I ripped my arm away from her. I guess she was really out of it.
I loved her? Loved. As in, I couldn’t live without her, and I didn’t want anybody else? Crap, that felt so right. But I couldn’t actually be in love with her. Could I?
Fuck.
Stopping my incessant pacing, I turned to stare at Kiera on my bed. She looked so good sprawled over my sheets. I could feel myself starting to get aroused again just watching her. God, what I wouldn’t give to slide back into bed with her. I’d wrap my arms around her and gently kiss her awake. I would give anything to have sex with her again. But sober. I’d take my time. I’d cherish every inch of her body. I’d…make love to her. God, that sounded weird, even in my own head. I wasn’t even sure what that meant? Make love? It was all the same act. It was all the same moves. Sex was sex, so what was the difference? And why did phrasing it that way make my stomach tighten so much I felt like I was permanently messing up my insides?
Because you’re in love with her, you idiot.
The moonlight filtering in through the window highlighted the ridge along her lower back. God, I loved that ridge. There was something about that spot that was insanely erotic to me. The way the light hit her skin, accentuating one area, darkening others…it was almost like the moon was caressing her. It made me jealous. I was actually freaking jealous of the freaking moon. I needed to get out of here so I could get a fucking grip.
Turning from her, I stormed over to my dresser. I tore open the top drawer and grabbed some clean boxers. After putting them on, I shut the drawer a little harder than necessary. I glanced back at Kiera, but she was still out. Why am I so angry?
Because you love her, and you’re not good enough for her. She’ll never love you, and you know it. You’ve been unlovable from the start.
Swallowing, I turned away and rummaged through another drawer to find some jeans. Yes, all of that was true, but…maybe I could convince her to give me a chance? She didn’t have to love me in return, but maybe she could…really like me or something? Maybe we could try to have a relationship? I knew her heart was still with Denny, obviously, since they’d just broken up, but if I told her I loved her…maybe…maybe she’d at least try me out for a while. And a while with her would be better than nothing. I almost couldn’t believe Denny was really gone, that he’d actually chosen his job over her.
Zipping up my pants, I stared at her with unabashed longing. She was alone. Wouldn’t being with me be better than being alone? No…she might prefer being alone to me. I wasn’t exactly the easiest person to care about. But if I said I loved her and I only wanted to be with her, maybe she’d feel comfortable enough with me to say okay.
Irritated, I turned back around to find a shirt. All right, so how the fuck did I go about doing that without sounding like a complete and total fucktard? How the hell did I tell her I loved her? I could barely even think the words. Anger crept over me again as I yanked a T-shirt over my head. I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t know how to be open and honest. I didn’t know how to let her in. I could give myself to hundreds of girls, a different one every night, and that didn’t bother me in the slightest. But actually opening myself up to her…scared the living shit out of me.
I had to get out of here. I couldn’t think straight with her in the same room. Fuck, I couldn’t think with her in the same house. I slipped on my shoes and trudged out of my bedroom. Kiera’s clothes were strewn everywhere. The house was suffocating me. I needed air. Snatching my keys off the kitchen counter, I paused to stare at the evidence of our rendezvous…my shirt on the floor, an empty bottle of wine, spilled tequila, used lime wedges, empty glasses. So much had changed in so little time.
I could almost hear Kiera’s moans of ecstasy as I stared into the room that had started it all. Turning, I got out of there as quickly as I could. I’d clean it up later, when I came back to tell Kiera what she meant to me. I’d clean it all up later. I’d fix this, somehow.
Fleeing from the house, I sprinted to my car. Crawling inside, I took a deep, cleansing breath. I knew I was being a coward, and I should march myself back inside and back into bed with the woman I loved, but fuck, even thinking it made my skin itch. I couldn’t really love her, could I? And could she love me? Was I brave enough to find out?
As I watched the house for signs of movement, I started my car. Nothing happened when I revved the engine. She was probably still sleeping, or more accurately, she was passed out. I should stay and make sure she was okay. She drank a lot really fast; she might be sick when she came around.
Even as I thought it, I put the car in reverse. I wanted to stay, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
I took off down the street, not knowing where I was going, just knowing I needed to drive. I needed to think. Before I knew it, I was driving through Olympia. Maybe I’d just keep going? What was here for me? A girl I couldn’t have, who I also couldn’t get away from. But maybe I could have her. As unlikely as it seemed, I would never know if I ran away.
Grunting in frustration, I jerked the wheel at the last possible moment to get off the freeway. Then I drove around town until I found a twenty-four-hour restaurant. A girl around my age greeted me with a bright smile.
“One or two?” she asked, looking behind me to see if I was alone or not. That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?
“One,” I muttered, feeling very alone as the word reverberated through my head.
“Great! Follow me.” The waitress led me to a nearby table, asked if I wanted coffee, then left to get a pot when I said I did. She seemed thrilled that I was by myself. I wasn’t. I should go home.
While I debated the odds of Kiera caring about me, the waitress returned with coffee and pie; it had a berry filling that smelled incredible. She set it down in front of me with a playful wink. “On the house.” I wasn’t in the mood for flirting, so I only gave her a polite “Thanks” in return.
I stayed at the restaurant for a while, drinking a bottomless cup of coffee and pushing the pie around my plate. With a hopeful smile, the waitress left when her shift was over, but I stayed. I stayed well past sunrise, then I figured it was time to go somewhere else. After paying my bill, I slowly made my way back home.
I sighed when the Seattle skyline came into view again. I knew what I needed to do. I needed to sit down with Kiera and have a heart-to-heart. I needed to tell her that over the last several weeks, when it had just been the two of us, I’d grown fond of her. I cared about her, more than I cared about anyone, and I wanted her to be mine. Because I was head-over-heels, ends-of-the-earth, till-death-do-us-part in love with her. God, I was such an idiot.
I took a freeway exit that led downtown. I wasn’t ready to go home yet, and Kiera was probably still sleeping it off anyway. I’d give her a chance to wake up and recover before I bombarded her with my pathetic, unrequited feelings. Heading down to the water, I found a place to park by the pier and paid for all-day parking, just in case. Stepping out of my car, I inhaled the fresh midmorning air and decided to go for a walk. That would clear my head and calm my nerves. Then I’d be ready to face her, and my fears. I was sure of it.
I walked for hours. I covered so much ground, my feet started to hurt. But that pain was still better than having Kiera tell me she didn’t feel what I felt. I couldn’t stand the thought of what was between us being one-sided. The way she’d caressed me last night, kissed me…she had to care about me. She just had to.
When the sun was low
in the sky, I knew it was time to man up, go home, and do this. Fuck. I wanted to pull her into my arms, hold her, kiss her, tell her I was sorry I bailed and left her alone this morning, and then tell her I loved her. That was what I wanted to do. It was also what I didn’t want to do.
My heart was hammering when I neared my street. Fuck, I was really going to do this. I was going to lay it all out there, throw my heart at her feet, and hope she didn’t tear it into tiny chunks. She could destroy me…or she could say she felt the same, and my life could completely change. It was that possibility that kept me going.
I had to breathe out of my mouth when I pulled onto my street. This was it. All or nothing.
When my house appeared, I noticed something that made my heart drop. The Honda was gone. I’d been killing myself stressing with worry, and Kiera wasn’t even home. Where the hell was she? Oh, it was Monday. Of course. She’d had class today, then she’d gone to Pete’s. I thought about pulling out of the drive and heading straight to the bar, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t pour my heart and soul out to her at a bar, with dozens of people watching. No, this needed to be just the two of us. Private. Then we’d figure everything out, and we would decide to be together. I’d be her boyfriend. She’d be my girlfriend. A tingle went through me at just the thought. Girlfriend. I’d never had one before. I couldn’t wait for Kiera to be the first. God, I hoped she said yes.
I yawned as I climbed out of the car. I was so freaking tired. The smell of alcohol hit me the minute I stepped into the entryway. Oops. I hadn’t cleaned up our mess yet. I had a smile on my face the entire time I put stuff away; last night had been amazing. The second I was done cleaning up, the phone rang. Hoping it was Kiera, I eagerly answered it. “Hello?”
“Kellan, where the hell are you?”
I furrowed my brow as I registered the irritated voice on the other end. “Matt? What do you mean, where am…” My voice trailed off as I recalled the fact that I was really late for rehearsal. Sighing, I told him, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay” was all he said before he hung up.
I looked around my clean kitchen, then glanced upstairs with longing. I really wanted a nap, but it would have to wait. That was probably a good thing anyway. I probably wouldn’t have woken up until tomorrow, and then I’d miss my chance to talk to Kiera. And I desperately wanted to talk to her today. I had a lot to tell her.
Chapter 10
Too Late
Matt and Griffin fought more than usual during rehearsal, so it took longer than usual. Every time they started getting into it, I closed my eyes. Standing by my microphone, I even nodded off a couple of times. I was mentally and physically drained. When Matt finally called it a night, and Griffin muttered, “Thank God…let’s go drink,” I was relieved. Until I got into my car and contemplated what to say to Kiera, that was.
I’d gone over it a thousand times in my head, but I hadn’t really come up with a good way of telling her how I felt. Maybe I should write her a song? Serenade her? God, no, that was pathetic.
After the guys left for Pete’s, I laid my head back on the seat and closed my eyes. I needed something good, something honest, something real, so she would know I was serious, that I wasn’t playing her, messing with her mind, or trying to be the playboy people assumed I was. I just wanted to be with her.
When I opened my eyes, it was hours later. Damn it. I’d fallen asleep. Turning on the Chevelle, I made my way home. Oddly enough, Kiera’s car was at the house. I figured she’d still be working, but this was good. I could talk to her now instead of waiting until later. But now that I was finally here, and this was finally happening, my nerves returned. I took small, uncertain steps to my front door, not sure what I was going to do or say. I had to ease into it. I had to listen to her pain over Denny, be helpful and understanding, then gently offer her an alternative to her misery. Surely she’d want an alternative?
I held my breath as I opened the front door. Quietly closing it, I let out a long exhale. I glanced into the living room and kitchen, but Kiera wasn’t there. Walking over to the stairs, I opened my mouth to say her name, but I heard something odd and I froze, listening. It almost sounded like Kiera was watching TV, but…if she was, she was watching the type of movie Griffin preferred. Clear sounds of sex were floating down the stairs to me. Panting, moaning, a bed squeaking. Then I clearly heard Kiera cry out. Having heard that sound before, I knew it wasn’t a TV show. It was real. She was fucking someone…right now.
Completely floored, I backed away from the stairs. I couldn’t comprehend what was going on. This wasn’t Kiera. She wasn’t the type of girl to bring some stranger back to the house. It would have to be someone she knew. But who did she know in Seattle besides me? Maybe a guy from school? She hadn’t been there long though, and I just couldn’t believe she would do that to me. That she would do that to…Denny. Fuck. Denny.
My eyes returned to the chair in the living room. A coat was lying on the back of it; bags were sitting behind it. Denny’s coat. Denny’s bags. Denny was home. He was here, in my house, screwing the girl I’d just made love to. My girl. No…his girl.
She’d always been his. She was upset last night because of him. She’d let herself get drunk because of him. She’d screwed me to forget about him. Everything was all about Denny. I was nothing to her. Absolutely nothing. She’d used me, just like every other bitch had used me.
I could still hear them fucking upstairs. There was no way in hell I was staying here, listening to that. Not after I’d had her. Not after I’d figured out how much I loved her. Fuck. Pain tightened around my chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything. I loved her so much, and she didn’t give a shit about me at all. She didn’t want me. No one wanted me.
I needed to get out of here. I needed to stop my head from spinning. I needed to stop thinking. Heading for the kitchen, I tore open the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. I needed to get rid of this pain in my chest. I needed to lose consciousness, and this would help me do it.
I left the house, wondering if I could ever return to it. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to ever see her again. Especially since her lips, her body, the moans she’d made for me were so fresh in my mind. Damn, she’d really fooled me. I had actually believed, for just one small minute, that I’d meant something to her. How stupid of me.
I kept picturing her and Denny together while I drove. I pictured their mouths pressed together, their hands on each other. I visualized him thrusting into her over and over again. And because I was a sick son of a bitch, I even pictured the looks on their faces when they climaxed together. Fuck. Denny could be coming inside her right now. My pain transformed into jealousy as I thought of his seed covering mine. By the time I arrived at my destination, Sam’s house, my jealousy had shifted into anger.
That fucking bitch, whore, slut.
Grabbing my whiskey, I got out of my car and slammed the door shut. Then I reopened it and slammed it again. That little fucking cunt. She teased me for months, finally got me to fuck her, then went right back to him like it was nothing. Like we were nothing. She was the biggest fucking whore I knew. And I knew a lot of whores.
I paced Sam’s walkway and started taking long pulls, two- or three-gulpers. I was going to finish this fucking bottle and slip into fucking oblivion. The rage would end. Then the jealousy would dissipate. Then the pain would stop. I gagged a couple of times but kept forcing the whiskey down. I couldn’t take this ache in my chest. I couldn’t handle the way every muscle in my body felt tight. I was shaking, and I felt like I might throw up. Why did I have to care about her? Why did she have to do this to me? Why couldn’t she just love me the way I loved her?
I kept drinking until eventually my body rejected the alcohol. While I lay there, inhaling and exhaling deep, controlled breaths, I heard a voice say, “What the fuck is this?” Sam was home. He kicked my boot. “Kellan? That you? What the hell are you doing here? And
…did you throw up on my roses? Goddammit.”
Sam sighed and then helped me to his car. Not being overly gentle, he shoved me inside. I kept my eyes glued on his glove box. If I didn’t move, I didn’t feel quite so sick. Sam got in on his side, and I wanted to tell him not to take me home. Take me to Evan’s, take me to Matt’s, just don’t take me home. I was wrong about her. I was wrong about everything.
He didn’t listen to my unspoken request though, and back home is where I ended up. Sam opened my door, then helped me out. My legs felt like rubber; he had to prop me up to keep me standing. We made it to the door and Sam started pounding on it. I wondered which one of my roommates would answer. The girl I’d just fucked, or the guy she’d just fucked? Either way, I was fucked.
As fate would have it, Kiera opened the door. I wasn’t looking at her, but I could tell it was her by her feet. And her legs. And her hips. Such luscious, sexy hips. Too bad they welcomed the whole entire world. Slut.
“I think this belongs to you,” Sam stated as he started moving us inside. I wanted to protest his words. I didn’t belong to her. I didn’t mean anything to her. That was the problem. Sam led me to the living room, then unceremoniously dumped me into the chair. I slouched over, because it was all I could do…
I slept like shit. I tossed, turned, my stomach heaved, and I swear my body was vibrating. None of the physical pain compared to the images that flashed through my brain though. I saw Kiera and Denny in all their I-love-you-forever glory. I watched them make love a thousand times, over and over. I saw her face when he brought her to the brink. I heard them whisper their feelings for each other. It was torture, but it was worse when I replayed Kiera and me together. My head ran through the entire encounter, trying to find one moment that was blatantly fake or forced. I couldn’t find a second where Kiera wasn’t fully and completely into it though. There was nothing about the moment that didn’t feel genuine, but I knew in my heart it wasn’t. She hadn’t been having sex with me; she’d been putting a Band-Aid on a wound.