Wanted Always (Xander Barns) (2 page)

“No darling, no…remember, Demetria,
darling–a young lady does not resort to such behaviors!” Mother squirms,
shaking her head in a panic, waving her arms out in front of her in a calming
gesture.

Like I said, well-deserved and quite
effective. I snap my head to the right. I can’t bear to look at her anymore.

“Demetria!” Mother screeches wildly.

I know the buttons that need to be pressed
in such dire situations.

“Demetria!” Mother pleads again loudly,
practically on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

I plug both my ears with my index fingers
to drown out her pathetic, traitorous, careless voice. It is, after all, all in
the favor of my mind, which needed time, time to recoup, regenerate, after her
below-the-belt swipes that have literally caused me damage. I need resilience
so that my body can repair itself. I need to be fixed.

“Demetria, darling…please, I’m sorry!”
Mother’s desperate yells spill through.

Why can’t she just shut up?

I begin humming out my favorite song in
the entire world. It is the only song that can help me get back to a place
where I can be somewhat civil; because, after all, I’m not a little girl
anymore.

And she needs to realize this once and for
all. I’m a woman!

“I’m not a girl,” I begin to sing the
lyrics to the best song in the entire world.

“No, Demetria! Not again, I’m sorry,
darling. I didn’t mean it!” Mother screeches out in despair.

“Not yet a woman,” I continue singing.

“I’m leaving. We will continue this
conversation later!” Mother exclaims, exasperated, and then leaves the room in
haste. I rush over, slamming the door hard, locking it quickly.

Finally, peace at last! I plop back onto
my bed, picking up where the song left off.

“All I need is Xander in my life…baby!”
The change in the lyrics brings a new life to the song, and for the first time
since breathing in Xander’s hair, I feel hope that everything will be okay.

Yeah, best song ever.

****

A few hours later, my Hello Kitty,
bright-pink alarm clock blinks 11 am. I sang my song over a hundred times,
leaving a few minutes in between each time to see if its soothing effects were
actually working. Sadly, no, they had not begun working until a few seconds
ago. I finally feel calm.

No thanks to Mother. Here’s hoping she
doesn’t knock on my door, spouting her version of motherly care that almost
always tips me over that edge.

Why does she push me? It’s like, all she
has to do is speak and I’m a mess. Just to be on the safe side, in addition to
my new found peace, I bend over my bed and slide out my handbag.

I need some precious moments with my
Xander locks of hair. I remember a few things as I bring the bag up and place
it on my lap. The Ziploc was stolen from the kitchen before leaving to meet
Xander at his hotel room all those months ago. No matter how much I sing, how
much I remind myself that fate will bring us back together, until the moment
when I am safely tucked back in his arms, my soul will remain wounded. The
clips of hair can only substitute for his absence for so long.

The final memory of our time together
arises; he was fast asleep after a marathon of passionate lovemaking. Pulling
out my eyebrow scissors, I carefully clipped a few strands from the back of his
head, where he’d least likely notice the absence of hair. Even though Xander
was perfect, no matter what, he was in desperate need of a haircut anyway.

I unseal the bag and bring it up to my
nose, inhaling deeply. I lean my head back, my eyelids close automatically.

I exhale a deep breath, and damn, it feels
good to be able to breathe again, even if it is only temporarily. My neck tilts
further back, allowing my eyeballs to roll back, as if his hair is a drug,
except there aren’t any drugs out there as potent or as alluring as anything
that have to do with Xander.

I should know; I’ve got a book hidden
underneath my bed filled with his discarded tissues. I’ve been collecting them
for years, as our mothers have been friends for quite a few years. I’ve had the
pleasure of accompanying Mother to numerous social gatherings where Xander
rarely, but still sometimes, would make an appearance. Every single time, I
hoped and I prayed that he would show up, and when he would, I wouldn’t be too
far behind, subtly yet eagerly collecting any discarded mementos for later.

He never noticed. I made sure of that,
only going in for my treasures when he looked away or walked away. My treasures
kept me sane until the moment all those many months ago, my dreams, my
everything in life, came true, and Xander approached me with the arrangement of
a lifetime. I’d think the winner of a jackpot couldn’t rival the feeling I got
when he first proposed the idea of the two of us hooking up during his visits
to Ottawa. I was only too happy to oblige, even if it was only every other
weekend when he would come and visit his family. I believed that the situation
was only temporary, that he would soon fall in love with me as deeply as I was
with him.

It was fate. It is destiny, and soon it
would become reality. But he hasn’t been back to Ottawa for a while now. It’s
been months since I’ve last had the pleasure of exploring and treasuring every
ounce of him.

Honestly, does he think he is going to
find this kind of devotion outside of this room, my room? I don’t doubt my love
for him, and I’m almost positive that no other woman can compete with my
feelings for him, and if they did, then that would be dealt with later.

I can get creative, anything for love,
after all. Because I fucking love that man; I’d do everything and anything for
that man, until the day that I die.

“I love that man,” I murmur softly into
the Ziploc bag. I drop my arms with the bag in hand. “I love that man,” I say a
touch louder.

It feels good being able to say the words
out loud, an oath that I have no shame in screaming at the top of my lungs if
it wasn’t for the weird looks I got from Mother every time I mentioned anything
involving Xander or any other man. Mother is protective of her sweet little
girl, even though her sweet little girl is bordering on twenty-nine.

That makes me mad; I’m an adult! I should
be able to express myself, especially if it’s about love.

“I love that man! I love Xander!” I yell
louder, not giving a damn all of a sudden. A huge smile breaks out across my
face, the joy of spreading the words of my soul feels like nothing I’ve ever
felt; it is liberating, freeing.

“I love that—” I begin to yell my phrase
once more, again a touch louder, before three erratic knocks rudely interrupt
my mantra.

I cannot believe this. Again?

“Demetria, darling! Why are you yelling,
is everything okay?” Mother yells, perturbed, from the other side of the door.
The doorknob shakes, indicating Mother’s discomfort with the fact that I am
being loud and that the door is still locked.

The huge smile dims to a smaller smile,
and even with Mother’s horrible timing, the joy I felt shouting Xander’s name
hasn’t subsided.

“I’m fine,” I yell, loud enough so that
she can hear, and hopefully go away. I reseal the bag and tuck it quickly back
inside my bag, hastily sliding it back into the safe zone, a place Mother would
never venture to in fear of allergy-infused mothballs, or whatever else she
ridiculously imagines to be hiding down there.

Therefore, it’s the best place to hide my
most precious keepsakes.

“Darling, you scared me!” Mother rattles
the doorknob once more, probably hoping I’ll unlock it and let her in to make
sure, with her own eyes, that all is okay.

I’m okay. I’m always okay. I’m not crazy.

“It’s fine, everything is fine. You can go
away now!” I order, and then get up from the bed to head over to my custom-made
vanity table. I need to touch up my makeup and apply more hairspray; my curls
are feeling dull. The doorknob rattles once more as I sit down on my plush,
purple-velvet chair; my eyes fling towards the door with annoyance. “What is
it?” I yell at the door. Can’t she see that I am busy?

“Demetria, darling, I forgot to tell you
that Madeline Barns called just now. It seems her son is back in town, and
she’s hosting a small, garden tea party tomorrow. You remember Xander don’t
you?”

A warm sensation exhilarates every inch of
my being. I feel my eyeballs slowly rolling back. Xander is back. He came back
to me. To be with me, and this time, it’s going to be forever.

Chapter
One

*Marisa*

While the sun is far from
setting, Daniels drives through the picturesque, suburban, upper-middle
class neighborhood. It is nice, and for the first time since waking up, I feel
calm and at ease. As I take in the scenery outside my window, my body begins to
shake.

I’m still hung over from drinking like a
shameless dumbass last night.

I guess I spoke too soon
when I said I was at ease. I’m clearly not. All of a sudden, I have to blink a
few times, things are getting fuzzy.

I know what is happening,
and honestly, I am surprised it took my body this long to react to the crazy
wild ride I have been on since yesterday.

So here goes.

Have you ever made a
mistake?

Have you ever acted stupidly
because it was just easier?

If you’re saying no right
now – you’re a liar.

Nobody’s perfect.

I’m not, that’s a hundred
percent for sure. I think, no—I know— the moment when it became obvious that I
wasn't the brightest bulb in the bush…

You guessed it…

Opening that goddamn door to
find Xander waiting to surprise me, or it also could have been when I made out
with him on the train?

Did I really do that?
Yes…yes, I think I did. This is great; now I feel worse, and maybe even a
little ashamed. The 'Common Sense' part of my brain just waved in that
clusterfuck of information, and I feel even sicker. 

Girl, what the fuck were you
thinking?!

As Daniels drives into
another neighborhood, my eye begins to twitch.

Just great. 

A giant deep
breath...there...that's it. It'll all be okay. At least, I'm alive
and well.

For now.

The beautiful dress and the
makeover have blurred my vision, when in fact, I should have stayed mad at him
for what he'd pulled the night before.

But I fell for his
ways
again.

Now, the chest pains have started, and I
can think of two reasons they could have begun throbbing. One: I’m still hung
over. Or two: I’m realizing how lucky I still am to be alive, or without
disease (crossing the fingers still on that one), or tied up in a small space
someplace secluded where he could have his way with me anytime he’d want.

I’m so fucking lucky, well, besides the
almost-getting-cut-into-pieces issue, and Xander turning from suave ice-cream
customer to panty-loving douchebag.

At least now, I realize
something substantial to my wellbeing...Xander Barns is not, and never was, a
hero. 

He isn’t a replica of the dark knight,
white knight, or any other knight out there. There isn’t a handsome steed
galloping, as wind flows through its mane, whilst carrying him to save
innocents in despair, just a cellphone with unlimited capabilities and a bottomless
bank account.

He is, by definition, the apple from the
Garden of Eden, beautiful to look at, smooth by touch, but once you bit into
it, that’s when the truth would come out. It wasn’t a sweet piece of fruit; it
was the key that opened chaos and horror.

What else…what else…

Xander Barns is the court gesture.

He’s a funny man.

He’s the fucking Riddler.

He is the human version of Pandora’s Box.
It’s as if he is made to make trouble, hiding behind his beautiful Prada-model
face and godly body. I’m to blame. I was too farsighted, too oblivious with my
‘problems’ to see him, it…thing, for who he really is.

A giant pain in my ass.

My ability to judge needs an intervention,
a tutor, a coach, something or someone to teach it you never
ever
let a
man you don’t know into your room.

He could have gagged me, shot me, cut me,
raped me, then killed me.

And no one would have known, all due to me
not speaking to anyone from back home except for Darcy via email.

I am lucky, sort of.

Well, not really when you think about it.
I did wake up hung over, wearing bitch blonde’s skanky, cream-colored lace
thong.

I think that was Xander’s version of a
thank you.

No matter how much I push it to the back
of my head, I still feel the creepy, crawly tingles on my downstairs area, even
though I did wash it a thousand times. I know that skank’s juice wouldn’t go
without a fight; there are sure to be one or two specks of her DNA still left
on my skin, waiting for the perfect moment to regenerate.

Just like bacteria.

In the interest of not wanting bacteria
expanding in numbers, I spread my thighs further apart without making it
obvious to Daniels while he drives.

I think a little air would do it some
good.

As my downstairs subtly cools, I gaze out
the window, examining the picture-perfect houses. My heart feels a hard tug as
we pass each house.

They all, in their own way, look like the
house I grew up in. Life is definitely passing by fast, and whether or not I
wanted to, I am growing up.

It is time to put my big-girl panties on
before it is too late, and/or before Xander decides he wants those, too.

Serious shit could have happened. I have
to understand this, absorb it, and permanently keep it on my mind for all the
other “next times” that come my way. Because I’m sure, knowing who I am, there
is bound to be many more “next times” when my intelligence will be put to the
test.

Yet again.

Xander Barns is not a hero.
Learn it. Remember it. Live it. 

I glance out the window as Daniels drives
through a very familiar neighborhood at a reasonable twenty-five miles an hour.

Thinking about things again, I question a
few more things that I’m not too sure of yet. Accepting gifts from people you
barely know. Is it okay to shut off your mind and hold your hand out? A smart
person would have said no.

But I think we’ve clarified early on that
I’m clearly not a smart person, my mind turns off on my command. I have
accepted these gifts as a gesture of compassion and kindness. After all, if he
wasn’t so persistent that I wear my party clothes last night, they wouldn’t
have been puked on, and Xander would have put my train outfit into the trash
instead.

So you see, it’s all Xander’s fault. He
owed me, and it made logical sense to accept his presents.

Yeah…I’ll go with that one!
Convincing myself it was a sound enough
reason not to warrant temporary insanity because there is no other way around
it. I had to either accept it or face dad’s party in my train clothes.

My mind moves back to Xander and his afternoon
activities. Thinking about him, he is a creepy, kinky,
feminine-underwear-loving enthusiast. Before finding out his little secret, it
was like a scene from a dirty sex novel. Which was very uncharacteristic of me
to even entertain anything of that sort; I’m not that girl, and that’s not
because I don’t have urges like any other hot-blooded female, but because I
can’t
not
think about STD’s when it comes to strangers having sex with
one another.

Or maybe I am changing, because that’s
what almost happened yesterday. Damn it! What is wrong with Xander? How can he
give it up so easily?!

If he kept it in his pants, and acted like
a gentleman yesterday, this whole thing wouldn’t have happened.

I’ll be shocked, extremely shocked, if he
is disease free. He likes wearing women’s underwear; if that isn’t an
invitation for a pimple infestation with white sprouts on each tip, I don’t
know what is.

Which reminds me…

Get high quality douche products tomorrow.
I don’t feel itchy down there, and I did
wash it like a million times. Perhaps it wasn’t enough, though I needed the
extra-strength stuff, even if I really didn’t need it, my mind needed it!

I’m totally hitting a 24-hour Shoppers
Drug Mart tomorrow.
Can I
really get a disease by sharing blonde bitch’s underwear?

I shake it off, and decide to worry about
it tomorrow.

Enough depressing thoughts!
It is time to move onto more important
things to occupy my time with, like focusing on every single detail of this
dress.

I never could have afforded a dress like
this, not on my current hourly wage. I hold up the sapphire-blue clutch, and I
can feel my eyes twinkle as they take in the glorious magical color.

This clutch is to die for!

Curiously, I open it to see what Maria has
packed for me. Surprisingly and a bit worryingly, my wallet isn’t inside. My
worries quickly fade when I notice my credit card, driver’s license, and debit
card tucked into the card pockets inside the bag, along with all the cash I had
in my wallet, fifty dollars.

Dad’s gift!
I worried for a second before I found the Canadian
Tire gift card hiding behind my credit card. A $125 gift card to Canadian Tire
was a gift I am sure dad is going to enjoy; he loves that store. I remember
he’d go there and spend hours wondering about, and coming home with things that
made Mom cringe.

So there was no other option but to get
him a gift from there.

Along with the bare essentials of my
wallet secured safely inside the clutch, Maria has safely tucked in my phone;
the screen blinks a new message notification. Before taking it out to check the
message, I see a transparent makeup bag filled with an MAC mini makeup kit.

For emergencies?

I guess I’ll be touching up whether I have
to or not. Sammy will probably die of shock if I don’t apply an extra coat of
everything at least once throughout tonight’s events. I take out my phone and
close my clutch, placing it at my side on the seat.

Xander has sent me a text.

What the hell does he want?

Xander: By the way, you’re welcome. Didn’t
I tell you it was all an easy fix? I dare you to doubt me again. I request the
pleasure of your company, after your father’s party is over, of course.

Kiss Kiss.

I type a quick response.

Marisa: By the way, thank you…even though
YOU threw my clothes OUT!!!!!! But nevertheless, thank you, and yes, I will
never doubt you again. But then again, I probably won’t go out with your rich
ass ever again. You’re too much trouble. As for your request…what the hell do
you want my company for? I’m boring; I thought we clarified this in one of our
earlier session’s, doctor.

Punch Punch.

As quickly as I had typed and sent it, I
receive a message from him in what seems like lightning speed.

Damn!

Xander: Marisa, you’ve got the stop
selling yourself short. You’re not boring, far from it, actually. As for your
comment about me being trouble…if you continue to speak to me like that in your
next text, I’m going to have to change my pants, as it’s hard to hide marks
whilst wearing red slacks. As for you meeting me after your father’s party,
it’s a requirement since you’ve got something I want. I’ve been dreaming all
day, baby. So be a nice kitty, and don’t make me wait too long, okay?

Kiss Hug Kiss Hug…

My eyes bulge out as my chin jerks forward
in astonishment. How could anyone be so suggestive in a message? Honestly,
right now, I feel a bit flushed.

As for what he wants, I know what that
fucker wants.

My underwear!

And I don’t care how small his ass is;
there’s no way this thong is going to glide smoothly up his man ass; it just
won’t be right.

Whatever!

Nobody does anything for free, and even
though he did throw my party clothes out, the amount of money that the services
he obtained for me today outweigh my reasons to scold, tenfold. I don’t like
being in anyone’s debt, so after the party, I will go to Xander’s and throw the
damn thong into his face, and then happily walk out bare if that means we’re
even.

I text back:

Marisa: Fine! How do I get to your place?

He texts back quickly:

Xander: Daniels will be waiting for you in
the parking lot of the facility. Just tell him when you’re ready. Can’t wait to
see you…all of you.

My brown eyes bulge at the last remark; I
decide to send him another message about what I really think:

Marisa: The only thing you’ll be seeing is
the ceiling of an ambulance…do you get me now, asshole?!

Later, douche!

I press send. A quick moment later, I
receive a text from him:

Xander: Rock-hard status.

I shake my head, and a smile forces its
way across my face. I guess I’m not as offended as I think I am. This is just
who Xander is: a kinky, asshole, douchebag bastard.