Alana
D : Who. Hurt. U?
I STARE AT Darien’s text from three days ago. Haven’t spoken to him since then. I toss my phone on the bed.
I want to answer Darien’s question. Want to pour my heart into a text, but I don’t. He is not my boyfriend, and I’m not his girlfriend, and I don’t owe him any explanation. But I like to see the soft side of him. He is possessive, aggressive, but I sense something more under that hard exterior.
I like our little arrangement and the fact that it is a fling and I won’t get my heart involved. My heart is jumping for joy at that. And no more being pressured into being in a relationship. No more him wanting to take it to the next stage.
Crystal walks into my room with her Catwoman leather outfit from the Arkham City video games. She has her goggles on top of her head and the leather outfit hugs every curve on her body. She is a lot curvier than I am. And did I mention how short she is? She is five four. She sits on the edge of the bed and reads the latest Game Informer magazine and crosses her legs. I pull the blonde wig over my hair bun, studying myself in the floor mirror. A sky-blue skirt brushes against my knees and a white crop top stops in the middle of my stomach with the Superman logo stamped in the middle of my chest. Gunner has a Halloween party every year—my brother is the king of throwing parties. Haven’t been to one since I was seventeen years old. Charles never wanted me to go because he was scared that I couldn’t take care of myself when I got wasted. But I think it had something to do with him and Gunner not getting along. Well, Charles is not around to treat me like a delicate flower. And today, I’m going as slutty Supergirl. I’m single, why not? Love to dress as one of my favorite comic book characters.
“Wow. You look amazing,” Crystal says.
“You do too. Try to have fun, okay?”
She nods her head. Crystal has been in a slump about her breakup with Clarence.
I hold her right hand and say, “We have a lot of shit on our plate, but tonight we are forgetting our problems.”
“Would it make me a slut if I make out with a hot guy?” she asks, letting go of my hand.
“Not at all, but don’t have sex with anyone. Don’t want to risk catching anything from anyone,” I say.
We head to the elevator, and we’re getting looks. Men whistle and women shake their heads. One guy says, “Let me be your Superman.”
I wink at him. The weather is supposed to be nice but just in case the temperature drops, I wear a short leather jacket that covers my upper body. I hit the down button, and several minutes later, the door whistles open. Darien leans against the silver wall, and his eyes damn near pop out of their sockets. I stare at his clothes. He must not be going to Gunner’s party.
We step into the elevator and Crystal stands next to me. Darien pulls me into his arms and at the same time slaps my ass hard. I yelp and no doubt I’m going to have a red mark on my flesh.
His lips press against mine, and just like that, my body hums to life. Sparks fly between my legs like the fourth of July. His hand slithers around my waist, pulling me closer. My hard nipples press against his hard chest.
I pull away, breathing heavily.
“Get a freaking room,” Crystal says, positioning the goggles over her eyes before we step out of the elevator. We walk to the car garage, and Darien insists that we all drive together since we are going to the same place, so we ride in his black Range Rover. How many cars does he have?
“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask him. He is dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt with dark jeans.
“No one.”
“You got any hot brothers?” Crystal sits in the back seat.
“No. I’m the only child,” he says, making a right on Springfield Avenue. It’s Friday, and the roads are packed.
“That sucks.”
About twenty minutes later, we pull up to the driveway of Gunner’s mansion. A shitload of cars are parked in front of the yard. Carved pumpkins decorate the stone stairway, and fake tombstones scatter across the fresh-cut green grass. The mansion is made out of gray stones, resembling a German castle. The whole city of New Jersey decided to attend the party.
As we walk to the door, Darien holds my hand, and I pull away. Can’t risk Gunner seeing us.
“Darien.” I turn towards him. “I don’t want my brother to know about us. He has a temper, and if he finds out, he won’t be so nice about it. I don’t want to cause any problem wi—”
He taps his finger to my lips, shutting me up. “Does it look like I give a shit what your brother thinks?” His tone is flat. He tucks a loose strand behind my ear and says, “I’m not going to hide from him like a little bitch.”
“Darien,” I warn.
“Alana,” he shoots back. Crystal squeezes between us, swinging the door open. Loud heavy metal music blasts through the speakers. He slings his arm around my shoulders and says, “Stop being a wuss.”
We walk into the home, and people dance and mingle in the spacious living room. Brown leather couches have been pushed to the gray walls. Haven’t set foot in my brother’s place in a long time. High ceilings and oak wood floors make me realize how far my brother came. He went from living in a dump to living in a twelve-bedroom, ten-bathroom mansion. A skeleton hangs from the high windows. Ambient light switches from blue to pink, creating a relaxed atmosphere.
Ron walks in our direction dressed in a Flash costume. He has chestnut-brown hair and brown eyes, and his olive skin peeks from under the yellow and red leather suit. He greets me with a hug. I remove my jacket and toss it on the couch.
“Damn, girl, if I were into chicks, I would bang you. Got a semi-boner just from looking at you,” he says, flashing his straight teeth.
Darien stands next to me, placing his hands on my ass, frowns, and clears his throat.
“Are you going to introduce me to this beauty?” Ron asks, raking his eyes over Darien’s body.
“Darien, this is Ron.”
They shake hands.
“You will be our third wheel,” Darien says, and I roll my eyes at his statement.
“Darien invited himself on our date.” That earns me a slap on my ass from Darien and I yelp, rubbing my butt.
Ron gives a belly laugh and says, “It’s fine, Alana. I’ll find someone else to go with.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, baby girl.” Ron stares at Darien like he is something to eat. “Wow, Alana, you are right. Darien is hot as shit.”
I smile so hard that my teeth hurt and Darien looks at me with a smirk on his face. I elbow Ron in the ribs, hinting for him to shut the hell up. Yeah, just dope his head up with confidence, make him cockier than he already is. As Gunner steps into the living room. I pull away from Darien and he glares at me. He will be fine. He doesn’t know how batshit crazy Gunner is about the men I bring into my life. When he found out that Tate and I were not in a relationship, he thought Tate was using me and went off on him. I had to be honest and tell him that it was the other way around.
Did he like it?
Hell no.
He lectured me to death about being a lady and how women shouldn’t sleep with different men. But he can go stick his dick in anything he wants. To shut his trap, I told him we were in a relationship. A hypocrite, I swear. I hug Gunner, trying to play it cool.
“What the fuck are you wearing? Go put on a goddamn shirt,” Gunner complains.
I roll my eyes at his response. He takes a joint from the back of his right ear, pops it in the corner of his mouth, and lights it.
“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask, staring at his costume. He wears an old button-down shirt and black slacks with a black hat and heavy black liner and a dreadlock wig.
Exhaling the smoke, he says, “Jack Sparrow.”
“Johnny Depp wore it better,” I say.
Gunner turns his view to Darien and says, “You came as yourself. Doesn’t surprise me, you are one ugly motherfucker.”
Darien grabs his junk through the jeans and shakes it towards Gunner and says, “Suck my dick.”
“Sorry. My cock only wants pussy.” Gunner puffs on his blunt and exhales smoke rings in the air. I wave my hand in the air. Hate the smell of weed. It stinks.
“Fuck you,” Darien says.
“Stop hitting on me, for fuck’s sake,” Gunner says. I leave them to have their pissing contest or whatever the hell men do and stroll to the stylish kitchen. Three different-colored punch bowls sit on the gray lava countertops. I pour purple punch into the Styrofoam cup and gulp it down—it tastes more like tequila than the actual juice. Yuck. I dump the drink in the island sink.
Leaning against the wall, I watch Ron kiss a guy wearing a Batman costume. Darien and Gunner speak to each other and laugh. And Crystal speaks to a guy wearing a cop costume. I’m glad she is happy for once.
Several minutes later, Gunner disappears with two women on his arms wearing close to nothing. No surprise there. My brother is a manwhore. I remember one time he was using a girl for sex and she began to stalk him. She would show up at his job unexpectedly and I had to lie to the poor girl. My brother was never the type to settle down. I never recall him ever having a girlfriend, or at least he never brought one home to meet Mom and me.
My phone vibrates, and I grab it from between my breasts and slide my finger on the glass. It’s a message from Darien.
D: Meet me in the guest room upstairs.
I look up from my screen and see him speaking to a woman who is dressed in a devil suit.
Me: Why? We are here to have fun, not fuck.
D: Fucking is fun. Now go. Won’t ask you again.
God, he is so demanding, and I would be lying if I said it doesn’t turn me on. Love a man who can take charge.
Me: Dance with me first.
I peer at him, and he looks at his phone, and the devil is not even aware of what’s going on. She stands there with a beer in her hand and the other hand patting his chest. My phone vibrates again. I swipe my finger across the screen.
D: You’re gonna make me work for it?
I smile at the text.
Me: You bet ur candy ass I will.
D: Fine. I’ll give you your stupid dance.
Darien grabs my hand and drags me to the living room. The music switches to a techno beat and everyone starts bumping into each other.
I turn around and dance with a woman dressed as slutty Hermione Granger. Darien dances behind me, his junk pressed against my butt. And it’s hard, hungry, and ready to please me.
Slutty Hermione gets between Darien and me and she starts to grind on him. Pissed off, I let a guy dressed in a Beetlejuice costume grind on my behind. I turn back to look at Darien, and he grinds his teeth. Darien yanks me by my waist, pulling me in the direction of the stairs. Butterflies flip-flop in my stomach as we get closer to the room.
I inhale a lungful of air and exhale. Wonder why I am so damn nervous? I’ve had sex before. I’ve only been with two guys—Tate and Charles. I feel like it’s my first time. This is what happens when I think about sex with Darien. My body goes into overdrive and my palms become sweaty.
Once I slowly open the door, Darien kicks it shut and locks it behind us. I sling my arms around him and kiss him. I feel weak in the knees. Cupping my ass cheeks, he picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. My skirt rides up and my sex rubs against his stomach as he carries me to the bed. Aftershave scent lingers in my nostrils and smells pleasant. As he sets me down on the king-size bed, I lie back and breathe heavily.
“We need to have some ground rules,” I say.
“What? Right now? Red, you’re killing me.” He pushes my legs apart and slides between them, pressing his erection against my sex, making my body hum to life. My white lace panties are wet, and it doesn’t help that the butterflies keep flopping in my belly like they are ready to burst free. I begin to grind against his cock, hoping to satisfy myself, but it doesn’t, just makes me want him more.
“No anal.”
“Why?” He lifts his eyebrow at my words.
“I don’t want to suck a dick that’s had shit all over it. That’s disgusting.”
He laughs.
“Als—”
He clamps his hands over my mouth, shutting me up. “We will discuss it after I fuck you.”
He pushes my panties to the side and thrusts two thick fingers inside me. He places his thumb on my clit, rubs gently, and I moan, grabbing a purple pillow, placing it on my face. Darien yanks the pillow away and tosses it on the white carpet next to the black dresser.
“I want to see your face when I make you come.”
He rubs and I moan loud, saying his name, like a chant. Grabbing a fistful of hair, I pulse around his fingers. My toes curl.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. He unzips his pants and whips out his dick and my eyes grow big.
“I don’t think that’s going to fit.” I swallow hard. His head is too big, and the shaft is too long. I don’t think I can deepthroat it.
He chuckles and says, “Love it when you talk dirty to me.”
He removes the condom from his back pocket, tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the condom on his big shaft and my sex salivates. He flips me over on my stomach and I lift on my knees, giving him a view of my ass.
He leans down and whispers in my ear, “You know how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you? Ever since I saw you in that slutty outfit. You are a cock tease, you know that?”
Seconds later, I feel him slide into me slowly, and I let out a moan, and he grips my hips. He allows me to adjust to his length. He slams into me hard, and I cry out harder. “You made me so angry waiting for you. I’m going to take it out on your sweet little cunt.”
He thrusts so hard that I arch my back from the pain. I grab the red silk sheet and let my legs slide, but he grips my hips harder.
“Don’t run from me. You wanted it, and now I’m giving it to you.” He nips my earlobe. He thrusts into me harder. He stops for a moment, and I feel a finger slide inside my forbidden part.
What the hell? I tell him that I don’t do anal. So he is testing what he can get away with. Or is he claiming ownership of my ass even though I told him no? either way, that’s an asshole move and I love it.
My tight hole begins to adjust to his finger. That feels weird. I don’t know if I like it.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask, shaking my head.
“Trust me, Red,” he croons.
He continues to finger-fuck my asshole and thrusts inside me harder, and I’m on the verge of climax.
“You. Feel. So. Fucking. Good,” Darien says with heavy breathing. “Play with your clit,” he growls, and I do what he says, rubbing my clit in circles. I let out a scream and my body spasms as I climax. Several seconds later, Darien explodes inside of me, and I feel his dick pulsing.
He pulls out. I pull my skirt down as he pulls the condom off, ties it in a knot, and disappears to the bathroom. As my body comes down from the high, reality slaps me in the face. Oh, shit. I can’t face Darien. Feel like I want to cuddle with him, and lie in each other’s arms, and that’s not what I signed up for. I’m craving something I haven’t felt in a long time—intimacy.
I’m in way over my head if I think I can continue to let Darien fuck me and not have feelings for him. It was never this complicated with Tate because we never hung out before we got to know each other, but then again, I didn’t feel anything. With Darien, my soul feels like it’s on fire and ready to explode.
Maybe I am confusing lust with like. Yeah, that’s it. It’s just mind-blowing sex. We get off on each other and we go on our merry day.
Regret weighs in my stomach as I fix my wig in the mirror on the dresser, grab my phone and set it between my breasts—it must have slid out when we were having sex. When I hear the toilet flush, I rush to the door like my ass is on fire and slam the door shut. I maneuver through the thick crowd in the hallway. People linger on the stairs as I pull out my phone. I have a missed call and a text from Ron. I click on the envelope icon and read.
Ron: Where R U? Crystal is vomiting up her guts. I’m about to drive her home.
Me: On the 2nd floor. I want to catch a ride with you. Where are u?
Ron: Parked by the mailbox.
Me: Meet u there.
We ride back home in Ron’s white Ford Explorer. The minute we step into the condo, I rush to the kitchen and warm up chicken noodle soup in the microwave and set it on her lap as she watches television in the living room. I go to the bathroom, shower, and change into my DC Comics flannel pants and a black t-shirt with holes on it.
I need an anxiety release, so I sit at a wooden desk that I’ve had since I was twelve and use a stylus to color in on my HP laptop. I’m working on a character with shoulder-length hair and purple eyes I started right after Charles broke my heart. My love for drawing will never get old. Always wanted a career in art, but when I was married to Charles he told me it was a waste of time, that I needed to get a real job that pays and not waste my time having fantasies of a career that would never happen.
I still have to get used to drawing on a computer instead of good old-fashioned paper. As I finish the character, I look at her. Need to make her eyes green.
Tears fall from the corners of my eyes, and I try not to think about how my life changed over the course of several months. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m coming or going. Don’t know if I have a bright future. Don’t know if I can make it without Charles. I still cry at night, not over him, but the fact that I feel so damaged. He was my best friend and my everything. I still love Charles—he is my first love. I remember meeting him clear as day.
As I approach my red locker, Charles stands in front of it, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looks good in his sky-blue jersey with the number nine stamp across his chest. He plays football—a quarterback. The star of the team. Boys want to be him, and girls want to sleep with him. I am a bit dorky and hang out with all the artists. I am into drawing, anime, and video games. No, I am not your average girl. Other girls care about gossip and who is hooking up with whom and I want to catch up on the next Dragon Ball Z or Sailor Moon episodes. Want to play the latest Final Fantasy or Tomb Raider game.
He clears his throat and says, “Hey, Alana.”
“What do you want?”
I’m never friendly in high school because if people know you are weak, they will bully you. Point blank. High school is like swimming in a shark tank.
“Prom, me and you, baby.” He runs his fingers through his hair. I push him out of the way, use my key to unlock my locker, stuffing my English book in it.
At first, I think it’s a cruel joke. I check my planner to see if it’s April Fool’s Day, but it is May.
“Well?” he says, placing his hands on his hips.
“I don’t know.” I shift on my feet, not wanting to meet his eyes.
“Come on, it will be fun.”
“I don’t dance.”
“We don’t have to.”
“All right.”
And after that my life changed. The popular girls wanted to hang out with me. Emma wasn’t too happy about it and spread a rumor saying that I had herpes. Charles told me to ignore her—she was just jealous that he dumped her. I lost my virginity to Charles on prom night.
After I finish the picture, I hit the print button on my laptop and exhale. I cry as different memories of Charles flood my mind. The printer makes a noise, and I take the fresh warm paper and pin it to my board, admiring my artwork.
My phone rings and Darien’s number pops up on the screen. I hit the end button, tossing it on my nightstand. I crawl into bed, pulling the pink blanket over my head, and go to sleep.