Can't Let Go Page 4

  When the song begins to fade, her head comes back and we’re forced back to reality.. Staring down at Chrissy, I wish I had the guts to tell her everything I just felt. If we could only stay in this moment forever. Her eyes peer up at me proclaiming the same thought. Then my arm is torn away from her and the last thing I see is her eyes widen in fear.

  “Dex!” Tori screams, and I close my own eyes, wishing I would have remembered she was here, or, better yet, never had invited her. “What the hell?”

  “Tori,” I address her, hoping like hell I can think of something. Chrissy could be my cousin, maybe that will work.

  Tori’s eyes narrow at Chrissy, who begins to step back from the escalating situation. Shit, Tori is known to be the meanest bitch at the school, and I fear she’ll unleash a stream of venom on Chrissy if I don’t diffuse this immediately. When Bree comes over and stands next to her best friend, her eyes now focused on Chrissy as well, she’s no doubt ready to join in the cat fight if she needs to.

  Glancing back, I find Chrissy’s widened eyes and her teeth biting into her lip. Clearly, she’s getting ready to bolt. Wondering if it would be better for everyone if she did, I contemplate the cousin thing again, but I’m not sure that will fly.

  “Well … DEX!” Tori demands again, her heel slamming into the floor.

  “This is Chrissy.” I reach back and grab her hand. She stumbles forward, but when Tori’s eye’s land on our entwined fingers, she pulls it back. “My friend.” Didn’t Mom always say honesty is best?

  “Friends?” Tori questions, cocking her head to the side.

  “Yes, friends,” I answer, and Chrissy remains silent.

  “Are you guys really just friends?” she asks Chrissy directly, and Chrissy nods.

  “Yes, I’ve known him since we were young,” she adds. I’m pretty certain we both know whatever anyone witnessed did not resemble friends.

  “All right then.” Tori looks around the room. “Leo!” she screams to my friend and teammate. The big, burly guy comes over, unsure what exactly is going on.

  Tori grabs him and smacks her lips against his. Leo is shocked and confused, his bulging eyes peer my way while Tori tries to entice him to deepen the kiss. Eventually, not getting anywhere, she backs away. “Is that friendship?” Tori sarcastically asks, and I wish there was one ounce of jealousy from that act. Maybe then it would mean I’d feel guilt over what I did with Chrissy.

  “You think kissing my friend is going to prove some point? I don’t play games, Tori,” I seethe, stepping up, grabbing Chrissy’s hand again. “We are friends, I’m not lying. If we were more, you would have seen something more like this.” I grab Chrissy and my lips land on hers. Holding her up, she’s rigid as a board at first, but the more my lips remain on hers, she slowly eases and eventually joins the kiss. Our lips stay on the other’s for a few seconds while my stomach inflates with butterflies and my dick hardens. Once we separate from our own bubble, Chrissy inhales a deep breath, and I snap back to the reason I kissed Chrissy in the first place. “Don’t play games you can’t win,” I remark, and she runs off the floor and around the side of the house with Bree right behind her.

  Chrissy gasps, and my vision leaves the departing Tori to a displeased Chrissy. “Don’t you think that was kind of cruel?” she asks.

  “No, she fucking kissed my friend.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I was done with her anyway,” I inform Chrissy, but she only steps back.

  “Was I just a pawn in your game?” she asks, and I can’t believe I’m hearing those words. Didn’t she feel what I did during that dance?

  “No,” I honestly tell her, and she stands there, her eyes peering around the room.

  “That’s not what it felt like, Dex.” She begins to turn around.

  “Don’t you dare leave,” I demand, and she whips her head around.

  “Do you think you have any control over what I do?” she asks, her high heels click and stop when the toes touch mine. “Just because you think you’re better than me for some reason. Money doesn’t make someone better.”

  “You know I don’t feel that way,” I counter, knowing what she’s insinuating.

  “Well, I don’t want to be friends with someone who treats others like that,” she says, pointing to the side of the house where Tori disappeared.

  “Seriously? You know me, Chrissy,” I argue back and anger turns to hurt.

  Without saying another word, she spins around, the strands of her hair hitting my chest. I watch her say goodbye to my mom, who has her own silent conversation with me across the room. My vision never wavers from Chrissy. When she gets to the back door and her hand clasps onto the knob, she glances over her shoulder. For the first time in five minutes, I turn away from her. When I finally get the nerve to look again, she’s gone.

  16 years old

  Dex: I’m sorry.

  Chrissy: For?

  Dex: Come on. It was an imbecile moment.

  Chrissy: For?

  Dex: For being an asshole.

  Chrissy: And?

  Dex: You can’t be serious?

  Chrissy: Yes I can and I am.

  Dex: Insensitive?

  Chrissy: On the right track.

  Dex: Prick? Jackass? Dufus? Moron? Dork? Should I go on??

  Chrissy: I think you about covered them. LOL…Now what are you going to do to make it up to me?

  Dex: Dinner?

  Chrissy: Hmm…

  Dex: What?

  Chrissy: Debating if I should make you beg…

  Dex: PLEASE Chrissy, let me take you to dinner to make up for being an insensitive prick at my mom’s wedding.

  Chrissy: Well…

  Chrissy: Okay. Sunday at six.

  Dex: Sunday at two. We’re going somewhere first. I’ll pick you up.

  Chrissy: Sunday at three.

  Dex: Do you always have to have the last say?

  Chrissy: Yep.

  Dex: Fine, I’ll see you Sunday at three.

  Chrissy: See you then.

  TWO-THIRTY AND there’s a knock on my door. Damn Dex and making a smartass point to me about him not allowing me to have complete say. Since I won’t be able to meet him downstairs like I had planned, I grab my purse from the table and slither through the door, quickly shutting it behind me.

  “I guess I won’t come in then?” he asks rhetorically, chuckling to himself.

  Giving a tight smile across my shoulder, I lock the door and turn around. “I was going to meet you downstairs at three o’clock,” I say, raising my eyebrows only enticing more laughter out of him.

  “Yeah, well, I compromised.” He chuckles and then waits for me to lead the way down the hall.

  “I swear, Dex,” I comment, not finishing because Dex is Dex, and even his most annoying habits I wouldn’t want to change.

  Once we get downstairs, passing a zillion kids that run the halls every day with no parental supervision, Dex’s FJ Cruiser sits outside. It’s new and nice in that new graphite color that’s so popular. Not that there are a ton of brand new cars around my neighborhood. Being a gentleman, he opens the door for me and I step in, allowing him to shut it behind me. As he walks around, my heart flutters from being treated like a real date.

  He climbs in his own side and inserts the key into the ignition. Before turning it over, he looks my way. “Are you up for anything?” He stares over at my casual dress of shorts and a t-shirt with flip-flops.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “Let’s go then.” He turns the key over and the engine starts with a purr, instead of the usual backfire of the cars around here.

  He drives us out toward the highway and for some reason I realize where we’re going before we actually turn off the exit.

  “The Valley?” I ask, and he nods bearing his typical smirk.

  “The Valley,” he confirms.

  “I haven’t been there since your dad had that picnic on Memorial Day that one year. Remember everyone thought Gia and Kim g
ot lost somewhere on the trail?” I laugh, remembering Dex and I finding them making out with each other behind some tree. Since we were so much younger, I think we were both confused about what they were up to at the time.

  “If I knew then what I know now, I would have thought it was hot as hell instead of the delusional idea they were practicing kissing on each other,” he reveals, and I nudge him in the arm.

  “You did? Why would they practice kissing?”

  “Isn’t that what you chicks do? You kiss each other so you’re prepared for your first kiss?” he questions and I cock my head over at him in disbelief.

  “Do you kiss your best friend to practice?”

  Dex squints over and coughs as though he may throw up in his mouth. “No,” he answers with a firm shake of his head.

  “Neither do we. It’s just normal trial and error when it actually happens. I swear, guys and their lesbian fantasies,” I remark, half-heartedly laughing at him.

  “Crap. All that useless material when I was younger, imagining you and your best friend practicing.” He snickers, and I push him again, making his body connect with the window before it bounces back in front of the steering wheel.

  He parks the truck between the angled lines, and I climb out to meet him around back. Once the back door opens, I jump up and down. “I knew I smelled it, but didn’t want to assume.”

  “It’s your favorite.” He shrugs, grabbing the bag of Chick-Fil-A from the back.

  “You’re my favorite,” I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and kissing his cheek. When my feet are flat on the ground again, Dex’s face is a little pinker than it had been a second before. Noticing his reaction to my lips on him makes my own stomach flutter a little.

  “Let’s go.” He motions with his head toward the rocks and after walking through the mowed field, dodging families tossing Frisbees and footballs around, we arrive safely on the other side. “Sit,” he commands, and I tilt my head. “Please,” he adds.

  “Gladly,” I respond after he asks me nicely.

  Sitting down on the rock with the bright sun facing us, I anxiously wait for him to get the fried chicken and waffle fries out of the bag. “Just hold on, Miss Antsy Pants,” he teases, and I giggle.

  Finally, a few minutes later, it’s all out in front of us. “Thanks,” I mumble around my first bite, and he chuckles.

  “No problem. It’s my apology,” Dex says before taking his own bite of sandwich.

  Swallowing and laying the sandwich down, I stare at him for a few seconds. “So? Did you have forgiving to do to anyone else?” I ask.

  “HELL NO! I told you, Chrissy, I’m done with her.” He turns away from me, looking out to the tree lined horizon in front of us. “She plays games, and I don’t do games.”

  “Oh.” I pop a fry in my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I say, and his head whips my way.

  “Don’t be.” He doesn’t add anything more and suddenly our usual casual and fun surroundings turn solemn and quiet. “Shit, the last thing I want to talk about today is Tori.” I can’t help but think he did have feelings for her because if he cared less about what went down, he wouldn’t be so distant when the topic is brought up.

  “Okay, what do you want to talk about?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter, showing he has my full attention.

  “You.” His eyes meet mine, and they are so piercing, I gulp the last drop of saliva in my mouth. “I mean what have you been up to?”

  “Nothing. School, keeping things going. My life is boring, especially to Mr. Football Star.” I pawn off the conversation to him like I always do. It’s easier to forget what I’ll go home to after he drops me off, as though I can live vicariously through him.

  “Your dad?” he asks, peeking up at me through his eyelashes.

  “Same. Slipping lower and lower every day. Is it bad I just wish he’d disappear? One day he may not come back.” Now it’s my turn to stare out at the horizon, but the heat of Dex’s eyes on me are felt the whole time.

  “I’m sorry,” he says in the most empathetic voice I’ve ever heard, and all it does is piss me off.

  “Stop it, please. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy or sad eyes. One day my life will be different.”

  “I’ll make sure of it,” Dex promises, and I spin my face his way.

  “No, you won’t. You have your own life to worry about. I’m not your responsibility.”

  He scoots closer to me, and I pull my knees to my chest in order to shelter myself from what he’s about to do.

  “I want to. Chrissy.” He places his finger under my chin and brings my face to his, “all you need to do is allow me to do it.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” I tell him.

  “Try.”

  18 years old

  MINDLESSLY TOSSING MY sweatshirt over my head and slipping my shoes on, I throw my phone in my purse and leave the safe confines of my apartment. Rubbing my eyes awake, I stumble down the first step before gripping the railing to keep myself from cracking my head open.

  Although darkness fills the night sky, people still mill about. In these parts of the city, some are just getting off work, some are on their way, and others haven’t gone to bed. The ones, like me, who were sleeping, are trying to make sure they’re at their best tomorrow morning for school. After all, there’s no other way I’ll get accepted into college otherwise.

  The biggest obstacle in achieving my dream is my dad, who I currently am on the way to pick up. I can only assume that Mr. Prescott isn’t there tonight because he usually drags my dad home, leaving him passed out on his bed. In the morning hours, I’ll peek in to make sure he’s sprawled out in his usual spot on top of his covers in his underwear. Yeah, not exactly a glamorous life I live.

  Tonight, however, my dad’s recent sidekick, Nico, called, and asked if I could come get him because he was starting to become unruly and if he didn’t stop spouting off his mouth, he’d be in a heap of trouble with the big guy. This all leads to me driving our beat up Buick LaCrosse to an even shittier part of town than where we reside.

  The usual cars line the street outside the ‘bakery’. You’d think the cops could figure this out, but most are paid-off to turn their eyes in another direction. Walking past the front entrance and detouring through the alley, my mouth sours when I spot Nico already waiting for me outside with his foot propped against the wall, taking a drag of his cigarette.

  “Hey sweetheart,” he says, and my insides recoil with bile at his words. “Your dad is passed out in my car.” Unsure why he wouldn’t have met me along the street, or at least driven my dad home, brings an uneasiness over me. Nico is one of the younger ones, the rising stars trying to make a name for themselves within the small group of fuck-ups. That’s why my dad is currently attached to his hip; he’s always trying to get ahead of someone else. The old belief, find new blood and ‘blessings’ will come your way. My dad seeks them out and attaches himself like Velcro.

  “Okay,” I say, beginning the walk down the dark and dingy alleyway.

  “Hold up.” He stops me by placing his hand on my shoulder and tugging me back a little too forcefully.

  I dig my hand into my purse from the abrupt behavior change, and he quickly removes his hand. “Why?” I’m really not in the mood, since I didn’t bother putting pants on. Standing there in pajama shorts and a sweatshirt that’s only covering up a camisole wasn’t my smartest decision.

  “Why don’t you come down for a while? You never know, maybe you’ll get lucky.” For some reason, I’m positive he’s suggesting getting lucky in more ways than one.

  “It’s not my thing.” I politely decline, and he slithers forward, forcing me to back-up.

  “I bet you’d love it.”

  “I bet I wouldn’t.”

  “Come on,” he continues, and I begin walking down the alley. “Sweetheart,” he says, quickly catching up.

  I stop and turn around. “The name is Chrissy,” I sneer. “Not sweetheart or baby or whatever other fake term of end
earment. Just Chrissy.” Shaking my head, I turn around again and I’m almost to the end of the alley when my whole body flies back and rams against the brick.

  “You think you’re better than me?” His crooked teeth are the center of my tunnel vision as rains of saliva splash my face.

  “Honestly, I do.” I’m not about to bring my guard down.

  “You’re a bitch, you know that?” He reaches into his pocket and raises his hand filled with a wad of cash in front of me. “This is what I won tonight. And I’ll win it again tomorrow night. So, go on home with your pathetic father to your pathetic apartment and dream of ever having all this money in your possession because it will never happen.” Shoving it back in his pocket, he inches even closer to me.

  My heart races and scenarios of how this could go down flash through my mind. I’m worrying he is about to cross that line. Every defense mechanism I could use on him starts screaming through my brain. Feeling his hot breath on my neck, my whole body freezes, as though I’m just another brick on the wall. His fingers graze across my legs, getting closer to the hem of my shorts. Swallowing deep, his tongue swipes along my neck. “You’re nothing but a piece of shit. You should consider opening those legs because what else do you really have going for you?” He pushes back from me, but then he’s torn from my vision in a snap.

  Another body throws him against the wall and obscenities are screamed through the alley. All I see from the dim light above the bakery back door is an arm flying up and then slamming down. Scared to leave my spot, I remain pinned to the wall as though my feet are super glued to the ground. Once the one body is down, the larger one begins walking toward me. My heartbeat ramps up to an ungodly pace and my feet flee before he can reach me. I can barely breathe as I try to dig my car keys out of my purse while it sways left and right across my body. I manage to get them into my clutches when other items spill out onto the ground. Not wanting to chance being captured, I disregard them and continue to run like hell.