Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (13 page)

Chapter Eleven

Then

A
LL THAT AWKWARDNESS
changes our senior year.

“I want you to go on a double date with me and Alyssa.”

My eyes give an exaggerated eye roll even though Greer can’t see me through the phone. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Greer. And I don’t date.”

“I think it would be good for you. You need to get out and hang out with other people. This guy goes to another school, so he doesn’t know …”

Doesn’t know that I’m known as the school slut even though nothing could be further from the truth, is what he doesn’t say. My golden boy is too polite to bring up my sordid reputation. It’s ridiculous though. I’ve had sex with Greer and Greer only. And I could count the number of times we’ve done it on both hands.

Of course, the rumor is that I have sex with my friends—many friends—and I require nothing from them in return. They use me, I use them. I was sure that rumor had been spread by the one girlfriend I had. I had a moment of weakness and confided in her about my twisted relationship with Greer. Next thing I know, everyone’s whispering about me being a slut, she’s no longer friends with me, other girls are openly hostile, and other guys, the guys that are worth a damn, think I’m repulsive. The clichéd double standard is alive and well in Anaconda, Montana. The guys I’m “screwing” certainly fair no worse. If anything, they’re fucking legends, and they don’t even exist.

Greer falls for the rumors and confronts me, asking if I’m screwing somebody else. I assure him that I’m not. Everyone speculates over exactly who I’m sleeping with. I spent the second half of my junior year defending myself and attempting to curtail rumors before trying to just ignore it and pretend like I wasn’t bothered. I was done with all that.

For a girl who claimed not to care what others thought about her, all this actually hurt. How could it not? I’ve never had many friends, but to go from someone who was simply considered different, to being the school pariah, it fucking sucked. And that’s the key. Being different, I could handle. Being hated, though, I hadn’t handled that well.

Defending with words quickly morphed into defending with my fists, and I found myself suspended from school more often than not in the course of a few short months. But what’s a girl to do when she opens her locker and condoms come spilling out? Or when she goes to get in her truck and it’s papered with STD pamphlets and filled with genital wart cream? Something had to give.

Many tears, a lot of alcohol, and a shit-ton of assurances from Greer, helped me gain a new outlook—The Fuck ‘Em All Perspective.

Now this helped tremendously with my implementation of a new approach this school year. I accepted the role everyone had put me in and was relishing in it. Someone calls me a slut, I agree and move on. I am a real bitch about it too, but that’s the least I can do. It gets rid of them faster, and pretty soon there isn’t anything to taunt me with. When someone openly admits to and owns up to rumors, it just slap takes the fun out of everything. Oh, except the sly looks and the social pariah aspect of it—that still exists, but it’s much more tolerable. I was given a wide-berth rather than openly sneered at and attacked.

“Denver?”

I snap out of my mental torment. I’ve become comfortably numb to all that, so why does Greer want to open old wounds? “He doesn’t know that I’m the school slut, huh? Nice. What do you get out of this, Greer?” He doesn’t even like me talking to other guys. Never has, come to think of it.

He exhales deeply before he admits sadly, “I get to see my best friend live like a teenager for a night.”

Completely selfless. Who could say no to that?

Date night arrives, and I’m looking good. Why? Because I literally have never been on a formal date and figure I should put some effort into it. We are going to a Kenny Chesney concert, so I paired my favorite black, red, and ivory floral, floaty skirt with a black, long–sleeved, lacy shirt, a blue jean vest, and my new red boots that had black fire running up them. I pulled up portions of my dirty blonde hair to braid around the crown, but the length cascades down my back in soft waves, and I lined my honey-colored eyes in kohl and smoothed on a smoky gray eye shadow.

Greer and his friend, Tyler, pick me up first. It. Is. Awkward. What was I expecting? Once we pick up Greer’s date, things become less so. Tyler is nice. Not into rodeo, but I guess everyone can’t be. When he says he hasn’t ridden a horse since he was twelve, I shoot daggers at Greer in the rearview mirror. He’s had it trained on me the entire time and chuckles when he sees my response to Tyler’s confession.

Since it’s last minute, we end up in the nosebleed section, but we have a blast dancing in the aisle. When a slow song comes on, I decide to sit it out, and I can only watch, mesmerized, as Greer holds Alyssa tight in his arms and nuzzles her neck. When his hands sneak down to her ass and he pulls her tight against his front, the bitter taste of bile floods my mouth. Jealousy turns my stomach sour, and hot tears flood my eyes. My eyes find his, and they are smiling as he mouths, “You.”

I wonder what that means as I turn unseeing eyes to the stage, tears threatening to spill over. Greer’s been giving me exactly what I wanted. Sex, no strings. Friendship. He’s been dating other girls for over a year. Why am I jealous all of a sudden? Is it because I never had to see it first-hand? Why is he rattling around in that little box I put him in, damn it? I look down quickly, swipe at my eyes, and plaster a smile on my face.

Thankfully, the song ends, and he and Alyssa return to their seats. Kenny’s wrapping up, so I’ll be able to end this misery soon.

When another slow song kicks off during the encore, I groan aloud as Greer stands. I’m thinking I’ll go to the restroom because I can’t endure
that
again, but then he puts his hand out to me and says, “I’ve gotta dance with my best friend.” My beaming smile works its way up all the way from my toes, and the small smile he wears morphs until it mirrors mine.

The theme of this song resonates with me, and I wonder if he waited and picked it on purpose. “Why’d you ask me to dance to this one?” I ask as he twirls me in his arms.

He closes his eyes tight for a few seconds, and when he opens them, they sear into my very soul. “Because I’d rather be somewhere with you, over anyone and everyone else in this world. Because when it’s not you I’m with, my mind makes it so. Because I’m sick of playing games. Because it’s always been you, chicken. I want you beside me in my truck. Beside me at school. Beside me in life. I want you. Every single day.”

I can’t breathe. The old me wanted that. The new me didn’t deserve it and didn’t know if she was capable of it. I glance over his shoulder at our dates and feel so naughty. We’re having this conversation while Greer’s hand rests, tantalizingly-so, around my hip. As his fingers dip down a little to stroke me, our dates sit ten feet away, completely oblivious. It just … does something to me.

“I want you too, Greer,” I whisper in his ear, but I know it’s not the same
want
he feels. “But—”

“No buts. Not tonight. Just let me pretend.”

His words pierce my heart. I let out a deep sigh. “I hate myself for a lot of things, Greer, but by far, I hate myself the most for hurting you. I’m sorry I’m so screwed up.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. You don’t hate yourself, and I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.” My eyes wander down to stare at his chest. I wish his simple words of confirmation could change the fact that I hate myself more than he knows. A finger slips under my chin to bring my gaze back to his. “And you’re different—not screwed up—but I’ll tell you right now, it wouldn’t matter to me anyway if you were. I’ll take you whatever way I can get you. I’m in love with you just as you are. But I won’t lie either. I want us to get the old Denver back.” He gives me a mischievous grin. “The one who was mostly carefree, and somewhat innocent.”

I laugh a little at his qualifiers before a quiet sob erupts as his beautiful words sink into me. “We’ll never get that back,” I choke out.

“We can try.” I just nod, hating to burst his bubble. It’s never going to happen.

We drop his girlfriend off first since Greer explains that he and I live next to each other, and it just makes more sense that way. She pouts all the way to her house. I imagine she doesn’t trust me alone with Greer. She has good instincts.

I cringe as I watch them make out again when he walks her to her porch. She actually walks to her front door backward, devouring Greer with her eyes as he makes his way back to the truck. The grin he directs at me makes me want to smack him upside his perfect face. He knows exactly what he’s doing. We drop Tyler off, and I step out of the truck and give him a quick, awkward hug as I make my way to the front seat.

I close the door behind me, and the electricity that charges through the cabin is palpable. I haven’t felt this need for him since before we started having sex. Does he feel it too? It’s pretty sick that I need jealousy and the sinister aspects of cheating and sneaking around to fuel my sex drive, but I know that’s what has done it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid slut!
I denied it for over a year, and then accepted it like the joke was on everyone else because I knew differently. But now, instead of thinking about my slut potential as an inactive volcano brewing well below the surface, I finally feel like a slut.

It’s an idea I’ve been toying with, but this makes me realize that being a slut has nothing to do with the number of guys I’ve been with. It’s a mindset. The sad thing is, I have no remorse. I want him all the more for that very reason, and I’m unapologetic.

The drive from Tyler’s house to the main road is only about a half a mile, but it’s an enlightening and life-changing distance because it forces me to admit what I’ve failed to recognize—I am a slut.

When we get to the end of Tyler’s driveway, I’m jarred from my mental chastisement, and subsequent awakening, as I hear my seatbelt buckle unsnap and feel myself being pulled to Greer’s side. I grin and bite my lip as he fastens the middle belt around me. “This is where you belong,” he breathes against my neck as he tugs on my ear with his teeth before placing a small kiss on the sensitive skin behind it. The noise that erupts from me can only be described as a mewl because it literally works its way up from my core and propels itself out of me of its own accord.

“Can you get us home quick?” I beg.

“I’m on it, babe.”

I laugh and reach over to turn the stereo up. It’s playing a Toby Keith number that I absolutely love about lost loves. I wonder if that’s how Greer and I will feel about each other one day because, deep down, I know we’ll never last. He deserves so much better than the small piece of myself that I’m able to give. He deserves to find someone who is his everything, but more than that, he deserves to
be
that someone’s everything. A pang of regret twists and pulls at my stomach because I’d give anything to be that someone.

Even though I love the song, it’s settled deep in my belly like the heavy weight of lead. I reach up quickly and change the station. Classic rock. Let’s go with that. Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” fills the truck. I relax a little and rest my head on his shoulder. I close my eyes and yawn. This is what happens when I finally slow down … I crash.

Greer lifts his arm and maneuvers me to lay my head in his lap. I curl my legs on the seat, and being here feels so good that I sigh. He runs his hand over my hair soothingly. The truck comes to a stop, and I sense his eyes come to rest on me. Tilting my head back a little, I capture his eyes with mine. But he’s not looking at me; he’s looking at my hair. As Clapton sings out about her brushing her long, blonde hair, he lifts a lock of mine, leans down, and kisses it. And I just want to cry. I wish I could show him the same tenderness with the same meaning behind it.

He guns it, and we shoot off toward my house. I reach up and change the station again, and some Katy Perry bumps through the speakers. I think I’m safe from all the hearts and flowers shit. Glancing up, I see Greer roll his eyes, but he doesn’t call me out on my avoidance technique.

We make it to my house in record time. He cuts his engine and edges out of his truck, dropping to the ground before turning back to help me out. Scooting me to the edge, he reaches around and grabs my ass and squeezes hard. My legs instinctively widen and he leans in and places light kisses on the insides of my knees.

“Ah, Greer,” I breathe. My thighs tingle, and the tingling shoots directly to my core. “That feels amazing.” Moving his hands around to my front, he bunches my skirt up and kisses a blazing trail up one leg until he gets to my center. I fall back on my elbows as he drags me to the edge. If he let’s me go, I’ll slide right off the seat.

He doesn’t let go. He buries his face between my leg and kisses me hard … there. I blush, fall back, and cover my face with my hands. He’s never done that before. He resumes his kisses on my other leg. The entire bottom half of my body is aflame.

I groan and tell him how much I want him.

“I want you too. So much,” he whispers in that gravelly voice.

He slides my underwear down over my boots and places them on his floorboard as he guides my body out of his truck and onto the ground.

I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself and look up into his molten blue eyes. It’s all there, and all for me—love, desire, compassion … He didn’t look at what’s-her-name like that. I’ve never seen him look at anyone else like that. I’m two halves of a whole. Because as much as I ache to return that look, I know I never will. Is this knowledge enough to force me to behave myself? Unfortunately, no.

Greer moves in to kiss my mouth, and I turn my head quickly. “Save your kisses for your girlfriends, Greer. I want everything else.”

“You’re not going to kiss me?” he asks, astonished.

My little laugh is jaded. “After watching you kiss her all night? Not hardly. I’m fine with it. I’m just not going to be a follow up act. I want what you hold back from them though. Is that enough?”