Poison Me Sweetly (11 page)

On Wednesday, I'm still feeling a little ‘off’ from
what had gone down over the weekend, but my mood has slowly began to
lift.  Ace never mentioned my nightmare at Caleb’s, so it looks like
Caleb’s keeping it to himself. I’ve seen him around here and there, and once in
a while his eyes will lock on mine, and I’ll be the first to break the
connection. He saw me during a vulnerable moment. And he made me scream during
sex. The look in those blue eyes tells me that he remembers distinctly how I’d
lost control.

Yeah, well, I’ve decided he can go fuck all those dumb
blondes that seem to gravitate to him. I won’t be going back for seconds.
Never. Ever.

Of course, around the time things seem to be looking
up, I begin to crash and burn—as usual. Like I said, there's a sick cycle I
seem to be stuck in that I can't shake. When I see Ashley Turner, my brother’s
ex-girlfriend, I know the lightness in my chest will fade, the tightness will
come back, and the darkness will once again settle in. It's inevitable.

My lousy karma backhands me—per usual, and Ashley and
her date end up in one of my assigned booths. Figures. We have a tendency to
run into each other on and off since she goes to CSULB, and one of us usually
darts off in the opposite direction to avoid a confrontation. I brace myself
for the impending encounter while making my way to their booth. I can do this.
Big smile. Be polite. It's been three years, she has a right to move on. Hell,
she has moved on. She moved on within six months of the accident and had
started dating a popular senior. Ashley had bounced back from Micah's death
much faster than I could have ever imagined, and I hadn't hesitated to hold it
against her. I'd been a raving bitch to her our senior year.
Three years,
Zoey. She's allowed to have a life,
I mentally scold myself.

Ashley looks up to see me walking in her direction,
and her cheerful expression tenses slightly, though she still manages to hold
her smile. My eyes roam over her, and I truly notice her for the first time.
She's grown up, and she's still just as beautiful as she had been at seventeen.
Her long blonde hair is gone, now it’s cut in a cute shoulder length bob and
bangs hover above her big blue eyes. I watch her lips part slightly, as if
she's drawing a deep breath and waiting for the executioner.

As I approach, I realize I've done her wrong for
years. It's not her fault I can't move on. It wasn't fair to place my anger
with my parents and Micah on her shoulders. Hell, if I recall, she'd tried hard
to be there for me, to try to grieve with me. But I'd turned my back on her. It
hurt too much to see her without my brother there, holding her hand and
smiling. Alex, my boyfriend back then, had tried to help me as well, but I'd
been so lost in my grief that he had ceased to exist. When he'd eventually
broken up with me, I'd shrugged him off and walked away without ever turning
back.

I'd placed blame where it didn’t belong.

It hits me like a cold bucket of water in the face. I
had been
wrong
. I'm not one of those idiots that always thinks they're
in the right and can never make a bad decision. I'd just been ignorant of the
fact that I had probably made her life a living hell until graduation. I hadn't
cared back then. I'd needed someone to take it out on, and sweet Ashley had
been the perfect target.

I pause at the table, ignoring the cute college age
guy that sits across from her. I stare at her, and she stares back, her eyes
hesitantly expectant. She's waiting for me to snap at her, to make some
smartass comment about my brother. “I'm a bitch,” is what comes out my mouth. I
know, not a great conversation starter. As I mentioned before, I do not have a
filter. I don't think I was born with one.

While the guy coughs into his hand, Ashley’s blue eyes
widen with surprise. “I'm—pardon?” she asks, looking unsure.

I glance at her date apologetically before I turn back
to her. I hold her gaze as I say, “What I did to you was wrong. I owe you an
apology. Probably a hundred of them, I'm sure,” I admit quietly.

Sadness flickers in her gaze as she looks up at me.
“There's nothing to apologize for, Zoey. We all mourn in our own way.”

This has me shaking my head. “I blamed you, and I
shouldn't have. You had every right to move on and...” I swallow the lump in my
throat, not sure what to say next.

“And you can't,” she finishes softly.

I clutch the little notebook in my hand and draw in a
deep breath, trying to calm the pain that flares within my chest. “No, I
can't.” Saying it out loud to someone makes it all the more real. It’s out
there now, and I can’t take it back. I can’t move past my brother’s death. What
is wrong with me?

She reaches out to touch my hand, her expression
telling me she plans to say something, but I'm sidetracked by the flashy
diamond on her left hand. I step back out of her reach, staring at it with
shock. When Ashley realizes what I'm staring at, a flush creeps over her
cheeks, and she hastily hides her hand beneath the table.

“I... Congratulations,” I say weakly. “You deserve it,
and I hope that only happiness is in your future,” I whisper before I back away
and make a hasty retreat. I don't know why I'm acting this way. It doesn't make
sense that the sight of the engagement ring brings a pang to my heart, and
tears begin to burn behind my eyes.

Instead of continuing on with my job, I duck into the
employee bathroom, locking myself in one of the stalls. I lean my back against
the door, looking up at the ceiling as I fight back the tears. The lump from
earlier builds in my throat, and I try to swallow past it.

I'm realizing that I will never have what Ashley has.
I will never allow a guy close to me for fear of losing him. There will never
be a man that will kneel before me on bended knee, asking me to spend the rest
of my life with him. I'll never be that girl with the husband and kids. I'll
never be...the girl that I once dreamed I wanted to be.

The old Zoey
Monohan
is
gone. She died that day in the accident. This person I've become...I don't know
her anymore. She does things that half the time I can't even understand, yet
it's
me
doing these things.

I've never realized how fucked up my world is until I
saw that diamond ring today.

It's Friday night, and I'm ready to clock out and
enjoy the numbness that alcohol always brings me. The last few days have been
tough as the weight of my run-in with Ashley sits heavy within my chest. I'm
going on a bender tonight.
Just
a bender. No sex. I've come to too many
revelations lately, and it's sinking in that sex with random men just makes me
feel like shit the following morning. Especially if I was so drunk the night
before that I barely remember it. From now on, alcohol is my one and only
bestie
. Not sex.

Ace frowns at me as he pulls his Hummer up to a curb
about a block away from AJ's fraternity. “You okay over there? You've been
silent since we left the apartment.”

I come back to the present, flushing slightly in the
dark as I think of my mental pep-talk a few moments earlier. “I'm fine. Just
thinking about some stuff.”

He cuts the engine, and I can feel his eyes studying
me in the darkened interior. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Nope.”

“Well, let's go party then. After the week I've had,
I'm ready to do some drinking and tap some ass,” he announces as he opens his
car door.

Because I happen to be wearing a skirt tonight, I
carefully ease out of the Hummer. No, I didn't dress for attention. I'm dressed
for comfort. I'm wearing a casual gray billowy tank and a black flirty skirt.
Tonight the tattoo isn’t bothering me, so I’d worn a tank to show off the
delicate green dragon looking over its shoulder; its wings slightly curved
outwards, and its tail curling up at the end.  Boots finish off the
outfit, but they aren't heels, and they are stylish but not stripper-sexy like
a few other pairs that I own. My hair is down, and I plan on hanging with the
boys and just having a good time. I'm not hooking up with anyone tonight.

Ace slings an arm around my shoulders as we walk down
the sidewalk; I slip my arm around his waist in return. “If you need a ride
later tonight, just say the word,” he offers.

“Yeah, that's okay,” I say, declining. He’ll likely
have a woman with him later. “If I'm totally tanked, I'll just get a cab. They
cruise the area regularly because of all the shitfaced morons every weekend. I
plan on being one of them tonight.”

“Tough week? I've barely seen you except for on
campus.”

I shrug. “It's all good. I just need to unwind, same
as you. Only I'm not looking for anyone to screw.”

“Huh,” he says with a bit of a grunt. “I feel like
you've changed lately. What did I miss?”

My elbow finds its way to his ribs. “So it's a big
deal now if I don't screw the first available male?”

“No,” he says as he rubs his ribs. “Well, yeah,” he
says, changing his mind. “You've always been...available to men. It's something
we both have in common—”

I snort and begin to laugh. “Are you batting for the
other team now?”

Ace winces, then reaches over and affectionately cuffs
me across the back of the head. “Smartass.”

“Oh, honey, you walked right into that one,” I drawl.

“Yeah, I guess I did. You know what I meant, Z. You
and I both understand the need to only fuck casually. You've got issues, I've
got issues. I don't want a permanent screw and neither do you. You changing
your tune after a year and some months has me thinking that something is up.”
He pauses and places both hands on my shoulders as he peers at me in the
moonlight. “Whatever is up with you, I hope it's
fixin
'
whatever seems to break you down every so often.”

Ace and I have a connection that reminds me of the one
I'd had with Micah. It's that connection that has me biting my lip as I gaze up
at him. “Ace, I don't think I can be fixed.”

There's a heavy silence in the air. “I can’t be fixed
either, so that makes two of us,” he says simply, his tone now betraying the
cool detachment that only someone like myself can understand. Ace and I, we
ignore what we can’t fix, even if it’s the wrong thing to do.

I can't help but laugh darkly. “You and I, we're
fucked up.”

“Agreed.” He slips an arm around me, pulling me back
to his side as we continue walking down the sidewalk toward the frat house up
ahead. “You and I need to get wasted after this conversation. Too deep for my
liking,” he mutters.

A smile quirks my lips as I silently agree. Ace and I kind
of dodge the emotional shit. He doesn't pry into my life, and I don't pry into
his. I think we both get that our pasts have fucked us both over in some way.

When we reach the frat house, the party is in full
swing. Loud music is pouring out of the house, and there are students on the
lawn mingling. From what we can see, the house looks packed. We make our way
inside, and we have to squeeze through bodies in the front room. After our odd
conversation outside, I need a break from Ace. I pat his bicep before
disappearing to the kitchen where there'd be hard-core liquor just waiting for
someone like me. As I make my way through the crowd, I keep an eye out for AJ,
but I don't see him. I’d only seen him briefly on campus the other day with
Jeremy, and it wasn’t enough for me. I’m not as close to AJ as I am with Jeremy
and Ace, but I still enjoy spending time with him. I see a few of his
fraternity brothers, and they grin widely at me. I know what they’re thinking.
I had been a total slut. Well, no more. I'm de-
slutting
myself—if that's even possible.

The kitchen is packed. There are guys playing beer
pong in one corner, and girls doing body shots with guys in another. I spy the
bottle of gin on the counter and quickly snag it. I spin around, bottle
securely clutched in hand, only to come face to face with Caleb. I start with
surprise, not expecting him to actually approach me tonight. He’d had plenty of
chances to talk to me on campus, but he’d been too busy with his blonde fan
club. I give myself a mental eye roll. Why do I care anyway?

“That's mine,” Caleb informs me, nodding at the bottle
in my hand.

I glance down at the gin, then look up at him a bit
skeptically. Caleb doesn't seem like the drinking type. I mean he drinks, but
I've never seen him trashed. “This?” I ask, needing clarification.

He reaches for it, and I yank it back out of reach as
I study him. His dark hair is slightly messy, and his eyes look different. The
amusement that is usually flickering within their depths is gone. Instead,
there's something darker there. I realize Caleb's got some type of skeleton in
the closet as well. His gaze shifts into one of familiar playfulness, causing
his lip to quirk, but I can tell his mood is off. “Share it with me?”

“Just how drunk are you?” I ask bluntly. He shrugs a
broad shoulder, and I let my gaze roam over him. He's wearing jeans and one
knee is torn, but on him, they look damn great. His shirt is a casual black
tee
with a skeletal design in a gray so pale that I can
barely see it. There's a little bit of scruff along his jaw, and damned if I
don't find it incredibly sexy.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I'm going to
want to break your one-screw rule,” he warns me.

As he talks, I can smell the alcohol on his breath,
and for some reason his mood bothers me. I like the lighthearted Caleb that I'm
used to. Of course, during sex that playfulness is replaced with focused
determination, but most of the time Caleb's mood is upbeat. This seems so out
of the ordinary for him. And for some reason, I don't want him drunk. I like
the sober Caleb better, and from what I can see, something is bothering him
tonight.

“I think you need some fresh air. Let's go outside,” I
yell over the music that suddenly just got a whole lot louder. I grab his hand
and tug him through the crowd. Much to my surprise, he obediently trails behind
me—a telltale sign that he's drunker than I originally thought.

As we make our way down the hall, a pretty blonde sidles
up to Caleb's side, her hands running over his chest as she pointedly ignores
me. “C'mon, Caleb. You promised you'd be right back,” she says as she licks her
bottom lip boldly.

“Back off,” I warn.

She turns her head and shoots me a scowl. “I was with
him first.”

“And now you're not,” I say. I look at Caleb and give
him a questioning look. “What do you want? Me or Barbie Wannabe?”

His blue gaze shifts between us and interest stirs.
“You guys
gonna
fight over me?”

I drop his hand as if it’s burned me, and I shoot him
a death glare. “Seriously? I'm trying to be nice, and you want me to get in a
bitch fight? I changed my mind.”  I turn, walking off with the bottle of
gin clutched in my hand.

I hear Caleb curse behind me and then he's grabbing my
arm, almost stumbling into me. “Wait. I'll go with you,” he mutters.

After letting out an exasperated sigh, I grab his hand
again, tugging him through the crowd. We escape outside, and I lead him along
the side of the house to where it's more private. The lights from out front
don’t reach this far, so Caleb is nothing more than a tall shadow near me. I
place my hand on his chest, backing him up so that his back is against the side
of the house. He allows this, then just stands there watching me.

Okay, now that I've got him here, I don't really know
what to do with him. I'm not the type to try to console or bail someone out of
their own shit. I scratch the back of my neck with my free hand. “You here with
Barbie Wannabe?” I ask curiously. Not that I'm jealous. But if he is with her,
she sure as hell doesn't care if he gets tanked. It kind of pisses me off that
anyone would let Caleb get himself worked into such a drunken state.

“Jealous?” he taunts, and I note that his speech is
faintly slurred now that the music isn’t drowning out our voices.

“No,” I say shortly. “I've just never seen you like
this before. It's...unsettling.”

“Why do you care?”

“Hell if I know.”

“You just made me lose my piece of ass for the night.
You taking her place?” he asks crudely. He even mimics sex by doing a little
bump and grind.

Disappointment cuts through me at his question. I
brought him out here to try to help, but all he sees is the slut that slept
with him. All I am to him is a good fuck. It's all I'll ever be to him or
anyone else. Why the hell am I even out here? This is pointless. I shove the
bottle into his gut, and he reflexively grabs it. “Here, annihilate yourself.
Have at it,” I say coldly before I stalk away from him and go back inside.

After making my way back to the kitchen, I manage to
snag a few shots before finding my way to the rec room. All the furniture has
been shoved to the outer walls, and a stereo is on at full blast. People are
dancing and some are swaying in a drunken stupor. I stand there, debating
whether I'm in the mood to try to salvage the night or if it'd be best to just
go home. When I sense someone standing near me, I turn around.

Caleb stands before me, hands tucked in his pockets,
his expression a bit sheepish. “I was an ass outside.”

Okay, now I'm thrown for a loop. I hadn't expected him
to follow me, and it isn't lost on me that the bottle of gin is nowhere to be
seen. “What are we doing?” I blurt out as I look at him with confusion. I
started this, but he's the one who came back. I don't know how this night is
supposed to play out, and I don't understand why I feel drawn to him.

He looks oddly sober as he meets my gaze. “I don't
know.” Well, at least we're both on the same page.

“Dance?” he asks, nodding to the crowd while playfully
nudging my shoulder. “I'll try not to step on your toes.”

“You step on them, and I'm bailing,” I warn.

“That's fair.”

I shake my head at how unexpected this night is
turning out to be. We make our way into the crowd, and even drunk, Caleb can
dance. He’s not holding back tonight like he had at the bar when he’d slowly
worked his way up into my personal space. Tonight, he just moves right on in,
his hands settling on my hips with a familiarity that has my body waking up
with need.  I try to calm it, because he's drunk, and I have no plans to
act on it. It's just dancing, so I slip my arms over his shoulders and allow
him to grind up against me. I can feel him sporting a boner, and my panties
immediately grow damp. He's warm tonight from the alcohol and from the heat
coming from so many bodies packed in one place. His chest is slightly damp
beneath his shirt, and I love the feel of his chest pressed against mine, his
rigid abs working against me as we grind. This is a bad, bad idea.

When Caleb's mouth claims mine, I stiffen up slightly.
His body stills against me, his warm hands sliding from my hips to the small of
my back as he presses me intimately against him. It’s time for me to walk away,
but my body doesn't listen. It craves his touch, and I allow his tongue to
plunge into my mouth. He kisses me deeply, almost ruthlessly. This kiss is
different than the other ones we've shared. He's completely inebriated, and the
kiss is raw. It's not smooth or seductive, or even playful. It's just raw need
that I can't help but enjoy. He's edgy tonight, but I can feel it's honest. The
night we'd slept together, he'd been toying with me. He's too drunk to be
playing now.