Pretty Toxic - A New Adult Romance (Imperfectly Yours) (7 page)

Chapter Sixteen

“I’m everything he wants.”

His warm touch gives me goosebumps. I feel at peace with myself when he holds me - rock-like arms that surround my entire torso. I take it in. All of it. His scent is overwhelming and it attracts me even more.

I feel urges stirring in the pit of my stomach. This is when I usually stop and force myself to ignore what I’m feeling inside. My lips tremble when he kisses me. I’m nervous but my chest throbs like it’s the only living thing in the room. I toss aside my doubts and slowly let my emotions take over.

This time there’s no turning back. Dane and I are connected.

My alarm pulls me from a deep sleep. I keep my eyes closed. Day two of my morning routine and I’m already bored of it. Maybe today will be the day I actually quit, walk down to the beach, and enjoy my summer like everyone else. I run my fingers through tangled hair.

Maybe not.

“Mikki,” Scarlett calls from down the hall. “Get moving, girl!” I groan, letting my memories of last night catch up with me. I can’t look at her the same. I can’t take a word she says seriously.

This really blows.

I hear her footsteps coming closer. Her heads pokes through the door. A steaming coffee mug is in her right hand. She smiles, placing it down on my dresser.

“You seemed a little stressed last night,” she says. I yawn and sit up.

“Thanks,” I mumble, staring at the coffee cup.

“Things will get better,” she continues. “New jobs are always stressful. New people. New place.”

I nod. It feels weird to carry on like normal. I watch her expression - see her lips move. But it’s not the same Scarlett I thought I knew. She pauses and waits for my response. Her eyes watch for a smile.

“I need to get dressed,” I answer.

*
          *          *

I feel anxious the closer I get to my cubicle. I need to calm myself down before Paul pops his head in and asks me to pick up coffees. Coming into the Banley building was like walking the halls of my high school in a bra and panties. My eyes avoided the side street leading to alley on my way in. I couldn’t look in that direction.

I keep a decent grin on my face and search for my cell phone the moment I sit down. My hands fumble through desk drawers until my fingers touch the cool metal. I feel relieved. I’ll never leave it here again. No more late night trips to the office.

“Morning.” Paul’s voice sounds too chipper for 8 a.m. “Uh, do you mind-”

“Coffee?”

“You got it,” he responds. I shrug. It’s not like I can say no.

“Yeah.”

I roll my eyes the minute his back is turned. I open my desk drawer and am relieved to see the shiny metal of my cell phone. I shake my head.
Scatterbrain.
I shouldn’t have left it. I turn it on and check my messages.

My throat tightens.

I have a voicemail, and it came from Dane’s phone.

I jump up, desperate for a quiet place to soak in every second of that message. My eyes are focused on the slick screen. I can’t take my eyes off the phone. His name. My feet take me to the elevators while I permanently stare at the blinking symbol telling me I missed a call.

My heart is pounding.

The elevator door dings and I can’t wait another second. I step inside and push the button for the lobby. I have about ten seconds to myself. I enter my password and wait anxiously for the message to play. Each millisecond goes on for hours. I can’t wait anymore. I need to hear his voice. The message starts off with a static rumble.

“Mik,” Danes voice whispers.

I blink, holding in tears. I really do miss him. I want him back.

“I was really hoping you’d pick up,” the message continues. “I miss you, babe.” My heart flutters. “First off, I’m okay. I promise I’ll explain . . .” More static. “I’ll call you tomorrow night, babe.” His voice is quieter. “Be ready.”

The elevator dings again and I step off into the lobby. I feel compelled to kick the wall until it breaks. My shoulders sink as I press the option to save the message to my archive. I don’t want to go back upstairs. I want to run home and curl up under the covers. I missed my chance.

Tears hit me like a tidal wave.
Don’t cry here. Don’t make a fool of yourself.

The walls feel like they’re closing in on me and my head starts to spin. I can’t stay here, shoved in a filing closet like some sort of dusty mop. I have to find him.

The receptionist gives me a strange look. Her gaze goes from my face to my trembling hand. I swallow loudly and force a grin. The morning air helps a little when I step outside but I still feel like an alarm is going off in my head. I can’t turn it off and I can’t ignore it.

I need to gather my thoughts. I close my eyes for a minute then open them, realizing I’m leaning against the very wall I’d hid beside last night. It doesn’t bother me as much as missing Dane’s call. My gaze wanders across the street.

Relax. Maybe he’ll call tonight. Remember, he told you to be ready.

Maybe I can trace his call like they do in the movies. I’ll show up at his doorstep and free him from his psycho captors. He’ll realize I’m not just the boring girl next door that grew boobs over the summer. I’m spontaneous. I’m cool. I’m everything he wants.

But my thoughts and reality clash.

My heart and my head rarely want the same things. My head always wins. It’s the motherly voice telling me what I
can
and
cannot
do. I’ve got to stop holding myself back. It never ends well. I need to be more like Zanna . . . but without the attitude and addiction to fishnets. I wish I could tell her about Dane and me.

I squint as the front doors open, reflecting the sun onto the smooth glass and into my eyes. I look away and see a familiar face again. It’s
him.
I’m not going crazy. The guy who chatted me up, who knew everything about Dane and me, was walking out of the Banley. He has a smug look, and the piercings on his face gleam in the sun’s rays.

“Hey!” I shout.

I can’t believe I’m running up to a guy I hardly know. A guy I met at a party while drunk. Chances are he won’t remember me, but he stares like he’s just seen a ghost before composing himself. He knows who I am. I walk alongside him.

“Hey . . . I know you.”

“Uh,” he responds. The sound of his voice takes me back to that night. It helps me remember even though I was too wasted to see it clearly in my head. “I’m sorry?”

“Remember, that party last the weekend?”

“Right,” he shrugs. He’s not nearly as charming as I remember. “Sorry hun, I go to a lot of parties.”

“I know you remember me,” I reply. “I was wearing a black dress? You kept pouring me drinks?”

He shakes his head.

“Sorry, I’m not following.” He looks me up and down. “But you seem pretty do-able.”

“Huh?”

“You
are
asking me out aren’t you?”

I roll my eyes.

“Okay,” he responds. “Well it was . . . not-so-pleasant seeing you again . . . whatever your name is.” He chuckles to himself and keeps walking, now at a quicker pace.

“Hold on,” I interject. “Really, that’s it? You’re not even going to tell me your name?”

“You didn’t tell me yours.” He raises his eyebrows like I’m the one at fault here. I can see why I had to be drunk to think he was some sexy mystery man. In real life he’s a jerk.

“You should know. You know a lot more about me than most people.”

He wrinkles his nose.

“Not sure what
that
means,” he mutters. “No offense but I don’t remember much of my weekends.” I put a hand on my hips.

“Are you going to tell me your name or not?”

“Hmmm,” he laughs. His gaze runs along the collar of my blouse. “You know, I think I
do
remember that black dress.” My heart skips a beat. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Any chance of seeing it again?”

Perv.

“Tell me your name and we’ll find out.” I grin. Am I really flirting with this guy? I must be desperate.

“Gavin,” he replies. I nod, and inside I’m beaming. This guy knows something. Maybe not exactly where Dane is but something. It feels good to finally be in control for once.
Gavin.
That’s a start. My pulse quickens like I’ve made it to the top of a steep mountain, and now I’m enjoying the majestic views all around me.

“Mikki.” I outstretch my hand. He laughs and shakes it firmly. “So . . .” I tilt my head towards the Banley building, still faintly within sight. “You work there?”

“The Banley building?” He shakes his head. “No.”

“But I saw you in the lobby.”

He squints his eyes.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I was dropping something off.” He stops walking and puts his hands on the handlebars of a shiny red motorcycle. The tires are thick and the paint sparkles in the sunlight. “I got to go but I’ll see you around, Mikki. Stalker.” He smirks and gladly revs his engine. He zooms away towards the beach.

“Dickhead,” I mutter. It’s such a Zanna thing to say but it’s true.

*          *          *

This is it. I’m alone and the house is quiet. Scarlett is locked away in her room and I’ve been staring at my phone for the last hour. My fingernails are sore from all the gnawing and I haven’t been able to breathe normally since I got home. Dane is going to call. He said he would, and I’m praying that he does.

It’s dark outside my window. I gaze out at the parking lot and neighboring apartments. Dane’s call is what got me through the day. If he doesn’t call I don’t how I’ll force myself to go back to that horrible building. A summer break shouldn’t be spent behind four walls.

More like bars.

A ringing fills my ears. My eyes go wide. My throat closes and my jaw hangs open. I see Dane’s name flashing in front of me. I’m in a trance trying to figure out if this is real. My hand reaches for it before it’s too late. My chest is beating so loudly I might not be able to hear the voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

My voice is a high-pitched whisper. I listen to it as if I’m far away watching myself on a movie screen.
Say something. Please say something, Dane.

For a millisecond a nightmare breaks loose in my thoughts. Dane tied up. A raspy voice on the other end telling me I’d never see him again. I gulp.

My worst fear quickly disappears when Dane’s voice responds to my greeting.

“Mikki,” he quietly replies. I feel a rush of blood to the head and think of about a million things I want to say.

“Please,” I beg. “Just tell me you’re okay.” I bite my lip waiting for the answer.

“Yes.”

“Good.” I force a swallow.

“I don’t have much time, babe.”

I love it when he calls me that.

“I don’t know when I’m coming back to Seaside,” he continues. “But I have to see you.”

“Where are you?”

“You got my text,” he whispers. “That’s where I am.” Yeah I got his text and out of all the things he could have sent me . . . he sent one word. A plant or a tree or whatever it is.

Bristlecone.

“And where exactly is that?”

“The family ski lodge,” he replies. I hear static. His breathing grows heavier. “Time’s up.” His voice goes even lower. “I’ll try to call you again tomorrow night.”

“But-”

Silence. I feel worse than before. I
have
to see him.

He’s at his family’s ski lodge. I need to find a way to get there. I can take a road trip with Zanna? Then I’d have to tell her. I can go by myself. But Scarlett will figure it out as soon as I’m late coming home from work.

I’ll have to convince her to take a vacation.

I let my head hit my pillow and close my eyes. I can’t do this anymore - sit in cubicle like nothing’s wrong. Pretend Dane and I aren’t together. Give in to the voice in my head that calls me a loser.

I’m going to do it. I’m going to find Dane and I’m going to lose it.

Finally.

Chapter Seventeen

“You two are hooking up.”

“I have something to tell you,” I reluctantly blurt out. I got up and went to work this morning though I dreaded every minute of standing in front of the mirror and applying layers of mascara. I re-adjust my pant hem, glancing around the cafe. Maybe Zanna didn’t hear me.

“Yeah?” She purses her lips. Crap. She did hear me.

“Please don’t hate me,” I sigh. And I mean every word. She’s going to go crazy when I tell her about Dane and me but I have to tell someone. I can’t go on bottling all this stuff inside. I’ll explode one of these days.

Maybe tomorrow.

“Please,” she chuckles. “Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than the time Paige texted a titty pic of me to the whole school.”
Different Haskell.

“Good attitude,” I mumble. “Keep that sense of humor for this next part.”

I let the bang of plates and silverware distract me. My eyes move to the barista behind the counter making coffees. I glare at the clock on the wall. My lunch break is almost over. Man, it flew by.

“Mik,” Zanna barks in my direction. “Are you going to tell me or not? I have places to be. People to see.”

“Alright,” I reply. “No need to get menstrual.” She giggles and takes a sip of her double espresso. “And that’s a lie by the way. You have
nowhere
to be and
no one
to see.”

Zanna sits back in her and chair and gawks at me with a smile on her face.

“It’s moments like these that remind me why we’re still friends,” she says proudly.

I roll my eyes.

“Spit it out Copelun,” Zanna continues.

“I just . . . I know what you’re going to say and I’m trying to prepare myself.”

“Let it out before you inflate,” she laughs. I sigh and watch her take another caffeinated sip. I picked a horrible time to do this. She is already riled up on espresso.

“I . . . maybe I’m not ready to do this.” I’m chickening out. I spent all night last night planning out what today would be like. Step one. Tell Zanna. And step two. Find Dane.

I need her help, but I’m tanking it.

“This is about Dane again,” she shakes her head. “Oh my, here we go.”

“Maybe?” I shrug, testing out the waters. So far she doesn’t look upset. Just annoyed.

“Girl, you don’t have to say it. I already know.” She plays with a strand of black hair like it’s no big deal. “
Actually
I do want to hear you say it, because I’m sick of pretending here.”

She can’t know
everything.

“I don’t know what you think you know but-”

“You two are hooking up,” she interrupts. “Ob-vee.”

I don’t think hooking up is the right term, but I’ll save that conversation for another day. I glance at the clock again. Now time is slowing down. I flick my hair over my shoulder.

“Fine,” I admit. “You know some things . . . but not everything.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” She leans in closer with a smile on her face. “You know where he is don’t you.” I look around the cafe and make sure no one is eavesdropping on our conversation.

“Yes . . . and no. I need your help.”

“Mik, you just made my summer.”

*
          *          *

At first I was skeptical. Telling Zanna might not have been the best idea but now she is waltzing right up to a guy in the records office. She smiles and folds her arms, squeezing her boobs together. She tilts her head and smiles. It’s a whole new Zanna.

“Scuse me,” she says in a high voice.
So not Zanna.
“Yeah you. Can you help me with something please?” A man wearing a baby blue polo with parted hair grins and stares at the length of her body.

The snare has snapped.

“Yes,” he replies. “How can I help you?” Zanna lets out a soft giggle.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something . . . something personal.” She leans in and whispers the last bit of her sentence like it’s top secret.

“Of course,” the man agrees. He rests an elbow on the counter, his face now closer to Zanna’s.

“I met that Haskell guy on a ski trip a while back,” she breathes. I can barely hear her now. I keep my back against the wall around the corner, and pull at a piece of fabric on my shirt. “I uh . . . stayed at his place if you know what I mean and left something kinda important behind. The thing is I can’t seem to remember which lodge we went to.”

“Well what-”

“We were a bit tipsy,” she butts in before he can protest. “I really can’t remember.”

“Well the only lodges they own are in Colorado.”

“Right,” Zanna giggles. “I know that silly. I just can’t remember which house.”

“What did it look like?”

“Um . . .” She sticks out her chest a little more. “The front had like . . . oh I can’t think of it. I’m sorry.”

Now she’s shaking her head like she’s been scolded. The man looks taken back.

“No, no.” He places a hand on her shoulder. Weird. But Zanna lets him. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“It’s just . . .” She wipes away a fake tears. “I can’t believe I’m crying right now.”

The man looks distressed. With a look of concern on his face he begins listing the Haskell lodges one-by-one.

“Well there’s Pinecliff. That one has a private ski run. Buffalo Peak. That one is near a little ski town. Uh, then there’s Aspen Pointe, Bluebonnet, Hummingbird Ridge, Bristlecone-”

I interrupt their conversation by briskly passing the door, almost tripping over my own foot. I make a sound in the hall that forces Zanna to turn around. That’s the one. Bristlecone.

“Where’s that one? Bristlecone?” I hear Zanna ask. I sigh of relief escapes my lips.

I should have told Zanna the truth sooner.