Chapter 2
“You look like shit,” Trade says to me.
My brother doesn’t miss much, and even though I’m an asshole, I don’t relish the idea of him thinking me so. He thinks I’m a good guy. I want to keep up that illusion the best I can. Even though we both know I’m a former addict that practices hard every day to not think about getting high.
You know what else? I look like shit because I fingered you last night and haven’t slept since. We’re coming up on twenty-four hours since I felt you come around my hand and between hating myself and reliving every damn second, I’ve been teetering somewhere between permahard and disgusted with myself.
“I feel like shit, thanks for noticing,” I tell my brother. He came out to my place to check on me. He’d never say that, but I know him. Always a watchful eye on me, hoping I don’t slip back into my junkie ways.
I let him do whatever he feels he needs to. Even though it crushes my heart a little each time. Or maybe it’s my ego. Maybe both. But I’m older. By a few minutes, sure. But still older. I don’t need the people closest to me thinking I’m going to relapse. I won’t. No matter how much I struggle. You were right, Shay. I fuck and race to keep busy. To chase that high I miss. But I’ve never gotten higher off anything than I had off you last night.
And that was just a sample.
I’m minding my own business, tinkering on a few small engine pieces on my race car. This is normally Trade’s job. He’s the mechanic. I’m the racer. But I need to do something to get you off my mind. I’m surrounded by nothing but desert out here and it suits me. Keeps me away and there’s a solitude to my simple dwelling and lifestyle.
Despite my preferences of having my own space, I still get found. Like last night. By you. And once again, my thoughts turn to your lips. Your soft inner thighs that flexed and squeezed around me as you came.
“Something on your mind?” Trade asks.
Yeah, something is on my mind. You. You are on my mind. Why the fuck couldn’t you have left me alone last night? Why am I still thinking of you? Why did you have to be a virgin?
Virgin.
That one word has been rocking through my mind all damn day. Last night, there’d been a hint of blood on my hand, Shay. I know what that means. Do you? Do you even realize what happened? Other than you coming, of course. I broke you. Made you bleed. Which means no one else had been as deep in you as I had been.
A thought that has me hard again.
“Nothing I need to talk about,” I say, closing the hood of my car and wiping my hands on a rag. Trade folds his heavily tattooed arms over his chest and looks at me. It never ceases to amaze me how we accidentally dress like twins. Tonight, we’re both in white T-shirts and jeans. Though Trade’s skin is marked up with art and mine is bare. Other than that, we’re built about the same. Do you notice, Shay? Do you care? Trade would be the better Anders brother, you know. He’s the better man. Which is why I can’t talk to him about you. I can’t tell him I have it bad for an eighteen-year-old. Sure, you’re hot beyond your years. Mature. But it doesn’t matter. You’re beautiful and clean in a way I wouldn’t dream of corrupting.
Well…I’ve dreamed of it.
And I’m getting harder.
Fuck this. Fuck my thoughts. Fuck you.
I need a release. That’s all. I need to stop thinking of you and your virgin body and your sexy mouth. How clean are you, Shay? How dirty would you be interested in getting? Would you promise me I’m the only one that would get to touch you? Feel you. Be inside you.
“What the hell are you doing? You developing a tic now?” Trade asks me.
Apparently, I look like a lunatic warding off my thoughts of you. Thanks a lot.
“I’m tired.”
Trade looks at me for a long time. “What—who—did you do last night? I saw you leave the fireworks.”
“Are you Sherlock Holmes now? Stay out of my business.”
“You’re the one who stomped off last night. And now you’re tired.”
I swear to God, if Trade uses air quotes one more time, I’ll lose my shit. I can’t tell him about you. Not yet.
No…there is no yet. There will never be anything between us. Now or ever.
If I could get my damn dick on board, that’d be helpful.
Too bad Trade knows me well enough to know I’m full of shit and something is legitimately bothering me.
“Look, I won’t pry. But whatever has your mind in chaos, do what you need to do to get it right. I don’t want you to…”
He was going to say…Relapse. I can tell by the sad look of concern in his eyes.
I can’t blame him for worrying about that. And he’s partly right, I need to get my mind right. He’s seen me high. He’s seen me go through withdrawal. I don’t want to put him through that and I sure as hell have no intention of falling off the wagon. It’s been years. But it still hurts. I crave it. Not as much as I crave you. I know from experience that the day after a good hit is the hardest. Which is today. I want something so badly. You.
I think of how calm and easy it is to get lost in this kind of high.
Like I got lost in you.
You.
A light hits behind my damn eyes like a fucking cartoon character with a bulb above his head. You’re my high, Shay. You make me want. You make me calm. You make everything feel easy and overwhelming. I have a sense of control when I’m with you. Yet, I’ve never been racked with such raw need that I could explode at any moment. I had a taste of you last night and I want another fix. A deeper fix.
Fuck…I’m more screwed than I thought. Because I need to do something. I can’t be sitting here thinking of what drugs feel like in my blood. I think of you instead. Not a different thing. You light up that same blood I have. Blood that’s been tainted. Blood that craves you.
“You struggling? Need a meeting? Support?” Trade asks, his voice all too serious.
“I’m fine. I’m not going to fuck up my sobriety.” I glance at him. He’s worried. “I’ll get it together. Just a lot on my mind.”
He nods slowly, like he doesn’t believe me. Can I blame him?
“Alright. I’m heading to Mic’s to meet Quinn. Wanna come?”
I shake my head. “Maybe tomorrow. I’ve got some stuff to do.”
“Alright, I’m here, brother. Anytime.”
I know he is. Because he’s a good man and even better brother.
I nod.
I watch him leave, then look at my truck sitting in the driveway. Time to leave the racing car and go get the fix I need. Or figure out a way to detox completely.
#
I knock on your door. The same door I’ve knocked on a thousand times in the past looking for a fix from your brother. Ironic, now I’m looking for a fix from you…but in a very different way.
At least I know your brother won’t answer the door because he and Wade, my cousin, went to prison several months ago for dealing the shit they were.
I’m not sorry those assholes are in jail, Shay. What I am sorry about is the expression on your face when you open the door and see me.
“What do you want?” you ask me.
You’re not happy. I can’t blame you. I want to ask you a lot of things. I want to say a lot of things. Why is nothing coming out of my fucking mouth?
You raise your brows and cross your arms over your perfect tits. How did I not pay attention to those last night?
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought of opportunities missed. Opportunities I want back. What the hell am I doing here?
“I ah . . .” I adjust my stance, trying to go for a cool demeanor and hook a thumb in my belt. Your eyes dart down to the motion and I like the idea of you glancing at my cock. “I wanted to talk about last night.”
The screen door creaks as you move toward me. Before you come out, I hear another voice. A voice I recognize. Your grandmother. This is her house. She’s raised you and your piece of shit brother since you were both young. I’ve been to this house many times, but it looks darker than normal. It wasn’t a shithole before, but it wasn’t great either. It was modest. And for whatever reason, it looks worse than I remembered. Granted, I haven’t shown up to this doorstep in a hell of a long time since I’ve been clean. There’d never been any reason to show up except to get your brother to deal.
“I’m just going to talk to Coe outside for a second, Grandma. I’ll be right back,” you call over your shoulder.
“Coe Anders? That boy your brother runs around with?” I hear her call back. I close my eyes. Your grandma isn’t stupid. She knows I was mixed up in her grandson’s drug game. Knows we were asshole guys that got wasted together.
Her slow footsteps followed by the sounds of wheels rolling along hardwood get closer. I haven’t seen your grandma in a while and it’s shocking. She’s getting old. And the oxygen tank she’s pulling behind her makes my own chest hurt.
“Coe Anders,” she says, making eye contact and getting closer to the door.
“It’s good to see you, ma’am.”
I’m going for respect and politeness, but she doesn’t say anything. She likely hates my ass.
“I’ll be right back, Grandma,” you say to her softly and kiss her cheek. Yep, it’s really fucking clear she hates me. But you push the screen door open and walk down the driveway. I follow you. Your grandmother is left leering at me for a solid ten seconds before slamming the front door. She worries about you. Worries that you’re with the likes of me. I would worry too. You’re the one good thing around this place and all the shadows that follow me.
I need to figure out what the hell to do to get you out of my brain. Maybe small talk. Break the ice.
“House is dark in there, never remember it being that dark.”
You frown at me. “The lights are out,” you tell me like I’m a moron. Your delicate shoulder shrugs, knocking off the thin strap of your tank top and making me hard yet again for the millionth time today. “The power company will turn them back on within a few hours.”
“Turn them back on?”
You continue to walk down the driveway until we’re almost to the end. “Yeah, I was late paying the bill. With my brother gone, we don’t have much of an income.” You sound defensive and I wasn’t trying to give you hell. I just didn’t know you had your power turned off.
“Do you need help? I can give you some money—”
“Don’t you dare say another word to me,” you snap. You stop walking and face me. All fire and anger in a small tank top and cutoff shorts. Damn it, your creamy legs are gorgeous but you’re furious. And you are face to face with me.
“I don’t need your charity and there is no going rate for fucking me—” you air quote the word fuck. “–So whatever reason you’re here, don’t pretend to do me any favors.”
I laugh. Not a gut laugh and I’m not laughing at you. You caught me off guard by various things you just said. First, “Fucking you?” I ask. “We didn’t.”
“You know what I mean,” you wave a hand at me.
No, I don’t. Because I hate to break it to you, sweet girl, but fucking is very different than me fingering you for a few minutes.
“Did I hurt you?” My voice is softer than I meant.
Your big blue eyes shoot up and hit me like a thousand fifty-pound dumbbells.
“No,” you say. “You didn’t hurt me. You…I felt…lots of things. But not pain.”
You fold your lips; you’re holding back something.
“What?”
You shake your head. “I’m certain now that I didn’t…um…you know…before you.”
I raise a brow and a victorious smile spreads on my face. “You haven’t come before I made you. Is that what you’re saying?”
You nod.
I like that. I suspected, and I like it now that it’s confirmed.
“It didn’t hurt, but I can feel it today. Feel you, I mean. What we did.”
Your voice is soft and perfect and just talking about “what we did” makes me want to relive it. Only more. There’s so much more I want to show you. Do to you.
“You’re a virgin,” I confirm again. I want to hear you say it. Say that no one has ever touched you. Say that I will be the only one to touch you.
Shit, how did my mind stray this badly? Because all I can think about is you and your perfect body and trying to get back inside of it.
“Yes,” you say. “And you told me to leave. You’re an asshole.”
“True.”
I can’t deny that. I am an asshole. And you deserve better. But it’s because I’m an asshole that I’m here. I can’t stay away and I’m selfish. I want another hit of you, Shay. I want to get high on you. You gave me a hint of something I’ve been missing. A cleanness. A calm. And I’m jonesing for another fix.
“That’s why you’re mad at me? Because I told you to leave after making you come?”
“Yes,” you say harshly. “Now I’m mad at you for saying what you did just now. I don’t want your money, Coe.”
“But if you need help—”
“I don’t. I have a scholarship to the University of Nevada and I’ll be going at the end of the summer. I’m trying to find a job until then. I can take care of my grandma. I don’t need help. I don’t need my brother…”
You trail off. You’re trying to convince me. Maybe convince yourself. Either way, you’re impressive. You work hard. Have a scholarship? I knew you were smart, but Jesus. You’re going to get out of here. Going to be amazing. You already are. And you’re thinking of this summer and your grandmother. Las Vegas is a few hours away. You’re going to have a good life because you’re a good girl.
“Fine, you don’t need a lot of things. But you want me…don’t you?”
You press your lips again. God, I love that. I want to feel those lips on mine. Feel them on my chest. My cock.
“I wanted you, and I threw myself at you. You’ve been with half the women in this town and rejected me.”
I laugh again. “Jesus, Shay, you think I rejected you? I was trying to do what was best for you.”
“I’m not a child!” you snap.
“No shit!” I snap back. “You’re fucking ripe. Do you have any idea what I want to do to you? It would hurt. I can guarantee it.”
“I don’t care. I want it. Stop trying to protect me from you. I just want a moment. A night. I don’t even care how long. You’re the one I want it with. I don’t want to leave this town without knowing you.”
I frown. “You want me to fuck you before you go off to college?”
“Forget it. Maybe you’re too thick to understand what I’m saying.”
Oh, clever girl playing the “smart” card, huh? Well I may be thick, but you need a lesson in the real world, baby.
You turn to walk back up your driveway. I’m losing you. Again. Nothing was accomplished, other than you hating me more and me feeling like a piece of shit. I’m more aware of your situation now and that makes it worse. My feelings are all over the place and I can’t get a handle on anything except the fire you’re lighting in my chest.
“You’re more than ten years younger than me,” I say.
You stop and turn to face me. “And you’re still an asshole.”
“But you think there’s hope for me.”
“Yes, I do.” That small smile that slips out is enough to make my heart beat faster. What I’d do to see that smile more.
“Everyone knows I’m an asshole, but you’re still eighteen and everyone can’t know about certain things.”
“You mean, like us being together?”
I nod. I would never keep you a secret due to anything about you. I have to keep you a secret for you. Mature or not, you’re still young. Still leaving after the summer. My reputation would only taint you. I won’t have that.
But I want you.
I warned you how selfish I am.
“Understood,” you say. Then you walk back into your house.