Chapter Two-
Since I couldn't possibly go back to sleep after that awful scene, I got up and started washing the bedding while everyone else was asleep.
I had everything clean and the bed made before anyone saw that I was still there, so I quietly left the house and walked myself home.
I honestly think what concerned me more than knowing I got drunk and had sex with someone I didn't care about, was that I couldn't figure out why. Sex itself had never been that big of a deal to me; it was the emotions that went along with it that scared me. But Derek? It would have been different if I would've just slept with some stranger, then I would've just thought I was a slutty drunk, and I might have felt the normal regret, but not the gnawing feeling that seemed to be eating away at my insides.
Why had I slept with Derek Noble of all people? I hated him, and he hated me even more, so why would he be the person I would decide to jump into bed with? Sure, maybe in a shallow kind of way he might be slightly attractive, but he was mean and a loser as far as I was concerned, and he reminded me of his stupid father.
Granted, I had never actually met his father, but the way my mother wrote about him was making me think of Derek more and more lately.
Although, honestly, I don't think even Mike would have stooped to blackmail.
I wanted to be so hard on Derek, to despise him for his senseless, perverted cruelty, but for some reason the image of the little boy in the grocery store kept floating back into my mind.
Did he remember his mother the way I remembered mine? Had they been as close as my mother and I were? Did he have memories like mine, of sitting on the back porch watching the birds, or doing household chores and dancing around the house? Was his mother happy, since she had gotten what she wanted out of life? I was sure she didn't cry herself to sleep each night, but in reality, I knew nothing of his mother except what my mother wrote, which was bound to be unflattering since my mother obviously hated her enough to kill her.
When I finally got home the sun had risen. I was mildly surprised to see Alex sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hand, looking right at me as I walked in.
For a split second my heart missed a beat, and I wondered in a state of confusion if he had actually waited up for me. He had never done anything like that before, but then I had also never stayed out all night, I just assumed he wouldn't care. But I knew he didn't have to work until four, so why else would he be sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hand?
And then I thought of the picture I must present, my reddish brown curls all frizzy from Derek's hands roaming through them, my cheeks somehow still flushed, my eyeliner probably smeared under my green eyes. Even my clothes were probably all wrinkled from being balled up on the floor wherever Derek had tossed them, and to top it all off, I probably still smelled of alcohol.
However, Alex ruined the illusion of a caring father by raising one black eyebrow and saying, "Are you just getting home?"
That was when I saw a pretty girl with long glossy brown hair walk out of the bathroom and into the living room, wearing only his T-shirt. It wasn't his girlfriend, so I didn't feel I should concern myself with learning her name.
I looked her over from her pretty face to her toned legs and purple sparkled toenails and decided she might be 21, but maybe not even that.
"Typical," I muttered, closing the front door behind me. I glanced over at Alex as I started my journey to my room and said, "Probably a nine."
I saw him crack a smile before I closed my door.
We didn't communicate very much, and it had been awkward at first when I would wake up to see strange, half-naked women parading through my house, so I established a little game to make it less awkward. I knew Alex was promiscuous, my mother had documented that particular fact quite well, and although he didn't know I got the game from her, she had been the one to make it up. Instead of being offended when Alex would flirt with, check out or make out with other girls, she would grade them on a scale of one to ten. She would describe the girl in the journal and write whatever her grade was. It was her private way of mocking him, and it was mine too, although I actually shared the grade with him, and sometimes he would actually disagree and argue his case.
Stephanie ended up calling me a little later, and she asked me what had happened, why I hadn't stayed the night like I had been planning.
Part of me wanted to confide in her, but since Derek was involved with her best friend, I kept it to myself. "Oh, I decided just to go home. I’d had a little too much to drink and my dad called, so I told him he could just come get me."
"Oh, really? I wondered. One minute you were sitting on the couch doing shots with Derek, of all people, and the next time I turned around I couldn't find you."
"It was him I was doing shots with?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"Oh yeah. The drunker you got, the more it amused him. He even spoke to me last night, he was in such a pleasant mood. He comes over and he's like," she adopted a deeper voice, "'Nikki's drunk as fuck over here,' and then he laughed."
Even though I hated him, I felt a pang of regret that I had missed out on that. I had never actually seen Derek in a good mood before, and I thought it might be kind of like seeing a unicorn.
"But Kayla threw me, too, she said she thought she saw you and Derek go upstairs together." Stephanie laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "Can you even imagine?"
I managed to laugh, but I don't know how convincing I was. "Yeah, like that would happen," I agreed half-heartedly.
Since I had to work that day, I used that as an excuse to get off the phone as quickly as possible. I felt bad, but I really didn't want to think about that party.
As I was donning my Wendy's hat I heard Alex tap on my door, so I opened it up. "Yes?"
"Here," he said, handing me a box of condoms.
I blushed and shook my head. "Um, I don't really..."
"Take them. Just please don't come home pregnant; I'd hate to have to push my own daughter down a flight of stairs."
I rolled my eyes but took the box of condoms anyway. "That's a terrible joke," I informed him.
I swear I heard him mutter, "Who's joking?" as he walked away, but he had just brought something to my attention.
I sure hoped Derek had had the common sense to put on a condom, because aside from the horrible possibility of spawning his children, he could be all gross and diseased.
Unfortunately, there was no way I could address the condom concern, because of course I didn't have his phone number, I wasn't welcome to pop up at his house, and I wouldn't be seeing him until Monday at school.
Andy called me that night and asked if I wanted to come over and watch a movie, and I had been planning on saying no, not wanting to experience all the guilt I was sure to feel, but somehow I ended up saying yes.
I was relieved when his mother sat down to watch the movie with us, because my guilt didn't seem to bother me when we were just near each other, I was only bothered when he would try to be affectionate. I don't know if it was the guilt or what, but it literally made me shudder. Since I didn't want him to witness me shuddering over his touch, I decided to avoid his affection altogether.
Andy wanted me to stay and come upstairs after the movie, but I told him I was tired and I really just wanted to go to sleep. He took me home, but asked me if I would come to church with him the next morning. I told him I couldn't, because I had to take Alex and drop him off at work so I could use his car to take myself to work, which wasn't true, but I really did do it often enough that it sounded true. Truthfully, I just knew I couldn't possibly sit in a church with Andy after what I had done with Derek the night before.
As I walked to school Monday morning, I thought about what was going to happen when I saw Derek. Would he treat me differently? Would people notice? Had he lied to me, and really he had already shared the video with anyone who wanted to see it? Did he really even have a video, or was he just manipulating me? Part of me wanted to call his bluff, but just in case he wasn't bluffing, I wasn't willing to gamble like that. I would find out if there was a video one way or another, but I had to play it safe.
That thought caused me to scoff.
Safe. I had thrown out my safety net the minute I entered that bedroom with Derek.
No, I told myself firmly, that wasn't true. I just had to figure out how to control the situation. Derek needed to get his revenge, and he was choosing a rather perverted way to do it, but if I humored him, let him get whatever closure he needed and get bored with me, then he would destroy the evidence, and my life would return to its normal state of safety. He could go on hating me until the day he died, for all I cared.
Bastard.
I got to school too soon for my taste, although in reality I was almost late, and I took a deep breath before walking in to face whatever I was about to face.
It felt like everybody was staring at me, but I told myself I was just being paranoid. People had always stared at me. My mother had been the town's version of American Psycho, and I was her offspring, which meant I was probably a demented freak.
That was fine, as long as they didn't think I was a "freak in the sheets." Whether I was or not was my own business, not the whole school's.
My feeling of paranoia intensified when I noticed that Kayla was watching me rather closely through slightly narrowed eyes, and I was sure she must know. Derek had lied to me, he had shown her and everyone else the tape, and now everyone was going to know what had happened. I would lose the two friends I had and once again be brought into the spotlight, not only making my reputation fall to pieces, but also reminding everyone of what my mother had done, in addition to slutting around with Derek Noble, the very son of the woman my mother killed.
I would be a pariah by the time they were finished with me, I thought with no small amount of panic.
But then Stephanie spotted me, and she smiled, walking over to me, greeting me and filling me with relief.
Unfortunately, Derek was in my very first class of the day. Just seeing him sitting on top of my desk, smiling and talking to one of his friends filled me with dread.
The stray and unwelcome thought floated through my mind that he was handsome when he smiled, that his eyes had this remarkable way of twinkling, making them appear to be even more beautiful than their usual blue, making him appear to be sort of... playful.
I shook my head and frowned, banishing the thought from my head as I entered the classroom. Derek noticed me, and he watched as I approached— really watching me. I noticed his gaze slide down my body as he smirked, and I hoped that no one else noticed.
"Excuse me," I said, more politely than he deserved.
"You're excused," he returned, but didn't move.
“I need to sit here.”
"So sit," he said, gesturing openly to the chair.
"Get off my desk," I said, losing my patience.
"Aw, but you didn't say please."
I gritted my teeth, managing to get out, "Please."
He smirked and finally got off my desk, but not before sliding a note across the desk, his hand covering it. I took the hint and sat my books down on top of it when he raised his hand so nobody else would see it, then he went back to his desk. I sat in mine as the bell rang and the teacher began her lecture. Glancing around briefly to make sure nobody noticed, I slid the paper in between my notes and carefully opened it to see what he had written.
Up for another payment tonight?
I glared at the paper even though it wasn't the paper's fault, grabbed a pen and scribbled, "No thanks."
When class was over I dropped the note back on his desk and left the room before he could even read it, thinking to escape him.
He caught up to me in the hall, however. "Hey now, that's not part of our arrangement. Remember the whole 'at my beck and call' part?"
"I can't tonight," I snapped. "Go see your girlfriend."
"Aw, jealous?" he teased.
"Not hardly," I retorted.
"Why can't you? Plans with the choir boy?" he asked, mocking interest.
"No, I just can't."
He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm going to need a better reason than that."
I glared at him, hating him for making me explain myself, hating the explanation even more. I looked around in irritation, just to make sure no one was paying too much attention, and said very quietly, "Did you forget I was a virgin? We can't just jump right back on the horse a few hours later."
He honestly didn't seem to have realized this, and he raised his eyebrows a little. "Oh. Okay. Well, when can you?"
"I don't know, sometime after the bleeding and the soreness goes away," I responded.
He grimaced a little at my description, and that brought me just a little bit of joy. Maybe when I got my period I would complain endlessly to him about that, too.
Oh, speaking of getting periods. "And I had something to ask you," I added, leaning a little closer for the sake of privacy
“Why are you trying to make out with me in the middle of the hallway?" he teased, pulling back.
I rolled my eyes and yanked him back in. "In your dreams," I replied. “I’m serious. I wanted to make sure that you used the proper... protection," I whispered.
He smirked again, reminding me how much I hated him. "What was that?" he asked, pretending not to hear me. "You're gonna have to speak up, this ear's not working so well today. Someone was screaming my name in it last night."
I glared, asking shortly, "Did you or not?"
He chuckled a little, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Yes, I did."
Well, that was a relief. "Thank you," I said, although I had no idea why I was actually thanking him for anything.
"Is the thought of me knocking you up that terrifying?" he asked, looking amused.
I nodded. "I'd hate to have to pay my dad to push me down a flight of stairs."
With that, I lifted my nose into the air and walked away, smiling a little to myself when he finally called after me, "You wouldn't have to, I'd happily push you for free."
Since Derek didn’t know how long it took for virginal bleeding to subside, I was able to use that excuse for a week before he got suspicious.
The following Friday he didn't ask, he demanded to see me that weekend. He actually asked me for my number so he had a more reliable way of contacting me since I had dodged him at school.
Saturday night I was at home journaling when I heard Alanis Morissette start singing from my cell phone. I didn't recognize the number, but I answered it anyway.
"Hey, you hungry?" Derek asked without returning my greeting.
I rolled my eyes. "No, I just lost my appetite."
"Well, I'm on my way to pick you up."
"Uh," I said, shutting my journal and frowning, "did you not just hear the part where I said I wasn't hungry?"
"You can get dessert then. I'll be there in less than two minutes."
"But... I'm not ready," I said, stalling.
"Aw, you don't have to pretty yourself up for me, but thanks for the concern," he said sarcastically.
"I'm doing homework," I lied. "I'm concentrating. You can't interrupt me right now."
"Oh, good. I'll come over and help you study."
"Yes, and then the Earth will open up and swallow me whole while pigs fly over my head. Think again; the door will be dead-bolted."
"You know, you're really terrible at playing sex slave," he informed me.
"And you're really terrible at being a decent human being. You overlook my shortcomings and I'll try to overlook yours," I shot back.
"You're so hateful, Nikki," he said tauntingly.
"That's because I hate you, Derek," I told him brightly.
"Well, get over that feeling, because I'm about to pull onto your street. Which trailer's yours?"
I raised my eyebrows. "You seriously think I'm going to tell you that?"
"Well, if you don't I'll knock on every door until I find yours. That should look really good to your neighbors."
Deflated, I felt my shoulders slump. "About halfway down the road, there's a porch light, it's a blue trailer. Don't you dare get out of the car, I'll meet you in the driveway."
"Don't keep me waiting," he replied before hanging up.
I sighed as I hung up the phone, slipping it into my purse and walking out of my bedroom to wait for him in the living room.
By the time he pulled in, I was in a miserable mood. I slid into the passenger seat of his car and he didn't bother greeting me, although I don't know why I thought he would. After all, it wasn't a social occasion, it wasn't a date, it was just a cheap tryst.
Thinking about that made me grumpy, so I glanced over at him, trying to muster some empathy.
I understood that he hated me because my mother had killed his mother, but I still didn't feel that it was fair. After all, I didn't hate him just because his father was the man who broke my mother's heart, or because his conception had been the reason his father broke my mother's heart, so why should he blame me for something my mother did? I still loved her, yes, but I wasn't saying what she did wasn't wrong. It was wrong, and I had spent years paying for it, but she was still my mother and from her journals I also understood how she felt.
Honestly, I was still curious. That main part of my mother's short life still fascinated me, but there was only so much information in her journals. Even though I had never known Derek before high school, I had known about him and his family my whole life.
I don't think I meant to say it, in fact I'm sure I didn't, but somehow one of my questions slipped right out of my mouth. "Do you remember your mother?"
I could tell that was the last thing he expected me to ask, and judging from the look on his face, it was exactly the question I should not have asked. "You have no right to ask me about her," he said carefully, his jaw locked so tight it looked like it might crack.
"I was just curious," I hurried to explain. "I wasn't going to say anything about her, I just wondered... I know I have memories of my mother, and I just thought—"
"Well, stop thinking," he said angrily, cutting me off.
Neither of us said another word until we got to McDonald's, and once we were there, he told me to stay in the car, as he didn't want anyone to see me with him, and he asked what I wanted.
I sat in the car sulking as he went in to get the food. He had no right to keep belittling me the way he did, and it was starting to piss me off. Did he think I was proud to be out with him? Not hardly. I didn’t like him either, I just had a little more sympathy for him, which was probably my mistake. Maybe he didn't deserve my sympathy, not even a little bit.
When he came back out he handed me the bag and I thanked him automatically, then bit my own tongue, cursing my good manners. He nodded and started eating his own double cheeseburger.
We ate in complete silence. I had no idea what he was thinking, although he appeared to still be mad at me. I alternated between thinking about our mothers and what might take place when we got done eating. Would it be the same without the alcohol? Even though I "didn't remember" anything (a trait I inherited from Alex, who could "forget" anything he did with any woman) I did remember at least enjoying myself. I did remember what it felt like to have my fingers tangled in his hair, his body pressing into mine... and even though I thought he was a jerk, thinking about it still warmed my body, made my fingers itch to delve into that soft head of hair once more.
I still hated him though.
It was purely a physical attraction, and definitely not a strong one.
It was definitely nothing to worry about, just a few unruly hormones.
After leaving McDonald's he headed back in the direction he had come from. I didn't think too much of it at first, I just listened to the radio and decided I didn't like his music taste at all.
It wasn't until he turned back into the trailer park that I realized he really did appear to be heading back to my place. When he pulled onto my road, I knew he was.
"Um... we can't go into my house," I said, refusing to let him invade the sanctuary of my room.
He didn't respond at all, just drove down the road and pulled into my driveway.
"Get out," he said simply, not even looking at me.
My eyes widened a little. "What?"
"Get out," he said slowly, enunciating each word.
"But..."
"What?" he asked, finally looking at me. "You're so overwhelmed with desire for me that you'll perish if I don't touch you tonight?"
I ignored his sarcastic question. "What about the video?"
He shook his head, looking away from me. "I'm not gonna show anyone, I just don't feel like dealing with you tonight. Maybe I'll pick you up tomorrow."
I could not get out of that car fast enough. He was letting me off the hook and not showing the tapes, so I didn't want to stay there long enough for him to change his mind.
I was so busy thinking about how relieved I was that I had somehow gotten out of my blackmail for the night that until I sat down on my bed and pulled my journal out to tell it about my grand misadventure, I didn't realize that I didn't feel happy.
Oddly enough, I kind of felt guilty. Not about getting out of sex, I wouldn't feel guilty about that, but when I thought of the foul mood I had put him in by asking about his mother, I realized he was probably thinking about her after my question. I probably caused him to realize exactly how much he missed her, and I had probably made him sad.
As mean as Derek was to me, I didn't like thinking that I had made him sad. Angry, fine, but not sad. I knew sadness, especially over the thought of what you were missing out on by not having a mother, and I knew it wasn't a good feeling.
That was why it frustrated me that he had to be such an asshole all the time. If he would stop being a jerk long enough to talk to me like a human being, he might realize how much we had in common. It would be a strange friendship, with lots of sordid history that we would be best to avoid talking about too much, but I thought it might work.
But maybe I was wrong. Maybe Alex was right. He told me I spent too much time reading my mother's journals, looking through old photographs. He told me one time that I was too busy thinking about her life to go out and live my own. If he knew I had gone out with Derek Noble, that would surely solidify his belief.
But that wasn't how I thought about it.
I couldn't help if my mother and I were similar creatures. We even looked strangely alike, although she had blue eyes and I had green. We had a similar figure, the exact same auburn hair, the same straight, upturned nose, and stubby fingers. I got Alex's eyes, and apparently his ability to forget things he didn't want to remember, but that was about the end of our similarities. For the most part, I was my mother's daughter all the way. As for our personalities, I wasn't at all like her in matters of the heart, but that was probably because of how she was. If she wasn't crazy about someone, she didn't want to be with them.
As for me—I didn't want to be with anyone who could drive me crazy.