Twisted (5 page)

11/18/13 11:47 AM

t w i s t E d

33

around. Females, however, turn our pain inward. Keep it to our-

selves. Let it fester.

Yes, I took Psych 101 in college.

But the point is, instead of going over there and ripping out

Blondie’s hair extensions like I want to, I stand up.

“I’m going home.”

Delores blinks. “What? Why?” Then she sees my face. “What

the hell did that moron do now?”

Some advice—when you’re angry with your significant other,

try not to tell your friends. Because after you’ve forgiven him?

They’ll never forget.

I recommend complaining to his family, instead. They’ve

already seen all his negative, selfish, immature traits in full swing—

so it’s not like you’re letting the cat out of the bag.

I shake my head, “Nothing. I’m just . . . tired.”

She doesn’t buy it. And her gaze locks on to where I’m still

looking. Legs throws her head back and laughs. her teeth are

pearly white and perfect. Apparently the bulimia hasn’t rotted the enamel away.

Yet.

Delores turns to her husband. “Matthew, go collect your

friend. Before I go over, because then you’ll need a mop to collect him.”

I raise my chin stubbornly, “No, Matthew—don’t. Drew is

obviously happy right where he is. Why drag him away?”

Immature? Possibly.

Do I care? Nope.

Matthew looks back and forth between us. Then he rushes off

in Drew’s direction.

Dee Dee has him so well trained. She puts the Dog Whisperer

to shame.

Twisted_1P.indd 33

11/18/13 11:47 AM

34

E m m a c h a s E

I hug her good-bye. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And then I head for the door without looking back.

I’ve never lived by myself.

At eighteen, I went from my parents’ house to a dorm room.

Sophomore year, Billy joined Delores and me in Pennsylvania,

and we leased a huge dilapidated house off campus with four

other students. The roof leaked and the heat sucked, but the rent

was right.

After Delores left for New York, while I was still at Wharton,

Billy and I got a place of our own. Then we moved to the city

too—and you know the rest.

Why am I telling you this?

Because I’m not as independent as I come off. I’m one of
those
women. The kind who turns on every light in the house when she’s

home by herself. The kind who sleeps over at a friend’s when her

boyfriend’s out of town.

I’ve never been alone. Never not had a boyfriend. It’s one of the

reasons Billy and I lasted so long—because I preferred an expired

relationship to none at all.

When I get back to the apartment, I head to the bedroom and

change into a tank top and cherry-colored pajama pants. As I finish washing the makeup off my face, I hear the front door open and

close.

“Kate?”

I don’t answer.

his footsteps come down the hall, and a moment later Drew

Twisted_1P.indd 34

11/18/13 11:47 AM

t w i s t E d

35

fills the bathroom doorway. “hey. Why’d you leave? I came back

with the drinks and Delores starts chucking ice cubes at my head,

calling me a shit heel.”

I don’t make eye contact. And my voice is stiff. Dismissive. “I

was tired.”

Why don’t I just tell him what’s bothering me? Because this is

the game women play. We want you to drag it out of us. To show

us you’re interested. It’s a test—to see how much you care.

Drew follows me into the bedroom. “Why didn’t you wait for

me? I would’ve come with you.”

I raise my eyes to his. My face is tight, my body tense, ready for battle. “You were otherwise occupied.”

he looks down, eyes squinting. Trying to decode my words.

Then he gives up.

“What are you talking about?”

I spell it out for him.

“The blonde, Drew. At the bar?”

he regards me with curiosity, “What about her?”

“You tell me. Did you fuck her?”

Drew scoffs. “Of course I didn’t fuck her. I left two minutes

after you did. We both know I last a hell of a lot longer than that.

Or do you need a reminder?”

No, he’s not as obtuse as he seems. It’s kind of brilliant, actu-

ally. he’s trying to be cute. Sexy. Trying to distract me.

It’s what he does. And usually it works. But not tonight.

“have you
ever
fucked her?”

Drew rubs the back of his neck. “You really want me to answer

that?”

That’s a big fat yes, in case you were wondering.

I throw my hands up. “Of course! Of course you screwed

her—because God forbid we go one
day
without seeing someone Twisted_1P.indd 35

11/18/13 11:47 AM

36

E m m a c h a s E

that your dick isn’t intimately acquainted with! Not that you even remember them, half the time.”

Drew’s eyes narrow, “So which is it? Are you pissed off when I

do remember them, or when I don’t? Throw me a clue here, Kate,

so I can give you the fight you’re obviously hell-bent on having.”

I pick up my body lotion and rub it swiftly over my arms. “I

don’t want to fight—I just want to know why you remember her.”

Drew shrugs, and his tone turns neutral. “She’s a model. her

billboard’s in the middle of Times Square. It’s a little hard to forget someone when you see her picture every day.”

And doesn’t
that
just make me feel
so much
better.

“how nice for you. Why are you even here then? Why don’t

you go back and find your little model, if she means so much to

you?”

A small part of me realizes I’m being irrational, but my anger

is like a mudslide—now that it’s started, there’s just no way to hold it back.

Drew looks at me like I’ve gone crazy and holds out his hand.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. You know that. Where the fuck

is this coming from?”

And then a thought occurs to him.

he takes a step back before asking, “Are you due for your

period? Don’t freak out—I’m only asking because, the way you’ve

been acting lately, I think Alexandra’s title is in jeopardy.”

he could have a point. In high school, there was this hallway,

the L wing, that was always really crowded between classes. And

I knew my period was coming when I’d walk down that hallway

and want to jab my pencil into the neck of the person in front

of me.

however—for you guys out there? Even if your girlfriend’s

Twisted_1P.indd 36

11/18/13 11:47 AM

t w i s t E d

37

tirade
is
PMS derived? Don’t point that out to her. It won’t end well for you.

I pick up my shoe and throw it, hitting Drew right between

his bright blue eyes.

his hands go to his forehead. “What the shit?! I told you not

to freak out!”

Every relationship has a screamer. A thrower. A breaker of

things. In this one, that would be me. But it’s not my fault. You

can’t blame the nuclear missile for going off after all its buttons have been pushed.

I pick up the other shoe and throw that one too. Drew grabs a

pillow and uses it as a shield. I retreat to the closet for more ammo, but he grabs my arm before I can get there.

“Would you fucking stop! Why are you being like this?”

I glare up at him. “Because you don’t even care! I’m really upset

here—and you don’t give a shit!”

his eyes open wide, incredulous.

“Of course I give a shit—I’m the one getting Jimmy Choos

thrown at my head like Chinese freaking stars!”

“If you care so much, why don’t you apologize?!”

“Because I didn’t fucking
do
anything! I have no problem crawling on my hands and knees when I screw up. But if you think I’m

gonna beg because you’ve been possessed by the hormone Demon,

you’re out of your mind, sweetheart.”

I break out of his hold and push him on the chest with both

hands. “Fine. That’s fine, Drew. I don’t care what you do anymore.”

I grab a blanket and pillow and shove them at him. “But you’re sure as shit not sleeping next to me after you do it. Get out!”

he looks down at the linens. Then back at me. And his face

relaxes, turning calm.

Twisted_1P.indd 37

11/18/13 11:47 AM

38

E m m a c h a s E

Too calm—like the kind before a storm.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

he throws himself on the bed, spreading his arms and legs

wide like a kid making a snow angel.

“I happen to like this bed. It’s comfy. Cozy. I’ve made some

great memories here. And this is the
only
place I’m sleeping.”

There’s no point in arguing when Drew gets like this—willful

and childish. Sometimes I actually expect him to hold his breath

until he gets his way.

I whip the pillow out from under his head, leaving him flat on

the mattress, looking up at me.

his brow furrows. “What are you doing?”

I shrug. “I said I’m not sleeping with you. So if you won’t take

the couch, I will.”

he sits up. “This is frigging insane, Kate—tell me you realize

that. We’re fighting over nothing!”

My voice rises. “So now my feelings mean
nothing
?”

“I didn’t fucking say that!”

I point a finger at him. “You said we’re fighting over nothing,

and we’re fighting about how you made me feel—so that means

you think my feelings are nothing!”

his mouth opens, like a fish searching for oxygen.

“You lost me. I have no idea what you just said.”

I close my eyes. And just like that, my anger deflates.

hurt fills me instead.

“Forget it, Drew.”

As I walk down the hall, his voice follows me.

“What the fuck just happened?”

I’m too tired to try and explain it anymore. Usually when we

argue, I have a hard time falling asleep. I’m too charged up with

adrenaline, with passion.

Twisted_1P.indd 38

11/18/13 11:47 AM

t w i s t E d

39

But that’s not a problem tonight. I’m out like a narcoleptic as

soon as my head hits the pillow.

Sometime later—could be three minutes or three hours—a warm,

hard chest presses against my back, waking me up. I feel his hand

on my stomach. he presses his face into my hair and inhales.

“I’m sorry.”

See, boys, that’s all you have to do. Those really are the magic

words—capable of overcoming any obstacle.

Even PMS.

I turn in his arms, and look into his eyes. “What are you sorry

for?”

Drew’s face goes blank, searching for the correct answer. Then

he smirks. “Anything you want me to be sorry for.”

I laugh, but my words are sincere. “No. I’m sorry. You were

right—I was just being a bitch. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m

definitely pre-menstrual.”

he kisses my forehead. “It’s not your fault. I totally blame Eve.”

I kiss his lips softly. And then his neck. I trail a path across his chest, moving around his pecs, suddenly awake with the urge to

please him. I look up at him. “You want me to make it up to you?”

his fingers trace what I’m sure are dark circles under my eyes.

“You’re exhausted. how about you make it up to me in the

morning?”

I pull myself closer and rest my cheek against his skin. I close

my eyes, ready to go back to sleep.

Until Drew’s voice breaks the silence.

Twisted_1P.indd 39

11/18/13 11:47 AM

40

E m m a c h a s E

“Unless . . . you know . . . you really
want
to make it up to me now. Because if you do, far be it from me to—”

I laugh out loud, cutting off his words as I duck my head under

the covers, slowly traveling downward to make it up to him.

In his most favorite way.

Twisted_1P.indd 40

11/18/13 11:47 AM

Two days later, we’re having breakfast at the kitchen table. Drew

likes to exercise in the evening after work, to decompress and

release the stress of the day. I, however, am one of those highly

annoying people who love to go for a five a.m. run. Breakfast is

where we meet in the middle. After which, Drew goes to the office

and I shower.

“You know what I love about Cookie Crisp cereal?” he’s star-

ing at his spoon.

I’ve never seen one person ingest so much cereal. I swear, if I

didn’t cook, it’s all he would eat.

I swallow a mouthful of yogurt—Dannon Light & Fit. The

commercials don’t lie; it’s really delicious. Strawberry banana is the best.

“What’s that?”

“It’s shaped like cookies. So, not only is it awesome, but I feel

like I’m getting revenge on my parents for making me eat frigging

oatmeal the first half of my life.”

Twisted_1P.indd 41

11/18/13 11:47 AM

42

E m m a c h a s E

A poet and a philosopher, Drew is truly a Renaissance man.

I open my mouth to tease him, but I snap it shut as a wave of

nausea strikes like a lightning bolt. I clear my throat and bring the back of my hand to my lips.

“Kate? You okay?”

As I try to answer, my stomach does a somersault that would

make Nadia Com?neci jealous.

I’m going to throw up.

I hate throwing up.

It makes me feel claustrophobic. Suffocated.

To this day, when I have a stomach virus, I sit on the phone