Read My Favorite Distraction (Distraction #1) Online
Authors: Stephanie Jean
My Favorite Distraction (Distraction #1)
My Favorite Distraction
Copyright © 2013 Stephanie Jean
Digital Edition: December 2013
Edited by Createspace and Daniel Choe
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distrusted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This book is a word of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.
Stephanie Jean is in no way affiliated with any restaurants, brands, songs or musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
Contents
“I love you. All of you is so beautiful. I want to be with you. I need to.” Jared was positioning over me, whispering in my ear. “You are a walking angel, and I am so completely in love with you. I can’t get close enough to you.”
H
e inched my legs apart, massaging my breast over my dress with one hand and lifting my dress with his other. He was very handsome, and he made me feel loved and special. He was tender with his words, and I wanted to give him everything he wanted. I looked into his brown eyes. I trusted him to my core. He could never hurt me. I shook my head slightly, indicating it was OK. He began to unzip his pants, never taking his eyes off mine, a smile on his mouth. He leaned down and kissed me. It was hard, demanding, intimidating. I was beginning to shake, feeling overwhelmed and scared, but he continued to whisper sweet nothings into my ear.
“Y
our blue eyes haunt me at night. I can’t stop thinking of you. I only see you, everywhere. Don’t be scared. I will always be good to you.”
He moved my panties to the side and
began to nudge my entrance. I took a big intake of breath. He began to push himself inside me. It was very painful, and I started to struggle underneath him, but he was way too heavy for me.
He was trying to calm me down
. “It’s OK. It will only hurt the first time. Know that I love you and you are special.”
I started to scream, “
Stop!
I don’t want this. Please
stop
.” Tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I couldn’t even see his face.
I heard the door open from behind me but couldn’t make out who it was. The next thing I knew
, Jared was thrown from my body.
“What the
fuck!” Jared yelled as his head smashed against the wall of my bedroom.
I scrambled to get up, but was paralyzed. I la
y there helpless. I saw fists fly and blood soak my walls and carpet.
“She’s my sister, you fucking asshole.” My brother kept hitting him
. Jared was bouncing from wall to fist, desperately trying to cover himself. “You were my best friend, like my brother. I let you live here.” My brother didn’t stop his pace of punching.
“Stop hitting him
! He loves me!” I yelled as I pushed to my feet and began to come between the two men.
“Kat
, he doesn’t love you. He just told you he loved you so he could do
that
to you.” Brian looked at me, eyes full of anger. “It was my responsibility to keep guys like that away from you. I promised Mother and Father to help protect you. Instead, I practically moved him in.”
“I
said he loves me. He’s one of the good guys, Brian.” I was pleading. I wanted all of this to stop. Jared looked like he couldn’t survive any more beating.
My brother finally dropped
the hand that was holding Jared up. “He doesn’t love you, Kat. He only loves himself.” My brother kicked Jared, limp on the floor. He reached into his pocket with his bloody hand and pulled out his phone as he walked away. I followed him.
“Brian
, please don’t tell anyone.” I was crying, sobbing now, because he was completely ignoring me. He couldn’t stand the sight of me. He was looking anywhere but at me. “Please, Bri, I am so sorry. Please don’t tell anyone to get him in trouble.”
My brother raised his eyebrows and looked me straight in the eye
. He grabbed my shaking hands. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. I trusted him.” He waved his hand, gesturing to Jared. “But seriously, Kat, he doesn’t love you. You are fifteen years old. He is much older. He knows better, so of course I am going to tell someone.” He started to push buttons on his phone.
I put my hand over
it preventing him from dialing. “No, please don’t do that. Brian, Jared was always kind to me. He just got confused, that’s all.”
“Kat
, it is the middle of the night. You were on the floor. He was taking advantage.” Brian started pacing.
“I had fallen asleep there doing homework
, that’s all. He woke me and was telling me how pretty I am. It was innocent. Until…” I looked up into Brian’s eyes and saw only helplessness. He put his head between his hands as I continued to plead. “What can I do? I will go anywhere you choose, and I will stay away from and never talk to boys again, I promise.” Tears rolled down my cheek, and Brian wiped them from my face.
I hugged m
y brother, trying not to let him see me scared, but it didn’t last long, and I cried and cried. He held me tight, and I heard him cry too.
My Favorite Habit
It was Wednesday at 7:20, I noted as I looked at my watch. I had a new favorite habit. I went to the coffeehouse right by my apartment every morning after my routine of getting up and going to the little gym my apartment complex had. I was relaxed, but anxious. My new ritual was about to walk through the door. He was always on time, dark-wash jeans and a clean T-shirt. Today it was green to match his eyes. He looked like a cross between an outdoorsman and a
Men’s Health
magazine model, ruggedly handsome and fit. He glanced at me as he got in line for a coffee. I gave a small smile, and he gave one back.
I had
first noticed him months ago, three to be exact. He was raising his voice while he stood in line at the register. From what I heard, the person on the other end of the line had stolen his wallet. He sounded furious. I got up and talked to the coffeehouse owner, whom I knew well, and secretly paid for his coffee. After I paid, I left immediately, embarrassed he would know it was me. The next day, he sat in the booth next to me, his table directly in front of mine. I tried really hard not to look at him, but every once in a while, I would look up and find myself staring. After that, I sat with my back to the door and focused on my purpose for being at the coffeehouse. It wasn’t the coffee—I didn’t drink any. I mainly drank water. I used the Internet to check e-mails and such, the only tie to my friends since college, and to check on any new information regarding my family.
Today I opened up an e
-mail with an attached YouTube video. It was of a big cute dog with a trash can around his collar. It made me laugh so hard I was nearly crying. I looked up to see the hot coffee guy sit in my booth directly across from me. His smile was big, his beautiful eyebrow raised a little. We still hadn’t talked after three months of not talking, and I couldn’t figure out what to say. We were sharing a booth now because school had started again, and the college students were always there. I was the first one to start this two weeks ago. I got there a little later than normal, and he was in my booth, all the other ones filled, sitting with his back toward the entrance. When I sat that day, he just looked up like he was going to tell me to leave, until he noticed it was me. Now we did this every day.
I finished my e
-mails and looked around, trying not to look at him. He had a newspaper and was eating a muffin, so it wasn’t that hard to avoid eye contact. The place was packed, full of law students mainly, I think, clean-cut, most of them already looking the part. The coffeehouse owner, Mike, looked at me, the corners of his mouth turning up, and he winked. He was a cute man in his early thirties, same age as my oldest brother. His family was good friends with our family. I mirrored his happy face and waved a little. The man across from me cleared his throat, and it startled me a bit. I looked back to him. He smiled at me. I couldn’t resist smiling back. It was infectious. He had a nice smile with perfectly straight white teeth. His short light brown hair was a great combination with his tanned skin and bright green eyes. He just sat there, and I just sat there. This was my new favorite ritual. I think I could have sat across from him and grinned for years and never talked. I got the feeling he felt the same way. I broke the eye contact. I was always the first. I started to get a funny feeling in my stomach, which made me blush. After that, I would always pack up my laptop and leave, and today was the same. I left, not looking back, embarrassed that he had seen me blush. It was crazy that he got to me. I giggled when I got in my car and drove to work.
I got to work every day early
, changed into my dental scrubs and put my hair into a clean, neat ponytail. I loved my job as a dental hygienist. I had a great boss who also loved his job. The whole office was great, and we spent a lot of time laughing together. My days went by surprisingly fast. At lunch, the office girls shared stories of their weekends and cute things their children did. I said nothing, but enjoyed all of the laughter and joy my work friends had in their lives. I could never imagine that kind of joy for myself, but was happy to be on the sidelines of their amazing lives.
Driving home today
, all I could think about was my best friend Heather returning from her trip. She had been gone a week, the longest time she had ever spent apart from me since we met. I actually missed her a lot, I might have just missed actual conversation with another person, but either way I was excited she was home. Heather was my roommate. We lived together for a while at my last place; she just showed up with her things and never left.
I opened the door to the apartment and s
aw all the signs that Heather was indeed home. Her suitcases and shopping bags cluttered the doorway. I almost tripped over them when I entered. Her shoes in the center of the entry created another almost-fall-on-my-butt moment. I followed the trails of Heather until I saw her blond hair. She turned in the kitchen, hands full of groceries.
“Ahhh!” I c
ouldn’t believe how excited I was to see groceries. Heather too of course, but I had been starving. Heather did the shopping because I am a hermit and refuse.
“Did you miss me?” She
asked tossing the things in her hand to the counter and then lunging for me. Soon I was wrapped in her skinny arms with her hair tickling my nose.
“Maybe a little.”
I pushed her away holding up my thumb and pointer finger in a pinching motion to indicate how little. She knocked it away.
“I texted you every day.” She start
ed back with the groceries and I grabbed a box of Cheez-its.
Yum
. “If you would learn how to text back maybe you wouldn’t have missed me so much.”
Nope. I was not going to be on a leash and that was what the phone was to me
. I didn’t tell her that. I just popped another Cheez-it in my mouth and shrugged. “I also called you six times, to talk, but you didn’t answer either.” I gave her another shrug.
Leash
. Unless the phone was in my hand, I was not going to answer it. Heather was really good at one sided conversations. So, my constant shrugging didn’t faze her.
She continue
d to talk about Red, her newest boy toy, and I leaned against the counter and listened. Heather was a great story teller, probably the thing I liked most about her. Well, that and the grocery thing. She paused deep in her story about first class airplane service to open and close each drawer in the kitchen. She let out a sigh of frustration and looked at me. I shrugged.
What?
She had men and trips. I cleaned and organized. Since we moved in the apartment three and a half months ago, I had moved the furniture around at least a dozen times, organized the closets, even labeled where to put things. Heather was a complete slob and I did these things to help her. We both grew up entitled, a maid around every corner. I had learned to deal without mine, but Heather never has. Now she was searching for the silverware, which I moved, again.
“You should get a hobby or watch more TV” Her voice clipped
, so I knew she was irritated. She finally opened the drawer with all the shiny spoons and forks and her eyes lit up, as the sound of the jingling silverware greet her.
“I do have a hobby and I watch TV with you.”
I point out. Her face scrunched up like I was crazy, when I conveyed I have a hobby.
“Cleaning is not considered a hobby.” She
argued, closing the drawer and began to stir the sauce for the chicken that she already had in a pan.
“I know. I like things clean. I just happened to have a lot of time on my hands lately. My hobby,” I reach in the fridge and pull out a water bottle and stepped back, “is cleaning teeth.”
She laughed and as she placed the chicken in the oven and turned around. “Most people would call that a job.”
My eyes caught her eyes as she turned around and I smiled smugly. “We both know I am not most people.” She laughed again snatching the
Cheez-it box from my hand.
“Where did I leave off?” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the sofa and began telling me every detail of her trip.
For dinner we ate at our small table. Heather was still in the thralls of her story and wanted my full attention. Normally, we ate in front of the television. She paused a couple times when she was telling me about the violent sex they were having. I wasn’t sure if she was regretting those times with him or in her own state of disbelief. I struggled with the abusive sex she was talking about, but bit my lips and just listened.
Heather grew up in a different home than I did and even though our financial backgrounds were similar
, Heather was doted over. As an only child, everything she did was applauded. Until her father died when she was in high school and her mother went crazy-cakes, squandering all of the family money. Heather managed to hang onto a little inheritance, but not enough to live the life she once lived, as a privileged child of an oil tycoon.
Her eyes grew red and watery, “
He’s just…I love him. He tells me all the time how perfect I am. Katie, he looks at me like I am the most wonderful thing.” I watched as the tears squirted out of her eyes and I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me or herself that this kind of relationship was OK. Heather never dealt with any kind of abuse, mental or physical, so I was sure there was a battle going on in her head. She wiped the tears away fast, grabbing the napkin I handed to her to clean her nose.
“Heather I am sure he loves you, too. He takes you everywhere and calls you every day. Not to mention all the flowers he sends you.” Heather was struggling in her own mind, but I couldn’t stand to see her hurting. I knew my girlfriend and what she needed was reassuring words, my reassuring words. I also knew he wasn’t going to last
. None of her boyfriends did, no matter how much money they had or gifts they bought her. She was attracted to nice, shiny, new things and this guy would only last until another newer one became available.
“Maybe Katie
, you could go out with us. You could watch how he is around me. Then you could tell me.”
I still hadn’t met this mysterious boyfriend. I
’d heard more than I wanted to about what they do behind closed doors, but I never had the pleasure to meet the face behind the stories. Heather met him in our apartment’s parking lot. She said he stepped out from behind her car and offered her a hand to carry the groceries in. He admitted to watching her for days, but waited for the right opportunity to approach her. Words that would have had me literally running had her gushing. He helped her all the way to the apartment and asked her out when they reach the door. They have been dating since, that was a couple months ago. She described him has tall, dark and flawlessly dressed.
“Of course, call him
. Have him come over right now.” She hesitated.
“He’s not spontaneous. I will e-mail him and tell him you want to meet him. How about Friday? He wants to take me to this club he belongs to. Maybe you could go with us? I could ask him to bring a friend.” She
winked at me as she said friend.
“No double dates, Heather, you get all weird. It’s like you
’re being possessed by the talking fairy, the fairy that spills words without order, just words. You can’t stand any attention on me, which I find amusing, but also very embarrassing.” I needed to change the subject. Those were two things I didn’t do with Heather: double dates and clubs.
“So, Heather, the sex you have, the really hot sex you have told me detail
s about. Why do you let him touch you like that? Why allow him to be so brutal with you?” I watched her eyes closely, and knew I succeeded in diverting the conversation. Her eyes lit up, and a naughty curl lifted her lips.
She held up her hand counting on her fingers for effect. “He’s hot. He knows what he’s doing. He buys me things. He’s hot.” She paused
, looking at her fingers, not even aware she said hot twice. “And, why the hell not?” I repeated the last part in my head over and over.
I could see the light bulb turn on in my head as I repeated her words back to her. “Why the hell not?”