Bad Intentions (31 page)

I laugh at her aloof remark. “You just got here, and you already have the hook up? I lived here my entire life and never touched a drop unless it came from a bottle my dad has in his study.”

“That stud in there with your parents opened the door when I arrived. He told me you could use some liquid medicine and told me where to meet him tonight.”

That stud?
I laugh again.

“Seriously, he doesn’t look like how you described him to be. Scrawny and strange.”

I’m glad I’m not only one who thinks that Mark took over someone else’s body. “Things have changed.”

“Apparently. Now come on, let me help you look less zombieish.”

Without fighting, I allow Zoe to apply an array of cosmetics on my face. I still feel hollow inside, but at least I won’t scare people away with my appearance.

Ryle’s eye is swollen.

His lip is busted, and he’s sporting a pretty gnarly gash on his cheek, but out of all of his injuries, the one that hurts the most is his shattered heart. He’d gotten the wrath of Tank, who’d decided to talk with his fists. He’d been outside running, trying to make sense of what had happened, when Tank caught up to him and pummeled him.

All of the events last night stir in his head. Adaley thinks he’s cheating on her with Naomi. Naomi is supposedly pregnant with the dean’s love child. None of it made much sense other than the fact that once again, he’d lost someone he cared about. The worst part is that he pushed her to leave by claiming she was a drug abuser.

And he saw it coming—the pain that lingered in his chest. He’d known it was a bad idea to get mixed up with Adaley from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. He tried like hell to push her away, but now he’d do anything to bring her back. It’s probably too late though. Too much damage has been done—all of which he caused.

“Ryle, honey.” He hears Meredith through the closed door.

Taking a swig from the whiskey bottle he’d swiped from the cabinet in the kitchen, he ignores her by leaning back and putting a pillow over his head.

“Someone is here to see you.”

Someone like Adaley? Jumping off the bed, he takes two giant steps and opens the door to find Tank on the other side. “What the hell are you doing here? We gonna go for round two?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tank warns sliding by Ryle to enter the room. “I came here to see how you were doing.”

“You sucker punched me in the face while I was running—how do you think I’m doing?”

“When did you pick up drinking as a hobby?” Tank asks, grabbing the neck of the bottle and taking the liberty to taste it for himself.

“Today,” is all that Ryle responds. He’s hit a new low, even for himself.

“Listen, dude. I got angry. I’m sorry, but I’m a little protective over her. She’s become like another little sister to me, and when she stormed into her dorm with runny mascara and snot on her face, looking like a train wreck, I got a little heated. I don’t know what happened between you two. I shouldn’t have made it my business, but I did. So, I guess I’m here to apologize for punching you and not being here for you like I am for her.”

Ryle watches as Tank rubs his hand over the back of his neck. He’s clearly sorry, but that doesn’t excuse his actions. Ryle is torn about whether to accept his apology for what it is or hold a grudge and tell him to get the fuck out.

“Zoe flew to West Virginia,” he blurts out, grabbing Ryle’s attention.

“She’s a loyal friend. I hope she had a safe flight,” Ryle says while fiddling with his fingers.

Tank gives him a look of disbelief. “You’ve got to get your shit together dude. Zoe texted and said that you accused Adaley of doing drugs. I don’t know what you’ve conjured up in your mind, but you’ve got the story all twisted.”

“I know,” Ryle admits and sits on the edge of his bed. Even though he doesn’t live with his adoptive parents anymore, it still feels right to be here. His apartment is tarnished now. It had been ruined by an argument that never should have happened. “I’m just so fucked up. She doesn’t need this,” he waves a hand over himself. “She’s much too good of a person to deal with me—my insecurities and all.”

“Are you listening to yourself? You sound like you’ve given up.”

Ryle fights hard not to let a single tear fall from his eyes, scared that it will be seen for what it is—weakness. “I’m pretty sure this is rock bottom.” He holds his hand up, whiskey bottle clutched in his fingers.

“Dude, you’ve got to pull your head out of your ass and man up to your mistakes. I know for a fact that you hate Naomi. I know you’re not screwing her, but being a coward and hiding out in your room isn’t helping in your favor. It’s telling everyone that you got caught. You need to face the truth instead of brushing it under the rug. Don’t let people believe that shit. Get up and go fight for your girl.”

Something Tank says resonates with Ryle. He just doesn’t know how to fix the mess that has scattered around them.

“There you go,” Zoe says while pinching my cheeks to color them up. “Now let’s go before your parents say we have a curfew of eight o’clock. I might blow my lid if that happens.”

“It was ten. Always ten,” I numbly reply.

“Well damn, at least they gave you a little freedom. Now let’s go. Mark and his friend Jack Daniels are waiting for us.”

We walk out the front door without so much as a goodbye to my parents. I can’t even fathom to consider what they think about me at this point.

“W
here did he tell us to meet him?” I ask, as I peer out the passenger side window of Zoe’s rental. Her parents must give her a hefty allowance.

“He said his apartment.”

I’m lost in my own thoughts as Zoe drives to Mark’s so-called apartment. I thought he was staying in a dorm. I’m baffled by the fact that he that greeted me at my door at five o’clock in the morning, but more so by the idea of him living in his own apartment. He wasn’t very mature then, but the more I see this version of him, the more I see a man, and not the boy that I left.

“We’re here! Come on, lady. Let’s drown our sorrows.”

“Wait, what?” I grab onto the door handle. “What sorrows are you drowning tonight?” I’ve been too caught up with my own mess that I haven’t even asked how she’d been lately. Between class, working and Ryle, I’d had my hands full with my own stuff.

“Kaiser wants some time apart. He thinks that I’ve gotten attached too quickly, and he’s not ready for something so serious.”

“You’re kidding?” I open the door and slide out of the car. “Isn’t he the one who told you how serious he was about you?”

“Sometimes men will say anything to get into your pants.”

Without another thought, we stroll forward, my hand in hers.

“There you are!” Mark welcomes us into his place. “This is Zoe, and you guys know Adaley.”

I’m shocked to see a couple players from our high school football team sitting on Mark’s couch. I don’t know what we just walked into or why he’s suddenly rubbing shoulders with this crowd, but right now, I don’t much care. “I need a drink,” I demand, as I watch Zoe sandwich herself on the couch between the two guys.
She’s so good at being confident
I think to myself as I stand awkwardly in the doorway, unsure what to do next.

“Take it easy,” Mark instructs after my fifth or twelve drink. I’ve done too many shots to remember —or even care. My feet are wobbly as I stand up and press my body to his. My finger slides in front of my lips.

“Shh. You got buff?” I squeeze my hand around his bicep. I’m surprised he’s able to make sense of my slur.

“Working out passed a lot of time. It helped me focus on something other than losing you.”

The butterflies that would normally come to life in my stomach are too wasted to move. “I hurt you. I hurt now. Ryle is awful. He made me cry a lot.”

“Let me help you forget about him,” he whispers into my ear. And just like that, the butterflies slosh around in my gut. All I want is to feel better and forget, even for a little while.

“Okay,” is all that I say before Mark takes my hand in his and I follow him down a dark hallway.

Mark’s lips are frantic as they find mine in the dark. I hear the door close behind us. His kiss is different than any we’ve ever experienced together. It is needy and rushed and nothing at all like Ryle’s. Crap. There goes my stupid brain again.

I push all thoughts of him away and wrap my hands around Mark’s neck. Pushing my body closer to his, I moan into his mouth. I don’t know if it’s real or fake. All I know is that this feels good, and it makes Ryle seem like a distant memory. Our hands begin to roam and explore every part of the other’s body. My hands land on a stomach that is now rippled with abs. Yet another perk of this new model before me.

“Make me forget about him. I want to feel you instead,” I cry out, needing to block the image of the man who ruined me.

No words are spoken—they don’t need to be. With our eyes now adjusted to the dark, I can see his intentions perfectly. They mimic mine. For a split second, my mind sobers up, and I question if I’m making a mistake. The slip of Mark’s finger under the edge of my panties pushes me through my right or wrong debate.

I choose sex, and willingly allow him to do something that only one guy has ever done before. Then, I push past that boundary and allow him to take me completely. The ripping sound of a condom package fills the silence and a moment later, a tinge of pain shoots through my body. With open arms, the act welcomes me to womanhood.

“That was so fucking good.” Mark collapses on top of me seconds later. I’m too stunned up to grasp what just happened. The dampness of his body grosses me out. I slide an inch over to the side of his bed, but he holds onto me with a death grip.

I cannot believe what just transpired between us, or how short it was. “I think I’m going to puke.” I climb off the side of the bed, yanking his sheet off in the process. I wrap it around my naked, used body and rush to the bathroom. I’m thankful that he has an en suite, as I slide inside and lock the door behind me.

The mirror beckons me, and all I see is a girl whose virtue has been taken. I feel dirty. I feel like a used piece of meat, having not been fulfilled at all by the body that took my virginity. My buzz has faded completely and has been replaced with nothing but a longing that can’t be satisfied. Not by Mark, that’s for damn sure.

I wash my hands and use a towel from under his sink to wash my
area
. I’d do anything to jump in his shower right now, but that might be a little too insulting. When I open the door, I’m surprised to find him face down, snoring.
What a pig,
I think to myself as I slip my clothes back on and make a pallet on the floor next to his bed. There is no way in hell I am sleeping in the same bed with him. What if he wakes up and wants seconds?