Page 22 of Wreckage of My Life
10
Becca
My weekin Texas is coming to an end. The thought is making me sad for some odd reason, especially given how the goal of my coming here turned out.
I never heard back from Lena after that night. I messaged her on Facebook, but days later, she blocked me. My calls to her cell phone started going straight to her voicemail, which meant that she blocked me there as well. I had her home address, but I refused to do more after my attempts of reaching out via modern technology bombed.
On the other hand, I’ve seen Wrecker every day of this week. Well, I should say every night, when he schooled me on all kinds of sex related activities, some of which I wasn’t even aware of. I loved his large body looming over mine as he made me do things to myself that make me blush in the light of day. I also loved spending countless hours exploring all the tattoos that he’s got adorning his powerful body.
I am so distracted by thoughts of me and Wrecker hot and heavy together, I almost miss the ringtone of my phone blaring in the quiet hotel room.
I smile when I see Wrecker’s number on the screen. Because yes, we exchanged numbers, too. I feel as giddy as a high school girl right now.
“Hey,” I breathe into the phone as soon as I answer.
“I can’t make it tonight,” is all he says, no other explanation.
“What? Why? Tonight is my last night here. I’m leaving in the morning, Wrecker.” I’m whining and I hate myself for it. I’ve never been the clingy type of girl, especially not over a guy, out of all things. I’ve never gotten attached like this. It can’t be good.
“Becca,” he growls into the phone, making me sit up straight. “I don’t know what the fuck you think this is, but I don’t owe you shit. You understand?”
“Yes,” I murmur in shame. He really doesn’t owe me anything. This has been a week full of more fun than I ever imagined. Time to put it to rest now. “Thank you for this week, Wrecker. It saved my vacation,” I chuckle with sadness. I can’t think of anything else to say after that, and Wrecker is not saying anything either. “Thanks again,” I repeat and hang up really fast before he has time to respond. I was scared he’d say something that’d make me regret what happened between us, and I don’t want that to happen.
With a soul crushing sigh, I fall back onto the soft bed and stare at the ceiling. My trip turned out to be nothing like what I was expecting, while also being the best experience of my life. That’s what I choose to take out of it.
With that in mind, I snap out of the crappy mood and move around the room to pack. I’m not very particular about how I throw my clothes in my suitcase since most of it is dirty, and, even if it wasn’t, I would’ve washed it anyway just to get the hotel yuckiness out of it all.
Once I’m sure it’s all put away, I lay out my clothes for tomorrow morning, brush my teeth and wash my face, then get in bed. I turn the TV on, but before I start looking for something to watch, I shoot a text to my brother to let him know I can’t wait to see him tomorrow, as well as another to my friend, Emily, who’s going to pick me up from the airport in Billings. I check my alarm for early morning, and finally bring my attention back to the TV.
I find a rerun of an old sitcom that used to be my dad’s favorite and set in to watch. I miss all the good punchlines as my mind keeps on wandering to Wrecker and how disappointed I am not to have this last night with him.
When my eyes start closing, I give up and turn everything off. I feel wide awake though when I turn on my side, staring at the bright lights out in the parking lot.
A soft knock at the door makes me jump in distress. I check the time and realize that it’s almost midnight. I decide not to answer, but instead just lie in bed, scared to even breathe, when another knock, this time a lot louder, echoes through the room.
“Becca,” Wrecker’s voice jumps me into action. I throw the covers off me and run to the door, taking one second to look through the peephole to make sure it really is him.
“Wrecker,” I pull the door wide open, taking in his tired face and dirty clothes.
He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything else. He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him. Our mouths connect in an almost painful way, hard and fast, teeth clashing, nipping, downright biting.
Wrecker starts walking me backward, letting the door slam behind him. I feel the mattress of the bed against the back of my knees, and I fall back when he pushes me down on it. He follows right after, framing my hips with his knees as he climbs over me.
“Wrecker,” I repeat his name over and over, moving my head to the side when he bites at the sensitive skin down my throat, then pulls my sleeping t-shirt down to do it on the top of my chest. I know I will be marked all over by the time he’s done with me, but I don’t give a damn.
He brings his mouth back to my mouth, his tongue diving in, pushing mine out of the way, acting desperate in its search for something I don’t seem to understand.
“Dylan,” he murmurs when he stops to give us a chance to get some much needed oxygen into our lungs.
“What?” I have no idea which way is up, let alone what he’s talking about.
“My real name,” he explains. “It’s Dylan. There never was a baby Wrecker,” he shows me his glistening teeth in the darkness of the room as he brings up what I said on the night we first met.
“Dylan,” I whisper and touch the corner of his mouth.
He groans and squeezes my hips in such a painful way, it almost brings tears to my eyes. He then sits up on my legs, just staring at me.
“Say it again,” he commands, getting me wet in an instant. It’s really embarrassing how wet this man can make me with just one look.
