Still Surviving (4 page)

Tiffany:
See you in a few

.

And she knew it.

My car rolled to a stop just in front of the large windows of the storefront. The place was brightly lit inside, and I could see Tiff sitting on a stool, laughing openly with one of her co-workers. Her head was thrown back as she laughed; the line of her throat was appealing. My mind remembered the smell of her before I could make it stop.
Orchids.
She always smelled like orchids. I closed my eyes and my nostrils flared. The night I got too close came rushing back.

The lights were dim in Tiffany’s bedroom. The dark maroon walls surrounded us. Her room was filled with canvases, some filled with paint and others blank. The blank canvases caught my attention. I suddenly wondered what she would fill them with, how she would decide what to paint. I wanted to know everything about her. The scent of orchids still heavy in my punch drunk head, tasting her skin in the car was a mistake. Sweet and floral. Her pulse under my tongue, my touch had caused her heart to race, making her scent saturate the space between us. The scent memory engrained itself within my synapses. Why had I asked her to bring me here? I would never use Tiffany like the other girls.

“You paint? I thought—“

“What? That I was just some bartender with no talent?” She raised her eyebrow and smiled. “I plan on getting a job as a tattoo artist. You should let me practice on you.” She chuckled as she dropped her car keys on her dresser.

The room had soft light pouring from lamps that were covered with dark fabric shades. Clothes were spilling from the closet, paints littered the top of her dresser, books stacked high on her night stand, and one book laid open and face down on her pillow. Her walls were covered in band posters and a few framed pictures of what I assumed were her family. She was everywhere within these walls… she was disorder, and I was sinking. Why the fuck did I come here?

She moved gracefully through her room, picking up and moving this and that, apologizing the whole time for the mess. Telling me how she doesn’t have visitors, how this was the first time in ages a man had been here. Tiffany was a good girl — she was an innocent like Lily, like Liz — and I was about to spoil her, dirty her up with my disease. My need to feel in control — to rule my emotions, to have my every, little, selfish, desire fulfilled — drew me into this bedroom, and it was my responsibility to stop it.

“Okay, that should do it.” She smiled up at me; the dark lashes that framed her hazel eyes were thick and beautiful. Tiff’s black hair enhanced the milky white palate of her skin. The art on her arms and the ink that peeked out from under her collar made me want to trace every line with my finger… and then with my mouth. I wanted to discover what this little piece of perfection would feel like pressed against me. If her pussy tasted like orchids, too. “Seth? Did you want a towel?” She smirked at me like I was missing the point.

“A towel?” I was confused. I’d obviously missed something.

She giggled in a womanly way, a deep tone, and then snorted. “Fuck, Seth, yes. You’re soaked from the rain. I just asked you if you wanted a towel, and you just looked at me like I was stupid.” She laughed and grabbed a towel off the back of the door I assumed was a bathroom and threw it at me.

I grabbed it and rubbed it through my hair. “You have a dryer? I could throw my shirt in. My pants are damp, but I’ll live.” There was no way in hell these pants were coming off. I had a feeling if I ever got more than that small taste I’d had in the car, I’d never get Tiffany out of my system.

“Sure thing.”

I reached behind my neck and pulled my shirt off. The strain in my muscles from the fight with Jace was still there. Tiffany’s gasp was almost inaudible as her eyes devoured my chest. I had been a quarterback in high school, and, as a man, I had always kept my physical body in peak condition. Even though I didn’t play sports anymore, going to the gym was a release for me.

“Your ink is… extensive.” Her eyes searched the patterns over my chest and abs. I had recently started a full chest piece.

“I’ve always loved Rodin’s “The Gates of Hell” and wanted to have something like it for my chest piece. The line work has been slow, but once it’s finished…“

“It’ll be epic,” the words were a whisper. She gazed at me with awe. Tiff took a small step towards me and lightly let her fingertips trail across the tattoo. My flesh felt as if it would blister under her touch. She was lighting me up one wick at a time.

“Tiff.” Her name was a whisper. Before I could stop her, before I had the chance to make this beautiful creature understand, she placed her lips against my chest in line with my heart. The muscles in my stomach constricted, as her full lips tasted my skin. Kneeling, she brought her mouth leisurely down to my abdomen, her shaking hands fumbled with my belt.

My hands gripped hers just as she undid the button of my jeans. I laced her elegant fingers through mine, our hands fit together completely. “That’s not why I came here.” I wanted to feel her mouth on my body more than anything I’ve ever wanted. The need to fill her up with only me, have her tiny body bound to me and my tongue deep inside her, was painful. I couldn’t think of her this way, but the more I let myself go there, the more vivid the thoughts were and the quicker my control started to slip. I actually wanted to kiss this girl, feel those satin lips against mine, taste her mouth, and feel her teeth pull at my fucking lips. I groaned.

“Then why did you? Am I not…” She laughed bitterly as she stood and stepped away. Her cheeks bright red and her jaw set in a firm line.

“Stop.” I interrupted. “Don’t even think that. That’s the fucking thing… you’re better than this, then any of them. I didn’t come over here to get off, to have you blow me like some whore on your knees. Shit Tiff, you’re my friend.” I grabbed my wet shirt from the floor and started to put it back on.

“What the hell was that in the car then? You just get all handsy, make me bring you back here because you ‘don’t want to go home,’ and then get all weird. You’re confusing me. I know I’m not a slut, but, damn it, Seth, I like you… I’ve liked you for—“

“I like you, too… But I had a moment of weakness, and I hadn’t expected you…” To taste so damn good. “…and then the rain and this night has been shit. You got hurt. I went to jail! I’m just all screwed up. Can we pretend like I never did that? Can we just go back to our normal sarcastic banter and keep this shit platonic? ‘Cause Tiffany—”

“Give me your damn shirt.” She scowled at me as I started to put it over my head.

“What?”

“Friends don’t let friends wear wet clothing, you’ll… get sick or something.” She snatched the shirt from my hands and looked down at her feet. “I’ll pretend that your mouth doesn’t set me on fire. I’ll pretend I don’t notice your blue eyes and how they melt when they look at me. I’ll pretend, Seth, because I’d rather have you in my life like this, like two people who are fucking perfect for each other and deny it, than have nothing at all. I need some piece of you. Three years, Seth, three years of you, and I still can’t look away.” She brushed past me leaving her words hanging in the air.

How had I never noticed how much this girl cared about me? How had I not noticed how much I had started to need her over the years? How the hell was I ever going to pretend I didn’t want more? What lies could I feed myself, how much of myself could I continue to conceal before I realized I’d never be happy?

The memory of my father on his knees sobbing filled my mind. His repeated words, “It’s all gone, she’s gone, we have nothing.” Over and over again ran through my head. I took a deep breath. I had rules, rules in place to protect myself. Tiffany was a good girl, but I was right, we couldn’t be more than friends. She didn’t let me finish. We couldn’t be more than friends because I couldn’t put her through me.

I stalked after her. “Give me my shirt. I should go home.” My tone was gruff. Tiffany huffed and chucked the damp fabric in my direction. I caught it and put it on quickly. “Take me home, please.” This was for her own good.

She was a hurricane as she grabbed the things she needed. The keys jingled in her hand as she came to an abrupt stop. That’s when I noticed her cheeks were stained with tears.

“Oh god, oh fuck, I’m crying… great.” Tiff started to sob, and it wasn’t a soft sob or a gentle cry, it was a pissed off angry cry. Her eyes flicked to mine and my chest tightened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want this—“

“Just…” She stormed towards me, her hands balled into fists. She punched my chest repeatedly. “I don’t get you? Why are you so…?” Her question died as the tears came even harder.

“Shh… please… listen.” My arms wanted to pull her close, wanted to fully encapsulate her with my body. Tell her I was an idiot. Instead, I let her hit me, let her get it all out as my arms hung at my sides. I would never be that man on his knees, asking God why had his wife left him? Why the love of his life had cheated with his business partner? Why his best friend had stolen all the money from their shared company to help fund his fraudulent slut of wife?

“No… I’m fine.” Tiffany sniffled and walked quickly past me out the front door.

“Tiffany, wait!” I rushed after her. They rain was falling, and we were both getting drenched again outside her front door. “You know how I was raised. You know how my mom left, how my dad was left with nothing. You know all this because I told you… But I just can’t let myself—“

“You can’t let yourself be happy, love, care about me…. Just stop talking.” Her shoulders shook as she tried to suppress the emotions that I could tell were suffocating her. She turned to walk away.

“Tiff, I… I…”

My lips couldn’t form the words as the cold seeped through my bones; the streetlight was brightly shining through the sheets of rain. The tears, I couldn’t handle them anymore. This life was full of shit, full of disgusting promises — promises I couldn’t keep. She looked up at me with bright, hazel eyes; her shiny black hair, now soaked, lay limp against her cheeks and shoulders; her dark green shirt clung to her breasts. Fuck she was beautiful. She was everything, and I was… nothing. I was darkness… sickness… I couldn’t corrupt her like the others. She was too good for my brand of love, my black heart. I watched the chill creep into her flesh, the goose bumps splayed across her arm as the heat left her body. We were so close. I should reach out and warm her, comfort her, tell her what she wants to hear, but I’m her shadow and this can never be.

The deep pink of her lips paled as they trembled; I couldn’t watch her suffer much longer. The slight green tint of her hazel eyes blurred as they filled with more tears. “Why?” she asked, the voice so familiar to me — the voice of fear, of rejection, of the never-ending inevitability of failure.

She shivered, and I couldn’t let her dangle on that ledge any longer. The rain beat against my back as I rested my forehead against hers, my hands grasped at the back of her head cradling her even closer. My heart was heavily beating inside my ribcage, my veins full with the poison of love; this fucking girl had infected me, and I had to let her go. I was her shadow, meant to follow, always stalking behind, never truly there in the present, always a half a step behind — it was safe to admire from afar.

“I’m not who you think I am.” My whisper sounded false to me. She knew me, better than anyone would ever know me, but this had to stop here. She’d never understand who I was deep down, my flame… my light blew out a long time ago.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She pulled away from me, forcing my hands to frame her face. The look she gave said it all, said I was crazy for ending this, for not letting it even start, for not letting her in. She didn’t have the faintest idea of what I could do to her. My faith was broken.

I let my eyes meet hers, allowing the inevitable connection to happen. I owed her that much.

The rain started to fall harder, but I didn’t care; I was caught up in all that she was, and, for once I wanted something, I wanted this, and I wanted her. My eyes were drawn to her mouth; those wicked, fucking lips were surely made to torture. I was ready for her punishment. I brought my lips slowly to hers, a small, faint breath exhaled from her parted lips, the cool air kept her sweet breath suspended. Just before our lips met, she sighed. I could almost taste her, but that small sound brought me to my senses. I pulled away, denying myself that connection, and she started to cry harder.

“You fucking break me, and I can’t… I can’t do this with you… I need to go.” My voice sounded foreign, like I wasn’t really controlling it — robotic, cold. This was who I was, and this was all I knew

That night was the beginning of my end. We tried to stay away from each other. Tiffany wouldn’t talk to me for weeks, and every moment without her in it my anger grew. My hate for these women, these greedy, lustful women who stole any bit of trust I had… festered. Finally, Tiffany and I started to talk again. Lily and Todd getting back together helped. Lily was a good friend to Tiff and a good friend to me. She urged us to be friends, and, with Tiffany working here at Magnolia, we had started talking tats. I’d even considered letting her practice on me before she started, but lately I wasn’t sure where things were headed. This past week I felt myself distancing from everyone. I hadn’t spoken to Tiff all week… yet, here I was… watching her like a stalker.

I looked through the store windows one last time just as I pulled my keys from the ignition. Tiffany’s eyes met mine, and the smile on her face, the radiance in her beauty… Shit, if I could bottle that, keep it with me at all times, I’d be richer than any billionaire.