Can't Let Go (23 page)

Fuck this
, I think to myself. Chrissy left me back at that fair four years ago. She does everything to stay away from me and here, on my bed, is a girl who tells me. A girl not afraid to show me what she wants. Walking toward Sam, a slow smile forms on her lips, figuring she’s getting what she’s been waiting for. Her hands reach for the hem of her shirt, inching it up her body. I remind myself, this is the guy I am. A
one night at a time with no commitment
guy. But if that’s true, then how come every night it’s Chrissy that occupies my dreams? Her that I want on my bed, begging me to take her.

THE SMELL OF her expensive perfume overtakes my nostrils as soon as I leave the confines of my bedroom. She’s gorgeous, even after a plane ride and a day at the hospital. No wonder Dex likes her so much. The awkwardness encompasses the entire second floor so I flee as soon as I spot an opening. It’s clear Sam has no idea who I am, but that’s okay. What was Dex to say?

The problem is my insides are slowly crumbling as I push the hardened shell of an exterior to keep others from realizing how much seeing him with someone else affects me, especially after last night. Maybe he doesn’t remember, maybe he was that drunk and thought I was someone else. Maybe even her.

Walking past Sadie and Brady in the kitchen, I give a wave over my shoulder when they each call out to me. Heading right to Rob, I plop down on the chair beside my car, open his cooler, and grab a beer. Twisting the cap and tossing it in the trashcan, I allow the entire bottle of cool liquid to flow down my throat and hopefully calm my sadness.

“Whoa there,” he comments, sliding out from under my piece of shit car.

“I don’t have work tomorrow,” I mention, as though that’s a reason to get hammered. When I first got home, I figured I’d lie around and maybe watch a movie. How fast things changed.

“Do you need to go out?” he asks and leans against the edge of the garage, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Yeah, but I really don’t want to enter that house again to change.” I glance down at my very casual outfit.

“Let’s go. Just give me a second to grab my keys.” He jogs over to the screen door and enters the house. With his departure, I ponder if I should go or not. Dex’s clear jealously of my friendship with Rob is evident with the mere casualness of his name from my lips. Then visions of Dex slamming Sam against his bedroom door overtake and I can give a shit what he thinks.

Not a second later, Sadie emerges. “Chrissy?” she questions, and I shake my head because if I talk to her about this, I’ll break.

“I’m going out with Rob for a bit,” I tell her, and her hand rests on my arm, igniting the start of a stumbled breath.

“Stay, we can talk,” she says, concern laced in her eyes.

“I appreciate it, Sadie, but I just can’t be here.” I don’t move my arm, and she doesn’t remove her hand.

“Chrissy, they’re—”

“It’s fine, Sadie, really. I want to unwind.” I’ve never wanted to escape Sadie more than at this moment.

She doesn’t know what happened last night. How close Dex and I came to changing our relationship forever.

Rob jumps off the steps and disengages Sadie. “I got this one, Sadie, go spend some quality time with Brady,” he jokes and grabs my hand, leading me to his Mustang. Over my shoulder, I glance at a very anxiety-ridden Sadie, biting her lip and watching us leave. Rob’s a complete gentleman, opening the door and shutting it behind me. He jogs in front of the car and slides in next to me. For the first time, I wish all of those feelings for Dex would transfer to Rob. “Are you a risk taker?” he asks, and, although I usually run on the side of caution, tonight I want to be someone different.

“Uh huh,” I answer. He smirks and his muffler roars to life, peeling out of the driveway.

Linkin Park, Papa Roach, Soundgarden, and a varied array of rock music carries the conversation on the way to wherever he’s taking me. The same music as Dex listens to usually, so I’m familiar with the majority of the bands. I remember when we were younger, he’d tell me a song he really liked, and I’d listen to it over and over again, allowing me to feel closer to him in a way.

A half hour passes, and we pull into a drive with a sign reading,
Paintball
. I scrunch my forehead at him, and he laughs. “It’s great for letting out stress.”

“I thought it was done in the woods during the day? In case you didn’t notice your headlights were on when you drove here,” I point out, and he turns off the engine and gets out of the car without a response.

I open my own door and exit the car while Rob waits at the front of the car for me. “It’s inside a warehouse. They’re open late.” He walks me in, and a guy, who appears like he hasn’t showered in a week or so, welcomes him by name then eyes me.

“Brought someone with you?” he asks, his eyes roaming up and down my body.

“This is Chrissy, and she needs to have fun.” He claps me on the back, making my body stumble forward. I give the guy a tight smile, and he starts grabbing things from the shelves.

Ten minutes later, I’m fitted with a suit, a gun, and little colorful balls to shoot at people. Rob laughs when he notices me look at the goggles with trepidation. I place them over my head, resting them on my forehead. “You’re not going to protect your eyes like that.” He points to my goggles, and I giggle.

“Don’t worry about me,” I kid, making him smile.

We both make our way over to the entry area, that’s occupied with a bunch of high school kids geared up and egging each other on. When they spot us, a few laugh to themselves while obviously the most outspoken one sets his attention on Rob. “You brought your girlfriend?” he huffs, and I’m holding a laugh inside because he has no idea who he’s messing with.

“I bet she can shoot better than your ass.”

“I can guarantee you she’ll be the first one out.” I stay silent, and Rob should too. I’ve never even shot a Nerf gun, so I’m pretty sure the cocky kid is accurate in his assessment. I’ll be on the sidelines most of this game.

“Okaaayyy.” Rob draws the word out nice and slow, appearing cool and calm. “If she stays in longer than you, I want your gun,” he wagers, and I pull on Rob’s sleeve, but he only looks down at me briefly before back to the kid.

“What do I get when she’s walking to the sidelines a second after the horn?”

“I’ll buy you an equivalent at the shop out front.” Rob finalizes the bet, and, while everyone is getting ready, I pull him aside.

“Are you nuts? There’s no way I can beat that kid. He must come here every weekend. Look at his gear, his friends stuff. I’m standing here with a gun that will probably jam in two seconds while he’s got reserves of balls strapped to his belt.”

Rob’s boisterous laugh brings us attention but they turn away. “All you have to do is get him first. Stay by my side, and I’ll guarantee it.” He places his hand on my shoulder, and somehow self-confidence washes over me that maybe I can do it. “The kid is cocky and arrogant. Traits I know too well. When you’re in high school though, those too sure of themselves guys don’t think everything through, they just react. We got this, Chris, don’t worry,” he tells me, and the fact he called me Chris has me trusting him. Not many people refer to me by that name. My mind wanders to thinking about Dex, who was the first to shorten my name, and how I hated it at first because it sounded like a boy’s name. It clarified that that’s how Dex saw me … as though I was just another friend, like the abundance of boys he hung around with. “You still with me?” Rob asks, and I nod as my head continues to swim in the thoughts of Dex.

A few minutes later, the same guy that got us fitted, climbs up on top of a perch with a microphone in his hand. “You all ready?” The boys all scream, some even make ear-screeching animal sounds. One acting out, fisting his chest like an ape. Oh, to be young again. Soon, everyone quiets and the man begins his instructions. “You have two minutes to find your spot, but when the horn blows, firing can begin. You get shot, you immediately need to exit through the doors. Everyone got it?” Once again, the high school boys scream their affirmations. Rob and the guy share a smirk, and then Rob’s grabbing my hand and tugging me into the warehouse situated with wooden barriers. We hide behind a plywood partition, and Rob places his finger over his lips, like I wouldn’t figure out we need to be quiet. The horn blows, and the scrambling of bodies ping around us in every direction.

While Rob’s intent on watching from around the edge, my eyes dart in the direction of every noise with my gun poised out in front of me. I don’t even know if I’d have the nerve to shoot or not if I had the opportunity. He hits me on the shin, so that I crouch down similar to him. “Rob,” I whisper, and he firmly shakes his head, bringing his hand around my waist, forcing me to crouch down in front of him. He steadies my shaking gun and positions it to face forward. The cocky ass rolls from shield to shield in an attempt to find us … or rather, me.

Suddenly, I muster all my courage, and when he runs to slide behind another obstacle, I shoot, knocking me back in Rob’s chest from the force of the gun. Rob nudges me forward, and when I peer over the side of the plywood, the kid’s swearing up a storm. “Mother fucker,” he exclaims, and Rob uncontrollably laughs.

“Way to go, Rambo,” he compliments me. “Now you’re on your own.” He sprints across the concrete and hides behind a set of tires.

When I’d hear about paintball or watch people playing it on television, I thought it looked pointless, but I loved every aspect of it; the hiding, the sneaking up, the shooting. What kind of person does that make me? The worst part was when I did finally get shot, it was so gut-clenching painful that I’ll never participate in paintball again.

Sitting on the sideline bench, I watch the boys and Rob finding and shooting one another. Rob fails to be the winner, but he comes close. When he walks off the play course toward me, the cocky kid hands Rob his gun. “I don’t want it,” Rob tells him quickly, placing his hand on the gun and pushing it away. “But taper down your arrogance a bit, okay? Trust me when I say no one likes an asshole.” He doesn’t wait for a response, but smirks on his way over to me. “Now we eat,” he instructs, ushering me off the bench with his hand.

Rob drives us to a diner off the freeway that’s open late at night. Once we’re seated in a booth in the corner with the small jukebox that maybe worked back in the day pushed against the window, I begin thanking him for occupying my mind tonight.

“Seriously, Rob, that was awesome. Other than the getting shot part,” I continue, rubbing my arm where one of those pricks got me. “Thank you.”

“It takes a while to get used to it. I mean, it always hurts like a mother fucker, but you know what to expect.” We’re interrupted when the waitress comes over.

“Hey, Rob.” She greets him by name and then her eyes veer to me. “Do you guys need menus?”

“I don’t, but she might.” He points over at me, and I shake my head. Figuring it’s a diner, I can assume what they serve and what I’ll order. “I guess we’re ready, Jackie,” he informs her, and I feel as though I should be introduced, since they’re on first name bases with one another.

Rob orders a Reuben sandwich, and I order a hamburger. We sit and wait while the food is prepared, neither of us talking about anything of consequence. My mind drifts back to Dex and him inside of Sam at the moment. The image of his sweating body slipping along hers while he thrusts in and out burns my thoughts. Her screams of ecstasy and him groaning, practically a soundtrack in my ears. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to sleep in my room with the two of them next door. My only hope is she vanishes somewhere else tonight, but even I know there’s a slim chance of that.

We eat our meals, talking mostly about Rob’s last tour and music. He never asks me about Dex, and I try not to bring his name up. I’m not oblivious that the guy sitting across from me knows more about the Dex Prescott of the last four years than I do. Is Dex’s bedroom a revolving door of girls? Did he ever have a serious relationship? I don’t even know if I want those details to be embedded in my mind to obsess about over and over again. Especially, since Sam has been enough to occupy most of my thoughts so far.