Page 43 of Wreckage of Me
I cross my arms over my chest, making every possible effort not to grab her and kiss her senseless before I ask, “Would you have rather I told him that you ripped your pants when you fell on my dick?”
She is completely speechless for a second. “When I… When I…” she stutters, but then takes me completely by surprise when she starts laughing hysterically.
“You did though,” I tease her mercilessly when she continues laughing, which only gets her going more.
“That’s so wrong,” she points a finger at me, tears from laughter running down her face. “You’re so bad.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” I meant is as a joke, but my comment seems to sober her up right away.
With a heavy sigh, she grabs her bottle of water and motions for me to follow her into the living room. We get situated on the couch, with her body a lot farther from me than I would’ve liked it.
“Why are you here, Dylan?” she finally asks in a soft voice. “The last time we saw each other, you made it clear that you didn’t want me in your life,” she starts. “Now, it’s six months later, and here you are. You fuck me senseless…”
“Senseless, eh?” I smirk at her.
“Well, that’s the only way I can explain how I fell for it not once, but twice!”
The more she talks, the more animated she gets, and the more I fuckin’ love it.
“You didn’t fallforit, babe,” I interrupt her rant. “You fell on it,” I remind her.
“Ugh,” she growls at me, “stop being funny. And, and, and… whatever this is that you are,” she moves her hands up and down like she’s measuring my body. “This is not who I know you to be. It confuses me,” she finally finishes, then throws herself against the soft cushions of her couch, looking like a deflated kitten.
“Well, since we’re being honest,” I shrug, “you don’t really know me at all, one way or another.”
“True story,” she mumbles, all the while staring at the floor. “Just tell me why you’re here,” she demands. “And how long you’re here for.”
“Does it matter?” I have no idea what my plan is, so I don’t know what the fuck to tell her.
“Yeah, it really matters,” she whispers in the quiet room. I hate the tears I see gathered in her eyes when she turns her head to look at me.
Now it’s my turn to sigh and throw myself against the cushiony couch. What am I supposed to tell her? That what’s left of my family thinks I’m still in prison? That I am scared to call Wyatt and ask if my son is okay?
That even though I hated my father, and I knew he wanted me dead, deep down I hate myself a little more each day for the hand I had in ending his life?
In the end, I settle on, “I just wanted to see you.”
“You just wanted to f-fuck me,” she says in a trembling voice, only hesitating for a second over the word she can’t seem to say unless it is to cuss someone out.
“Babe, if it was fucking I was looking for, I could’ve done that back home,” I explain. “Plenty of pussy to choose from. I didn’t need to travel all the way to Bumfuck, Montana, to get some.” I sound almost angry by the time I’m done talking.
The girl brings out all kinds of emotions from inside of me. Not all of them are good.
“Then what are you looking for here, Dylan?” she throws her hands up. “You treated me like garbage the last time I saw you. There I was,” she chokes on her words, “going out of my mind, trying to find people who would listen to me so I could help you, and you just… ugh,” she crosses her arms and turns her body away from me.
“I was trying to make you leave town, babe,” I gently explain to her. “I was worried you’d get hurt.”
“And that’s how you decided to do it? By throwing in my face all the women you were sleeping with while I was pining for you?”
“It made you leave though, didn’t it?” I know I’m an asshole, and that I could make all this so much easier on both of us just by explaining to her what the deal was at the time.
“You could’ve just told me,” she hiccups. “Go home, Becca. You’re not safe here,Becca…” She wipes at her face, looking even more pitiful when she wipes at her nose with the long sleeve of the top she has on. “That’s really all you had to do.”
I can’t stand her sitting so far away from me anymore. I reach out and grab her by the back of her head, bringing her close enough where she’s almost in my lap.
“I’m not falling for this again,” she whimpers in warning.
“What aboutonit?” I can’t help teasing her, happy when I see a little smile lifting the corner of her mouth.
