Blue Dream (9 page)

“I really am. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t wake up one day and say I want to hurt the love of my life-”

“Love of your life?” my voice quivers, tears growing in my eyes. “I was-”

“Are actually, the love of my life. Yes. There’s just so much you didn’t know and I don’t know and I didn’t handle any of this right. I really and honestly didn’t mean to hurt you the way I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me like it was nothing, but Presley I’d rather have you in my life as my friend than to have none of you at all.”

His words disgust me. “Friend? Everything we went through and you wanna be friends?” Trap. This is exactly what it is. Just another chance for him to look like the better person while the world watches.

“I-”

Regaining my coolness, I plant myself against the car door beside him. “I don't think that's a good idea, Ryder. Bambi would piddle herself and Blaze would never stop whining. Not to mention the rest of the school would riot.”

“They're already rioting.”

“It would be worse.”

He turns his body so it's facing me. “You really care what people think?”

In a whisper I declare, “I do now. Don't act like you don't.”

“I...I don't.”

“So dating the school slut is because you really enjoy her witty company?” When he looks away, I add, “Don't lie to me. I don't know what caused you to start giving a damn about other people and their opinions, but something did. And now you do. And sadly, now so do I. So no Ryder, we can't just be friends because you
want to
.”

“I don't wanna be friends,” he changes the nature of the conversation. “I want my girlfriend. I want the girl I went and got a tattoo for.”

Blindsided, I stumble out the word, “W-wh-what?”

Ryder turns around, and leans forward to allow me to lift his shirt up revealing a compass rose in the middle of his back. Instead of N S E W, the initials are P M R C.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I wrap an arm around my stomach and cover my mouth trying my best not to let my tears come. The thundering in the background acts as my warning that now's a good time to walk away. There's a small drizzle that lands on my shoulder that could easily be considered an extra push. My muffled voice whimpers, “You still got it.”

“Yeah.” Ryder puts his shirt back down as he turns back to face me. His body moves closer. His hips are nestled against mine. I need space. I can't breathe. I don't know that I wanna breathe. “I told you, I’ll always find my way back to you. We may be a little lost now, but we'll find our way back together. Whether we’re twenty or forty, I know we’ll end up together. We're soul mates, Pres. Nothing can change that.”

“Why?” I helplessly whimper. “Why are you doing this to me? You have a girlfriend! You have someone who you love-”

“Don't ever fucking say that.” He corrects me harshly. “I'll never love her. I've never
thought
about loving her. She's an easy lay.”

“And that's what it's about at the end of the day right, Ryder? Getting laid? Getting that itch scratched?” Sniffling, I shake my head. “Well screw you and Blaze
both
for that. I am more than what the hell is in my jeans.”

“Don't compare me to him. Ever.”

“Why not? You’re both selfish! Self centered! Everything is about you and I am just some sort of sick trophy in your worlds! Neither of you care about me and what you do to me. I'm nothing more than-” is the last of the rant that escapes out of my mouth before the rain lands on my head and his lips land on mine.

Instantly swept away in the high of his words, the frenzy of his tongue, and intensity of his touch, I surrender on a loud moan. Ryder aggressively slides his hands down my hips and then threw my belt loops to yank me closer to him with so much force what he fears is obvious. My tongue fights against his, desperate to prove I have more passion pumping through my blood than him. As the rain pours down on us it’s like we're being cleansed of our sins. Washing away the hate we’ve built up, the tension we’ve created, the bloody battlefield we’ve turned our lives into. It’s like the rain is our clean slate we’ve been dying for.

Katherine whimpers, “Holy shit...”

The kiss I swear is still lingering on my lip causes me to casually wipe away the feeling with my thumb. Remembering how much that kiss be smirched so many of the things I stood for to satisfy the one craving I couldn't figure out another way to mollify, helps fan down the flames that have licked themselves up my thighs heading for the apex between.

Katherine manages to put herself back together and leans back in her chair. “So you kissed another guy?”

“That was just the start,” I confess. “A very beautiful start to a Shakespearean style tragedy....”

Ryder

-“You wanted to protect me.”-

“Damn it!” Bambi screams at me. “It’s like you don’t care!”

“That’s because I don’t!” I yell back at her in her driveway. “I don’t care if you think I’m cheating on you because I know I’m not!”

I am. I very much so am and love every minute of it. Presley in small doses is better than any hit of any drug I've ever had.

“Then why did Keith say he saw you all up on Presley?”

“How the fuck should I know?” I open my car door. “You know, Bambi if you thought for one second more about us and less about her and how I may or may not be cheating on you with her, you’d realize
you
are what is killing this relationship, not her.”

Knowing how full of shit I am, I prepare to slide inside.

She stomps her foot at me. “Where are you going?”

“Away.”

Her mouth opens but my door shuts leaving the shrill noise on the other side. After starting the car, I back out of her driveway wanting nothing more than to drive straight to Pres, pull her into my lap, and do the things I do drunk with Bambi, soberly with her. We've been sneaking little tastes of each other for a couple weeks now. I knew once my lips were on hers again, I wouldn't be able to give her up again. The fact she's dating the Latin reject moron who thinks he's gonna be the next Kayne and I'm dating what he should be, is irrelevant. Nothing matters but us together. Problem is passing the time in between. Chasing a high to make me forget the fact all this shit has to be a secret is driving me crazy. We can't just come forward and be together again. Her parents have forbidden her to have contact with me. Apparently any guy who hurts her as hard as I did, doesn't deserve a second chance. Her brother, I swear is just waiting for a chance to run into me on the street when he's home one weekend from college to crush my skull. My own parents’ opinions haven't changed. While my siblings don't seem to care one way or another since it's not affecting their lives, but have both made it very clear it would be social suicide for both of us. The Scarlet Letter. I could probably get fucking high enough not to care, but I hate the idea of Pres having to endure any more ridicule than what we're currently going through.

Flopping on Issac's couch I let out a long sigh. While dating Bambi definitely has it's down side, it's come with a few perks. Some of the best pot is one of them. Threesomes at parties because the girl can't handle her X well and some of the best drug dealers in town are now people I call friends.

“You stress too much,” Isaac says sitting down beside me. He offers me the bottle of vodka he added to the fountain drink in front of him.

Adding some to the energy drink I was half way done with, I reply, “Can you blame me? Bambi's a fucking nightmare.”

“There's a reason most of us hit it and quit it, bro'.”

“Yeah well. She damn sure isn't my draft pick if you get what I mean.”

Issac laughs under his breath. “You need a good buzz.”

“You got more of The Incredible Hulk for me?”

“I do.” He pauses and leans over to grab something from his couch side table. Placing a container on the coffee table he asks, “Ever try coke?”

With a slow shake of my head, I pass, “Nah. That doesn’t sound like something I’d be into.”

He opens the box with a smile. “You should try it. Just once. Trust me.”

Bambi’s annoying voice rings in my ear along with all the accusations of being with Presley who hasn’t returned my texts all fucking day. The combination of the two pushes me to shrug, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“A coke rush is nothing to fucking play with,” I sigh blowing out a fake smoke ring. “That shit takes you to a new level of high. It's similar to really good sex. There's a seduction to your senses, a foreplay of euphoria, a luring of heavenly promises if you just surrender to that white princess.” A small longing for it causes me to shove the candy stick back in my mouth. “On that shit, there's nothing you think you can't do.”

“Have you ever felt that way soberly?” Doc questions.

My face threatens to smirk. “Being with Presley had a similar effect.”

“A natural high.”

“Everything about her was natural. Her looks. Her charm. Her instinct to take care of me. To protect me.” I remove the stick and twirl it between my fingers. This time I stare at the imitation and start to see the resemblance between us. Pretending to be something it's not. Here I sit, recalling mildly subfuscous memories only to stifle the truly disgusting ones. The ones that need to be sacrificed at the alter of honesty in hopes that my penance can be paid.  “Even when she shouldn't have...”

“She saw you high.”

Further feeling dilapidated, I lean my head to the side so my fingers can tug, can pull, can instill the simplest pain elsewhere while I wish for the solitude I had begun to become swept away in. Before Doc I had no problem letting this shit eat at me while I attended the gym here, while I laid in bed where the hostile demons of my past turn me into the sniveling sack of shit I barely deserve to be. “She felt me high...”

To my surprise Presley agrees to come over to Isaac’s. Oddly enough I'm not the only one who has managed to make new friends. She's bringing some girl who just moved here. Preacher's daughter who loves to live up to the stereotype according to Bambi. She really shouldn't judge.

When I open Isaac's door, Presley's smirking at me in a mini skirt and a see through sweater, that's definitely a new addition as are the thigh high boots. An instant hard-on appears. Did I overdose? Am I fucking hallucinating this shit?

Leaning against the door frame I whisper out, “Damn...”

“Keep your tongue in your mouth.” Presley giggles at me, her hand sliding across my stomach as she enters the apartment. Once inside she makes introductions, “This is Jamie. Jamie, meet Ryder and this is his friend, Isaac.”

“You’re a hottie,” Isaac bluntly states.

“Don't even fucking think about it.” I point to him, my voice bellowing in an unusual harsh tone. “She's not here for you.”

Baffled, Presley places a hand gently on my chest. “I think he was talking to Jamie, baby.”

There's a buzzing back in my system. It’s making me shaky. Anxious. Excited. It's an oscillating feeling between incredible and insanity. I need some air. I definitely need some air.

“I was,” Isaac clarifies. “I'm a sucker for a red head with a nice rack.”

“I'm a sucker for a guy with a good stash.” She drops down on the couch beside him. “Now, can we skip the part where you give me a speech about how I look like a good girl, and let me get baked like the bad girl my daddy doesn't know I am?”

My excitement gets the better of me this time causing the words to fly out of my mouth. “Why don’t you two get to know each other a little better and we’ll just go on a drive?”

“You fit to drive?” Isaac asks as he extends his arm around the back of the couch.

Instinctively, Presley questions, “Are you sick?”

“I'm fine,” I quickly reassure them both. “Can we go?”

“I-”

“Let's go,” my restlessness starts to get the better of me, clashing harshly with my annoyance at everyone. Everything.  Grabbing Presley roughly by the hand I yank her out the door and pull her towards the car. “Come on.”

She manages to pull her hand away from mine. Irritation springs forward, but I battle it back. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“I’m not.” I shake my head. “I’m not. Like I’m really not.”

“You’re acting like you are. In fact you’re acting a little funny.” She folds her arms across her chest, her back resting against her passenger side door. “Actually really funny.”

Unable to hold back my rage I snap, “No, I'm fucking not.”

Fuck. This has to be what Issac warned me about. No. I can do this. I can control this.

Quietly she questions, “Are you…are you high, Ryder?”

Shoving her violently against the car I shout, “Why would you accuse me of something like that?”

She rubs her arm while she winces in pain. “I don’t know.” 

Oh shit. Oh shit! Oh shit! Did I hurt her? Why did I push her? I've never hurt Pres like that. I never would. What the hell is wrong with me? “You okay?”

“I'm fine.” Her meek response tears at something my brain can't seem to fathom.

Fuck. I wish I could get myself un-high right now. If I’d known she had plans of coming over I would've told Issac no. I wouldn't have had that second drink either. Shit. No. I'm fine. I'm fucking fine.

“You just...” Presley cautiously starts. “You're a little pushy. All shaky. You smell like smoke and alcohol.”

My head bobs around mocking her. “Well not all of us can be pretty and perfect like you.”

“Excuse me?” She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. I don't want her to cry, but I don't know how to stop this. I don't know how to stop me. “Did you bring me all the way out here to treat me like this?”

“Like what princess?” I grab her bicep and yank her closer to me. “Like the rough little slut you wish you could be?”

Suddenly I look down at my hand that's squeezing her arm hard enough to bruise. Something inside of me snaps, immediately. It's like someone's yanked the cord out of the wall because the DVD player wouldn't shut down when it was supposed to. Disgusted by my own behavior, I release her, my eyes falling into the terrified pair that are swelling with tears. Fuck me, what have I done?

Tears are climbing out of my eyes as I put the fake cigarette out.

Doc states, “It bruised.”

“Bad.” I rub away my sniffling nose. I don't deserve to have these tears. She wasn't the one who couldn't hold her alcohol. She wasn't the one who succumbed to nose candy like some toddler with no developed impulse control.  “And instead of turning me in, ratting on me, screaming from the rooftops what a fuck up I was, what a joke and disappointment I had become, she covered for me. Told everyone she got it while babysitting. The kid got rougher than she realized.”

“Why do you think she did that for you?” Doc questions. “You didn't deserve it.”

My eyes meet his. The lump in my throat expands.

“She should've pressed charges. She should've sent you to jail for attempted assault. She should've ruined your reputation. Let it run into the ground.” I swallow the bitter truth. That's not what burns in my chest. It's the notion that had she done that, had I been kicked in the ass at that minute instead of years later, I may have never ended up here. I may have never let things get as fucked as they did between us. My life, could still be mine instead of the drug controlled useless existence it became. “What was so damn special about you that she didn't?”

Helplessly I choke out, “I don't fucking know....”

Doc leans forward in his seat. He nods. “Maybe that's a question you need to ask yourself, Ryder. You know what made her special. You know that shit to your core. Figure out the counter. Figure out what
you
brought to that table that made her stay. Because believe it or not, while you've built her into a goddess capable of doing damn near no fucking wrong, she held you in a similar light. Figure out why and use that as the foundation to begin to rebuild your depleted self-esteem. Your past doesn't have to dictate or destroy your future. If you use it correctly, it can do the opposite. It can inspire and change it. However, that choice is yours.”

His legerity to get right to the point of these sessions shouldn't surprise me yet it still does, just as the point he intends on making. Doc's constant drive for me to take control and responsibility of my own life is relentlessly devitalizing to the world I've mentally incarcerated myself in. Will I free myself at the end of these sessions or will I simply shift the burden from one side of my soul to the other?