Branded

“Do you want some more aspirin?” he asks gently.

I roll my eyes. “Stop being so fucking nice to me.”

He just laughs and shakes his head at me. “Shut up and grab a plate before it gets cold.”

I grab onto his arm when he starts to walk away and pull him back to me. “Why in the hell am I at your house and where are my damn boots?”

I really just want to get out of here before DJ brings up things I may or may not have said last night. Also, the sight of him standing in front of me shirtless makes me want to strip off my clothes and beg him to fuck me again.

“You’re here because your place was trashed last night, and so were you. You don’t remember going home?”

I try to recall the events that occurred after I walked out of the bar, but all I can remember is laughing like an idiot and being in DJ’s arms. Fuck, I definitely remember how good it felt to have him hold me.

“Yeah, I can tell by the confused look on your face that you don’t remember,” he tells me with a smile. “It’s probably better that way. Your father broke into your house while you were gone. Made a mess of your living room and left another note. The cop that was supposed to be watching your house must have been taking a donut break or some fucking shit. The place is being cleaned and fingerprinted, so you’re going to have to wait before you can go back there. And before you even try to argue, if you do go back there, I’m not leaving your side. Say hello to your new roommate.”

The smirk on his face pisses me off. I don’t like being told what to do and I especially don’t like the idea that he feels the need to stick to me like glue. I smack my hand against his chest.

“You’re not living with me,” I growl.

“The fuck I’m not,” he argues back.

I smack his chest again, harder this time. “There is no fucking way I’m living with YOU!”

“Give me one good reason why?”

I huff, pulling forth every bit of anger and hatred I’ve held onto towards him for years, ever since that fucking night of the graduation party.

“BECAUSE YOU TOOK MY VIRGINITY AND DIDN’T EVEN REMEMBER IT, YOU ASSHOLE!”

He loses a bit of the fight in him, but that doesn’t stop me.

“I finally got the damn courage to give up the V, to someone who I truly liked and probably even loved a little, and you didn’t even remember it the next morning!” I shout.

“Phina,” he whispers softly, pain laced through his voice.

“NO! You don’t get to be all sweet and sorry now. Do you have any idea what my childhood was like? To never know what it was like to be loved and touched with something other than hatred? I found that in you for one fucking night. One fucking night I was able to forget everything and think that maybe I had a chance at a normal life with a normal guy who could love me back and you shit all over it!” I yell, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes.

I will not cry, I will not cry. I don’t fucking cry!

“I woke up in that bed alone. You fucking left me alone, but I still couldn’t stay away from you. I got dressed and came out to the living room to find you and do you know what you said?”

He shakes his head back and forth and I don’t know if it’s him answering my question or telling me not to keep going.

“You took one look at my tangled hair, my smudged eye make-up and my wrinkled clothes and said, ‘Rough night, sweetheart? Who was the lucky guy?’”

I feel a tear slip down my cheek and I brush it away angrily. I hate that I’m crying over him. I hate him for making me feel all of this stupid emotion about something that happened years ago.

“So, you want to know why I won’t live with you? Why I won’t do THIS with you?” I ask, motioning between us. “Because you broke my fucking heart, DJ Taylor. You broke my fucking heart and you’re a DICK!”

Turning away from him, I storm out of the kitchen, grab my boots when I see them sitting by the front door and head outside.

I am dirt. Lower than dirt. I am the worms beneath the dirt. Every good argument I had for having her stay with me flew out the window when she started to cry. I can handle a lot of things, but I can’t handle a woman who cries. Talk about breaking someone’s heart. I should have told her that I did remember. It took me fifteen years, but I remembered. Instead of chasing after her, I pulled out my cell phone and made a few really quick calls while she stood on the front porch and angrily pulled her boots on.

This is probably going to be the opposite of getting back on her good side, but I can’t let her leave until she hears me out.

Stepping out onto the front porch, I see her arguing with Jackson, who is parked in my driveway. She gestures wildly at the house and I watch him shake his head at her. She points at him and then turns her angry eyes on me, stomping back up the walkway and pounding up the stairs.

“You called him and told him not to let me leave? Have you lost your fucking mind?” she shouts.

She stands two steps below me and I can still see the tear tracks on her face, even though her cheeks are flushed with anger.

“Right now, you’re safer here,” I tell here. “What’s the real problem?”

I want to add that I’m sorry I made her cry, I’m sorry I hurt her and I will do anything to make up for it. I wisely keep my mouth shut for now. My balls are entirely too close to her knee.

“BULLSHIT! You just want to torture me! And the real problem is that I used to DATE HIM! I don’t want him following me around, that’s just embarrassing!”