ShameLess (11 page)

At one point, I hear him ask, “Where is your key? Let me take you inside and get you cleaned up.”

I hear him, but again I don’t answer, though I know I should at least try. It’s comforting, yet awkward. Two years have gone by. We haven’t seen each other, let alone talked. So, I understand at some point we need to talk, but not now. I just can’t find the right words. Are there any ‘right’ words, at all? I can’t even find a simple ‘thank you’ in this exact moment. Therefore, I let my actions speak for me instead. I rest my head against his chest, allowing him to give me the security I desperately require right now.

Feeling as though I just took a ride on a hellish crazy train, I need…I don’t know what I need, actually, aside from needing to get inside. I just know eventually I have to get past the resentment and hate I still harbor for him. I release it, shoving it back into the recesses of my mind, and hand him my ID card, somehow still clenched tightly in my hand. He takes me inside.

Stefan

After the way she ran away, I tried acting cool. I did, but I needed to chase after her and talk to her – just talk. Not to mention the fact that I feel obligated to find out whether anything I or didn’t do caused her to cry. She just tensed up. It didn’t make sense. I made a quick call from the frat party before I raced over here, driving as fast I could against the storm.

I sit here watching. He is holding her in his arms. I just want to get out of my car and run over there, taking her from him. Instead, I only sit here observing like she watched me that day in the cemetery. I feel I made a deal with the devil that day. Now, I am in this shit, I have to be. My dad would kill me, otherwise. He can never know I got a DUI, ran through a fence nearly killing someone. I’ve been given an opportunity to have all of it erased: financially taken care of, no negative effects on my insurance, going to classes instead of sitting behind bars since it was my third offense, and not have my dad find out any of it. No-brainer! So, why do I feel like risking it all for this one girl who I’m watching in some other dude’s arms?

That was all before I met the girl from the fuzzy picture with blurry resolution. Seeing her now, and after meeting her in real-life – WOW! There are no words. Now, because of her, I realize that I signed my name on the dotted line, sacrificing my life. I just should’ve fucking did the right thing from the start and owned up to my mistake. Maybe if I had, I could handle this shit differently. I know now that I must proceed with caution. Too much is at stake.

The rain hitting against my windshield makes it hard to see. I still realize enough, though, and more than I want to. Angst runs through my veins the minute I notice her sobbing into
his
chest, and held in
his
arms. There was only ever one other time in my life when I felt this way. It fucking rips me in half. My heart is suffering and feels as if it’s suffocating to death.
God!
I hate this feeling, especially since I swore I would never let myself be vulnerable again. Bang ‘em and leave ‘em. It’s a great alternative. How did I let this one chick get to me so quickly? Why did I let myself get into this situation in the first place? I’m kicking myself so fucking hard right now. I agreed to do this and I will. There is no way around it, so I don’t have a choice. My balls are against the wall now. I can’t help myself when I am around Ren. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to get upset seeing her crying. Now, as I’m watching her cry, again, I want to protect her. I’ve seen girls cry before, especially the ones that think our one-night stands instantly mean a relationship. For me, it’s never been a big deal to see a girl cry. Well, it never bothered me - until now.

Damn
!

He is pulling her closer. I can feel the blood starting to rush through me. It’s pumping, and burning through my entire body. My muscles begin contracting. I think she is hurt, but I can’t see well enough to confirm my suspicions. He is comforting her though, and it should be me.

It. Should. Be. Me.

The rain lets up a little. It’s not pouring as hard as it was before, so now I get an unobstructed view of what is truly happening. She is resting her head on his chest.
Fuck!
What is it about this chick? She is handing him something.
Shit!
They’re walking through the doors and going inside together. This has me squirming! I can’t stay here and watch this shit anymore.

Once the dorm building’s door goes shut, I slam the gearshift of my Jeep into drive and peel out. I can’t go back to the apartment just yet. My head is spinning. As an alternative, I drive around for about an hour just blasting Mushroomhead, on repeat, persistently trying to make sense out of all of this.

Somehow, “
I think the brink’s around the corner. There’s an error in my soul
…” fuels my mood. To some degree, now that our lives have collided the way they have, I know things will never be the same. There are errors in my soul, but Ren has me mulling it all over. Reflecting. I’ve always been someone who didn’t need the feeling of attachment. I just didn’t give a fuck. Losing someone you love has that effect on you. I mean, why choose to let yourself get close to someone, when death is just life’s Ace up its sleeve, hidden out of plain sight, but you know it’s there, waiting with a timestamp to call your name. It’s been easy to keep girls at bay, not letting myself get too close. Until now – until meeting her. Now, she has my head all kinds of fucked up. I’m even reconsidering wanting to let myself have faith in love again, and believe that the possibilities of miracles exist. I figure, either she’s going to be my one chance tango with the devil, or my lifetime dance with a pure angel. Angelic, perhaps. Torturous, more likely. She has me wondering whether the deal I made with the ‘devil’ will be my one-way ticket to Heaven or Hell. I get the strong sense she is worth it, though, but she may actually be the very one to lead me to either place.

Eventually, too much thinking has my head pounding. I hate fucking headaches, so I head home. When I pull up, I can hear the music thumping from inside the apartment without even getting out of the Jeep.
Great! A fucking party!
I am still sitting in my vehicle with my own music streaming from my stereo slightly lower in volume, but is still hammering out Daft Punk’s “
Get Lucky”.
I take a few minutes to lean my head back against the headrest. I’m not in the mood for a house full of drunks, being pissed off about seeing her in
his
arms, or having her under my skin and affecting me like this. On second thought, maybe partying with some shots is exactly what I need. In fact, they may help me to forget about
her
? Seems like a perfect plan to me, especially while listening to, “
So, let’s raise the bar and our cups to the stars
”. I’m ready to flush out this headache, and do exactly that; raise my cup. Party on!

I climb out of my Jeep, make my way across the lot, and head toward the duplex, which is not too shabby for a bunch of college guys. The beige siding is better than the paint job on most cars I’ve seen around, and we even have a few plastic chairs on the front porch. It’s located on ‘college row’, which is an area just across the street from campus, and it has a condo-like feel. I call it home. Beats living in a mansion style house, with over four-thousand square feet of living space but feeling alone because your dad drowns himself in work
AND
alcohol. I fling open the door, walking inside.

At once, the sound of bass spanking my surround sound system greets me. I like a mix of music, with no real preference. Depending on my mood, I can bang it to some metal, or keep it real with some new age, and even slow the tempo down long enough to enjoy a good country tune. Always have, thanks to my mom. What bothers me more than not being in the mood for some of these lyrics I’m hearing tonight is two things. One, they’re making me think of shit I’d rather not. Two, there are people sprawled all over my crib who seem to be enjoying the one that’s blasting right now. Some of these people I know, but some I have never even seen before.
Ugh!

As I’m entering,
‘Welcome to my house party’
is irritating the piss out of me. Normally, I would be all over some
Meek Mill
, but with thoughts of Ren still taking over my brain, I’m still feeling disturbed. Yeah, so, I’m not particularly feeling like welcoming anyone to my house party right now.

“Hey dude, there you are. Where you been, man? Was expecting you a while ago.” This is the next thing to greet me as I make my way through the living room toward the small dining area.

Kirk extends his fist, waiting for a bump, which I do. Then, I shove past him trying to make my way across the space heading toward the kitchen. He is all over me, following right on my heels. Both of us begin to zigzag our way through the others who are drinking, and talking. We ignore a few stragglers making out. This only serves to annoy me even more. A couple of friends I recognize and pass along the way actually nod, say ‘hi’, or bump elbows with Kirk and me. Really, some of them I’m happy to see.

“What’s up with you, Bro? Why so somber and sober? Here, take this,” Kirk points out my obvious disposition while passing me a shot of Jack. He lifts his at the same time as I do mine. Together, we slide ‘em back. He promptly pours us both another round. For a second time, they go down too smoothly. In spite of everything, a lingering burn gnaws at the back of my throat nagging me to drown Ren out of my mind tonight.

"Hit me again, man," I motion for Kirk to beam me up, once more.

He never dances around the subject. In a flash, he calls me out as he pours us another, “Seriously, Bro, who is she? I’ve known you since we’ve been kids and I’ve never seen you like this, except…”

He cuts himself off from finishing, and pauses. We both take our shots before he says, “Well, let’s just say, I know you, dude. Whoever she is, let it go man. Court is here. Hit her up. Man, she was asking about you, so it’s an easy piece, Bro. She’ll help you forget whatshername.”

He whacks me on the back, and then raises another full shot glass, clanking his against mine. I casually nod, before we both do our shots. “It’s nothing man, seriously. I’m good,” I reply, coolly, setting my glass on the counter.

We walk into the dining room, where a group of people are starting to play Kings Cup, a drinking game that gets everyone plastered. Just as we step up to the table, Jon yells, “Yo dude, I’m snake-eyed! Stacy got a fucking Ace!”

Everyone knows that this means no one can look at him, and his pathetic but drunk expression is hilarious since his main purpose is to try to trick everyone into looking at him. Every person tries desperately not to do it, despite his efforts. Kirk and I put our backs together, fold our arms over our chests, and dramatically turn our heads away from him, further provoking Jon. It eggs on every single one that wants to see Jon’s expression after our little sideshow.

On impulse, Stacy pipes in, “Well, if you keep trying to get sympathy, I’ll add something else.” She starts laughing so hard that she snorts, leading every single person to pick on her for sounding like a grunting baby piglet.

Once the laughing slows down, she states, “You both have to play. Kirk, pull up that chair,” as she points to the chair sitting in the corner.

“Stefan, you can take the chair next to Court.” A smile crosses her lips, leaving me to know what her exact intentions are. Even though I’m not following the same objective, I still slide into the seat as a beer is handed to me, and throw her a stern look of disgust.

“Hey! I’m glad you’re here. I was wondering when you’d show up,” Court immediately says while placing her hand on my thigh.

I push it away, replying, “Hey yourself. Yeah, had a party to hit up.” I remain distant with her, but it seems to go straight over her head. No way am I telling this girl my biz.

Kirk’s ‘party boy’ chirp interrupts the awkwardness, “Let’s get this party started! Who’s up?” Relief washes over me and I raise my cup of beer to bump his. He knows me so well.