The Arrangement Anthology (67 page)

I don’t want to talk and I’m afraid of what he has to say, I’m afraid it’s horrible and
I can’t take more bad news without falling apart. I want him to take me in his arms and pull me against his chest. I want to sleep with him beside me and pretend that my life isn’t falling apart.

The question I
ask eases the fear that’s strangling me. Looking up into his eyes, I press my lips together and say, “Can you hold me?”

Sean pulls me into his arms and holds on tight. The water continues to pour over us, and he
stays like that with me, until I ask to move to the bed. We crawl under the covers, Sean in boxers, and me totally naked. He wraps his arms around me and lets me nuzzle against his chest. I’m in forbidden territory and I don’t know how I got here. Resisting the urge to touch, I close my eyes and try to sleep.

Something changed. I can feel it, I just don’t know what.

Sean needs to head out to Long Island and I manage to talk him into returning me to my dorm for an hour or so. My argument for doing so was ironclad. I have no clothes. No, he can’t buy me more because I need some specific things—girl things for work—and they’re in my dorm. Plus, I need my books and all the crap I photocopied for my term project. That thing is due at the end of the week.

Sean hesitates when we finally pull up in front of the dorm. “I don’t like this Avery.”

I slip off the back of his bike and shuck my helmet. My hair is plastered to my head and I’m sure I have that greasy used car salesman thing going on. “Sean, I know you’re worried about me, but Mel is up there. And have you met Amber? Evil guys are afraid of hags. She’s vile. No one will mess with me while the two of them are there. It’s not like I’m walking down a dark alley alone, on Halloween, with an axe murderer on the loose. I’m not TSTL.”

“What does that mean?”

“Too stupid to live.” I don’t mean to laugh, but I do. “What, do you live in a cave?” I make a roaring sound and claw a pretend paw at him. His head tilts to the side and he’s ready to get off the bike. Pressing my hands to his, I add, “Seriously, Sean. Treat me like an adult even if I don’t sound like one. If I don’t take care of myself—at least a little bit—I’ll go crazy. This is so minor. It’s day time. It’s a freakin’ dorm.”

Sean glances up at the building again and back at me. “Fine, but I’ll come up with you.” He puts his kickstand down and starts to turn off the bike, but I stop him.

“No, you’re not. Sean, you have something to do. Go do it as fast as you can, and when you come back, I’ll be packed and ready. You said you’d be right down the street. I can call you if I need help. I promise.”

After a lot more groveling and pleading, Sean finally agrees to let me go inside by myself.
He’ll be back in a heartbeat if I need him, and he makes me swear to call him if something isn’t right.

The truth is, nothing’s right. Last
night I laid in bed with him and it was perfect, in a surreal sort of way. I wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing and it wasn’t weird. It didn’t feel forced. I didn’t care what I looked like. It was more about how I felt, and with Sean’s strong arms around me, I felt good. It makes my stomach churn to think of the desperation in his eyes when he wanted me to ask him why I was out of bounds. I don’t want to know. I can play make-believe a while longer, can’t I?

When does pretending become a mental illness? I’ve had to pretend day in and day out that I’m fine, that I’m not falling apart. How is this any different? Sean’s my friend. I can live with that. Sort of. It’s unfair for me to expect more from him. Sean’s the way he is for a reason. He isn’t asking me to leave my baggage behind, not that I could. Besides, it’s not really baggage. It’s more like scars. Those don’t go away no matter what kind of high
priced goop you slather on them. Some people say scars build character, but I think they make weak points in my suit of armor and the more scars that appear over my heart, the more likely I am to skewer myself and never get up. There’s no way to get through the day without that suit. Some people call that suit sanity, others call it the ability to deal with life. Either way, I know mine has been etched away, as if acid has been placed over my heart for years on end. The piece that protects my heart is paper-thin and too weak to protect me from much more.

For some reason, when Sean’s around it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like someone healed me and that constant aching at the center of my chest vanishes. The grief that strangles me in my nightmares is gone. I can sleep when he’s next to me. There are no shadows pulling me into the icy water
s and clawing at my hair until I stop struggling and drift beneath the waves.

And that’s the thing. Life is a struggle. Who am I to complain because it isn’t easy? Mel’s life has been so much more horrifying and would have crushed a weaker person. I couldn’t walk a foot in her shoes, neve
r mind a mile. I don’t know how she does it. I don’t know how she finds laughter when there is none.

I’m pulled from my thoughts as the doorknob twists.
I’m hunched over the sink, up to my elbows in bubbles. Expecting to see Amber, I speak over my shoulder, saying sarcastically, “Thanks for cleaning the room.”

Translation: s
he didn’t clean up anything. Her and one of her boinking buddies must have cooked something fishy on the hotplate and left it in the room all night. The smell when I came in was so bad that no amount of air freshener will cover the stench. I already bleached the dirty dishes and have been spraying Lysol since I got here. I’m pretty sure there’s a cloud of disinfectant mist hovering in the center of the room like a tropical depression.

“You’re welcome, but it’s not my mess, babe. Amber had over that other guy she se
es when I’m not around.” Naked Guy is standing in the door way with low rise jeans and no shirt. It’s still cold enough to snow.

I repress the urge to roll my eyes, and scrub a nasty pan in our little sink. Do you know how hard it is to clean pots and pans in a micro sink? Amber’s an idiot. That’s the first thought that enters my mind, and the
second one is more alarming—what if it was him? Naked Guy is a few screws short. I shove my paranoia away, and say over my shoulder, “She’s not here.”

Naked Guy lets the door shut behind him and makes his way across the room to where I am. He leans against the counter
opposite me and grins. “Oh? I guess she’ll be here soon. Mind if I wait?”

Yes. “No.
I’m leaving in a sec anyway. My friend is coming to pick me up. He’s a big scary guy.” Ha. I added that for good measure, but the dim wit doesn’t seem to care. It so wasn’t him. This guy couldn’t find his way out of a barrel. He’s too obsessed with his pecs.

I feel his eyes on the side of my face and know he’s watching me.
“So, are you and Amber going to the Astronomy Lab to watch the meteor shower this weekend? I heard it’s supposed to look really cool from up there.”

“Not my thing, babe. If a girl wants to see big rocks, I got a pair right here. ‘
Nuff said.” He grabs his crotch as he pushes off the counter and steps closer to me, which makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. Ack, I can’t stand him. What the hell does Amber see in this loser? Still holding the pan, I turn to look at him. There’s a smile on his lips as his eyes dip to my chest, and then back to my face. Asshole. “But I don’t think that’s what you really want to talk about right now, is it? I mean, not after the other night.”

I try not to react. That damn video was seen by way too many people, and they were happy to let me know it
when I walked into the dorm. The girls nicknamed me ‘slut,’ which was very clever, and the guys let their eyes rove over my body in hope that I’d give them a second glance. I assume Naked Guy is in the ogling camp. What a jackass.

My eyes narrow to slits before I roll them.
“Which night are you talking about? The one where you fucked my roommate and locked me out? Or the one where you two did it against the window so everyone in the quad could see?” I step toward him and press a finger to his chest, even though he towers over me. “Let’s get one thing straight, my sexual life is none of your goddamn business and if you want to keep your head on your shoulders, you won’t mention that video to me ever again.” I turn back to the sink and scrub the pan so hard that the sponge tears.

Naked Guy steps
in close behind me, which makes me way too nervous. It’s paranoia, that’s all. This guy couldn’t hurt a flea. He acts like he’s tough shit, but he’s not. Mel’s chased him out of here so many times. And every single time the dude ran away screaming like a girl. But this time, he doesn’t run. I tense as I feel his breath on my neck. “Which video would that be, Avery? There were so many.”

My body te
nses and I clutch the pan like it’s rope and I’m in a freefall. He’s lying. There’s no way he knows there is more than one clip. But then his phone is shoved under my nose and I see one of the other videos. Video-me is naked and breathing hard, ready to move the camera much lower.

Jutting my hand out, I try to grab the phone, but he doesn’t let me.
He holds it up high, just out of reach. The sponge goes flying and I’m left there, horrified, as my voice fills my ears.  He cranks up the volume so I can listen to myself come.

I should call Sean.

I should kill Naked Guy and bury him under Amber’s bed.

I need that phone.
He can’t have those videos.

I lunge at him again, and swing the pan at his head. Naked Guy
shrieks in an octave way too high for a guy his size, “Whoa! You can’t beat the shit out of me for being a paying customer. Miss Black wouldn’t like that, would she?” His words don’t register until I’ve taken two more swings. Both attempted whacks were wild and not thought out. He jumps out of the way and the pan connects with the counter, sending the remnants of the horribly loud DONG up my arm, which makes me madder.

“You bought me?” I hiss at him and crouch lower, holding the pan like a tennis racket.

Naked Guy looks less smug than a few moments ago. He nods, slightly. “Of course, but I was told you wouldn’t care. Why are you freaking out?”

“Who said I wouldn’t care?”

“Miss Black! She said you were a professional. I’m going to tell her that you’re a raving psychobitch. You can’t jerk off with me one night and then hit me with a fucking frying pan the next! What’s wrong with you?”

“Why’d you upload that video?”

“Yeah, right. Like I’d do something like that? The videos are enough for me. When Black said you worked for her, I couldn’t believe it. I told her that you act like a fucking nun, and of course I’d like to nail you. The sexting was a necessary evil, babe. I thought if you saw me, you’d walk out. So when you assumed I was someone else, I went with it. I mean, why not?”

Working my jaw, I bounce on the balls of my feet. I want to hit him so hard that his teeth fall out. “How’d the video get online?”

“How do you think?” he squeaks. “Amber. She saw it and thought we were having a thing. She might be a whore, but she’s jealous.” He laughs. “It’s funny that you two room together. Do you guys do it when—”

“OHMYGODSHUTUP!” All the words run together as I piece together what happened. The pan lowers slightly and Naked Guy reads me wrong. I’m trying to
figure out what the hell is going on, but he thinks it’s an invitation for more. His hand touches my arm and the pan flies up and bangs into his wrist. “Do. Not. Touch. Me.” I growl the words at him and he steps back cradling his arm.

“You didn’t have to hit me!”

“How did you afford me? You’re a leech.” And this is the part that scares me. Naked Guy is broke. He bums stuff off his friends and lovers. He borrows money from Amber all the time, and helps himself to our food. He’d be wearing her clothes if they fit him.

He shrugs as his eyes dart to the side, following the movement of the frying pan as I tuck it under my arm. “I’m not
totally broke, and I wanted to give you the chance to let it sink in before next weekend. I was being nice, Avery. But this Saturday, I won’t be.”

“What?” My voice barely comes out.

“I booked you, babe.” He presses his finger to the tip of my nose and grins. “I told Miss Black that I wanted the kinkiest girl she has. Imagine my surprise when she showed me your picture. So, get ready for some serious fucking.” He leans in and adds, “Because there are a few things that Amber won’t do, and I’m so glad to hear that you’ll do anything for the right price.”

As he speaks, every muscle in my body tenses. My brain is telling my arm to swing the pan into his skull,
even as I’m shaking. I don’t know if it’s fury, disgust, or betrayal, but I do it—I swing. The arm holding the pan flies up from my side and before Naked Guy can blink it connects with his shoulder. He’s too tall. I missed.

His eyes narrow into thin slits after he bites back a scream. Advancing quickly, he rips the pan out of my hand and tosses it onto Amber’s bed before taking my wrist and bending it behind my back. I fall to my knees as tears form in my eyes. Naked Guy pulls my arm in a direction that it doesn’t want to go. I open my mouth to scream, but he covers it with his big hand. Leaning in close to my ear, he whispers, “You’re going to pay for that.” Yanking my arm hard, Naked Guy pushes me forward, releasing my arm as I let out a yelp and fall into the rug.