DASH (5 page)

“What type of person?” he asks, and I frown.

“Excuse me?” I ask confused. What were we talking about?

“You said
I’m done with being that type of person
. What did that mean? What type of person were you when you were with him?” His voice is soft and concerning.

I look down at the table and give a little smile to myself. Rodger had truly taken a strong-willed woman and turned her into a fragile piece of glass that he wanted to periodically break. See, to him, he was the only one able to glue me back together. That gave him power.
I
gave him the power. But now, now I’m stronger than I ever was before.

“Weak,” I say as I look him in the eyes. “I’m no longer weak.”

He frowns. “I can’t see you being the weak type.”

I let out a little laugh before I lean over the table and speak quietly. “Don’t think you know me because I let you fuck me.”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline, and I sit back with a sour look on my face.
How dare him!
He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know how much I’ve hated myself. That one night at his party was supposed to be fun and bring back the old me. Instead, I had sex with someone who is currently not going anywhere.

Fuck! I can’t catch a break!

“Sweet pea?”

I look up from my pasta that I haven’t even touched and watch my dad as he walks back to the table. “Yes Daddy?” I ask

“Are you okay?” He looks down at my food then to me.

I nod with a smile on my face. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m going to go make another phone call. I will be right back.” He kisses me on the head and then walks off leaving me there with Dash once again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You’re fine,” I say to my plate.

“I’m not going to pretend that I know you or what happened between you and him. But I want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

I sit and stare into his soft gray eyes wondering why he seems to care so much. For a man, he’s beautiful. The button up shirt he wears shows off his broad shoulders and hard chest that I’ve run my hands up and down. The sleeves are rolled back exposing his tan forearms. His curly, dark hair is gelled making it look as if it’s still wet from his shower. His chiseled jawline and pouty lips make him look like he belongs on the cover of GQ. He’s probably a player. A man who gets his kicks by making woman feel like they’re special when in reality they are nothing to him but a piece of meat. A way to stroke his ego. Something I’ve done for him several times already in the past week.
How many other girls have done the same thing just this week?

“Why?” I ask in all honesty.

He frowns. “Why? Because I want to get to know you. I want more from you than that first night. Or the few days after.” He looks around the restaurant and then his eyes are back on mine. “There’s something here, and you can’t say you don’t feel it.”

I shake my head and drop my eyes. “I’m not looking for more than what we did,” I state.

“I get it,” he says. “I get that he hurt you. He messed with your head,” he says, and I feel my anger start to rise. He doesn’t know how much I changed. He doesn’t know anything! “But I’m not trying to change you. I want to get to know the real you.”

“You don’t know anything about me except that I let you in my pants when I was drunk off my ass the first night we met,” I say with bite. “So to you I’m probably some easy lay that you wanna keep around for whenever you feel like getting off.”

He sighs heavily. “I’m not going to base who you are on what we did that first night. Hell, I wanted it just as much as you did, if not more. That doesn’t make me like you any less.”

I shake my head trying to figure out his angle. I haven’t even spoken to him. Hell, we haven’t even exchanged phone numbers.
Nothing!

“Let me take you to dinner? Just you and me.”

Before I can tell him ‘no thanks’ my father walks in.

“Sorry about that,” my father says joining us back at the table.

I stand and turn to him. “I have to leave, Dad.” I don’t give him an excuse. Whatever I come up with he would see right through as a lie.

He frowns. “I didn’t get to spend much time with you.” He looks down to his phone sitting on the table. My father is a hard worker, and I’ve never held that against him.

“It’s okay,” I say with a reassuring smile. “I will be free this weekend,” I offer, and I instantly cringe at my admission. It makes me sound lame. Like I have nothing better to do. I was always so busy with Rodger that my father is going to think I have no life now without him.

He gives me a warm smile, “Why don’t you come to the track this weekend then? Dash will be racing. We need to figure out what all his bike requires. So we will be out there all weekend.”

I really don’t want to be around Dash. It’s as if he can see right through me as well. No matter how bitchy I try to be he can still see the weak person hiding behind the sarcastic, bitchy woman. But I nod. He’ll be racing, right? He’ll be occupied. I can hang with my dad. “Sounds good,” I say before he stands and gives me a hug. I don’t bother to face Dash or answer his question. I just turn around and walk out.

I make my way back to my house and just drop my purse on my bed. “Son of a bitch,” I say a little too loud when I hear the familiar roar of a Lamborghini pull up outside.

I’m coming down the stairs when I see the front door swing open and in walks Rodger wearing a pair of plaid shorts and a polo shirt like he just walked off the golf course. “Leave.” I point back to the door. I cuss myself for forgetting to lock the front door. 

“Tabby,” he whines. “Please, let’s talk about this.” He sounds sincere, but his jaw twitches. It shows me he’s irritated about how short my dress is as his eyes linger on my exposed legs.

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.” I point a finger at him. It makes my skin crawl when he calls me that.

“We can fix this. I love you,” he says between clenched teeth.

I don’t know if I should cry or hit him. He just told me he loved me for the first time. Does he really love me? Or did he say it because he felt obligated?

I have wanted to hear those words from him for a year.
A year
. And he had never said them. But neither had I. In all honestly I know why he wants me back. It’s a game to him. He hates losing, no matter how much his father disapproves of me. It’s like his dad wants me with Rodger because of respect. They want me to submit to their way of lifestyle.

I shake my head. “Well, I don’t love you.” I did—I had loved him—but in return I hated myself. It was crazy and had me losing my mind. Thank God I finally woke up and left his ass.

“Yes you do.” He takes a step toward me. “You can’t deny it. I know how you feel about me.” He gives me a smile that has my jaw twitching.

He’s right, he always knew. And he took advantage of that. He knew how much I hated the way he had changed me and how I had to bite my tongue and smile.

My anger comes back and I grab a small picture frame off the wall next to me and throw it at his face. He lifts his arm and blocks it. Damn! It hits the tiled floor and shatters. “What the fuck, Tabatha?” he shouts.

I smile and shrug. He takes another step toward me with his hard face. “You’re going to come crawling back to me,” he snaps.

The fuck I will!
“Get the fuck out, Rodger!” I scream fisting my hands down by my sides.

When he continues to just stand there, I take a step toward him, closing in the distance. My heart pounds in my chest and my hands are sweating. I’m actually terrified to stand up to him. But it’s been a long time coming. The old me would fall to her knees and cry like a fucking child. Ask him to take me to bed and make me his ‘good girl’.

Fuck that!

I take in a deep breath and lift my hands. I shove him through the front door with all I have. He lands on his ass on the front porch, not expecting that.

“You fucking bitch,” he growls, standing up and dusting himself off.

I smile. “Finally you call me by a name I don’t mind.” God, it feels so good to stand up for myself. There’s nothing else in the world like it.

“You’re going to regret this,” he sneers.

I ignore his threat. “Don’t come back around Rodger. We’re done!”

I slam the door, lock it, and go back to my bedroom. I yank my dress up and over my head. I need a long hot shower. I had just placed it on my bed and turn to walk into the bathroom when a noise stops me.

My doorbell rings... I fist my hands down by my sides. I swear the guy can’t take a hint. Without bothering to put clothes back on. I make my way back down the stairs and swing the door open. “I said to leave!” I shout.

There standing on my front porch stands the only
other
guy I don’t want to see—Dash! How does he know where I live?

His grayish eyes look me up and down before a smirk appears on his lips. He takes a step into my house, and I take a step back trying to keep my distance. He reaches up and closes the door once he’s inside.

“You know,” he says taking another step toward me. “You shouldn’t answer the door half naked and expect someone to leave.” He licks his lips and I wrap my arms around myself. He chuckles. “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen, sweetheart.”

My blood continues to boil. “Leave.” I point to the door.

He shakes his head. “Not until I’m done with you,” he says matter-of-fact.

“Well, you can’t have me,” I shoot back.

I go to take another step back, but I hit the wall. He’s on me before I can even step around him. One hand tangles in my hair and the other is on my face. His lips attack mine, and he shoves his tongue down my throat.

I’m able to place my hands on his chest and shove him away enough for me to take in a few deep breaths. “I’m so fucking tired of this bullshit game that you guys play,” I shout losing my patience.

He stands there looking at me with concern on his face as if I’m about to have a breakdown. “What bullshit? What game?” he asks cautiously.

“I mean the one where I act all submissive. The one where you guys demand that I be yours. And only yours. The one where I do things that make me hate myself to make you happy. And let’s face it that’s not fucking possible!” I ramble as my arms wave around in the air.

He takes a step toward me, and I raise my hands to stop him. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says softly. “But let’s sit down and talk about it. Okay?”

I let out a sigh and shake my head. “Please. Just leave,” I say running out of air.

He turns around and looks down to the floor, and he stops once he sees the picture frame and broken glass on the tiled floor that I had thrown at Rodger. “What happened before I got here?” he asks spinning back around to face me.

“Nothing,” I snap. It’s none of his business. “I don’t know why you act like you care anyways. There’s nothing going on between us.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth his lips are on mine once again. I lift my hands to shove him back, but he captures my wrists and pins them behind my back. All it does it push me closer to his body and the feel of him so close to me has me surrendering. I want a distraction from Rodger.

I allow his tongue to stroke mine, and I even find myself wanting more when he finally pulls away.

“Can you tell me that was nothing?” he asks breathlessly against my lips.

I place my head down as I gather my thoughts. “What we’re doing is wrong. I don’t even know you.”
Why do I want you? Why do I feel so safe with you?

He releases my wrists and places his hand under my chin to look up at him. “Nothing we’re doing is wrong, darling. And I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” He smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back. “Now. Please tell me what happened. Why are you so upset and why is there a broken picture frame on the floor?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

He reaches up pushing a strand of dark hair behind my ear. “Let me in, Tabatha. Was
he
here? Did he do something to you?” His eyes start to roam my exposed body.

I let out a sigh. “Yes. He came by. No he didn’t do anything.”

His jaw tightens as he looks away from me and over to my stairs. “Is your bedroom upstairs?” he asks, and I nod slowly trying to figure out what he’s thinking. It can’t be sex at the moment.

He looks down at me placing his hands on both sides of my face. “Go upstairs put some clothes on and pack a couple changes of clothes.”

“Why?” I ask confused.

“Because I’m taking you to my house for a couple of days. I want you to be somewhere you are safe. And this place isn’t it.”

I want to tell him no. That Rodger isn’t the type to hurt me. But he has before. Mentally and physically. He uses words as if they were his hands. Making each one bring physical pain. And when his words weren’t enough, he would get rough with me. He never slapped me or hit me, but he would grab ahold of me so tightly that he would leave bruises on my arms or my hips.