Page 50 of Guilty Minds
I vaguely remember mentioning that she’s constantly on my mind. Did I really say that out loud? Fuck. It’s one thing to secretly jerk off to her ass in leather pants and another to admit it to anyone. To her, no less. I dug myself into a hole.
The first time I came to her yesterday, I was drunk and acted on something my sober brain had been itching to do for so long. I wanted to say whatever was on my mind so she’d kick me out, yelling some shit back that would make me hate her even more. But she surprised me by being a decent person and drove me back. A good thing, considering I was wasted.
The second time I came to her was of my own sober will. I was so tired of her being on my mind constantly. All the damn time. I was tired of my dick not reacting to anybody but her. Fuckin’ tired of my calloused hands on it instead of a woman’s body.
So, I came here for a fuck. A good hate fuck that would let me move on, and I could keep hating her afterward. But once my lips touched hers, I knew I was fooling myself. One time wouldn’t be enough. I was ready to devour her, to fulfill all the fantasies I had (or at least the ones I could fit in one night), but my body once again acted against me, embarrassing the ever-loving crap out of me. She’d think of me as weak now, a freak. I can’t have that.
The headache intensifies, and I get up in hopes of finding some Advil. I’m not going to snoop, but I need pills, or I’ll go crazy. I go to the bathroom, almost tripping over her super fluffy, pink rug. It’s so… girly. It surprises me. Kayla seems like a punk girl, but everything here is pink and fluffy. Okay, not expected. I check the mirror cabinet and find some basic medicine in there. Thank God. I pop three Advils into my mouth and go to the kitchen to wait for them to work. The coffee pot is half full and still warm, so I pour myself a cup and search for sugar. I like my coffee sweet. Once I find everything I need, I fix my cup, get a bowl of cereal, and go to the couch.
Thirty minutes later, I feel somewhat like a human again and decide to take a shower. I'm not leaving here without what I came for, so I might as well get comfortable and pleasant.
Two hours later, I’m browsing the net for some new repair tools that just hit the market when I hear a car engine nearby. A familiar one.
I drop my phone next to me and take a leisurely pose on the couch, hoping the fact that I made myself at home pisses her off. I need her aggravated so I can remember who we both are.
She walks in and groans. “You’re still here?”
"Yep," I say through a mouthful of honey-crusted cereal.
“What do you need, Justin?” She asks, rolling her eyes so far into her head—I fear they might get stuck there permanently.
“We need to finish what we started.” I put my feet on the coffee table, and her eyes zero in on my legs.
With a tight jaw, she says: “We finished. Now you need to go home.”
“I don’t think so.” I cross my legs, which drives her insane. I can tell by the ticking vein on her temple.
She sucks a loud breath in and asks. "Would you be so kind as to get your feet off my table?"
“Why? It’s a trashy table. I’m pretty sure my feet are cleaner than it is.” I smile at her, even though I’m cringing inside. The stuff I’m spewing? I hate myself a little more for it, but if it helps keep the same vibe we usually have, then so be it.
“Get your feet off my table, Justin.” When I don’t move, she jumps toward me and knocks my crisscrossed feet from the table with her hands. “And get your ass out of my house!”
“I don’t think so.” I get up swiftly and move toward her as she takes a measured step back, but I keep going, closing in on her in this confined space. She doesn’t have many choices of escape from here.
“What? Do you think that afterthat,” she circles her hand over my body, “we’ll just go back to where we stopped yesterday? That’s what you said you’re here for, right? You must be out of your mind then. Get out!”
“I think we will. You and me,” I shake my head, “we both know this,” I point at the space between us, “will not go away on its own.”
“What exactly?” She blinks, bemused. “You mean your hateful ass won’t leave my house? Oh, I think it will.” Her eyes narrow into tiny slits, her pose defensive.
“Oh no, Kayla, you owe me that much.” I feel my voice drop with a malevolence that’s been missing recently. “You owe me thepeace.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! Stop already with this you owe me crap. I don’t owe you anything, and I don’t know what I ever did to you. What I know is that if I ever see your face again, it will be too soon. So, get out.” She points at the door, her cheeks turning pink with red splotches of that beautiful anger I crave so much. “I mean it, Justin. Get out and never come back.”
Oh, here she is again with her innocent game. But I'm done playing. I will all the desire I ever had for her to dissolve into resentment.
"I will leave when I want to." I hiss just as she brings her hand up and smacks my face. I see it coming, and I let her. Now, she'll get what's coming to her. I grab both her wrist into my hand and jerk her to me.
KAYLA
I smack into his body with my hands tucked into his firm grip between us. His chest squashes mine.
“You know what, Kayla. Stop playing.” His voice is furious. “You know what you did that night. People got hurt in the end." He practically spits in my face. My eyes widen. I true to God have no idea what he's talking about, but I begin to understand that Mark's assumptions might not be that far off the mark aboutthatnight being the catalyst to all of this. “I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life.” His nose is so close to mine; his eyes are furious. His breathing comes fast and shallow. A bull before an attack.
Whatever he believes I did… he truly believes it. He looks hurt, so instead of pushing, my tone turns placid, even if I want to claw his eyes out. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. You need to explain it to me, Justin. It’s been so many years since you’ve started treating me like this, and I deserve to know why. I tried so many times to ask you what the hell happened, and every time you act like I’m this big fucking monster who eats children for breakfast, but you don’t explain why you think so.”
There, for a second, I see a tingle of doubt. For a second only. “The night I got arrested.” He says slowly, carefully choosing words. His right eye is twitching.
