Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series (26 page)

Chapter 27

Emma

              The afternoon I had spent with Bryan had been more than I ever imagined. Since I had gotten sick, I firmly believed I would never jump again, but he made it happen. He understood how much I missed it, and got me back up there. And not only had I gotten to jump, he strapped my body to his as if it were an everyday occurrence.

              Simply remembering the feel of us tethered together, his body pressed against mine, made me squeeze my legs together, desperate for release. After almost two days, the excitement, joy, and lust remained fresh, poignant, and new. I tried to stop it, to fight it every step of the way, but I lost. My crush grew, drowning me in the feelings I wanted desperately to subside and disappear.

              How I wished those feelings would wane and vanish, but apparently I hoped for too much. It was almost funny. After Bryan dropped me off at my apartment, he put the top on the Jeep, made sure I got into the house safely, and then left. And the rain had been falling off and on since, matching my mood perfectly.

              There I was bemoaning the fact that no man wanted me, and I had already fallen for the one man that remained the most out of my reach. I stood inside the circle and he on the outside. How many times did I have to hear or read that I wasn’t his type before my heart would listen? It hadn’t worked so far. Instead, my feelings grew and surpassed the harmless level of a crush since I agreed to this whole stupid experiment. If only he had not answered. If only I selected the right name to begin with. If only I had never met him. If only…

              If only sounded a lot like ‘
what if,’
and I could hear Gia’s voice inside my head hollering at me. “What if my grandma wore combat boots?” I was never sure why she liked that particular saying, or what it had to do with anything, but she said it a lot. Basically, it meant the ‘
what ifs’
and
‘if onlys’
didn’t matter. If my parents had never met or had decided to stop at only one child, I would not be here. If I hadn’t gotten sick, my life would have continued down the path it had been, and I probably wouldn’t have met Bryan or any of the other people I’d met online and in person who have MG as well.

              My life changed the day I got sick, and I in some ways, I was still fighting the transformation, trying to decide if it had changed for the better or the worse. It was a strange argument to have with myself. Most would argue that it changed for the worse, and in many ways, I thought it had. No one should have to deal with this. Some days I could barely lift a soda can. But then again, there were many ways in which my life improved. I stopped to smell the roses now, I remembered to live—
really live
—as much as I could, and I tried to never take for granted anything and everything life offered me. I may not always get along with my family, however, they were there for me, loved me, and supported me. Not everyone was so lucky.

              I was done and tired of it all, or maybe I was just tired of life in general. I didn’t know anymore, but I had figured out one thing, I didn’t want to be alone any longer, which meant I had to get over the one man I cared about romantically. It was ironic, that the one man I wanted was the one man helping me find someone else to be with. How was I supposed to get over my infatuation and feelings for him while still spreading my wings?

              I stood there and no one saw me because of the throngs of people surrounding me. I needed someone who saw beyond the distractions, who could pick me out in a crowd.

              I remembered watching
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
one night with my best friend. Gia had never really been into those types of movies, but I wanted to watch it, and she agreed to put it in the lineup for one of our movie nights. She must’ve loved me or something, because we watched it only two nights after I initially requested it.

              In the movie, there was a scene toward the end where he made it through all of these different tasks and entered a room full of grails, and amongst them all, he had to pick out which one was the Holy Grail. So many were bejeweled and shiny, adorned with trinkets. Finally, he picked the plainest and most obscure grail. He picked correctly. I was the grail, and I wanted someone to find me amidst all of the decorated cups that surround me.

              It was time to start living again. Really living. I had been going through the motions, but was always scared to really put myself out there. And my dates had left a lot to be desired, however, if I wanted to find someone to spend my life with, to love me, to find me in the sea of grails, I had to do more than sit at home complaining that no man wanted me. My walls were an impenetrable fortress which dared not open the gates. The time had come to take those baby steps Bryan suggested.

              My insides quaked with pleasure thinking about him again. I still didn’t know how he did it, or why, but he had the uncanny ability to break through my walls and see the real me. Too bad he didn’t want that person. The time had come to move on, and if that meant throwing myself in a piranha pool, then that was what I had to do. I knew Mel would help me, but I thought of someone else that would probably help me more: Chad.

              Chad had been more than a little helpful when I attended his little soiree, and he knew my current predicament. And I did have his cell phone number. Would he be willing? My stomach clenched in both nervousness and uncertainty. My inner voice yelled at me.
He’s not Bryan.

              I fully grasped the fact that he was not Bryan, but I couldn’t keep pining for someone who did not want me. He helped, encouraged, championed, and pushed me more than anyone else in my life—past or present. For that, I felt grateful beyond measure, and maybe my heart confused those two feelings.

              My heart denied the confusion, fighting against the mere thought I misunderstood myself. But could I trust my heart?

              Looking around my living room, everything seemed so quiet and peaceful. Since I had woken up slightly weak and extremely fatigued, Mel came by on her way to work and picked up Curley. I had a feeling I would be seeing her this morning when she texted me last night and I told her I felt kind of blah. And at 7:45 A.M. she knocked twice and let herself in with the key I had given her. Two people had been given keys to my apartment–just in case–Mel and my sister, Ellie. Both of them used it even when I didn’t want them to, but I learned to accept their sometimes overbearing tendencies. They worried about me and wanted to make sure I was all right. I appreciated the fact that they cared as much as they did.

              However, this morning I missed my dog. I missed his cuddles, his barking, and his moving around. With him there, my thoughts couldn’t head down paths they shouldn’t.

Maybe sorting my thoughts would help me to regain control over my riotous emotions. After grabbing a piece of paper and pen from the kitchen, I flopped back down on the couch. I folded it in half, and on one side I listed all of the reasons I believed my heart was confused about my feelings for Bryan. On the other side, I wrote down all of the reasons why it might not be confused about my feelings for that Navy man. The latter started to become longer then the former, and I ripped up the paper and slammed it on the table. Fuck this shit. A list could not decide my future for me.

              Bryan didn’t want me, and therefore, I would have to find someone that did, and eventually, I would get over him and move on with my life. My heart would find someone new to like. No longer could I convince myself that my feelings were a mere crush, but I refused to define them any further than that.

              My gut twisted with my denial, and tears welled in my eyes. I denied them permission to fall, pretending that I could actually control them, and still, they remained swimming on the surface, making my eyes glisten.

              It was time to start thinking about myself and my future. My phone lay next to the shredded list, and I wondered if Bryan had maybe sent me a message. It was easy to forbid me from thinking about him, to order myself to get over him, but actually following through on either of those, was impossible. And I couldn’t stop myself from checking, disappointment filling me when no message had been received. Then I wanted to slap myself when I tried to give him an excuse.
He’s busy with his family, and besides, it’s only midmorning.

              This behavior needed to stop. If I intended to find someone, to complete the mission Bryan set out to assist me with, I had to make a conscious effort to change a few things. Communication with him would come to a screeching halt. No more pinging him. No more waiting for him to message me, or looking forward to our conversations. I hated even the thought that I would never chat with him again, because he made me feel normal, as if my disease did not matter. Never mattered. He had become the first guy since right before I started college that I felt I could relax and be myself around, ripping down walls he had no idea existed for a reason.

              MG forced me further into my shell, but it only compounded issues that had already existed.

              In high school, I was a size 16 even though I maintained an extremely active lifestyle. Winter guard/flag corps, tennis, softball, marching band, and dance. I loved it all and never got tired of my busy schedule and managed to maintain a 4.0 GPA.

              And then Allen happened. I had been pushing down all of my memories of him, trying to forget that brief period of time in my life never existed, but now without the distractions, without anything else to occupy my mind, they escaped and burst free.

              I planned to use the summer between high school and college to get read ahead and start getting a jump on my studies, however, my plans changed a little when I met someone. Allen was different than any of the other guys I knew. Five years older, he had an edge to him. Bad boy personified. Drinking, smoking, partying…he did it all, and he approached me. Me, the wallflower who no one noticed. I shouldn’t have wanted him. I should have told him no, but when I opened my mouth, instead of
no, yes
escaped, holding my denial prisoner. This man gave me my first taste of alcohol, cigarettes, and the wild side where no one cared about text books. And then he tore me to pieces.

              My self-esteem was already shit, and I never quite understood why a guy like him would look twice at me, but at the time, I didn’t care. It felt good to be wanted by someone, even if I also knew this relationship could never last. I still had plans for my future and planned on leaving for university to work on my degree. I had dreams I wanted to pursue, and I did not want to become my sister. That thought always remained first and foremost in my head. I had this violent urge to prove her wrong.

              It only took two weeks for my relationship with Allen to change from giddy school girl to tortured soul.

              The relationship started innocently enough, although, he tried to convince me to sleep with him from day one, and he always pushed my boundaries when we made out, but I wasn’t ready to cross the line into a more physical relationship yet. For two weeks the pressure built and increased, and on the last day, I finally gave in.

Before I could change my mind, he dragged me to his room, his hand gripping mine as he pulled me behind him with his friends cheering him on from his living room. I didn’t fight him. In truth, I felt too embarrassed to even look at him. My skin prickled with heat, and I swore my whole body turned red as he stripped me and then pushed me backwards onto the bed. As soon as I landed, my stiff body gave a little bounce. I tried to will my body to relax, but it remained as still as a 2x4.

Now that the memories of that time assaulted me, I could not turn them off.

Everything up until his cock slammed into me was blurred, blending into each other. He was part of the room, not a separate being, and until he rammed into me, I had no conscious thought of him above me.

It hurt. There was no foreplay, no preparation, and my pussy was dry as a bone. The moment he roughly took my virginity, I screamed. He laughed. I remembered him laughing, pulling out, pushing in…his pace picking up with each thrust, and I cried.

When he finished, he pulled out and started teasing me, calling his friends to “come in and look at the scared little girl.” Sneering, he told me, “You’re just like all the others, and you’re not even that good. Now that I’ve tasted you, you can get the fuck out of my house.”

One of his friend chortled as he asked, “How were you even able to fuck her? She’s a dog.”

“Man, that’s what a pillow over the face is for,” Allen replied.

“It would take more than that to make me forget that fat ass body and that ugly mug.”

Everyone in the room began to join in the fun, to make a mockery of me, and to tear me down. No one helped. I tried to ignore them as I got dressed, but I moved slowly from the shock and from the pain that lingered between my legs. Still, their taunts continued. Even Allen snapped, “Hurry the fuck up! I have a real woman on her way over. One that actually knows how to satisfy her man.” It stabbed me and stung. I didn’t want to cry, I tried not to, and yet, the tears fell anyway.

The torment continued until Allen’s brother showed up with a buddy and they saved me. While the friend pushed everyone out of the way and threw Allen to the ground, Allen’s brother, Paul, pulled me out of the room and got me into his car. Paul’s friend followed a few minutes later.