“I’ve heard so much about you.” I lean my head past her to make sure Brick isn’t coming out of the bedroom yet. Then, it’s back to business. “Pack your shit and get the hell out of here.”
“Excuse me?” She leaps to her feet. “Who do you think you are?”
“Don’t make me say it again,” I threaten her, just enough that she collects an oversized purse from the floor and shoves a history textbook into it. I’ve intimidated her into leaving, and now I have to tell her why. I latch my hand around her arm, and her eyes swim with fear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Then get your hand off me,” she seethes.
I do as she requests and hurry my speech when I hear the toilet flush. “Stay the hell away from him. He’s the fucking devil and he will drag you to hell with him.”
“What are you talking about,” she scoffs and cranes her head to the bedroom, waiting for her knight to save her from the crazy lady. “I’m his tutor.”
“You are so naïve. So was I, but if you listen to one stranger in your life, listen to me.” I stroke a finger through her silky hair, trying to remember a time before I knew him—a time when I could have been happy if I would have chosen a different path. “He’ll destroy you. He’ll rip your soul from your chest.”
She finds her bravery and leans in close. “You need serious help, thinking you can talk to a complete stranger this way.”
“You are not his tutor by accident. It’s all a part of his plan to get you into bed.”
She scoffs again. “You are ridiculous,” she snaps. “I have a moral code, and sleeping with strangers is so far off the map, it’s over in Russia. “
“I made a bet with him that I could sleep with my professor before he could sleep with you.” It’s not a word-for-word retelling of the wager, but it’s boiled down to the basics so she’ll be able to understand. “You are the virgin daughter of a sitting U.S. Senator. You’re a prize to him, and when he’s done with you, he will leave you and your father with your reputations destroyed in the press.”
“Why would you do something like that?”
I pause for a moment, but come to terms with the truth. There’s that five-letter word again. “Because we’re terrible people.” She nods, but I know it’s a lot to take in. “You’re going to do what you’re going to do, but go home now and really think about it. I don’t want you to turn into me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she speaks those words with such conviction, but her eyes travel to the front door, to her freedom. The bathroom door clicks and I twist my head to watch, waiting for Brick to come through the bedroom door.
But it’s a door shutting behind me that steals my attention. When I look back over to Tyra, she’s gone and a victorious smile creeps slowly across my lips. I don’t know which outcome gives me more pleasure—the fact that I’ve ruined any chance Brick had with her, or the fact that I’ve saved her from a lifetime of pain only the devil himself can cause.
“Where’s Tyra?” Brick asks. I don’t think he’s prepared to know I can play this game as dirty—or dirtier—than him.
“Half-way to Mexico if she has any common sense.”
“Huh.” He snaps the button of his jeans and leans against the bar of the kitchen. “What did you do?”
“Interference is a part of the game now, apparently.”
“Says who?”
“Cece said you had a surprise for me.”
“That girl is a twit.” He laughs and strokes his chin. “But, I figured she could come in handy down the road.” He wags a finger at me. “Nice catch with that one.”
“What are you planning?” I ask without a grain of emotion left in my voice. “What else are you going to take away from me?”
“Nothing.” I don’t believe him, opting to give him the death stare. “I swear. I knew she would tell you that little bit of information and you’d come running back to me.”
“This goes past being a game for you.”
“Smokebomb, it ceased being a game when you fell in love with him.” He jerks away from the bar and paces toward me, placing his palm on my shoulder when he arrives. “Everything I do is to protect you.”
“I don’t feel protected.” I swat his hand away from me. “I feel betrayed by the one man I have always counted on.” There’s gravel in my throat as the emotions I’ve tried shutting off make a triumphant, and overbearing return.
“You’ll get over it in time.” His emerald eyes meet mine, full of desire. “Do you want to make your appointment now?”
“For what?”
“Our fuck date.” He bites into his lip and growls, “I’m going to fuck you so good, the word Jensen will no longer register in your pretty little brain.”
“You are out of your damn mind if you think I’m sleeping with you.”
“That was the bet, wasn’t it?”
“I broke his heart.” I shrug as if I don’t care, but my swollen eyes tell a different story. “I won.”
“It goes a little different in Cece’s version. She said he was red with rage as he stormed away from you. That’s not heartbreak. That’s anger. There’s a difference.”
“I came here to tell you to stay away from me.” I push my hand against his chest as he tries to move in to suffocate me with his undeniable charisma. “We’re finished.”
“You’re full of shit,” he says through a sly grin. He knows everything about me. He knows I can’t live without him. He has to be wrong, and for that to happen, I need to break myself free from the grip he has on me.
“Maybe…” I say somberly and turn to the door, prepared to start a new life, a life worth living far away from the trenches of this never-ending war.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he barks, and I turn to him one last time.
“I’ll know when I get there.”
“Don’t walk out that door.”
“Stop me.” It’s a challenge, and I’m torn between my new-found values and the girl from yesterday. I wish I could charge out that door without a second thought, but in doing so, I’m running away from safety. I’m running away from him—he’s my home. I try and see the road ahead, but it’s an empty mirage of sleepy back roads.
“You’re going to pay for this,” he seethes.
“I never do…”
And I walk out the door. I wish I were stronger. I wish I didn’t have these thoughts running through my head, thoughts of going right back in that door. Every step toward the elevator is a step toward a new life. Fear runs through my veins, forcing my body into a perilous state of shaking.
It’s a testament to what I’ve lost when I don’t rush out of the elevator before the hydraulic doors come to a close. My stomach drops as the elevator begins its long descent to the ground floor.
The tears start again after ten floors, and I’m unable to show this vulnerable face to the world. I’ve seen where being vulnerable gets you, and it’s not a road I want to go down again. Not today. I slam my finger against the emergency stop button and slide my back against the wall until my feet are kicked across the floor.
This is the lowest I’ve ever been, and I’m ten floors from hitting rock bottom.
29
Two drinks sit on the bar in front of me—whiskey on the rocks and a mimosa. I’m torn between two worlds as I stare the glasses down. One of them smells like warm summer days on the patio of my house. The other, a sobering reminder of a declaration of love on the salty shores of Carolina Beach.
The bar is empty on this weekday night. I’m parked on a stool while the bartender toggles through his phone down the way. He doesn’t know me. He hasn’t seen the leaked video of me in my most vulnerable state. But he could. Every person I cross paths with towers over me as if they hold something above my head—the illicit truth that they are better than me.
I can’t show my face on campus again, and my proudest moment stands in the lines of jeopardy. Walking in graduation this summer is no longer something to look forward to, if graduation happens at all.