Slammed (12 page)

LUCY

My heart’s a battle drum standing before Dad. I’m angry, my world of order slipping, everything I know challenged.

He sees it, sees I’m close to breaking point.

“Who is he, Dad? Tell me!”

He sits down. “Okay, okay. Sit.”

I take a seat and wait. Dad just sits there. I can see him trying to work out how best to phrase it in his head. “Do you remember the day I picked you up from the foster home?”

“Of course.”

“Do you remember what I said in the car on the way home, that I’d chosen you out of all the boys and girls there?”

“I do.”

“The truth is, it was a choice between you and another boy. He was a year or two older, I think seven or eight at the time. His name was Jackson.”

“I remember him, I think.”

“I wanted a boy, Lucy. I wanted a boy to throw hoops with and discuss the birds and bees, to build a treehouse for and ride go karts with, but I chose you.”

“Why?”

He takes a deep breath. “When I got to the home, they brought Jackson down to meet me. His eye was swollen up and his arms were bruised. He was filthy. The foster parents told me he was a troublemaker, and I believed them. Later, I learned the truth, that he was abused at that cursed place. Stabbed the father in self-defense.”

I remain quiet, the truth my protector.

“I gave you the best life I could, everything you could want, but not a day goes by when I don’t think about that boy.”

It all starts to come together—those eyes, that lick of hair and cheeky smile. I’ve shut out those days at the foster home, but painfully the memories return one by one until I’m looking at Dad through wet eyes.

Finally, I know. All along I’ve known. It’s only now I’m willing to accept it.

Dad senses the shift. “Lucy…”

“Nate Compton is that boy, isn’t he?”

“He changed his name, wanted nothing to do with his former life, but yes, he is that boy.”

“And what, this scholarship, this whole thing is an act of redemption, to make yourself feel better for leaving him there that day?”

“To give him a better life, to make amends. He’s suffered, Lucy. He really has. Don’t you think he deserves a chance, like you?”

I don’t know what I think. This is all too much information to process. I thought I had left that place behind, but now it’s back. It’s
all
back and I don’t know whether I have the strength to let it back in. “Why force us together?”

“I thought it would make a difference, help him heal.”

“Has he known this whole time?”

Dad nods and I cannot believe it.

That’s why he pushed me away, and here I was thinking it was
me
.

“I’m so sorry, Lucy. You have to believe me. This wasn’t a setup. I needed to get his GPA up and you were dependable. I never thought…”

“What?” I press.

“I know you’re seeing him, romantically. I’m old, Luce, but I’m not stupid.”

I swallow hard. “It was your idea for me to spend time with him. Surely you knew I’d find out, but still you let us get together.

He sounds firmer. “No, I didn’t
let
anything happen there. You did that all yourselves. It certainly doesn’t have my blessing.”

I can hear the way my voice strains, the pitch rising as I makes my impassioned case. “Why, Dad, because he’s not good enough for me? Because we had
sex
? Yes, we did it. I’m eighteen, Dad! I can make my own decisions.”

“And your own mistakes.”

“Is that what you think he is, a mistake?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you even bring him here?”

“Because I felt sorry for him, okay?”

“No, you felt sorry for yourself. This was all just to make you feel better about leaving him there with that monster all those years ago.”

“Perhaps, but I’ve been around a lot longer than you, Lucy. I know trouble when I see it, and Nate Compton
is
trouble. He’s a low-life brought up in poverty, and from what I saw tonight he’s destined to return there. You
are
too good for him, for a criminal.”

“A criminal! Can you hear yourself?”

“There’s more.”

“God, what now?”

“There’s a reason you were in the home together.”

And I know what he’ll say before the words hit his lips.

“He’s your stepbrother.”

*

I leave the administration building in disarray. How could I be so blind?

I’m angry at Dad, but also at myself for not figuring this out sooner. There’s a reason I feel so comfortable around Nate. We have a history. We share the same past.

One half of my head says it’s wrong, to get the hell out of there. The other, logical, wants me to work through it. It feels wrong, but is it really? I mean, we’re not blood. We were just kids back then, and now?

I can’t think straight, but I know one thing. I have to talk to Nate. He can yell and cuss at me all he wants, but we need to have this out if there’s any hope of what we have surviving, and deep down I want it to survive, to flourish. Nate Compton in all his inky man-god glory has stolen my heart, and more. I can’t imagine life without him now. That reality is black, no light left inside it.

Need to talk,
I text.

I’m headed to the Cat House, the oval dome of it the same murky off-white as the clouds above. The last stragglers leave in a similar state of depression, the air of defeat palpable.

I’m standing in the square outside when someone grabs my arm, spinning me around. For a horrible second I think it’s Creepy Guy, but it’s Nate. A moment passes where we just look at each trying to get a sense of the mood, of how to bridge the gap between us that suddenly seems so wide.

Nate lets go of my arm. “He told you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Nate looks to the sky. “I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I couldn’t see the good it would do.”

“You thought that if I knew I wouldn’t want to be with you, right?”

“Be honest. If you had known, would you have even looked twice at me?”

I don’t know. Everything’s so messy now. “How am I supposed to answer that, Nate?”

“Do you remember me, in the home?”

I do now. I do remember the whole thing with a clarity I never wanted. I remember the old man, the cages he used to lock us up in when we were naughty. I remember Nate, Jackson, whoever he was back then smiling while he was beat, smiling at
me
. I never wanted that part of my life to see the light of day again, but here are the two most important men in my life hauling it all to the surface again.

As good as this thing is, or was, I don’t know if I can do it. And there’s more. Nate’s got issues, that much is clear. The way he punched that guy, the thing with Charleston… even if he deserved it.

Nate can see it, see I’m slipping away from him. “What is it? Tell me.”

Rain starts to fall around us, fat drops of it drumming away on my shoulders.

I start to cry, thankful for the cover the rain provides. My voice wavers. “Maybe this was a mistake, for both of us.”

“That’s your dad speaking.”

Maybe it is. “He has a point. The rage you have inside you, the violence…”

“I can control it.”

“Back at the game? That didn’t seem like control. The solution to every problem isn’t to put your fists up.”

The rain’s beating down harder. I walk up as close to him as my head will allow.

He throws his hands up, already looking to throw in the towel. “I’m just trying to protect you, Lucy, like I always have. Can’t you see that?”

“But that’s just it. I can look after myself. We’re not in the home anymore.”

He looks frustrated, water running down his face, that which I’ve come to know so well. “Is it the stepbrother thing? Because that doesn’t matter to me, and it sure as hell shouldn’t matter to you. Our parents got together when we were kids. So what?”

“It’s not that. It’s you.”

His whole body changes, posture firming, defensive. “Me?” He stiffens and then relaxes, just like that, not defensive any more, but something far worse—defeated.

He shakes his head, water running in rivulets down his face, his jersey soaked through. “I just…”

He’s slipping away.
Don’t let him go. Fight.

“What?” I push. “Tell me!”

He looks down at the ground, his own distorted reflection caught in a puddle there. “I want to be free, of that life, of feeling like… this, of everything.”

I pull him to me, suddenly desperate seeing what I could lose, that the greatest thing I’ve known could just evaporate before my eyes. “You can be.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. Your Dad said it and you know it.
I
know
it. I’m damaged goods, completely fucked. You’re only going to get burnt being with me.”

“I
want
to be with you.”

He pushes me away. “You can’t. I won’t allow it.”

He walks away.

“Nate!” I scream, my voice hoarse.

Soon he’s part of the night, a shadowy memory.

NATE

I make the shower as hot as I can. I don’t even bother with the cold. I want to burn.

The water is scalding over my back. I place my arms up against the tiles, head-butting the wall.
You fucked this whole thing up. You.

Why? Why do I want to hurt Lucy like that, take out the loss, my past, everything that has gone wrong in my life on her, the only good thing left in it?

I try to convince myself that she’s another lay, that I’ll get over her, but I know I can’t. I need her like I need oxygen, every time we’re together better than winning, better that anything I’ve ever felt on the court.

Protect her by staying away. Protect her like you always have.

But isn’t the best way to protect her by keeping her close? I think back to that stalker. What if I hadn’t been there? What would he have done to her? I hit my head harder against the wall at the thought.

I turn the tap off, watch the way the water spirals down the drain and with it any hope I had of happiness.

It’s not too late.

I stand there thinking it over, thinking until I’m dry and raw.

I decide.

I’m not going to let her go—not now, not ever.

*

I slip into Gamma Phi easily. If nothing else, juvie did teach me a few black arts. Perched on a ledge on the side of the house, I squat and pick the lock on her window. It whines like a cut snake when I open it and for a moment I think I’m cooked, but inside Lucy and Amber remain asleep, the cool breeze I bring with me failing to stir them as I step inside and close the window.

Amber’s snoring with a drawn-out
narrrk narrrk
. I’m amazed such a sound can come out of such a tiny body.

I crouch beside Lucy, her lips just parted and her hair hanging over her eyes. I brush it back behind her ear. She gives a little start and wiggles her nose like a rabbit. I have to stop myself from cracking up.

Here goes nothing.

I cover her mouth and tap her on the shoulder.

Her eyes blink open and she goes to scream before her eyes adjust.

I take away my hand and gesture to Amber. “I don’t know how you sleep with Miss Jackhammer over there.”

Lucy sits up. I can see down her top, see the soft globes of her breasts.

“What are you doing here?” she whispers.

I take her hand. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I fucked up.”

She looks to the mirror at the foot of her bed, not willing to talk to me directly. “You sure did.”

I notice the sock monkey sleeping beside her, the one she had at the home. “I see you still have Mr. Muggly.”

She looks over. “At least he won’t break my heart.”

I take the side of her face and turn her towards me. “You make me better, Lucy. I need you in my life.”

“And the fighting, the anger?”

“Like I said, I’m seeing a psychologist. I’m getting better. Your dad’s idea actually.”

“I don’t know. I think sometimes I’m the reason you’re like this.”

“You?”

“It seems like when we’re together everything else suffers—your game, study, your… mood.”

“You said it. Until tonight I was playing the best ball of my life.”

“So what changed?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but what I do know with everything I have is that I want to be with you, no matter what the sacrifice.”

A tear runs down her cheek, falls to the duvet.

I can’t believe I’m about to say it, but it’s the only way. I look her right in the eyes, into those
chartreuse
magnets. “I love you, Lucy Middleton.”

I kiss her, kiss her like the world is ending. I’ve never been crazy, this horny. This girl has done something to me, cast a spell that only seems to break when I’m by her side. “Let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

“The only way I know.”

Carefully, I slide my hand under her duvet. I find the crotch of her panties and draw it aside, her warmth so, so close.

I run a finger down her slit.

“Nate.” She moans and I have to cover her mouth again, her head relaxing back onto the pillow.

I draw my finger away from her hole and place it to my lips in a ‘Shhh’ motion. I can taste her there, taste her sweet arousal fresh from the satin heat of her core. My cock tightens further.

I point to Amber as I release my hand. “Quiet,” I whisper.

She nods and I move down to the base of the bed, lifting the duvet and crawling in, sliding right up between her legs. I splay her thighs apart with my hands in the darkness, the crotch of her panties hooked away with my thumb.

For a moment I just take her in, breathe in her sex. She cants her hips towards me and I take the hint, shifting closer to her wet and swollen lips. I hold her under the thighs and lift them a little, her dripping pussy open before me.

My cock twitches in my pants, pulses knowing how close it is to nirvana, but tonight is all about her.

I lick her in a single, flat stroke from the bottom of her cleft to the hard nub of her clit. Her breath hitches in response, her hands moving below the covers to capture my hair and draw me to her.

I press the tip of my tongue into her slickness, relish the way it’s clamped by the warm channel beyond.

Her spine lifts, arches, and she presses herself against me, my tongue and lips moving to her clit. I draw it between my lips, suck and tease it, bring her to the edge over and over until she’s clawing at my scalp.

I can tell she’s doing everything she can to remain quiet, but her faint moaning remains, her body surrendering to me completely.

“Nate.” I barely hear it, but it’s there. A cry for help, for mercy.

I build into a rhythm, releasing one thigh and spreading her apart for me, a finger sinking into her depths while I drum at her clit with my tongue, her wetness coating my chin, staining my lips, all of her arousal a wanton, physical thing.

She starts to shake and I keep going, my finger driving deeper and curling up against the corrugated roof of her center, drawing her to me and the inevitable completion I know will come.

She jerks and quivers, muscles stiffening and drawing tight, her whole body running to the edge, her clit pulsing against the flat of my tongue.

I want her to come, desperately. I want her to come more than she wants it herself, all selfishness departed just to feel that familiar squeeze again, the soul-shattering intensity of her release.

Suddenly, she grips my head and grinds herself upon it, bucking up against my tongue, her thighs around my ears. “Don’t… don’t…” but I have no intention of stopping. I keep up the pressure until her orgasm arrives, rippling through her body and suffocating us both. I hold my tongue flat against her, my mouth glued to the hot fissure of her pussy. I hold myself against her as she relaxes, her body turned limp and soft.

I let her panties go and slide out from under the covers, a particularly loud snore from Amber causing me to freeze until she settles back into the same see-saw rhythm.

I crouch beside Lucy again and she kisses me, the taste of her own arousal between us, the sexiest fucking thing ever. I want so desperately to throw the covers back and sink myself deep inside her, but not tonight. I’ll be patient.

I look down into her eyes, drugged and glassy, before kissing her on the forehead and making my escape, practically floating down the side of Gam Phi before dashing off into the night, her cum cooling on my face.

I cut through the quadrangle, the only sign of life the lampposts dotting the way.

I smile to myself, hands in my pockets. It’s cold, but I couldn’t care less because everything is back on track again. I have Lucy. I have hope. I’ve been through worse before. College will be a breeze. At least no one’s trying to kill me here.

I head up a small path down the back side of the math building.

“Hey, King Compton.”

I turn at the sound, reflexes too slow to avoid something hard and heavy coming down on my arm. There’s the celery snap of something breaking, the hot finger of pain that follows all the way down my spine.

I fall to the ground in agony, rolling onto my side, my attacker bringing down one more blow onto the same arm, the pain that follows causing light to burst from the corners of my eyes.

I hear the
whoosh
as he lifts the object up again, too dark to see anything else, managing to kick out and collect his legs before he has a chance to bring it down.

The object clatters away hollow, rolling down the path, the attacker getting to his feet and sprinting back into the bushes.

I stand, teeth gritted from the pain, but he’s gone, all I can see black and searing white.

I hobble down the path and look at the object, a twelve-inch metal flashlight. My head spins at the sight, the pain bursting in my arm again.

I barely make it back to the apartment.