Use Somebody (50 page)

He studied me closely, absorbing my words. “He’s what messed you up?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Miles. He cheated, then lied about it. Is that why you don’t believe in love?”

“No,” I shook my head adamantly. “I do believe in love. He was just a jackass.” I’d wanted to love Miles, I tried to, but I was never able to give him my whole heart. Maybe I was still too wrapped up in my feelings for Nathan, or maybe I had women’s intuition back then after all. When I found out about the other girl, I felt foolish for believing his lies, and frustrated that I had wasted so much time on such a jerk. But I never felt brokenhearted.

“But that’s when it happened, isn’t it? That’s when you decided to abandon all hope for yourself? And dyed your hair black?”

“No, it’s not,” I affirmed. I thought Vance knew that. Miles was partly responsible for wrecking my trust, but not for destroying my belief in hope or love. We broke up months before I ever dyed my hair. The thought that Miles would make me swear off guys was laughable. Despite what he believed about himself, he was not that important.

“That’s why you’re afraid to trust me. Afraid to commit.”

“No.”

“You think I’m only after one thing, and when you won’t give it up, I’m going to get it from someone else. That’s why you’re already giving me the out.”

“Of course not!” The thought of Vance doing that… I couldn’t even picture it. He had all the freedom in the world to do what he wanted, yet he embraced his blue balls to hang out with me.

“Then why can’t I love you?” he asked.

“Because I don’t deserve it.”

He froze.

I froze.

The air around us froze.

I cannot believe I just said that out loud.

“Rosie,” he said softly, searching my eyes with confusion. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Shit.

Normally it was so hard for me to communicate. Somehow he always found a way to flip it around and sneak the information out of me. He was an info ninja. I had to get out of there before he made me keep talking.

I got to my feet. He stood as well and blocked my path.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said. He held his hands up to halt me, but was careful not to touch. “Not before you explain what you just said.”

I stubbornly clamped my mouth shut.

“You’re punishing yourself because of some idiot?”

I scoffed. He still thought this was about Miles? “Miles has nothing to do with it. I couldn’t care less about him.”

“Then something else happened,” he deduced. And it didn’t seem like a new revelation for him. It seemed like he had purposefully orchestrated this conversation to back me into a corner.

“What happened?” He treaded lightly, moving towards me one slow step at a time. His voice was hushed, cautious. “Last winter? At your school?”

I stood motionless, my eyes growing in size. He knew this topic was off limits.

“I know you’re scared, Rosie. But you can tell me,” he said. “Did someone hurt you?”

My mouth opened and shut, speechless. Why was he asking me this?

“Why did you move back home, Rosie? Why did you dye your hair black?”

“Stop,” I whispered.

“Why were you afraid to be touched? Why don’t you deserve to be loved?”

“STOP.”

“Something bad happened,” he said gently, wary for my reaction. I did not disappoint.

Yes, something bad happened.

Gabriel promised to keep me safe and then paid with his life.

And maybe if I had been stronger… sharper… braver… he would still be alive.

My eyes started to burn. Emotions threatened to surface and I had to look away. His hands came up to hold the tops of my arms. It was meant to be comforting, but I was starting to feel claustrophobic. Trapped.

“Talk to me.”

I bit down to still my trembling lip. He kept urging me to talk. I couldn’t do it. My throat constricted. The tirade of questions continued. His voice no higher than a whisper. But in my head all I heard was screaming. I covered my ears with my hands as it got louder and louder. His mouth kept moving. I wasn’t hearing any of it.

The room began to spin. Everything felt heavy, even my eyelids. I swayed, and Vance tightened his hold on my arms. I tried to focus, but the room became hazy. Dark shadows clouded my vision. My grip on reality started to slip. I blinked hard a few times, each time slower than the last. I lost the fight when I was unable to peel them open a final time.

And then, I could only feel.

Pain. Helplessness.

Shaking.

Guilt. Loneliness.

Lips.

Lips, crashing into mine. Demanding and ravenous. It took me a minute to respond. And then I was fully immersed in kissing him back. Tasting his familiar mint. Meeting his tongue move for ardent move. His arms wrapped around me. My hands grasped his shirt.

He started to pull away, so I gripped his collar tighter.
No.
I didn’t want to stop. This was what I needed. I needed the contact, needed the connection, needed him to kiss me back. Why was he trying to take it away?

Once he had successfully separated us, he took a step away and held my shoulders back. I was panting heavily from the assault. He stared at me like I was a feral animal.

What the hell?
First he was asking those awful questions, then he was kissing me, then he stopped? Now he was staring at me as if
I
was wild and unpredictable?

“Why did you do that?” I demanded.

Like me, he was struggling to catch his breath. At least he had the decency to look me in the eyes. But there was no regret evident in his stance. He had done this deliberately. He used my weaknesses against me to make me crack so he could take advantage.

Just like everybody else.

“Rosie, you were losing it.”

“Bullshit!” I shouted. The first curse word he ever used to call me out. “You knew exactly what would happen. Why did you do that?”

“What do you expect me to do? Huh? Do you know how it feels to just stand back and watch you hurt? Why do you shut me out?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t give him those answers any more than I could give him my whole heart. “This is my burden, Vance. I told you that in the very beginning. You can’t fix me.”

“So I’m supposed to just ignore this? Brush it under the rug?”

“Either that or this is over. The choice is yours.”

His eyes pinched, hurt at my cruel ultimatum. It hit me square in the chest. All he was trying to do was love me, and all I ever gave him in return were more walls.

Needing to escape, I took advantage of his distraction and ducked around him, heading for the door. Vance was right on my heels. Somewhere between the two rooms, he got ahead of me and used his body to barricade the front door.
Trapped.
This was the closest exit, but not the only one. I turned and booked it for the back door.

“Damn it, wait!” he called, but I was already retreating.

I pressed myself harder, running almost blindly through his house in order to escape. Two sets of feet slapped against the tile as we ran across the hall. He was chasing me down, gaining speed, increasing my fear and my need to get away.

I almost made it to the door when I started to lose my balance. I’d been going so fast, I wasn’t able to stop in time, and overshot the door. My shoes slid across the slick tile, arms flapping wildly. But it was no use, I was going down.

Right when I expected to feel the hard impact of tile on my ass, my back collided with a sturdy chest instead. My stomach flipped, anticipating the weightlessness of a harder fall, as the firm grip of arms lowered us both securely to the floor. Disoriented from my failed escape, I took a moment to breathe and gather myself. By the time his warmth and comfort seeped into my bones, I’d almost forgotten why I needed to get away from the safety of his arms in the first place.

“Don’t you dare call me a pain in your ass, because I totally just saved it,” he whispered playfully in my ear. “…See what I did there?”

I closed my eyes and fought back a smile.
What a cheesy goober
.

“Why do you run from me?” he implored softly. “I hate it when you do that.”

I placed my hands over his, expelling all the air from my lungs in one breath. I wasn’t running from Vance, so much as running from my emotions, and my past. If he would just leave it alone, we wouldn’t have a problem.

“I just want to forget.”

“You need to talk about this.”

“Well I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to make out. You said that was enough.”

And so goes the story of our relationship. The root of our problems. How long could this stubborn little game go on before we hit an immovable wall? Vance meant a great deal to me, but our whole arrangement existed so that I could escape real life, not face it. There were so many things he needed that I wasn’t equipped to give. Complete vulnerability. Commitment. Communication was the biggest barrier, and unfortunately, he had touched on the one issue I couldn’t budge on.

“I will tell you something,” I relented. Seated in his lap, my back to his chest, I didn’t have to look him in the eye and it made me braver. I wasn’t willing to divulge all my secrets. But I could afford this one piece of information. “I will tell you why my hair is black.”

Vance sat completely still and silent, giving me little comforting squeezes as I spoke.

“My hair was always curly, but it was naturally blond when I was little. It got dark around junior high. That was when my mama started to put this spray in my hair. She said it made my hair shiny. It actually made it lighten in the sun. When I got older, I figured it out and continued to dye it myself. So I’ve only ever worn it blond.

“The blond hair fit me, you know? People called me Shirley Temple. Goldilocks. In some ways I was mature for my age but it a lot of ways I was still very sheltered, very innocent. I was always on the shy side but I saw the good in people. I trusted adults. I smiled at everyone.”

I paused, trying to swallow past the torrid lump in my throat. He gave me another small squeeze of encouragement.

“I’m not that person anymore. I see the world for what it is now. People lie and cheat and take and they don’t care who they hurt. I know it’s not all bad. I don’t think you’re like that. I know there are reasons to laugh and beauty in this world. But… there are some things in life you can’t un-experience. I’m not that naïve person I used to be. And I couldn’t stand looking at her in the mirror as if nothing had changed, when everything… everything has changed.”

Although I’d never wish for those rose-colored glasses back, I was left wondering if it was at all possible to know the ugliest of ugly in this world, and still be optimistic.

Admittedly, it was messy and vague, and probably left Vance with more questions than answers. But for once, he didn’t push. He just held me in his arms right there on the floor and listened to this little piece of my story like I was giving him something amazing.

That was what made Vance’s friendship better than any other. He was so good at listening and really wanted to understand me at my core, to know who I was and how and why. So when I spoke, he heard. And he accepted.

It was the best gift he could have given me. So I thanked him.

“Thank
you,”
he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my neck. “Just remember, whenever the world seems too lonely and dark… know that I love you.”

I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of being in his arms.

As much as a part of me wanted to stay there forever, I wished he’d stop trying to make me believe everything was going to be okay.

Because it was working.

When Farrell called and told me Ricky had gotten into another drunken fight at a party and needed a ride home, I came right away. He assured me that Ricky wasn’t badly hurt, but it had been awhile since I’d seen him, and I suddenly felt guilty for my long absence.

Cars lined the street for several blocks. Thundering music led me straight to the source. With no available curb, I double-parked in the driveway, hoping this wouldn’t take too long. I could already see two dark figures sitting on a couch in the middle of the lawn. I jumped out of my car and headed towards them, dodging some guy retching in a bush.

Farrell stood and greeted me. “What’s going on, Texas!”

I didn’t answer. I went straight to Ricky and took his face delicately in my hands to examine for wounds. A purple bruise along his cheekbone was already starting to bloom.

It took Ricky a moment, but when he realized I was there, he violently pulled away from me, and leveled me with a glare.

“What are
you
doing here?”

“I came to get you, Ricky, are you hurt?”

He scoffed. “Couldn’t be here for me. I bet you came to dance. It was always the music with you.”

I shook my head at his belligerence. Farrell answered for him. “Nah, just a shiner.”

Ricky kept it coming. “Go on, then. Let’s see you shake that thaaang.”

“Oh, shut up. Farrell? A little help here?”

“I got you, girl.” He stepped in and hauled Ricky to his feet, supporting his weight and leading him down the driveway. Ricky stumbled and cursed towards my car, and I hurried to open the passenger door. After we got him seated, it looked like Farrell passed him a couple aspirin and whispered something in his ear before shutting the door.

“Thanks for calling me,” I said once we had gotten him safely inside.

“Thanks for getting him home safe,” Farrell responded. “Ricky’s short on friends he wouldn’t somehow violate in this state.”

My eyebrows shot up at his crass implication. “Oh… well, good then.”

He chuckled at my expression. “If anybody can pull him out of this, it’s you, Texas.” He turned for the house once again.

“Anybody else need a ride?” I called after him.

He turned towards me and continued walking backwards as he spoke. “Nah. Party’s just getting started. Not leaving just cause Storm got his ass kicked out early.”

I climbed into the car and turned to face Ricky. He was looking straight out the windshield with a scowl still firmly etched in place. It was the face of a man you did not want to mess with, and most would have cowered in his presence. But I had seen this side of Ricky before. He didn’t scare me.

“Why did you start a fight?” I asked.

“Fucking asshole.”

Ooookay.

He was an angry drunk tonight.

I rolled my eyes and started the car.

We drove in suffocating silence across town until we reached Ricky’s dad’s house. Even after I pulled up, he didn’t make a move to get out. I didn’t know what to say, so we sat there for a few minutes, silent.

Out of nowhere he slammed an open palm on my dashboard and swore.

It made me jump. What had happened at that party? All I knew was that he was definitely still moody. And drunk. But I wasn’t sure how to help him. Did he need to sleep it off? Talk it out? Did he want to be alone, or did he need me here?

“Ricky… what happened tonight?”

“He said…” he drifted off. Confusion turned back into anger when he looked back to me. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry,” I spoke softly. Anything to keep him calm. Now was not the time for excuses.

“You’re sorry? Sorry that you’re too busy to answer a fucking text?”

“I’m here now,” I tried to reach out for him but he swatted my hand away.

“Fuck you.”

His vocabulary was quite limited when he was this inebriated.

With an angry sigh, I climbed out of my car and came around to his side. Farrell had believed I could pull him out of this but at the moment I seriously doubted that. He was full blown moody artist tonight—the mean, violent drunk that preceded his reputation. Still, I could reach him in this place. It just took some patience.

I opened the passenger door and squatted down to his level. He purposely avoided meeting my eyes for a full minute. Well, if he was going to act like a damn child, I was going to treat him like one. I grabbed his chin and slowly directed his face towards mine. Finally, reluctantly, he met my gaze. His gray eyes were still narrow and cold. I swallowed. He had projected anger before, but he had never been directly mad at me.

“I’m sorry, Ricky,” I said sincerely. We hadn’t spoken since before the night of my fight with Nathan. I no longer blamed Ricky for what happened. But the truth was, I hadn’t needed his bedroom since I’d been spending most nights with Vance. Avoiding him had been immature, and I was determined to make up for it. “I was just working out some personal issues. I promise not to disappear again. Are we okay?”

It took him a second. His eyes roamed over my face going in and out of focus. “Yeah.”

“Thank you. I brought you home. Do you want me to help you get inside?”

He looked over my shoulder at his father’s house. The old El Camino was parked in the driveway, which meant he wouldn’t be home alone. “No,” he said, studying it listlessly. His expression had ironed out. It seemed I was only able to get one-word answers out of him now. It looked like Ricky could be coherent when he was this faded, but it tended to come and go.

He still wasn’t getting out of the car. I remembered how heavily he had leaned on Farrell and wondered if I’d be able to do this on my own.

I tried a new tactic. “Can you take me inside and help me get some ice?”

“Ice?”

“Yes please. I’m thirsty.”

He just blinked at me. I doubted I was going to get anymore of a response, so I pulled him out of the car and hoped he’d go along with it.

The Storm kitchen might have seen better days, but if so, it was long before I ever knew him. Empty bottles were littered across the counter. The tiles were chipped and stained. Nearly two decades worth of sun exposure had aged and yellowed the floral curtains. Only one picture hung on the wall portraying a happy family of four. Young Ricky’s gray eyes twinkled with laughter, his wide grin revealed two missing front teeth.

I prepared an ice pack, hoping it would relieve some of the swelling, and brought it to Ricky’s cheek. He sucked in a sharp breath when the cold touched his tender skin, his eyes falling shut.

“Whoa,” he murmured.

Okay… Weird reaction. But better than the “F” word. Progress.

I kept the ice pack on his face and applied gentle pressure. When he opened his eyes I smiled, warm and friendly, trying to prevent rehashing his anger. I could always berate him for starting fights tomorrow, when he was sober and less of a jerk.

It seemed to be working. I was no longer dealing with an angry drunk, but a mellow and subdued Ricky.

He looked at me with barely lucid clarity and lifted his hand, presenting something tiny in his palm. My brows came together. A pill? I tried to ask what it was but a glossy smile was his only response.

It took me by surprise when he lifted his free palm to my cheek, mirroring my stance. I didn’t dare move as his fingers touched me tenderly.

“Scarlett,” he whispered through the haze. It was rare that Ricky called me by my full name, just the sound of it felt like a caress.

I stood still as he explored my face, like a blind man might see a sculpture. Ricky had never touched me like this before. His expression softened even further when he brushed a thumb along my dimple.

I knew in my mind that he was still drunk, but I couldn’t resist getting lost in the depth of his gray eyes. There was no longer anger in them. They were glazed over, but soft, as evidence he recognized me. He lifted a second hand and studied every inch of my face with all ten fingers… tracing the shape of my cheek, my chin, my nose, my eyebrows. The tiny pill fell to the floor.

As his thumb grazed my bottom lip, I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. I kept trying to remind myself that he was intoxicated, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He was being so sweet, and the newness of his touch piqued my curiosity.

I much preferred him like this than stoic. And what I saw in his face now wasn’t the notorious Ricky Storm. He wasn’t angry and violent, nor sexy and scandalous. He wasn’t even the brotherly figure I had come to know. He was in a chemically altered state, driven by something other than common sense. And he was taking me along for the ride.

Ever so gently, he dipped and brought his mouth to mine. I didn’t move. I just closed my eyes and let him kiss me. His lips were soft and gentle, applying just the slightest pressure.

A kiss from Ricky Storm wasn’t like anything I would have imagined. It was sweet and chaste. Only lips. Even drunk, he was able to show me this tender side that nobody else got to see. The world had Ricky Storm, the brooding artist with his sexy tattoos and wicked smirk. I had his small smiles and his sweet kisses. And as far as I was concerned, it was so much better.

Who cared if I was the only one who believed it? That had never stopped me before.

* * *

“Ricky kissed me.”

I came straight here. I had to.

Through the worry of learning about Ricky’s fight, the guilt from avoiding him, and the kiss that occurred in the middle of his kitchen, not once had I stopped to consider Vance. But the instant I left Ricky’s house, he was all I could think about. I messed up. Big time. And there was no magic undo button. All that mattered was getting to him and telling him the truth.

Vance stood in the doorway, his smile locked in place. “You… what?”

My words fell out it a hasty, jumbled mess. “He was drunk and got into a fight and needed a ride home and I was just going to clean him up and put him to bed when…” I shut my mouth. No need to add too much color to that picture.

At last his smile dissolved into thin air. “You kissed Ricky?” His voice rose an octave higher than normal. Well, that hadn’t been exactly what I said. But I could see that the instigator of the kiss wouldn’t matter so much to him at this time. “Why?”

I shrugged, aiming for impassive. Maybe it would rub off on him. “It was no big deal.”

“No big deal?” he repeated, voice lowering. My strategy appeared to have the opposite effect. “And is that how you see me too, no big deal?”

I glared at him. Of course Vance meant a great deal to me. But the way he asked that question only made me defensive. I met his gaze unflinching, obstinate brown eyes to green. “Look Vance, I really don’t need you to get possessive on me right now. I’m here because we have an agreement to be honest. So, there you go.”

I turned away, but he grabbed my hand to stop me from leaving.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“Who in the world would find this funny?”

He looked lost, searching for any possible excuse or reason for my actions, but coming up empty.

“You said it wasn’t like that,” he said, looking anxiously at my face. “You said he was like your brother.”

“I know,” I dropped my gaze. Ricky had always been like family to me. But he wasn’t blood. And I was only human. He had kissed me tonight, and I hadn’t stopped him. “It wasn’t a real kiss, if that makes a difference. It was short and sweet. He probably won’t even remember it tomorrow.”

He stared at my lips and shook his head. “He couldn’t forget something like that.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t see him tonight. He was drunk and really upset. I’ve been avoiding him for over a month. And he just got into a fight and—”

“Why the hell were you alone with him?”

I balked at his tone. “He needed a ride. I couldn’t just leave him stranded there.”

“You could have called me. I would have gone with you.”

My eyes rolled. “I can handle Ricky.”

“Yeah. Apparently you can,” he tossed back.

Okay. Enough of this.
I leaned into his face and spoke low and serious. “You know what you’re being right now? A jealous boyfriend. Remember, Vance, I. Am.
Not
. Your girlfriend.”

“Then what are we, exactly? Because I sure as hell don’t know anymore. I was under the impression we were friends, first and foremost. But friends don’t treat each other like this!”

I almost laughed that he was trying to pull out the friend card with this one. “Is that so? By all means, enlighten me how is a
friend
supposed to behave in this situation?”

“Maybe like you give a damn.”

He was right, of course. And deep down, I did give a damn. But it was obscured behind a wall of brick and mortar.

I was hesitant to give him the assurance he needed. Per our rules, I hadn’t done anything wrong. We weren’t exclusive and I was immediately honest about what had happened. But if I came off as apologetic, if I told him how Ricky’s kiss couldn’t even compare to his, if I admitted how guilty I felt for letting it happen, I was afraid our lines would become even more blurred. I didn’t blame him for being mad. Still, I couldn’t let his feelings of jealousy dictate our relationship.