Cat
IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS, AND just like every year, the first game of the football season is Heights Academy versus Windfall public, the only other high school in town. The game is always held here at Heights because our stadium is state-of-the-art whereas Windfall’s field looks like a dirty patch of grass with some rusted bleachers on each side of the field.
On one side of the stadium—where I’m currently standing on the sidelines—are the wealthy families dressed in their Armani and Prada, who drive around in their Beemers and Benzes and can afford the five-figure monthly fee to send their kids to Heights. On the other side are the families who wish they were on this side. They’re the families who shop at the local mall or Walmart, drive around in a Honda mini-van, and can barely afford for their kids to go on the end-of-the-year field trip at their public school.
For my entire life I thought I was part of the family who belonged on this side of the field, but now as I look around, it hits me that looks can be deceiving. Sure, my father drives an expensive car, and we used to live in an expensive home. We dress the part, look the part, hell, we even speak the part. But it is all a farce.
We’re not rich, we’re owned.
I’m only able to go to school here because Mr. Heath allows me to. My father is able to drive the car he drives because Mr. Heath allows him to. My clothes, my car, my education. It’s all because Mr. Health allows for it to happen. And with one snap of his fingers, he was able to take whatever he wanted away. My father is now living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in town. Our home is empty. Our lives turned upside down. And I don’t doubt for a second, everything Mr. Heath has done is because he begrudges my father for being with my mother when he feels she should’ve been with him instead.
The more I think about everything I’ve learned the last couple weeks, the more I feel like a fraud. Knowing my life has been one big lie has me itching to get out of this cheer outfit, away from this school, and go where I belong. I guess the question is, where exactly do I belong? Right now, I haven’t the slightest clue. I used to think I belonged wherever my father was, but now I can’t even be around him without feeling resentment toward the lies he’s chosen to shove down my throat my entire life.
I let my mind drift back to several of the entries I read from my mom’s journals. Where she admitted she was in love with Heath but couldn’t stand the idea of being poor. Her entries are what led me to ask my dad how things managed to change so much from what my mom wrote.
Without being able to look me in the eyes, he shook his head and frowned and said his love for my mom was his biggest downfall. He was so blinded by his love for her, he didn’t see Heath coming. And before he knew it, he lost just about everything. It was clear my father never read her journals, and I didn’t have it in me to tell him the truth of what they entailed.
With the journals messing with my head and heart, and forcing me to question everything, I decided to pay her grave a visit. I think I was hoping by being close to her, I would find the answers I was looking for. I found my answers, but it wasn’t my mom who gave them to me.
I should be at school, but I’m not. I’ve never skipped before, but I just couldn’t bring myself to be around other people today. My heart is hurting and I don’t know how to handle it. Normally, when I have a problem, I go to my father. But this isn’t something I can go to him about. I could, but then he would be hurting as well. And the last thing I want to do is hurt my father. He’s already been through enough. So, instead, I took the day off school to visit the person who is the reason for my heartache.
My mother.
Luckily, living with Mr. Heath is nothing like living with my father. For one, he doesn’t care where I go or what I do. He won’t even notice that after I dropped Theo off, I left campus and came straight here. To my mother’s grave. I don’t visit her often. She’s located in our family cemetery, and while it’s pretty in a creepy sort of way, with big shade trees and tons of flowers everywhere, I never bought into needing to be here to feel close to her.
But right now, I’m desperate.
Ever since Harrison showed me my mother’s journals I’ve been reading through them, and with each entry, I’m wishing he’d never shown them to me. Growing up, the only parent I ever had was my father, and he wasn’t just my father. He was my best friend. He’s always been there: for every school play, recital, sports event… I couldn’t ask for a more loving, hands-on dad. I never knew my mom, but every milestone, my dad would say things like, “Your mother would’ve been so proud of you” or “She would’ve loved to be here.” And I always believed him. I believed, had she been alive, we would’ve been a happy family.
But now, as I read her journals, I’m hit with the cold realization that the picture my father painted of my mother all these years was drawn while being blinded by his one-sided love for her. Meanwhile, I’ve yet to find a single entry that says she loved my father or that she wanted to be a mother. Her younger years were sweet and wistful. It’s evident she loved Mr. Heath very much. Just not enough to put him above her love for money. But her later years leading up to her death, I’m not sure she loved anybody, not even herself.
I turn the page of the current journal I’m reading.
Dear Diary,
My heart has been shattered into a million pieces. It’s hard to breathe. Heath finally returned and what happens? I find out I’m pregnant. Damn, Elliot! Now, Heath is gone once again. Only this time he’s left me for another woman. For Isabel Lincoln, no less! How could he do this to me? He is supposed to love me! You don’t leave someone you love! It’s not my fault I fell pregnant. He should’ve returned sooner! He should’ve never left. I hate him! I hate him for leaving. I hate Elliot for getting me pregnant! I hate my father for writing that stupid will. I hate him for dying before changing it! I hate my brother for firing Heath. I want Heath back. I want to NOT be pregnant. Every day I wake up and wish for it all to be a nightmare. That I will go to the doctor and he will tell me it’s all a mistake and I am in fact not pregnant. Elliot is so excited to become a father. I can’t even stand to be in the same room as him. I just want Heath back. I want him to pull me into his arms and tell me everything will be okay. But he’s gone. And I’m afraid this time, he might not come back.
My eyes close and a single tear hits the page. The wetness causes the ink to run down the paper and blur several of the words. Not only did she not love my father, but she wished I was never born.
“What are you doing here?” The masculine voice has my head shooting up in surprise. I’ve been here for several hours and nobody has come by. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
My eyes land on Mr. Heath. He’s standing above me, dressed impeccably in his three-piece suit with a scowl marring his face.
“I’m visiting my mom,” I tell him, wiping the tears from my lids. “Is that why you’re here?” I ask dumbly. Why else would he be here at my family’s burial plot? Surely, he doesn’t have any family here.
“She wasn’t supposed to be buried here,” he says with a look of disgust. “But your father, like the fraud he is, buried her here anyway.”
“Where was she supposed to be buried?”
“Under her favorite willow.” When he speaks now, his lips almost upturn into a small smile. Then his eyes land on the journal in my hands. “Snooping through my closet, I see.”
“How did you get her journals anyway?” I ask curiously. When she passed away, she was living with my father at Low Valley Estate.
“I took them,” he states matter-of-factly. “Just like everything else I took that your father didn’t deserve.”
I simply nod. I can’t argue with him there. It’s obvious this man takes and takes and takes without considering for even a second the consequences of his actions.
“So, are you enjoying the book?” he asks with a devilish smirk, and I know he’s read them. They are filled with recounts of many nights she and Mr. Heath made love. Some in vivid detail. My cheeks heat up and Mr. Heath laughs.
“Don’t worry about coming across any sex scenes with your father. You won’t find any in there. He was dull and nothing they experienced together was worth writing about.” Once again, I can’t argue with him. Based on what I’ve read, it’s clear my mother wasn’t exactly attracted to my father.
“I was actually reading the journal of her pregnancy.” I don’t know why I tell him this. Maybe I’m hoping he will say something that contradicts her words in this journal. That maybe she turned to these books when she was down and out, but in real life, she was actually content and happy…and wanted me.
Mr. Heath stares at me for a moment and when he doesn’t say anything, I add, “I don’t think she wanted me.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak. I’ve only known Mr. Heath a short while, but in that time, I’ve only known him to be blunt, honest, straight to the point. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything.
“She didn’t,” he confirms in a cold tone. “If she hadn’t died, she would have left you with your father and started a life with me. You were a mistake. A deadly one.” His gaze holds my own and I will the tears not to spill. I don’t doubt he’s telling the truth, but I’m not about to let him see how much that truth hurts. Instead, I stand and step away from the grave.
“She’s all yours,” I whisper as I walk away.
That picture my father painted was definitely skewed.
After reading her journals, I’ve concluded that either my father really was blinded by love, or he chose to believe the lies, not wanting to deal with the truths. In the end, he was so lost in those lies, he didn’t see what Mr. Heath was plotting and planning. When my father lost it all, instead of acknowledging that and finding his way back, he allowed for a vindictive evil man to pin him up against the wall by his throat. And because of the choices he made and the lies he told himself, now I’m in the same situation. Living in the devil’s lair and allowing him to call all the shots. Every night I spend at Windy Hills feels like Mr. Heath’s fingers are little by little being tightened around my neck. I’m slowly suffocating, and soon all the oxygen will be forced from my body and all the life I once felt inside of me will be completely sucked out of me, leaving me dead inside.
“Cat,” Anne yells, “Theo is going for the touchdown.”
I take a deep breath and remember where I am. Raising my pom-poms, I call out the next cheer. “End zone, and go!”
The squad immediately begins to cheer in unison. “The end zone is what we’re looking for! So come on, Heights! Take that ball and score!” Our arms fly straight up into an H just as Theo catches the ball and runs toward the end zone. When his feet make it over the line, the crowd screams and claps.
“Touchdown!” we all shout, shaking our pom-poms in front of us. The buzzer rings out, indicating the game is over and Heights Academy has won: 28-14.
“Party at my house!” Charlotte announces as we all climb into our vehicles. Because Theo still hasn’t gotten the hang of how to drive a clutch yet—and refuses to ask Harrison again for help—he’s been catching a ride with me to school every day. He jumps into the passenger seat, freshly showered, and grins wide.
“Did you see that shit?” he asks, clearly still pumped from their win.
“I did! You were on fire!” I smile back, thankful he’s stopped pressing me for more, and our friendship seems to be back on track. I don’t think I could handle having our relationship on the rocks on top of everything else. I might not feel the way Theo thinks he feels about me, but I do care about him. He’s become an important person in my life, and our friendship means a lot to me. He’s also the only person who knows the truth about our living situation. Everyone else thinks we’re having our home renovated and staying with Theo’s dad until the renovations are complete.
We arrive at Charlotte’s house and I park along the road, not wanting my vehicle to get blocked in. Charlotte’s parents go out of town at least one week a month and every time they leave, she throws a massive party complete with alcohol, weed, and God knows what other recreational drugs. My dad would kill me if I let hundreds of kids get trashed under his roof while he’s not home.
Not that I would ever throw a party under my dad’s roof, especially since his current home can barely fit the three of us in it, let alone the entire student body. My thoughts travel to my current home: Windy Hills Estate. I giggle as I imagine the fit Mr. Heath would throw if I threw a party. I’ve been walking on eggshells around his place, afraid of what he’ll do to me if I upset him. Thankfully, he hasn’t tried anything since I’ve moved in, but once in a while when our paths cross, whether it’s at the table for dinner or when I get up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water, he makes it a point to stare at me a beat too long, to run his gaze over my body a little too slowly, almost as if he’s trying to taunt me. I try not to let it get to me, but every time his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, my vagina clenches as if it has a mind of its own and remembers his finger inside of me while his tongue licked my hardened nipple. The biggest mistake I made that day was pretending it was Harrison. It allowed my walls to come down and enjoy everything he did to me.
Now, instead of feeling disgust toward Mr. Heath, I’m left feeling turned-on. And it doesn’t help that Harrison kissed me in the closet, leaving me wanting more. Wondering if given the chance, he could bring me the same kind of pleasure Mr. Heath almost brought me to.
Of course, the chances of that happening are slim since Harrison hasn’t given me the time of day since that night in the closet, whereas I experienced the most memorable kiss of my life. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same way, though, because since that night, he’s barely even acknowledged I exist. Honestly, if I didn’t remember the kiss so vividly, I would think I imagined the entire thing. I’ve gone back to our secret spot a few times, hoping he would follow me in and we could maybe pick up where we left off, but no such luck. When he’s not at work, he’s at home in the garage. And when he’s not in the garage, he’s in his room with the door shut.
Dammit! I need to stop thinking about these damn men! What I need to focus on is using my living situation to my advantage. I might be stuck living under Mr. Heath’s roof to keep my father employed, but that doesn’t mean I have to allow him to control me. He thinks he’s won this game, but maybe it’s time I show him I’m a worthy opponent. Starting with a house party. What’s the worst he can do? Ground me? Take away my car? I scoff at the thought. Then an idea hits me…
If he took my car, maybe I could convince Harrison to take me to school on his motorcycle. The thought has a river of heat flooding through me. My friends would have a fit if they saw me pull up on the back of his bike. Sure, he’s not on the same rung of their social ladder, but not even my rich friends can deny how hot Harrison is.
I’m reminded once again of our kiss. The gentle yet possessive way his lips consumed mine and—
“What’s got you looking so happy?” Theo asks, stealing me from my thoughts of Harrison. When I look up, I see he’s standing next to me with the driver side door open. I didn’t even notice him get out. He extends his hand for me and I take it, stepping out of my car. He closes the door behind me and keeping my hand in his, guides us up the sidewalk.
“I was just thinking how much fun it would be to throw a party at Mr. Heath’s.”
Theo stops in his tracks and turns around to face me.
“Will you please drop the mister? We live with him and he’s my dad. He’s not exactly a stranger anymore.”
“Sorry.” I shrug. “It’s habit. So what do you think?”
“About throwing a party there?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s not like he’s going to kick us out, and you know everyone has always wondered what the inside of his monstrous mansion looks like.” I internally roll my eyes as I remember when I told my friends we were living there temporarily. They all wanted to know what it’s like to live with the illustrious brooding and wealthy Mr. Heath. What his home looks like. What he eats. Does he ever smile?
“You barely even come out of your room when you’re home. Now you want to throw a party?” Theo questions.
No, I want to piss off Heath. But I don’t tell him that. Ever since we’ve moved in there, Theo has been all about trying to get to know his father. He even invited him to come and watch him play tonight. Of course the asshole just cackled and told him recreational sports are for pussies. For a brief moment after he said that, I was almost positive Theo considered quitting the team. But before he could give it too much thought, I grabbed him by the arm and told him we needed to get going.
“Maybe it will help me feel more comfortable. You know…like a housewarming party.” I bat my lashes and Theo smiles warmly at me.
“Okay, I’ll talk to him.”
“Or we could just throw it.” I giggle, imagining the shocked look on Heath’s face when he sees hundreds of teenagers all over his house, playing beer pong, drinking his expensive liquor, fucking on his couches. “Please!”
“Fine!” Theo relents. “We can throw a party if it will make you happy. Now, can we please go inside and celebrate this win?” He lets go of my hand and pulls me into him, tickling my sides.
“Yes!” I squeal. “Tonight, we celebrate!”
“Have you seen Theo?” I ask Clifton, one of Theo’s friends and the quarterback of the football team. The moment we stepped foot into the house, Theo was pulled in one direction by his fellow teammates for a game of beer pong, and I was pulled in the opposite direction by Charlotte so she could tell me all about a new guy she met and has the hots for. Several hours later, and I’m exhausted and ready to go home. Being the good friend that I am—and not wanting to be stuck here overnight—I agreed to be the designated driver, so Theo could celebrate the win. Now it’s after midnight and I’m over hanging out with everyone else who is trashed and making fools out of themselves while I’m still sober.
Clifton bounces the ping-pong ball against the kitchen table—that is doubling as their beer pong table—into a cup of beer and everyone cheers. “I think I saw him upstairs with Anne earlier.”
“Thanks!”
I climb the stairs and head down the hallway, opening each door, but not finding Theo or Anne. I do find several couples getting their freak on, though. When I get to the last door, which is Charlotte’s room, I open the door quietly in case there’s another couple going at it. And what I find has me frozen in place.
Sitting on the edge of the bed with his head thrown back and his eyes closed is Theo. Anne, like Clifton said, is in here as well, on her knees with her lips wrapped around Theo’s dick. His fist is tangled in her hair and he’s pushing her head up and down while she slurps and gags loudly. But that’s not what has me frozen in place. It’s what he’s murmuring while she’s slurping and gagging.
“Fuck yes, Kitty Cat. Suck me good.” Holy shit! Please tell me that’s the pet name he’s given her. Please, please don’t let it be my name he’s calling out.
I’m about to back out of the room when he moans again. “Fuck, Cat.” Bile rises up my throat at the thought of my cousin imagining it’s me giving him head.
Just as I’m about to leave, he lifts his head and locks eyes with me. It must dawn on him that I just heard him call out my name because he pushes Anne off him, completely disregarding her, and stands, coming straight toward me. I glance down at his dick, which is still hard and hanging out, and wonder why in the world Anne was gagging. It doesn’t seem like it’s big enough to cause someone to gag…but then again, I’ve never had one in my mouth…or in any of my holes for that matter.
Following my gaze, Theo’s eyes go wide before he quickly tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up.
“Tell me I misunderstood,” I say, and he at least has the decency to look at me sheepishly.
“Dammit, Theo!” I thought he had gotten past his feelings for me, or at least understood nothing was going to happen between us. He’s been such a good friend these last couple weeks. He hasn’t tried anything. I thought we were on the same page.
“Let me explain,” he begs, and that’s when I remember Anne is still in the room. She’s now standing and watching our entire interaction, and she doesn’t look the least bit confused or upset that the guy she was giving a blow job to was not calling out her name.
Feeling ridiculously embarrassed and not wanting to have this conversation in front of one of my best friends, I turn my back on Theo and run down the hallway. I hear him bellow my name as I descend the stairs and run out the front door, but I don’t stop or acknowledge him. When I reach my car, I jump in and drive away. I chance a glance in my rearview mirror and see Theo standing there with his head hanging down, his body bent at the waist, and his hands resting on his knees. A minute later, my phone vibrates in my pocket, but I don’t check it. I know it’s him.
Turning the music up, I try to get lost in the lyrics, wanting to forget about what just happened, but I can’t stop replaying the way Theo moaned out my name. The look on his face when he realized I heard him. He wasn’t mad or upset. He was embarrassed. All this time, I thought he had some weird crush on me that would go away in time, but now I’m beginning to see it’s more than that to him.
The first tear pricks my eye as the realization hits that this isn’t something we can just bounce back from. This wasn’t him trying to cop a feel or sneak a kiss. This was my cousin moaning out my damn name while getting his dick sucked by another girl, who seemed all too okay with everything. I’m almost back to Windy Hills when my phone goes off for the millionth time and I lose it. How am I supposed to look at Theo after this? How am I supposed to live and sleep under the same roof as him? He promised to be there for me. Now I’m just supposed to what, act like it didn’t happen? Pretend like he doesn’t have some weird infatuation with me? Am I supposed to just take him to school like everything is okay? Oh my God! School! What if Anne tells everyone what happened?
With my eyes filled with tears of embarrassment, I pull my still-vibrating phone out of my pocket and chuck it across my car. It hits the window and falls to the floor, continuing to vibrate.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell out as my cries get harder. Not able to take another second of the taunting vibration, I lean over to snatch the phone off the floor, so I can turn it off.
When I extend my arm and see it’s still out of my grasp, I look back up at the road, and after confirming nobody else is on this road but me, I unlock my seatbelt, so I can extend my reach. I’ve almost gotten it when I feel something hit the bottom of my car and I’m jerked forward. Momentarily forgetting about the cell phone, I put both hands back on the wheel as my car continues to drive up onto the median. In fear of my car flipping over, I grip the steering wheel tighter and try to gain back control of my car. But it’s too late. The car grinds up against the middle of the median and bottoms out. I press my brake pedal and the car comes to an abrupt stop.
“Dammit!” I pound my fist against my steering wheel. I put the car in reverse and slowly back up off the median, flinching when I hear a loud screeching sound coming from under my car.
“It’s okay,” I say to calm myself. “That’s just the bottom of the car. It’s low to the ground and the median is kind of high.” I continue in reverse until my car is back, safely on the road.
“All right.” I take a breath of relief and put the car in drive. I press my foot against the gas pedal and drive forward a few feet. The screeching noise has now added a grinding sound to the mix, but it seems to be driving okay. Figuring I’m only a few miles from home, I continue to drive slowly down the dark road, the ear-piercing noise getting louder the farther I drive. And that’s when I hear the rumbling of a motorcycle behind me. Briefly, closing my eyes, I send a quick prayer up to God that it’s anyone but Harrison on that bike. I look behind me, but I can’t make out who it is.
He’s wearing a black helmet over his head, so I can’t see his face, and suddenly I’m nervous. If this isn’t Harrison and I’m on this deserted road alone with a broken car and this stranger following me, there’s a good chance I’m about to become one of those people on a milk carton. I pick up my speed—my car now completely shaking under me—but the guy on the bike is obviously able to keep up.
I drive for another half a mile when I reach one of the few streetlights on this road. Of course, it’s red. I consider running through it, afraid if I stop, I’m going to become another statistic. Instead, I lightly tap my brake and let my car coast slowly, praying the light will change quickly.
When I glance back and don’t see the bike behind me, my heart begins to race. Where the hell did he go? Still hearing the rumbling of his bike, I look to my left and see he’s now next to me—in the wrong lane! The streetlight shines brightly over the both of us, and I’m finally able to get a better look at the man on the bike.
And I would recognize that body anywhere. His neck, a collection of thick, manly tendons that are connected to his powerful shoulders—which are covered in beautiful art that extend down his muscular biceps all the way to his thick forearms ending at his wrists.
“Pull over!” Harrison yells, knocking me out of my drool fest and confirming what I already know—that it is in fact him on the bike.
Can this night get any worse?
“Pull over!” he shouts again, and I do as he says. After crossing through the four-way stop, I pull my broken Mustang over onto the shoulder of the road, then turn it off and get out. Harrison pulls up in front of my car and cuts his ignition. He pulls his helmet off, revealing his familiar buzzed haircut, and I stifle a moan, still wishing for the opportunity to run my fingers across the top and see what it feels like.
His hand smacks down on my hood and he bends at the waist to check out the underside of my car. I use the moment to check out his ass. Unlike the boys at school who either wear khakis or baggy ripped jeans, Harrison is always in jeans that fit his perfect ass and muscular thighs just right. He stands back up, and reluctantly I force myself to focus on his face and not check out the front of him.
“What the hell happened?” Harrison snaps.
“I think I broke my tire.” I shrug, unsure.
“You think you broke your tire,” he repeats my words slowly.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I was driving and my tire hit the median.” I don’t bother to tell him it was actually the entire underside of my car that hit it. Semantics.
Letting out a loud sigh of frustration, Harrison’s eyes close and his head tilts up to the sky like he’s praying to God to give him some patience. His hands come up to scrub the front of his face, and that’s when I lose the internal battle within myself to not check him out. My eyes leave his face and land on the delicious six pack of abs that are peeking out from the bottom of his fitted shirt.
Why does this man have to be so damn sexy?
“Hey, mustang girl, eyes up here!” He snaps his fingers in my face, breaking me out of my trance. I guess he’s done praying. “Are you sure just your tire hit the curb? Because it looks like your axel is hanging from under your car.”
“Isn’t the axel part of the tire?” I ask. Harrison’s hand reaches back and scratches the back of his scalp, and I will myself not to see if his shirt is riding up again. But then when his head falls forward and his hand rubs along his nape as he lets out what sounds like a growl, I can’t help myself. My eyes dart back down, and sure enough, I’m able to get another glimpse of the bottom two tight abs, which are peeking out from between the bottom of his T-shirt and the top of his jeans.
“All right, let’s go,” he says, and my eyes jump back up to meet his.
“Huh?”
“Let’s go. I’ll give you a ride home on my bike.”
“What about my car?”
“Did you not hear everything I just said?” He glares at me. “The axel looks like it’s broken. Your car isn’t drivable. I’m going to have to get a tow truck out here to pick it up…” His words trail off, and he goes silent, his eyes locking on my body for a brief moment.
“What the hell is that?” he asks, motioning at me, as if he’s just now noticed the outfit I’ve been wearing this entire time.
“My cheerleading uniform.” I tilt my head to the side in confusion.
“Please tell me that’s not what you wear to the football games.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I look down at my royal blue and white top. Sure, it dips down low, showing a bit of my cleavage, but it’s not inappropriate. There’s a white capital H directly underneath my chest and the top stops just above my belly button, revealing the belly ring I got done for my sixteenth birthday. My skirt is the same color blue with a single white diagonal stripe across the front and two thin slits that go up the sides to allow movement in the otherwise skintight outfit. And finishing off the outfit are my white Chucks.
I stand in place, waiting for him to answer me, but instead, he remains silent as his eyes slowly rake down my body. He’s more than a couple feet away, but it feels as if every inch of my skin is being heated from just his gaze alone. And when his eyes stop on my legs and he lets out a low groan, I bite down on my bottom lip to stifle my own. How is it possible to be so completely turned on just from the way he’s looking at me?
Squeezing my thighs together, I attempt to relieve the ache between my legs, but it does nothing to tamper down my sudden need to find my release. I’ve never thought about getting myself off before, but right now, the only thing on my mind is getting home, shutting my door, and touching myself to the image of Harrison and the way he’s eyefucking me right here on the side of the road.
“Jesus, let’s go.” He steps toward his bike.
I remember my cell phone and purse are still in my car. “Let me grab my stuff.” I climb back inside my car and toss my phone and keys in my purse before getting back out. Harrison takes my purse from me and throws it in a bag on the side of his bike, his eyes never leaving me.
“Here, put this on.” He hands me his helmet. It’s so big and heavy I almost drop it. Not wanting to argue, I do as he says and place it over my head. The thing must weigh a good thirty pounds! My head falls to the side and I force it back up, only to have it fall the other way. Harrison notices and for the first time allows a small smile to grace his lips.
“You look like a bobble head,” he says before he lifts me up and sets me on the back of his bike. Not expecting that, I let out a squeal, which has him laughing. And my goodness, his laugh is just as beautiful as his looks.
He lifts his leg over the bike and sits down. “Hold on tight, mustang girl,” he yells as he presses his foot down and revs the engine to start the bike. It roars to life, and just before he takes off, I wrap my arms around his hard body and dig my fingers into his rock hard abs, holding on for dear life.
The ride home is only a couple miles, but as I sit on Harrison’s bike with my body wrapped around his, I wish we lived farther away. I consider asking him to take me for a longer ride, but before I can get up the nerve to, he pulls up the driveway and parks the bike. He gets off first, then helps me off. I pull the helmet off my head and begrudgingly hand it to him.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“First time on a bike?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I admit. And I hope it’s not my last…
“What’d you think?” His top teeth drag along his bottom lip, almost as if he’s nervous to hear my answer. And that has me smiling on the inside, that I can make a man like him nervous.
“I think I would rather be back on your bike than standing here about to go inside there.” I nod toward the house.
“Where’s your sidekick?”
“Who?” I ask, confused by his sudden change in tone.
“Theo.” He raises his brows like I should already know who he’s talking about. “The guy is practically stuck to your side like glue,” he scoffs.
I pause for a moment, trying to figure out where this attitude is coming from. He can’t seriously be jealous. That thought is laughable. While Theo is cute, in a little brother sort of way, he doesn’t hold a candle to Harrison. The man is beyond gorgeous.
“We, umm…we had a little falling out tonight. He’s still at the party.” I brace myself as I wait for him to ask what happened, but instead he just nods.
“I’m off tomorrow. I was thinking about taking a ride. Wanna go with me?” His eyes sear into mine, and the butterflies I felt when we kissed come back.
But then I remember he’s ignored me for the past two weeks, and my guard is back up. “Why?”
“Why what?” he asks, confused.
“Why are you asking me to go for a ride with you? You’ve pretty much acted like I don’t exist the last couple weeks. What’s changed?”
His lips twist into a grimace as if he’s contemplating how to answer my question. Finally, he lets out a frustrated sigh and says, “You being here complicates shit, and I don’t like complications.”
I flinch at his words. “Excuse me? You act like I want to be here.”
“I’m not saying you do, but you asked why I’ve been avoiding you. The minute Heath sees me give you any attention, you’ll become a game to him.”
I let out an unladylike snort. “I’m already a fucking game to him! Hence me living here.”
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “You haven’t seen what that man is capable of. I have plans to one day get out of here, and I don’t need you and your sidekick complicating shit for me.”
Wow! Who is this guy? I step closer to him, but he takes a step back. “So, let me get this straight, you don’t want to deal with my complications, yet you showed me the secret closet filled with my mom’s stuff, gave me the best kiss of my life, and now you’re asking me to go with you for a ride on your bike?”
I see it when his face softens and he steps toward me. “The best kiss of your life, huh?” He grins teasingly, and I groan. I can’t believe I just said that.
“It was okay.” I shrug.
“No, you just said it was the best kiss of your life. You can’t take that back now.” His grin widens, and I roll my eyes.
“Yes, I can, and I do.”
“Say it again,” he taunts.
“No.” I take a step back. “I already took it back.”
“Say it.” He edges closer, and my back hits the brick wall.
“Fine!” I huff. “It was the best kiss of my life, meanwhile I’m just a stupid complication to you. Happy?”
I turn my face away, not wanting to look at him. I’m acting like an emotional little girl. Damn him!
Pressing his palm to my cheek, he forces me to look at him. “Look, I’m sorry. What I was trying to say…it came out wrong.” His fingers push a wayward hair out of my face. “I enjoyed our kiss in the closet, too.” He smirks playfully. “I asked you to go for a ride with me because I want to spend time with you. But that doesn’t change the fact that us spending time together will complicate shit for both of us.”
“I can handle it. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” His eyes dart to my mouth, then he presses his lips to mine. It’s soft and sweet and ends way too quickly.
“Yes,” I say, answering his original question.
“What?” he asks, confused.
“Yes, I’ll go for a ride with you.”
He smiles wide, looking all too beautiful under the moonlight. “Well, okay then.”
“Okay then,” I parrot, feeling stupid. I suppress a groan because I’m so lame when it comes to guys and saying the right thing. Luckily, he seems pleased by what he sees because his grin widens.
“Cat,” he says, his brows furrowing as he grows serious. “We’ll do this again tomorrow.” His voice grows husky. “But we’ll take our time.”
I start to head toward the front door when I remember he said he would tow my car for me. “Hey, Harrison,” I call out and he stops in his tracks, turning around. “Will you still be able to tow my car to the shop tomorrow?”
“I’ll text my boss, Damian, and tell him to do it in the morning.” His boss? Shit! That will mean I’m going to have to pay. I had assumed Harrison was just going to do it himself.
“Oh, umm…thanks, but I don’t have any money.”
“It’s all good,” he says. “He owes me a favor.” His lips curve into a beautiful smile.
“Thank you.”
We both stand here for a long beat, neither of us making the first move to leave. I don’t know what I’m waiting for or what exactly it is I want to happen. It’s not like he’s going to throw me over his bike and make love to me right here in the driveway.
“I need to put my bike away,” he finally says with a small smile.
“Oh, yeah, okay. I better go in and get changed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Bright and early.”
“Okay, good night.” I lift my hand and give him a small five-finger wave before I turn and head inside without looking back. The house is quiet and I’m too tired to shower, so I change out of my uniform and throw on a soft long T-shirt and climb into bed. My fingers make their way down to my panties but stop before they make contact with my vagina. I want to experience an orgasm now more than ever, but not with my own fingers. No, that won’t do. I want my first orgasm to be at the hands of Harrison. If he could turn me on the way he did tonight without even touching me, I can just imagine what he could do to me if he actually put his hands on me.