Chance doesn’t move. It’s apparent his mind is playing catch-up. I follow Vivian out the door.
“Don’t touch me and don’t follow me!” She waves her finger at me when I attempt to grab her arm.
“Where are you going?” I call as she stomps up the alley.
“I’m going to get my cherry popped, dickhead!”
What?
“Vivian, wait!” I jog after her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I reach for her hand. She yanks it away.
“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who ditched me because my hymen’s still intact.” She turns and strides away.
“I’m sorry.”
Still walking away.
“I was stupid.”
Still walking away.
“Dammit!” I chase after her. Grabbing her waist, I pull her to me as she twists and flails to escape. “Just listen to me.”
“No!” She wriggles in my arms, jerking her elbows side to side.
Leaving me no choice, I hoist her over my shoulder and she screams. “Stop, my skirt … I’m not wearing—”
I reach up to pull her skirt down over her … bare ass!
“Where the hell are your underwear?”
She punches her fists against my backside. “They’re at my house. Now put me down!”
“Are you behind on your laundry?”
“No! Are you really this dense?”
I deposit her in the passenger’s seat.
“Buckle up.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why would I go with you?”
My head drops and I rest my hands on the top of my car. “Because I need you.”
She gapes at me with an unrelenting stare as I shut her door.
“Why do you need me?” she whispers as I pull away from the curb.
Keeping my eyes on the road, I shake my head. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
We travel home in a thick cloud of silence, my voice held hostage by emotion laden tongue. I anticipate her making a dash across the street for her door when I stop the car, but she doesn’t. She waits for me to open her door. Taking her hand, I lead her to my place and she follows without hesitation.
Vivian stops just inside the door as I continue forward, tossing my keys on the counter.
“Do you want something to drink?” I hate the uncertainty that’s in my voice, like I just made a huge mistake and now I don’t know what to do about it.
She shakes her head as intense eyes full of uncertainty track my every move. My phone chimes in my pocket. There’s a missed call and a message from an unknown number. I listen to it as Vivian continues to watch me, gauge me, unravel me.
It’s not the voice on the message, or the words, it’s the timing. I can’t hear anything past my own pounding pulse and all I see is red. Three years later and I hate her with every fiber of my being. I slam my phone on the counter shattering the face of it. Vivian jumps while standing in the middle of my living room. At some point she made her way to the mess of pillow filling and ripped fragments of material still strewn about the floor and couch.
“I’m … sorry. I should not have brought you here.” My feet take me to the stairs on their own accord because I’m so numb right now the only thing I feel is the suffocating compression on my sternum as my lungs fight for air. “Sor–sorry.” I stumble to my room and slam the door, ripping off my shirt because even the light weight of cotton feels like lead against my chest. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I hunch over with my head in my hands and cry. The pain pours out like a mix of blood and acid. The hate is all consuming and the pain is crippling.
The door creaks open. My emotions stall in my throat. I can’t look up, so all I see are her bare feet facing away from me.
“Please … go.” My voice cracks.
She doesn’t budge. Her shirt falls to the floor by her feet. I can only see the back of her legs from the knees down. What is she doing? Her bra joins her shirt on the floor.
She waits.
Her back is to me and then it hits me so hard––her back is bared to me.
Releasing my hands from my face, I move my gaze up to her back one slow inch at a time. She’s shaking like a delicate leaf and her hair is pulled off to one shoulder. I blink away my tears––twisted branches with flowers. Flowers everywhere and not one … single … one … is bloomed.
Oh. God!
Every intricate detail covers what’s lying beneath: scars—everywhere. Then she turns her head and glossy green eyes meet mine as she bites together her trembling lips.
“Vivian …” I whisper. “… beautiful, you’re … perfect.”
Tears spill down her cheeks. “No take backs?”
I smile, taking her hand in mine. She turns around and moves between my legs, brushing her hair off her chest. Pressing my lips to her palm, I close my eyes and crash. My whole world collides and she has no idea that in this moment she’s throwing me a lifeline. “No take backs.”
It kills me that someone so stunning inside and out has lived in fear of people changing their mind about her beauty. I wonder how long she’s lived with such insecurity. Even more, I wonder if any man has made her feel less than perfect. The pain in her eyes when she looks back at me tells me the answer is yes.
She begins to slip her skirt past her hips but I grab her wrists.
“Not tonight. I’m just …” I sigh. “I have too much on my mind, but soon. Okay?”
She pulls her skirt back up and nods while grabbing her bra and shirt. With a weak smile she turns away from me to finish dressing.
“Vivian?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re not upset are you?”
She shakes her head. I stand and walk in front of her as she buttons the last button.
“Are you sure?”
She looks at my chest. “Yes. I’ll just see you tomorrow or something.”
I cup her face and kiss her soft lips. It’s taking everything I have to let her go tonight, but she deserves my full attention and right now I’m being pulled apart.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“Don’t be stupid. It’s across the street.” Her voice is void of emotion as she turns and walks down the hall to the stairs.
I sense she’s at least a little disappointed, but I don’t know what more I can say or do tonight. Looking out the bedroom window, I watch her sprint down the front steps of the building and across the street. As she fumbles to get her key in the lock, I notice her arm keeps rubbing her eyes.
Shit! She’s crying.
Chapter Eight
Time Stands Still
Vivian
There’s approximately twenty strides from Oliver’s front door to mine, but I make it in less than ten. Holding myself together until I reach the safety of my sanctuary is excruciating, but not as much as yet another rejection. I saw his pain, but I couldn’t see past it. The message on his phone, the massacred pillow, the aching sound of his sobs, I wanted to take his pain away and I thought he could do the same for me. Letting my guard down, letting him see me … all of me.
I laid my heart on the floor in his bedroom; with his words he held it in his hands and with his eyes he gave it back to me. It was the first time someone has looked at my back and not had pity in their eyes. Doctors, my parents, Kai, Alex, they all had the same look, but not Oliver. In his eyes I saw a woman not a victim, and in that moment the scars faded and my heart felt reborn. Then he took it all away. Racked with nerves shaking my entire body, I needed him to wrap me in his arms and wash away the pain, insecurities, and ugliness that has plagued my body and mind.