Breathe Me (A 'Me' Novel) (3 page)

Clearing my throat so I could actually appear to be good at my job, I asked, “Sure, what can I help you find?”

“Which one would you prefer?” He had grabbed two nearby books off the best-sellers shelves and held them up to me.

Here we go.

“Well, one is about a dystopian world where kids are basically killing each other,” I said.

“And the other?” He held the second one up higher, examining the cover. He was standing just close enough that I could smell an intoxicating scent wafting off him. Do all guys smell this marvelous up close?

“The other is about a dystopian world where kids are killing each other.”

“Wait, so it’s the same book?” He raised one perfect eyebrow in confusion.

I didn’t peg him for a reader, so I decided to give him the easy explanation. “No, they are actually different books in different series. While they may have similarities, the story and plots are wholly different. You want guns and knives, or bows and arrows?”

He studied the books for a minute, then put the second one back on the self. His hands looked rugged and calloused, like he used them often.

“Good choice.” I smiled my employee-of-the-month smile at him.

“For the record, the ‘bow and arrow’ book was better than the movie,” he said, then turned and walked up the aisle toward the front of the store.

Well, shit.

It may have been his tall, muscular build or his dark hair that was cut boot camp–style short that threw me off, but he totally played me. Chances were, I would never run into Dystopian Biker ever again, unless it was in the pages of one of my books. Damn.

Ember thought I just worked around books, only having read a few best sellers here and there, when really, I had read almost all the books in the store, and ’wormz was a medium-sized store with shipments of new material every Wednesday. My love of reading coincided with my hatred of my mother. I’d been looking for an escape, and I’d found it in the shelves of my school library. From then on, I was never without a book. Reading was the one thing she let me have. The one thing she didn’t try to ruin. Books were my solace; they didn’t throw things at you or tell you that you were worthless. They loved you back as much as you loved them. They never hurt you purposely or because they could. I loved the smell of the pages and running my hand along all the book spines on my bookshelves at home. Books gave me hope to face another day with a smile.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was quitting time for me, and if Tom wasn’t such a dick about overtime, I would’ve stayed until closing. Sighing, I made my way to the back to punch out, then grabbed my cellphone off the charger where I stuck it during break. Great, three missed calls from Ember and one from home. Just seeing the number caused me to break out in sweats. The message icon was blinking. I prayed the message was from Ember, but deep down I knew it wasn’t. I waited until I got outside the store to listen to it. I didn’t want people to act all concerned if they saw my face change from carefree to “my puppy died.”

“Where the fuc—”

I hit delete. I could hear this shit in person; I didn’t need to hear it in a voice mail. I knew what it said: the same thing it always said. I looked at the time. The message was sent two hours ago. Fuuuuck.

Tonight was going to suck.

Long ago, I deemed that my mother had two sides. When she was just being her normal albeit cruel self, she was my mother; it was what I was used to. When she wanted to be heartless and cause me years in therapy for the shit she put me through, she became a monster. My own personal monster that I couldn’t escape. This was who I saw more often than not.

This was who I was guaranteed to see tonight.

“You look like you got lost in the stacks,” boomed a voice from behind me.

Turning around, I saw Dystopian Biker. But not on a bike. He was in a car—some restored muscle car, as far as I could tell. I quickly smoothed my face out to that of an off-the-clock employee and smiled his way.

“Ha, good one,” I smiled politely. Customers always thought themselves witty when they made bookstore-related jokes.

I turned to walk away, and he yelled, “Thanks for the recommendation, Harley.”

Whoa. Dystopian Biker knew my name?

He must have seen the bewildered look on my face even from across two rows of cars because he tapped the left side of his chest and looked at me pointedly. Oh, right. My name tag.

He was apparently so hot he was making me stupid.

“Anytime. Let me know how you like it,” I said.

He nodded and drove away before I could gather why he even thought to thank me. At least someone would go home happy.

I stopped at the local diner, Patty P’s, to grab some burgers and fries for dinner. It was my mother’s favorite, and by bringing some home for her, hopefully she would leave me alone.

I apprehensively opened the door to our small, two-bedroom house. I hated not knowing what was going to happen. It was why sometimes in a particularly suspenseful part of a book, I’d skip ahead a few pages to see if everything turned out all right.

I wished I could skip ahead now.

The house was dark and quiet, like scary-movie quiet, and I found myself walking lightly across the living room to the kitchen with the food containers in hand.

I never made it.

Something heavy slammed into my back, knocking me off balance and causing one of the containers, the top one, to fall and spill onto the floor.

“You are so fucking clumsy!” she screamed.

Yeah, because that was my fault.

She didn’t even give me a chance to reply. She never did. “I waited for you for almost two hours to eat, and now you have spilled it on the floor like the dumbass you are. Pick it up!”

Ignoring the pain in my back, I got up and, after setting the intact container on the table, started cleaning the mess off the floor. I was afraid to turn my back on her but more afraid of what she’d do if I didn’t clean up the mess fast enough. She watched me the whole time, my heart beating erratically. When I got up to go and put the food in the trash, she stopped me.

“What are you doing with that?”

“I…I was putting it in the trash. There is another container.” I gestured over to the table where I had set the other one down.

“So you are not eating? We don’t have money to waste on food because you can’t hold a bag right.”

“But it spilled on the floor. It’s trash now,” I said meekly.

“So? You are what you eat. Come sit and eat. Stop wasting food.” She looked at me expectantly, daring me to challenge her. Of course I wouldn’t. I never did. Fear had rooted me to that spot, and it took her fist connecting with the back of my head to spur me into action.

I went over and plated her food, then plated my messy burger and fries and set them on the table for us. I sat across from her and watched her as she ate. With every bite she took, she gave me a look as if to say, “EAT.”

“I’m not really hungry. I was going to take this for lunch tomorrow,” I tried and lied. I was starving, but I didn’t want to eat off the floor that I knew hadn’t been cleaned in at least a week.

“You need to eat. Look at you, straight as a board. Maybe some of that food will go to your breasts and ass, since you don’t have either of those.” She gave me the once-over as she said this. It wasn’t necessary. I knew that at 5'7", I was too tall and awkward and had no curves whatsoever. I found it amazing that I was able to get Ember and everyone else to believe my stories, considering the body I had.

My mother suddenly slammed her fist down on the table, causing the salt and pepper shakers to topple over. “EAT. I won’t tell you again.”

With tears stinging in my eyes, I picked up a fry and nibbled it. It wasn’t so bad. They’d probably been cooked in worse. Maybe I could get by with just eating the fries. I never finished my burgers, anyway.

“Eat the burger. You can’t get an ass with just fries,” she said with such malice in her voice I swore she was enjoying it, which she probably was.

I looked at the burger. I knew the black flecks on the bun and in the cheese were not sesame seeds, and I almost vomited. I had to do this; otherwise, the outcome would be worse. I had to weigh my options: either suffer a stomachache or a blow to the stomach. Slowly, I picked up the burger, swallowing back the cry in my throat. I didn’t cry. I knew she got off on it, and I hated to give her the satisfaction. I bit into the burger and chewed as fast as I could to swallow it down. She watched me the entire time, taking bites of her own and smiling at me like we were having a normal family dinner and I was telling her about my day. After my last bite, I waited to be excused. And when she finally said I could go, I all but ran to the bathroom and turned on the shower and the sink to mask the sounds of my vomiting.

I stayed in the bathroom, inspecting my head where she had hit me. She was always careful, always. I felt a knot forming on the base of my neck that my hair would cover. I tried to look at my back in the mirror, but then I stopped. What was the point? My clothes would just cover it up if it was bruised. I showered and stayed in the bathroom. She wouldn’t bother me anymore tonight if I stayed in here. I cried silently and thought back on what I could have possibly done to make her hate me so much that she would find joy in hurting me. I stayed in the bathroom until I was sure she was in her room sleeping, then I crept to my room and lay on my stomach and dreamed of a place where I was strong. A place where I was strong enough to fight back, strong enough to make her stop.

A place where I was strong enough to leave.

Chapter 4

Deklan

“Yes, yes. Harder!” the chick screamed as I plowed into her, deeper. She writhed under me, thoroughly enjoying the fucking she was getting from me. Me, though? Same pussy, different face.

“Yes, daddy! Yes!” she screamed as she clenched my dick, close to climaxing, and I instantly became uninterested. Daddy? Pausing in my movements, I looked down at her sweaty double Ds. Fake.

“Why did you stop?” she asked in a pouty voice just as fake as her tits.

“Some guys like that daddy shit. I’m not one of them.” Pulling out, I rolled over onto my back.

She dropped her jaw.

“If you’re going to open your mouth, you might as well have my dick in it.” I motioned at my still hard junk. She had to ruin what would have been a decent fuck. She eyed me, contemplating my words while I waited. I knew she was going to suck me off,
she
knew she was going to suck me off, so why the suspense? I had no idea. We both knew we were here to get dirty.

After a minute, she got up and sat on my chest, reverse-cowgirl style, and took me in her hot mouth, ass in my face. What’s a guy to do with an ass in his face? This one was particularly nice; it was what made me approach her. It was the only thing on her that was real.

I spread her ass with my hands and was greeted with her pussy, still throbbing from where my cock had been. I plunged two fingers inside and began the hard, fast friction that I knew chicks loved. Might as well get her off, too. I was nothing if not generous.

I hissed as she licked the head of my dick all the way down to the base, then slowly back up before putting me fully into her mouth. I felt my dick hit the back of her throat as I added another finger and fucked her harder, her juices running down my arm. I hoped she was close because I was about to blow my shit.

Squeezing my balls in her hands, she moved her hot and wet mouth faster and faster down my shaft.

I slammed my dick into her mouth, once, twice, and she replaced her mouth with her hand to finish me off. I let loose, putting my hand on her back to hold her in place until every last drop squirted out onto my thighs. She moaned deep in her throat as I pumped her pussy one more time, and boom, she erupted.

Panting, she maneuvered around and tried to cuddle with me. I was not having that shit.

“Thanks, juicy. You were great, but I’m not a teddy bear. I don’t cuddle.”

“Okay, that’s cool,” she said. “You were amazing, but next time I want the full ride.” She pouted those fake lips again.

“You assume there will
be
a next time.” Maybe if I was bored I’d hit her up. She wasn’t the worst.

“Oh, there will be. You want more. I’m the only one that will make you come that hard.” She smiled as she got up to get dressed. “Call me.”

She placed a card with her number on my nightstand before she walked out. Once she was gone, I got up and pulled on my jeans, then picked the card up and set my lighter to it. I threw it in the trash and watched it burn into nothing.

I didn’t do fake.

Being in this town again was fucking with me, especially after seeing Matty with some chick outside some bookstore being all cozy and shit, with not a care in the world. After dropping my bag at the crappy hotel, I stopped to grab something to eat at the little café and caught the show, creeping in between two rows of books like a snitch so he wouldn’t see that I’d gotten into town a few hours earlier than he was expecting. I wasn’t here to meet his girl and be all chummy.

After running into the waif of a girl who worked there, and noticing her nice breasts, I needed to tie one on and quick. Sex was a release for me. It made all the shit I had going on in my head and my life just pause for a fucking minute or however long it took me to bury myself balls deep and forget.

I got up and washed my hands and lit a smoke, then grabbed the book Nice Breasts recommended. Thing about me? I had gotten into reading while I was recovering from a broken leg and pelvis after an “accidental” fall from my two-story bedroom window. It was endless days of reading any fantasy and paranormal shit Matty or my mother would bring me. I now read less fantasy and more books where people got their asses handed to them after doing some foul shit they thought they could get away with it. Yeah, I didn’t even want to look too closely into why I liked those now. Too wound up for sleep and in for the night, I settled in to check out this dystopian world that had better have some motherfuckers squaring up or I was gonna be pissed.

Chapter 5

Harley