Ache for You (Trapped in Three Hill Book 1) (15 page)

              I dyed my hair. I actually freaking bleached and dyed my hair. I am currently standing in my bathroom mirror. It’s still partially fogged over from Torrance’s long ass shower. I know that he’s still here because I can hear him opening and closing doors, in a big rush to go nowhere.

              “Dude! Get your ass in here and look at my hair!” I squealed and then shut up because embarrassment had taken over. I never made happy noises anymore. I never got excited over my hair. I wasn’t that girl.

              I looked down at the cluttered bathroom counter until a weary Torrance appeared just over my left shoulder.

              I looked up and met greenish blue eyes full of so much hurt and torture. I knew all of it was directed inwards. He was sweet and kind enough to pretend to care about my new hair. Over the years his once youthful face had turned rock hard. His blond surfer hair didn’t make him look like a child anymore, his broad shoulders took up every inch of space in the mirror, and he was a mountain over my shoulder.

              “Look’s good sissy.” He smiled, he never smirked. His endearment of talking to me as if I was his older sister was intended to heal—never hurt. But I could not help but flinch at the constant reminder. I was no one’s big sister anymore.

              “Thanks squirt.” I stuck my tongue out at him in the mirror, even though he could never be defined as a squirt, which to me meant tiny and unable to cause harm. Torrance’s body begged to differ. He was tall and strong. I could see his muscles under his shirt. I always felt safer when he was here. He could take any intruder with one arm.

              I smiled at our reflections in the mirror. At the moment, the deep purple bruises under my eyes and my makeup smudged from the evening prior made me look old enough to be his mother.  How had a four-year age different made us so vastly different? I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t excited about my new blonde hair anymore.

              I left Torrance at home and headed out, grabbing my keys and my favourite coat. I wore my favourite dress that I never had the courage to wear out. I was always scared of standing out, a troll who is trying to play dress up in a hot girl costume. I looked terrible and felt wonderful. How was that possible?

              I got into my
o
ld beater and turned the radio up to full, in search of something old and beautiful. I did not want powerful right now.  I wanted to listen to someone sing about missing another soul. I wanted something real. I wanted to smile. I wanted it to start raining and simply listen to the downpour pound against my windshield, but it’s sunny out right now so I just roll the windows down and hit the gas pedal, cruising towards downtown.

              Downtown is the divider of the good and the bad side of town. I live in the middle. So like twenty minutes from downtown on a good day without a lot of traffic. The kind of day when I can put the pedal to the metal—kind of like right now. I dream about getting out of this town. I often do. Filling up my gas tank and just hitting the road. It seems simple, it’s not. I know. I have bills and responsibilities to other people aside from myself. People that I hope would call and try to track me down.

              What if they didn’t though? What if they just left me alone? What if I could drive for miles and miles and until the sun fell? All by myself? Singing to the radio. It sounds cool.

              I ease on the brake as I cross out of downtown, the pretty part away from the bus depot. Every building is brick and beautiful. Large picture windows abound. Traffic is parked sideways on either side of the road. The thick lines painted yellow. I stayed in the middle lane now, not knowing where and when I would need to turn or if I needed to do so at all. I just wanted to drive until I hit a dead end and was forced to turn around.

              I leaned my head back and moved my hand outside of the window, lifting my fingers against the wind’s push and pull.

              I have never felt nor have I ever been, extraordinarily beautiful. I never worry about someone looking at me and being like “oh wow.” I only keep men’s attention long enough for whatever we share to become worthwhile. I am an average woman, and I was an even more average looking girl. I am nothing special.

              Until I met Mal. I don’t even know the dude and somehow he has become everything I think about. When he looks at me, I feel full. Even if the words he’s saying are cruel and or unusual. I still feel well. I feel new. I don’t know how this is possible. Compared to me Mal is nothing more than a heartless, cruel and fucked up man-child. He’s two years younger than Alex would be right now, and that fucks me up more than you will ever know.

              I’m twenty-seven. He is barely twenty-two. This cannot and should not be legal and yet I find myself at his door anyhow, knocking nice and loud. I’m biting my lip and willing myself to turn around, but I don’t move. I just dance myself into a circle. I left my coat in the car. I push my bangs out. Fuck. He’s going to think I look terrible. What grown-ass woman gives a haircut to herself? With a Swiss army knife no doubt?

              I feel like a clown and a fool and then he opens the door, and my entire world is turned around and upside down. I don’t bother introducing myself. There isn’t a point. He already knows me without a doubt. The way his green eyes darken at my approach has me shivering with a suddenly dry throat. I try to swallow. Mal is the only guy I’ve ever known that could ever be described as beautiful. His cheek bones sharpen as he scowls. Looking down at me through eyes already narrowed.

              His shoulders were wide yet I could see his bones. Hallowed and sticking through golden skin that now appeared pale.

              He didn’t look well, and yet, he looked wonderful. My mind felt torn between the two.

              “How are you?” I asked once I was already in his living room. I had to yell seeing as he just totally left me alone.

              Smooth.

              I take another gander around, my hands on my hips. I slip my feet out of my two-dollar sandals and kick them against the wall. I should have kept them on for an easy getaway, but it just seems rude, even though it seems like Mal’s carpet has never been vacuumed.

              Who am I to judge though? I haven’t put laundry away since I left home. Eons ago.

              “I’m great,” Mal calls. “Now if you want to be useful, go into my bedroom. Find yourself some clean clothes. I don’t care what you borrow just don’t touch any of the girls’ clothes. Only mine, is that cool with you?”

              Girls’ clothes? Why does he have girls’ clothes?

              “Sure.” I keep my head down and head towards the dark staircase. Posters line the walls. Movies I’ve never heard of and books I would never own. Girls in hilarious looking bathing suits.

              I know that I don’t like Mal at all, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to. I want to be surprised by everything I find and figure out.

              I can’t believe I’m going into his bedroom.

              Oh lord what on earth is that smell? It smells like mold. Or wet clothes that dried in a gross and disgusting pile. Everything smells like a dude. Torrance has never smelled like a gross dude. He keeps his room neat and his clothes, washed, dried and folded. I’ve never had to bitch him out for not caring about his side of the house. Things are usually the other way around. I’m a slob but even for me, this seems way out of control. I put my hand out to lean against his bedroom wall. His door was wide open instead of tightly closed. It was easy to intrude. This felt normal.

              His rug was a deep purple; from what I could see of it anyhow. The ground was covered in clothes and towels. I kicked at a few with my bare toes. I don’t know what I expected to find or do.             

              I wasn’t stripping in here. No way, no how.

              Still though, my mind clouded with doubt. I looked back down. I needed to change into something comfortable. I wanted to make myself useful before Mal kicked me out. I wanted to be in control; I wanted to feel normal.

              I wanted to laugh. For some reason I felt like I could laugh a lot around Mal, I hadn’t felt that way in a while.

              Even though he was as cuddly as a cold, electricity flooded pole, I still wanted to get close. I wanted to feel. What better way to warm me into his tight little bubble? I picked up a shirt off of his bed post, feeling the soft material and lifting the fabric up against my nose. I inhaled.

              Wow. Whoa.

              Memories blurred in the back of my head like I had shaken a snow globe. Soft and cold. I knew right away that these memories were not my own but still, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

              I saw Mal. I saw him the way he was now and the way he must have been months if not years ago. I saw him so happy that he had glowed before his eyes became overshadowed, and he once again became miserable. I saw him looking at me like I hung the moon and felt his body curving against mine within the snow. He was my warmth in a cold and cruel world.

              I saw him smile his smug smile and felt my insides twirl. I felt him controlling my every mood and sentence without having to try at all. I saw him making me cry when he didn’t pick up my hundred-and-forty-two calls. He sent me straight to voicemail.

              I felt it all. I felt myself being let down and pulled back up only to be thrown over a waterfall. I felt myself drown. I felt myself let go.

              I drop the shirt back onto the ground, stepping back. No longer being careful I bump into his dresser and knock over a lamp and a bottle of very girly looking perfume or cologne. Honestly, who the fuck knows.

              I just want to bolt.

              “Hey now, slow down.” Mal almost smiles. My entire body set ablaze by his tone. I whirl around, but he has both arms out, keeping me safe from the rest of his breakable shit.

              My back is against his chest. One ab is pressed against my lower back, and I can’t think with him manhandling me like this. “Stop that,” I demand, or at I am least trying to, but I can’t say much of anything with him looking at me like he is, like he wants to laugh because I’m such a spaz—or kiss my eyelids.

              Fuck. I did not just think that.

              “I can’t stop anything if I don’t know what I did.” Mal’s voice was suddenly heated. We were almost the same height when he was all leaned over like that. His lips are brushing my nose. I breathed him in because I simply couldn’t help it and I all I got was frost on my skin.

              The snow globe had invaded into my personal business. I couldn’t make sense of it.

              “You touched me,” I told him, “and you snuck up behind me like some creepy-ass cat. I hate when people do that. Announce your presence, tie a ball around your neck.”

              I did not just say that. What the heck?

              Mal laughed. Full on smiled and laughed. His eyes crinkled, and he looked so handsome right then I wanted to eat him.

              I looked down and stepped away from him.

              “I’m going to wear this, and that.” I picked up the smelly shirt a pair of what looked like jogging pants. “You cool with that?”

              Mal nodded.

              “Then move your ass and let’s get to it.”

              I woke up on Sunday after having dreamt of only her green hair, brown eyes, soft and hard words, all of it mixed together.

              I woke up hurt.

              I was still shirtless, half covered by a duvet that hadn’t been washed since forever. The hot sun fucking hurt, I tried to roll over but my muscles ached, and I wanted to vomit all over.

              I felt somewhat sober. Awake. Alert. My vision did not blur.

              Okay. This was weird. I get up and once again head for the shower, stripping off my underwear on the way there. I glance at myself in the bathroom mirror. My emo hair. My green eyes.

              My body that the girl went all weak in the knees for. What do they see in me? The girls I sleep with I mean.

              What do they see that makes them want me? Is it that obvious that I have money? If it is something about me is lying. My family has money, it’s not mine. Whatever I take is only borrowing. In reality, I have nothing worth giving. I look away from my face, turning slowly away. I don’t want to look at myself today. I kick back the shower curtain. I turn the water to a spray and jump into the tub haphazardly. The water hits me in the face. I close my eyes; it feels like ice. It stings.

              I start washing, reaching down for a bottle of soap that needs to be filled up. I slather my chest, my arms. Washing and scrubbing and rubbing. I harden at the memory of what I was dreaming.

              Flo pressed against me, begging for me to stay.

              I’m disgusting. Repulsive really. Flo would totally roll her eyes at me.

              Can you hear me Ruthie?
I hear you always. I hear you thinking and breathing even if it’s just a memory. I hold you with me. I need you with me. Remembering you is like breathing. I feel your hand holding mine, and it doesn’t feel like a dream. Not really.

              It feels real in all of the ways that holding you could be. Like somehow you are here, you are touching me. It doesn’t feel like you’re alive but somehow in between maybe? Like you’ve battled against space and time to get back to me. Would you ever do such a thing? Maybe.

              I rinse my body, bringing myself into a pathetic ecstasy before washing all the evidence of self-satisfaction away. That is all that I get nowadays. I head downstairs after showering because I’m starving. I open the fridge and frown when I find it empty. I should not be surprised. I hate buying groceries. I usually pick up enough to get me through a few days at a time. I guess I know where I’m headed today.

              I pulled on a pair of pants with a draw string waist. I don’t tie it tight. I’m shirtless in the hot sunlight, yet I still find myself shivering. Somethings feel different and strange about today. I don’t know why.

              I look around me. Nothing is moving. My kitchen looks the same, bland and boring. My tan kitchen cupboards are all closed, hiding messes but looking a lot nicer than they did last night. As if someone attempted to tidy up the place. Okay, maybe something does look strange.

              I’m not an all-out slob by any means, but I am also not an insane neat freak. I’ve never liked cleaning, that was Flo’s thing (when she was PMSing at least, only when she was PMSing). It was as if she could work her frustration away. The counters are halfway decent; I must have done it in some drunken state. Yeah, that almost makes sense.

              I pick up a half empty can of pop and take a drink before rearranging my face. It tastes disgusting. I pour what’s left into the sink and wash it away before tossing the can into the recycling. I have the sudden urge to clean. This scares me. I don’t know how to clean. I have no idea where to start or what must take place for me to do such a thing. I know this makes me sound like such a guy, but my mom never made me clean.

              She did everything for me, which is why I moved out and tried to run away. So many times, I just wanted to be free. I wanted to think for me. I wanted to make myself happy and bring myself the misery. I was sick of my mother delivering it for me. I turn on the sink, grabbing a clean dishrag out of the drawer; I start to clean, scrubbing the counters and the back-splash leaving soapiness behind me.

              I love lemon scented things.

              I move some dirty plates out of the sink after scrubbing them clean with the pre-used soapy dishrag. The thought of spreading bacteria of some kind vaguely occurs to me, but I don’t give the thought much time.

              I keep wiping. Cleaning. Scrubbing.

              Singing. I can’t remember the last time that I did this. sang out loud into the silence without any accompanying music and lyrics. I just like the feel of it. I also like the sound of it. I sing for Flo and for what we have. I feel almost okay for a moment before I allow the terror to seep back in. Are these the only kind of moments that I will ever get? Fleeting happiness? Will my life ever feel normal again? Will I ever be able to withstand the wind?

              Memories and moments are threatening to break in. It’s only when I notice that an actual person is trying to get in that I realize I’m dancing half naked in my kitchen as I put away my dishes.

              “Keep your pants on!” I threaten, making my way to the back door in the living room. I have such an ass-backwards townhouse.

              It is home though.

              I plod barefoot into the living room. I look around; I look at the couch covered in pillows, my dusty television and the remote. Fuck I need to vacuum and take the garbage out. I made a list of other mundane and normal things I need to do before unlocking the deadbolt. I pull open the door and feel something inside me move.

              I know the woman that I’m looking at right now, only I don’t because now her once burnt orange hair has formed a sort of halo. It is glowing and gold. Hanging over her face, the ends perfectly gelled and styled. She wears a dress covered in skulls.

              She doesn’t move.

              I exhale.

              “Good morning Cadence, how can I help you?” I’m being polite because I know that there isn’t a point in being rude.

              I’m not a total asshole. Only when I’m in a mood. I feel okay right now.  “I need to talk to you,” she barges right past me into my living room, eyeing the arm that I have extended out. She’s totally eye-fucking my muscles. I grin without meaning to and feel insanely proud for like a moment or two. Yeah, I used to work out. Key words being used too. Lately I’ve been too sad and lazy to even move, my body has kept up nicely though.

              “So talk. I’m not stopping you.” I cross my arms and turn around, my eyes groping her ass. It is perfectly round and sticking out. The fabric of her dress clinging to her skin, I cringe before adjusting myself. Cadence has her back to me while inspecting my place and checking behind the couch. I think she’s making sure that no one else is home. She probably doesn’t know that I live alone.

              I chuckle.

              “I had a dream about you only I wasn’t asleep, and it freaked me out,” she turns around. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I’m some crazy girl that just wants to sleep with you. You’re a child in my eyes, Mal. A twenty-something child who doesn’t know how to take care of himself. It would be so easy for me to hate you and to be disgusted with you without even knowing you, but I’m not and I don’t and it’s freaking me out. I woke up one day and needed to see you even though I didn’t know you, and now I’m walking around town dreaming about you.”

              Cadence’s voice has dropped to a sexy low. Looking at her like this, all upset and freaked out makes me want to growl. I feel like an animal.

              “What did you dream about?”

              “I don’t know. I just saw you. All of you. Naked and up close and you can’t even try to make me fuck off by saying I’m fantasizing about you because it felt so real. I could feel you.”

              I felt her too. I can feel her now when we’re steps apart, and I could feel her when I saw her through that store window. It more than freaked me out.

              “That’s cool.” I drag the words out because I don’t know what to do. I want the door closed but I feel like the heat in my body might make all of the windows explode. “So what? Do you want to hang out? I was just about to clean house. You can join me if you want to, but I don’t have any food. I’m all out, and I’m broke. So murdering me and robbing me is also off the table. Just so you know.”

              I laugh when Cadence calls me “an asshole,” but she doesn’t run out. This also makes me smile before I frown. I feel like I’m getting in over my head now.

              I hate how I find her beautiful and wild. With her hair lighter and cut down, I can see her whole face now. Her full cheeks and lips are puffed out from being chewed. Brown eyes like melted gold. Like the colours of the woods in the fall.

              Her chest is pushed out as she breathes in and out. Angry and nervous in all in one go. I get under her skin. I know. I don’t know why though.

              “I’ll help you.” Cadence looks down, voice dropping in what must be the sexiest way possible. Her eyes touch my skin, sending chills right down to my bones. Every time she moves closer it’s like a physical stroke.

              Fuck. I growl. I’m totally ashamed of myself right now. I feel like an animal. All I want to do is grab Cadence and roll her onto the ground, spreading those curvy legs out.

              I swallow. I’ve been staring at Cadence for a good minute-and-a-half now, and she still hasn’t decided to bolt.

              I should stop screwing around.

              “Well if you want to help out I’m not going to stop you, but you can’t clean in a dress like that unless you don’t plan on bending down,” I let my new friend know with a smile. I close the door behind her and lock the dead bolt before turning back around.

              I leave Cadence in my living room. I hope she follows.