Dalt
My boys and I live right next door to Nikki and Tracey. The geographic location of our houses presents no problem for the two of us to drive home together. What is a problem? Her heat-inducing body being right next to me in the car and how long it’s been since I’ve been able to touch her. Everything about her gets me hard, even her snarky little remarks.
When I start up the engine, Bazzi’s “Why” pumps from the speakers of the top of the line Alpine sound system in Trace’s Jeep. Every bass note driving the lyrics strikes a chord in my heart, like it was written and playing just for me and Nikki.
Nikki’s obviously not feeling it. Or maybe she is. It could be the reason she reaches over and flips off the radio as I back out of the parking space. She turns her face toward the window, pressing her body against the door like she can’t get far enough away from me.
“We need to talk, Nik.”
“What could we possibly have to talk about?” Her flippant tone is an attempt to make it sound like I’m an insignificant nothing to her. But I’ve caught her giving me familiar wistful glimpses when she’s not throwing icy glares of hatred, and I heard her gasps and whimpers when she was in my arms tonight.
I give her a sideways glance. “The first thing we need to talk about is why you’re trying so hard to pretend you hate me.”
Her short skirt is showing way too much of her toned soccer legs…the legs she used to wrap around me to pull me closer. I notice a tattoo high up on her thigh which wasn’t there before. It’s a heart with a big C in the middle of it. Fuck. Has she fallen for some guy with the initial C? I want to reach over and run my hand up that leg and under her skirt to confirm how wet I know she is for me right now, help her remember the way I can make her feel and forget any other guy out there.
When I glance at her she brushes her bangs out of her eyes. My mind drifts back to the times we were curled together in bed and she would tell me things about her past. Her disheveled platinum hair, royal blue bangs, and the sad expression on her face gave her the appearance of a frightened little girl when she was sharing those stories. Don’t get me wrong. Nikki is a strong woman, she knows how to take care of herself, but there were times she needed someone to lean on if only to vent about the things she’d had to endure. I used to be her someone.
“I’m not pretending anything.” She huffs an indignant snicker and gives me a quick glance before refocusing her gaze out the window.
“Come on Nik. What’s up? Why’d you leave me?” I pull into her driveway. Technically it’s our driveway since the gravel making up both driveways is separated by only a thin strip of grass.
“Why’d you leave school without a word and block my calls and texts? And in the months you’ve been back at school you’ve been avoiding me. No, worse. You’ve been ignoring me.” I turn off the car and hope she doesn’t bolt out the door before answering me.
She doesn’t. She sits there for a minute, her stare now riveted straight ahead through the windshield. She finally turns to me. Nik has these amazing Abyssinian eyes, just like the cat. When they’re gazing at you filled with longing, they can melt your heart and fry all rational thought right out of your brain. But when they’re glaring at you like they are at me now, let’s just say even in the dim driveway light I would swear if she had super powers she’d be using her sapphire blue eyes to pulverize me with laser beams.
“Stop it! Why are you doing this, Dalt? It’s not funny. It’s cruel! Haven’t you hurt me enough? I don’t want to play this game anymore. You have to leave me alone. Find someone else to be your subfuck until you get back to California.”
The anger in her eyes is washed away by glistening tears. If her words weren’t shock enough, the welling of tears in her eyes is. Nik hates to cry. She says it’s a weak, crybaby thing to do or some such crap.
“Nik, what are—”
“Don’t.” She holds up her hand like she wants to push me off the face of the Earth. “Why did I leave you? Your memory is as full of shit as your promises.”
She pulls the keys from the ignition before I can ask her what the hell she’s talking about. The speed she’s developed from her years as a soccer player has the door of her house slamming closed before I even realize she’s out of the car.
Her words are like a punch straight to the gut followed by a left hook to the jaw. I want to go beat down her door and ask her about a million questions. What game? How did I hurt her? What the hell is a subfuck? But with the amount of alcohol she drank tonight, it’s probably not the best time to have a meaningful conversation. Still, what does she mean my promises were full of shit? I didn’t break any promises to her. Dammit. She left me. What the hell is she talking about? What the fuck happened?