Brandon
My fingers dial her number for like the hundredth time today.
I let it ring six damn times.
Voicemail.
“Hey, this is Julie.”
I listen to her sweet little voice tell me that she promises to call me back. I know deep down that she is lying. “Jules, call me back. I have left dozens of messages over the past few weeks. I want to see you.”
She better not be ignoring my fucking calls to be with that rich pretty boy. Her brother is probably brainwashing her into hating me again, like he tried so many times before. I’m sure he just loved the perfect gentleman that Oliver is toward Julie. He probably has Randy eating out of his hands by now.
I can’t stop thinking about her. I want her back so bad it’s killing me. I need her, because without her in my life I don’t feel like my feet are on the ground. That sparkle she had in high school, the light that attracted me to her, making me obsessed—that’s all gone now. That jerk doesn’t know her like I do. He doesn’t know what she’s capable of doing for you and he never, ever will find out if I can help it.
I dial her number again and it goes straight to voicemail this time. I don’t leave one before slamming my phone down on the table next to me. I found out where she was before, I can do it again. My fingers find the phone and buzz across it, texting anyone I can think of to help me. I come across Nate’s number and hesitate at first but click on it anyway.
Brandon: Need to find Julie, she’s in danger. Can you help me?
Now Nate will think Julie is in trouble and want to help me like a friend should. There isn’t much I can do now except wait around for someone to answer me. I kick off my shoes and relax on the new mattress I bought a few weeks ago. I thought maybe getting a new place to sleep that hadn’t been tainted with my mess would bring her home. Or at least tantalize her enough to step foot in this apartment again.
I want what is mine.
She is mine.
My phone goes off next to me. I snatch it from the bed, hungrily searching for a name.
Rachel: Want to hang out?
I smile into the empty bedroom. I start to feel guilty for finding joy in her persistence. It hadn’t been long since Rachel and I had sex—only a few days or so. Still, I want to be with Julie. I want to touch her, be inside of her, and remind her that she is mine. It isn’t like she is coming home right this moment…I can have one last hurrah with Rachel if I want.
Brandon: Come over.
I didn’t plan on Rachel getting to the house so soon. I had changed the sheets on the bed and felt like I should put another one on top, just to be safe. Plugging my phone into its charger, I jog to the door and open it. Rachel jumps into my arms and plants her wet lips on mine. My hands find the door and slam it shut, then claw at the short dress she wears. I rip it off of her from the back, my hands following her moans like a map. My mind wanders to Julie, naked and waiting for me. We used to take lavender bubble baths together; the memories of her start to flood my brain. Rachel’s moans aren’t doing it for me this time, but thinking of Julie in the bathtub is really turning me on. I think about her soft blonde hair pulled up on her head and her pink, pouty lips smiling at me.
My phone goes off in the bedroom. I push Rachel off of me and go to it, picking it up with hungry eyes. Rachel pads into the bedroom, her bare feet hitting the hardwood floor. Her footsteps sound close enough to sandpaper to make me cringe.
Nate: Word of advice: Just leave her alone.
I smash my fingers on the phone to answer.
Brandon: Not going to happen. She belongs with me, you know that.
It takes Nate a few minutes to text me back. Rachel paws at me from behind, craving my attention because I had rejected her.
Nate: She’s with him again. Let it go.
I throw the phone on the bed and scream my head off. The walls bounce my anger back at me and burn my ears. Rachel covers hers with her hair and frowns. I can hear the fear in her voice when she can finally speak without yelling over my scream. “What is wrong with you?”
Should I stay and have sex with Rachel or should I try and find Julie?
I turn around and grab her hand. I lift her up so she can wrap her fake-tanned legs around me; she scratches her fake nails down my shoulder blades. I push her against the wall and force myself between her legs, pushing and pressing, no intentions of stopping. When her dress has fallen off completely, I throw her onto the bed and undress myself. I manage to hold her in place as I launch myself into her and don’t look back.
Rachel’s wild strawberry-blonde hair is everywhere on the bed sheet once I finish and let her go. That’s another thing I have to get rid of before Julie comes home. Her narrow eyes look at me from the bed; she knows that I no longer have a need for her to stay.
“Can’t I just stay the night just one time?” she whines. I stand up and pull on my jeans, careful not to look directly at her. “Don’t you want to cuddle or something? I’m not okay with these booty calls anymore.”
“I couldn’t care less if you’re okay,” I scoff and don’t bother looking back at her—I meant what I said. I don’t care about her any more than I would care about my mailman at this moment.
I am okay, I feel good, it feels good to me, and that’s all I give a shit about until I can get Julie back here with me.
I don’t care how bad or good I was, but I snicker because I know the sex was good for her.
I don’t care if I was too rough or it hurt her.
She is nothing to me anymore.
***
“Julie!” I yell for her up the stairs. She must be cleaning the bedroom, something she liked to do when I wasn’t in the house. I know she throws my things away when she thinks I won’t find out. I plan on telling her that she needs to clean this living room; it’s getting filthy around here.
“Julie, come down here!” I yell again. There isn’t a sing-song tone to my voice as much as annoyance. I hear her light footsteps skip toward me. She pads down the stairs, her face stained with tears and mascara. I roll my eyes. “God, can’t you get some waterproof makeup or something? I can’t take you in public when you cry all the time and people can see it.”
She wipes her eyes but that makes it worse. “Sorry.”
“We need to talk,” I say and pull her into the living room. I sit her down on the sofa and sit across from her on the coffee table. “I know you saw me with Rachel last night.”
She nods. “I did.”
“And? How do you feel about that?”
I smile at the horror on her face. “You really want to know?”
“Of course I do. Do you think I want you to see that? Do you think I want to hurt you intentionally?”
“No, I guess not.” I relax and I find myself reaching for her. I touch her face and feel sorry for hurting her when I always swear I won’t. Her smile widens as I touch her skin. The fragile little butterfly I caught in high school will always be loyal to me. “I know what I can do to make it up to you…let’s stay in together tonight.”
By the way her face lights up, you would think I offered her the moon. “Really? We haven’t spent a night in together for so long!” She squeaks and jumps up. She sits on my lap, smiling. Her eyes lower and she whispers, “I can try to be better.”
I can’t help but pull her closer to my chest and hold her there; what have I done to her? This isn’t the strong, independent cheerleader I fell in love with. The first time I touched her fingertips, I thought she was it for me. She isn’t the same Julie that would fight with all she has for something she believes in.
I’ve taken that from her.
Her breathing levels and I know she’s comforted by the fact that I’ve reached out to her. I know I can’t repair years of damage with just one squeeze, so I hold on a little longer. I try to be something I know I’m not anymore.
I squeeze her anyway. Tight.
“I don’t want to ever let you go,” I say. “I do love you, you know that, right? I have always loved you and I will always love you.”
“I know,” she says into my shirt.
She doesn’t say it back.
I blink a few tears from my eyes. My hand runs down her back. “Hey, do you remember that bottle of wine we opened when we found out about this apartment?”
“Of course I do.” She bats her eyelashes at me; that hot liquid feeling rises up in my throat, the one that she used to give me when I first laid eyes on her.
“I know we don’t have that, but maybe we can open that bottle of tequila that my boss gave me for Christmas.” I smile and watch her get excited to be getting so much attention from me. That makes me feel powerful and in control.
“You haven’t opened that with Rachel?”
“Of course not, baby, that’s ours.” I can see the shyness of her eyelashes grazing her cheeks. “You go get it and I’ll find a scary movie so we can get drunk and yell at the stupid people who die first.” I swat her ass as she jumps up to do what I ask of her. I don’t click the TV on to find a movie to watch. Instead, I sit in the empty room and cry like a baby.
I’m going to lose her.
I’m going to lose her because I can’t be normal.
I want too much, I take too much.
I’m going to lose her because I am who I am.
She brings the drink back with no glasses. I watch her pop the top off the tequila and drink straight from the bottle. Her nose crinkles a little from the bitter taste but otherwise she swallows it down like a champ. Her small hands shake as she gives the bottle to me. “I was always jealous that you never needed a chaser,” I say and take the bottle from her. Her body sways to a song in her head. She does this a lot—I catch her dancing to her own tune when she thinks she’s alone.
“Come here.” I pull her between my legs. I tip the bottle to her lips and the amber liquid sloshes down her throat. It’s a bigger amount than she drank before, but I want to get her so drunk that she doesn’t remember anything.
I’ve figured out a way to always keep her coming back.
I let her continue to tip the bottle into her mouth as I pretend to drink from it too. She’s almost guzzling it now, her body going limp from how much she’s consuming. I know I have to stop her before she gets sick—or worse.
“Hey!” She pouts and gives me a sloppy, wet kiss on the lips. “You took my bottle.”
I chuckle and put the bottle behind me. “I’m cutting you off; you’re already sloshed.”
“I’m a lightweight.” She giggles and wraps her arms around my neck. The old feelings tumble in the pit of my stomach and I can still see her as the quick-witted, bad ass senior cheerleader she used to be. “I used to be able to drink so much more—remember that bonfire in the West Plains fields that we had after we won State? I got so drunk that we had to sleep in the backseat of your car in the cold.”
I laugh with her and rub my chin. I’m unsure if I want her to bring up all of these old memories; it reminds me of the person I used to be before I completely messed everything up. “I remember. I also remember you trying to steal my car because you were pissed at me for cutting you off, which is what I’m doing now.”
I let her relax into me. She hugs me tight with her chin on my shoulder. I can feel her heartbeat chasing after mine; I get a pain in my chest that warns me to make sure and keep her at arm’s length.
“We should get married.” I look into her eyes for confirmation. She should be just drunk enough to go through with it. Not that I would admit to her my plan…
“I told you that I’m not ready.” Her voice is flat and annoyed. “Give me one good reason.”
“Because I am in love with you.”
I see the corners of her mouth turn up into a drunken smile.
I think she’s actually going to go through with it.