Chapter Eight
It had been nine quiet days without a peep from my mother or my neighbor. I took a few nights off of work to focus on school. I needed to get my Lit grade up to a B and my professor wasn’t making that easy. I also needed to reassess some things that were keeping me up at night.
Thanksgiving was a quiet day in the building and a much-needed chance to think. The halls remained silent through the weekend. It was as if everyone disappeared, which was probably what normal people did—home to visit families that actually enjoyed each other.
Noah claimed our conversation wasn’t over, yet he hadn’t tried to contact me in any way. I knew his schedule but nothing about his occupation. He left around seven-thirty each morning in a suit and I could smell his soap in the hall every day when I returned from the gym.
Then, I could sense his presence when he returned from work around six each night. I wasn’t sure if he had a commute or worked in the city, but I wanted to know these things, and that had to make me the stupidest girl on the planet.
Finished with my final English paper, I packed up my books and folded some clothes into boxes. The auction sites had paid off and I now had all the money I’d need for next semester. So, why was I in this funk of a mood?
The close of the semester left me wanting to celebrate, but I had no one to share in my personal accomplishment, no one that really cared. Wandering around my apartment, I debated if I should call a client—maybe Micah. He’d celebrate with me in his own Micah way. I had nothing better to do, but the idea of making a date didn’t sit right.
I nosed around in the fridge for a few minutes and snagged a bottle of wine off the shelf. I wasn’t a big drinker so I’d been saving this for a special occasion. Cocktails were nice, but I only indulged when someone else was making them or paying. This bottle of wine had been in my fridge for over three months and I wasn’t sure if there was some sort of expiration date I was missing.
Rummaging through my drawers I searched for a corkscrew, unsure if I owned one. About to give up my search, I stilled when I heard a door close. My gaze drifted to the front of my apartment and then down the front of my body for an inspection of my appearance.
I wore sweats, slippers, and my hair was in a messy bun. There was nothing sexy about my outfit, so maybe this was the best time to see what had caught my neighbor’s tongue. Grabbing the wine bottle and my apartment key, I crossed the hall and knocked.
His footsteps shuffled and the door opened. His eyes did a double take of my outfit and then he grinned. “Do I know you?”
Funny guy. I held up the wine. “I need a screw.”
He laughed and gave the door a nudge so it opened wide. “You guessed my magic password. Come on in.”
I followed him inside, immediately noting how different his apartment appeared when not full of fifty drunken guests and gourmet food stations. We headed into the kitchen where an open box of pizza sat on the island, one slice removed and sitting on a plate.
“Did you eat?”
The scent of garlic and basil filled the air and my stomach thrilled at the opportunity. “Not since lunch.”
He brought down another plate from his nicer-than-mine cabinets. “One slice or two.”
“One.”
He pursed his lips. “Really?”
“Really.”
Appearing unimpressed, he dropped a slice on the plate and went to a drawer. Holding up a corkscrew, he took the bottle of wine from me, pausing to frown at the label. “What is this?”
I slid onto a wooden stool and pulled the pizza slice closer. “I don’t know. I bought it when I moved in.”
“And you never opened it?”
I shrugged. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Yet you like bourbon.”
Surprised he remembered what I drank, I smiled. “Honey bourbon. It’s whiskey with training wheels.”
He scoffed. “Whiskey’s whiskey. You drink. You just don’t know how to open bottles.”
I pulled the cheese off my slice as he twisted the cork free.
“What the hell are you doing? You’re ruining the pizza.”
“I don’t eat cheese.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that some girly bullshit to do with your body?”
“No. I have a dairy allergy. Cheese doesn’t do nice things to me.”
“I could order something else.” He filled two glasses and slid one to me.
“It’s fine. This is how I’ve always eaten pizza.”
“Okay.” He took a sip and grimaced. “This is terrible wine.”
“You don’t have one of those little voices in your head that tells you not to vocalize every single thought that crosses your mind, do you?”
“Like a Jiminy Cricket? No. I’m a real boy.”
I laughed. He certainly was.
We settled in and quietly ate. Noah finished off three slices before calling it quits. He nudged the box toward me. “Have another one.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
I hesitated. “Because I’m still a girl and I still follow some rules. I had a big lunch.”
His eyes studied me for a long minute. Reaching into the box, he plucked the cheese off a slice and dropped it onto the wax paper, then plopped the piece on my plate. “Eat.”
“I’m full.”
“Liar. Eat.”
I had no intention of eating that slice. “Where do you work?”
“I own a company that does media marketing for extreme sports.”
“Like cliff diving?”
“That, and skateboarding, wakeboarding, mountain biking. You name it I’ve probably videoed it.”
“How did you get into that?”
“I’m a guy. I love anything dangerous.”
“Do you do those things?”
“I’ll try anything once.”
“Have you ever jumped out of a plane?”
“Twice. I’m going again in a few months when the weather breaks.”
“So you’re insane.” I took a bite of pizza.
“I like the rush. It’s fun. You should try it sometime.”
“No, thank you. I prefer to stay on the ground and leave the flying to the birds.”
“Chicken.”
I waved a finger. “Yes, a perfect example of a flightless bird. Like me.”
“You don’t fly at all?”
“Nope.”
“Why? Don’t you like to travel?”
I shrugged. “I never gave it much thought.”
His brow tightened as he sipped his wine. “Have you ever been out of the country?”
“Nope.” Truly full now, I picked at the crust of my half-eaten slice.
“Those guys, I’ve seen the cars they drive. Any of them ever offer to fly you anywhere?”
I’d wondered if we were going to talk about that. “Some, but travel requires overnight accommodations and that’s not included in my services.”
“Your services… What exactly do your services include?”
“Are you looking to hire me?” That would never happen.
“Let’s presume you’re not selling sex and I don’t need to buy it. Deal?”
“Deal.” I pushed the plate away. “I let them take me out, buy me delicious food from fancy restaurants, pretend I’m whoever they need me to be for a few hours so they feel good about themselves. I listen to them when they need to vent—sort of like a therapist, but totally underqualified yet we share a sort of confidentiality so there’s no drama. They take me to concerts, operas, museum, art showings, private galas, weddings, all sorts of things.”
“And they … they pay you for this?”
I blushed, not used to openly discussing my services with anyone other than my clients. “Yes, they pay me. It’s all legit. I started with a service, but now I book my own clients. It’s not a secret. I’m not doing anything illegal.”
“So … you signed up for a service, men contact you, you agree to see them, they take you on extravagant dates, and then they pay you at the end of the night, but you never fuck them?”
“They buy me clothes and jewelry, too. But no, I never touch them.”
“I saw one guy kiss you.”
I laughed. “You’re quite the stalker. I have two clients who are permitted to give me pecks on the cheek, but that’s only because I fully trust both of them not to get carried away.”
“The guy from the other night, the one who picked you up when we were talking…?”
“Which, the comb-over or the tall, dark, and—”
“Not the pig.”
Micah. “He was my first.”
“Your first…?”
“Daddy.”
A slight V formed between his brows. “How did you start? Did he come up to you and just offer you money for a date?”
“Pretty much. I was studying at a café and he sent over a cup of coffee. I was new to the city and short on friends, so I approached him to say thank you. We ended up talking and then we ran into each other again a week later and he asked me out. I didn’t feel any attraction, so I turned him down.”
“Then he named your price.”
I gave him an unimpressed look. “If you’re trying to offend me, you won’t. I’m not cheap.”
“How much did he offer?”
I smiled. “Two thousand dollars.”
“For a date?”
I laughed at his shock. “Yup. And it wasn’t a crappy date.”
“Come on, where’d he take you?”
“To a private concert with Elton John and only about twenty other couples.”
“Get the hell out of here! And he never tried anything?”
“Nope. He was an absolute gentleman.”
“So unfair.”
“Are you kidding? You’re a guy. No one looks at you and says, hmm, I wonder how much it would take to buy that. Women have always been pared down to buyable commodities. I’m not a prostitute, but… Never mind.”
I looked at my half-eaten slice and felt sick. Maybe it was the shitty wine.
Noah’s hand closed over mine and squeezed. My gaze jumped to his as he offered a friendly grin.
“You’re nothing like a prostitute. I have a friend who paid her way through college by selling her eggs. Another friend of mine got college loans to pay for a boob job, never taking a single course. She’s up to her tits in debt, but she got what she wanted. People do all sorts of things to reach their goals. I think it’s sort of fascinating that you go on all those interesting dates and make money. They should pay you. I bet you’re a ton of fun when you’re not playing the bitchy neighbor. Sort of like now, your guard’s down and we haven’t bickered once.”
I pulled my hand free. “You’ve called me a bitch a few times now.”
“I said bitchy.”
“And before?”
“I was drunk and out of line.”
“No, this was when you were trying to apologize in the hall. You were sober.”
He smiled and something shifted as if a veil came down. “I’m sorry.”
And I had been a bitch to him, so really, I shouldn’t expect more than the apology I already received. “I’m sorry I was a bitch to you.”
“I get why you’re not interested.”
“You do?”
“Sure. You want to focus on school and work—”
“Please don’t use finger quotes.”
“Whatever. You have a job and I was distracting you from that, getting you all hot and bothered before your business appointments.”
I refused to acknowledge his arrogant assumption. “Again, the finger quotes aren’t necessary.”
“I know, but I like using them. They make conversation more fun. Like let’s say you had an appointment, but I stopped by your place ten minutes before you had to go. Let’s assume we start talking and, of course, it turns into bickering, and I suddenly—” Finger quotes. “—kiss you. That can’t be conducive to the sort of—” Finger quotes. “—work environment you’re trying to create.”
“You’re a jerk.”
He laughed. “Why? I’m just laying out a hypothetical situation.”
“Hypothetical because it’ll never happen?”
“Oh, it’ll happen.”
I rolled my eyes. “Does anyone ever tell you no?”
“All the time, but eventually I get a yes. Especially from women. It starts out slow. Mmm, yesss… Then it gets a little more enthusiastic. Yes… Yes!” He used figure quotes to emphasize each impersonated female cry. “And then it’s all about giving me what I knew she wanted from the beginning.”
“You have problems. And you’ve reached your finger quote quota for the year.”
“But you’re curious.”
“About what?” I laughed. “Sleeping with you? God, no!”
He grumbled and refilled his wine glass, then grimaced as he took a long swallow. “We gotta get you some better wine.”
“Leave my wine selection alone. I think it’s good.” I refilled my glass, finishing off the bottle.
“It tastes like my grandmother’s perfume.”
“And you drank that?”
“No, but when she walks into a room after Sunday mass it’s strong enough to choke a horse. It sticks in your throat until Monday.”
“You know, at first I imagined you were charming. I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong about a guy.”
He raised his glass. “That’ll teach you to make assumptions. So, what do you say we watch a movie? I have a great one about this girl who’s house sitting and something goes wrong with the alarm system, so she calls the company. When the rep gets there they figure it out, but then the boiler breaks and she takes off all her—”
“Ew! Are you describing a porno?”
“I believe the appropriate term is adult film.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t say that with finger quotes.”
“I wanted to, but I was afraid you’d bitch at me again. And I’m told I have to work on my charm, so I’m trying to not piss you off.”
I suddenly realized I’d been smiling since the moment I walked into his home. It was strange to be so at ease with someone I mostly didn’t like. In the beginning, his attention had rattled me, but now… Something was different. We had … chemistry. I was having fun joking around with him and in a way, I didn’t want it to end.
With only a few sips of wine left, I glanced at the clock. “If you really want to watch a movie, we can. But I have to go home after that.”
“Why, you got a hot date?”
“Do I look like I’m going anywhere tonight?”
He eyed my sweats and sloppy hair. “You’d look hot in a sack. How would I know what you have planned?”
“I’m off tonight, but I do have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“So?”
“So, do you have class?”
“No, but you made me eat that second piece of pizza and there’s no way I’m missing my workout.”
His eyes rolled dramatically. “I can’t talk to you for the next three minutes. Come on. Let’s pick out a movie.”
I followed him into the den. “Why can’t you talk to me?”
“Because you won’t like what I say. Thriller or action?”
“Neither. Romantic comedy or drama. What were you going to say?”
He tossed some pillows around and searched for the remote. “I’m not watching a drama. I’ll do a comedy, but not a romantic one. And I can’t say it, because your whole gym comment proved you have screwed up girl thinking and that means I might upset you and you might start to do other girly things like cry or get all bitchy again.”
I grabbed the remote off the cushion as he lifted another pillow. “I won’t cry. Say it.”
“No.” He snatched the remote.
I scoffed. “Pussy.”
His head whipped around and he smiled. “Did you just call me a pussy?”
“Yeah. I don’t use girly terms like—” Finger quotes. “—chicken.”
“Oh, you are a bitch. Fine. I was going to say how stupid it is that girls can’t eat two slices of pizza without developing some big guilt complex. Like that’s going to make you fat. You’re a twig. I hate that shit and most guys feel the same way. Just eat and shut up about it.”
I had plenty to say, but my lips wouldn’t move.
“Ah, fuck. Are you going to cry?”
“No.” But I did want to punch him in the dick.
“Don’t get all sensitive. I prefer you bitchy.”
Oh, I could be a bitch. If he only knew how much…
“First of all, I’m not going to cry, I just needed a second to process everything you said. Second, I don’t work out for anyone but myself. Third, it’s a great stress reliever and I use it as an outlet when I’m tense. And fourth, I ate the second piece so shut the fuck up about my eating habits.”
“You know, there are other outlets for stress relief—”
“Oh, my God! Do you ever think of anything but sex?”
“I’m just saying, my door’s closer than the gym.”
“If you’re such a sex god, why don’t I ever see any women at your place?”
“Maybe I take my business elsewhere.”
I snatched the remote back and plopped on the couch. “I’m sure you do.”
He sat beside me and stole the remote again. “I have plenty of sex. Way more than you.”
“Well, I don’t doubt that.”
He turned and gave me a questioning glance. “When’s the last time someone gave you something worth thinking about?”
“I got flowers yester—”
“No, I mean something that made you scream in a good way.”
The last time I ordered someone to… “It’s been a while.”
“Why though? You’re beautiful, sort of fun. Are you going through some kind of celibacy thing on purpose?”
“Maybe I’m trying to graduate from ‘sort of fun’ to something that’s actually flattering. Let’s just say I’m picky and it’s not worth my time if it’s not done my way.”
“So you haven’t had good sex.”
I twisted to face him. “I’ve had incredible sex, but if everyone did it that good, it wouldn’t be incredible. Trust me, I’ve had good sex.”
“How good?”
“Great.”
His eyes narrowed. “Meh, I don’t believe you.”
I scoffed, and folded my arms, then scoffed again. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t give a dirty fuck if you believe me or not.”
“You sure about that?”
“Put on a damn movie.”
He chuckled. “One day you’ll give a dirty fuck. And I’ll give it right back.” He shut off the lamp and hit play.
“What the hell is this?”
“Shh… You don’t want to miss the backstory, that’s what makes it hot.”
“Oh. My. God. I’m not watching porn with you!”
“Just a few minutes.”
I reached for the remote and he jerked back.
“Give it.”
“Five minutes, then we can watch whatever you want.”
“Noah!” I stretched over him, but his damn long arms were like telephone poles. “Change it!”
“It’s a good one. Chicks like the ones with a plot.”
That was it. I locked in on his nipple with my thumb and knuckle and pinched hard. “Shut it off!”
“Ow! Fuck! Okay! Okay!”
The remote fell to the floor and I let go. Bad acting and crappy lines played on the surround system as I tried to change the movie. “How the hell do you work this thing?”
“I think you dislocated my areola.”
“You’ll live.” I finally found the source button and the screen switched to something appropriate.
“I really think you did some damage.”
I glanced over my shoulder to find him peeking under the collar of his T-shirt. My lips twitched. There was something so adorable about him in that moment. I pictured myself straddling his thighs, removing his shirt, and kissing his nipple all better.
Good God!
I placed the remote on the coffee table. “Seeing as you’re busy with other things, I think I’ll just head home.”
He dropped his shirt and grabbed my arm, taking me off guard as he yanked me to the sofa and pinned me there.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You pinched mine, now I get to pinch yours.”
“Oh, no, that’s not how this works.”
“Chicken.”
“Yeah, that’ll convince me.”
“Pussy?”
“You wish. Get off.”
“Fair is fair, Avery.”
“You stole the remote, hijacked the television and put on pornography, so I pinched your nipple. That’s fair.”
His weight settled over me, silently warning he wasn’t going to let me up until I gave in. “Fine. Over the shirt for ten seconds. That’s it. And I’ll be sure not to whine like a baby, the way you did.”
He took my wrists and yanked them over my head, pressing them into the couch pillows. “Don’t move.”
I rolled my eyes, so not used to being bossed around when it came to this. “Oh, okay.”
He sat up and stared at my chest, but didn’t touch me.
“Are you gonna do it?”
“I will. Be patient.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes again. “Don’t forget I have to be at the gym in the morning. Aaaany day now. Whenever you’re ready.”
“You talk too much.”
“Well, what’s the hold-up?”
“I’m waiting for your nipples to get hard.”
I snorted. “What do you think you have, magic laser beam eyes? Sorry to disappoint, but they’re not going to get—”
“Shh…” He rocked his hips into mine.
“Hey! That’s not what we agreed to.”
“Quiet.” He rocked again and the base of my spine tightened. His gaze lifted to mine and he smirked. “Bingo.”
“Someone notify the press.”
He leaned over me. “This sweatshirt’s ridiculously thick.”
“So?”
“So your nipples must be really hard if I can see them.”
“You’re a twelve-year-old.”
“Don’t scream.” His hands moved so fast I wasn’t prepared as his long fingers pinched down harder than clamps.
I sucked a sharp breath through my nose and gave into the pain. The slow burn transcended into pleasure and my body reflexively arched into his. My eyes threatened to close, but I forced them to stay open, pretending what he was doing had no effect on me.
“Nine…” He gave me a smile that would destroy a less disciplined woman. “Ten.” He released my nipples and sat back.
Damn him. The second he let go I felt his touch all over again, the sharp twinge of sensation traveling to the tips of my breasts, making me itchy for more. If he was anyone else I’d make him strip and eat my pussy wearing only butterfly clamps until I came, but he was Noah and that wasn’t how this worked.
“Happy now? Can you please get off?”
“Sure, but maybe I should get you off first. Cheeks are awfully flushed, Avery.”
I shoved his chest and pulled my legs out from under him. “I’m going home. Thanks for dinner.”
“I thought we were going to watch a movie.”
“Turns out your taste sucks.” I walked to the door.
“Not true,” he called, still sitting on the couch. “I like you.”
“Well, find another girl to like.”
“Nope! Soon we’re gonna be more than friends. I’m gonna have you, Avery Johansson. Just wait.”
I let myself out and smiled as I crossed the hall. He wouldn’t get his wish, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy his perseverance while it lasted.
As it turned out, Noah Wolfe was sort of fun.
Before climbing into bed I stood in front of my dresser mirror and stripped off my sweatshirt. My nipples, puckered and deliciously sore, tightened in the cool air. God, I missed sex.
Visions of past experiences mingled with moments from tonight and again I was reminded of how unfitting Noah was for me. Yanking open a drawer, I grabbed a T-shirt and changed for bed.
That shelf, the cluttered one with old memories I rarely examined, seemed to call to me and soon enough I was picking through dusty recollections that were better left alone.
I cowered in the corner as my mother waled on Kenny with a book in the next room. If I kept quiet she might forget I was still home.
“I told you it was gettin’ late and now look what you’ve done!”
“The bus was early! I left the same time I always do.”
“I ain’t got no way to take you to school, Kenneth! The truant officer’s gonna be back.”
“Let him come! I ain’t ever gonna graduate anyway!”
The book hit the wall and I flinched.
“Get outside! Avery Dean, I gotta get the neighbor to drive your brother to school. Do not miss your bus. You hear?”
“Y—yes, Momma.” The front door slammed and I quickly gathered my backpack, rushing out the door the moment they were out of sight. But I didn’t go to no bus stop. I had bigger, more important things to do.
I rushed down the back path and hopped the fence, moving quick so the neighbor’s pit bull didn’t cause a fuss. My heart raced faster with each yard I cut through until I finally made it.
The back of the trailer was rusted and pieced together with dry rotted strips of duct tape. He said he kept it that way so people didn’t suspect he had anything nice enough to steal. I said he was smart.
I knocked on the rickety screen door and it rattled against the frame.
“Who is it?”
“Avery.”
The door flung open and Gavin looked down at me. My eyes traveled up his body to his bare, muscled chest. He was so strong yet so delicate. “Come in.”
I quickly slipped inside and tossed my books on the cluttered bench seat. “I have the form and I forged my mom’s signature.”
“It’s seven-thirty in the morning, Avery Dean.”
Wringing my hands I gave him a pleading look. “Please, Gavin. The deadline’s Friday and this is my only hope of ever getting out of here. I’ll do whatever you want. I just have to get it turned in.”
His scowl softened. “If this doesn’t work you have other options.”
This had to work. He was leaving and I’d never survive this place alone. “Please.”
He sighed. “Go ahead. It’s on. Just wiggle the mouse.”
Relieved, I smiled and rushed to the back bedroom where he kept his computer. Gavin was the only one in Blackwater who had such technology. He was also the only one I trusted, being that he’d always been tight with my oldest brother, Drew—the only sibling to ever show me kindness.
I jostled the mouse and the screen lit. There it was, the scholarship essay that was going to get me the hell out of this shithole once and for all.
When I’d first shown Gavin my scribbled draft he tried not to be too critical, but we were never able to hide things from each other.
“You can’t send this. Let me toy with it for a while and it has to be typed.”
Most guys wouldn’t offer such help, but Gavin was different. He didn’t make me blow him or fuck him for his assistance either. He was a little more complicated than that. In exchange for his help on that essay and many other things, I let him touch me, put his mouth on me, fondle and pleasure me.
I gave Gavin what he needed and he gave me things I never expected to want. In his home, I was free. I was powerful. I was wanted.
I scrolled through the document, noting the various improvements he’d made. Not only was his vocabulary better than mine, he had everything formatted with proper headings and all the required important information.
The essay—How My Family has Changed the Way I See the World—was perfect. It was raw and honest and almost painful to read at parts, boasting the right amount of drive with plenty of hardship. Portrayed in a manner that a person would have to be a monster not to empathize with my plight. It was beautiful.
“What do you think?”
I blinked up at him and smiled. “I think this might actually work. Thank you.”
He smiled, his dimple flashing with a good amount of boyish charm. “You need my credit card?”
“You’re sure about this?” I needed him to be because this was my only option and I’d never be able to pay back the money.
His fingers softly brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “I’m sure.”
Gavin had become my one sanctuary. He knew what my life was like at home, had seen enough when Drew still lived here to know there was a reason each one of us counted down the days until we could leave.
Now, with just Kenny and me left, things were getting unbearable. Momma was drinkin’ all the time and dinner was hardly ever defrosted, let alone hot.
Gavin fed me, watched TV with me, helped me with homework, he even … loved me. But neither of us ever breathed a word of such feelings out loud. I just knew, like I knew I’d never survive this place alone once he enlisted.
We filled out the application and attached the scholarship essay. He hesitated just before hitting send and glanced over his shoulder at me. “You want to do the honors?”
I leaned over his arm and clicked. A swarm of bees teased my insides as the computer made a little whoosh sound and the application was sent. “Now, we wait.”
His head tilted, his cheek resting on my hip as we both stared at the “message sent” note on the screen. My fingers grazed the stubble of his jaw and he sighed.
“You’ll get it. I feel it in my gut.”
I looked down at his face wondering where he found so much faith in me. I wasn’t anyone special. But for some reason, he always believed I was capable of great things, sometimes before I even knew I wanted them.
Sliding off the chair, he dropped to the floor and kneeled. I stepped back and looked down at him, noting the swollen bulge in his pants. He was the only one I’d ever been with, the only one I could imagine being with. And come April he’d be gone.
“What do you want?” I’d give him anything, but he didn’t want to know that. He liked to work for every concession, earn every ounce of praise. He’d make a great soldier.
His gaze remained cast toward the floor, his posture rigid, his arms behind his back and his shoulders lifting with labored breaths. “I want to touch you. Please you.”
I wasn’t sure what other people did, but this was all I knew. It was everything Gavin confessed to wanting and his fantasies spoke to me the moment I first heard them. “Get on the bed.”
He climbed onto the mattress and rolled to his back, crossing his hands over his head where a pair of leather studded cuffs draped. He never touched me first. Everything was my choice and he only put his hands on me if I commanded it. I went to the drawer where he kept his other toys.
He was, without a doubt, the safest person I had in my life and it pained me to imagine him leaving, which was why I had to get the hell out of there, too. “Do you want pain?”
He sucked in a sharp breath, the sound full of palpable anticipation. “Yes, please.”
I wasn’t gentle with him and he preferred I not be. Gavin had his own difficult demons to overcome. He sometimes said the only way to numb the pain of his past was to create pain in the present. I got that. For me, the only way to escape the uncertainty of my present was to take control of the now. Gavin gave me control and I was addicted to the rush that came with his surrender.
If there was something broken in us, we fixed it for each other. “Spread your legs.”
My gaze lifted to the ceiling as a tear rolled from my eye. Gavin died in action the November after he enlisted and I rarely let myself think of him. We made a promise the day he left. We were both getting out of Blackwater and neither of us ever wanted to look back, not even for each other. It was survival of the fittest and holding onto the past would be an anchor keeping us there. Nothing about my and Gavin’s relationship was ever meant to be permanent, but he released something inside of me that wouldn’t go away without a fight.
I had no regrets for the short yet defining time he was a part of my life. He was the one person I wished could watch me graduate in the spring, but that was impossible.
I rolled to my side and wiped my eyes. There was a reason I didn’t let people in. Friends were wonderful—while they lasted. But when they disappeared there really wasn’t anything like that sort of pain. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to take that kind of risk again. But there was something different about Noah, something even I struggled to resist.