Play Me (8 page)

“I don’t want that,” I spit out. “Now move.”

He lifts an eyebrow and bends down to nip at my lip. “Oh, stalker, you’re going to regret walking out of that door. Don’t deny me. Let me take care of you.” He leans closer. “Come home with me.”

Come home with him? Goddamn do I want to
. My throbbing center is screaming at me. Getting ready to go on strike. But I can’t. Not again. This is what happened last time. I let my walls down and now I have a kid that has a crack head father that left us for drugs.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Shoving against his chest, I swing the door open and push against the girl beating on the door. My head is spinning. I was about to give up everything I had to Weston. I’d let my walls down and Christ if it didn’t feel so good.

Trying to find Erica is going to be a pain in the ass. More people are here now and getting to the kitchen is like a maze. After searching for ten minutes I find Blake leaning against the kitchen counter sipping on a beer. His dark eyes find mine and he smiles. A sigh of relief slips from my lips as I make my way to him.

Despite me shaking, I put on the best
I’m together
face I can conjure up. “You okay? You look a little pale.”

Apparently I’m no good at hiding emotion. “I’m a little wheezy. Do you think you could give me a ride home?” I ask.

Blake nods, setting his beer to the side. “Of course. Come on,
Mami
. I’m parked out front.”

I feel terrible leaving Erica but I’m sure she’s fine. This isn’t our first rodeo. I just wish I had my car. But now it’s sitting in the athletic center’s parking lot with a flat tire. I can’t afford to get a new one yet, so Erica is my best bet getting back and forth.

Blake guides me through the cluttered house toward the front door. I avoid eye contact on the way out, becoming acquainted with the floor. But I feel it. The stare. The stare that makes my bones turn to goop. And when I look up he’s staring at me.

Stormy eyes locked on mine. A lopsided grin is on his face, and both hands are curled around the railing of the stairs. Anger builds in my chest. He’s smiling! There is nothing to smile about! I’ve let my guard down twice for a guy I barely know. And why? Because he’s so fucking hot I can’t control myself. That sounds so lame and it makes me angry when other girls say that. But now I know. They’re telling the truth.

Blake helps me into his truck, which is a modest blue pickup truck. “You don’t drink a lot, do you?”

Great. Now I look like a light weight. “Not really, no.”

Blake pulls out of the parking lot, and leans back into his seat. “That’s okay. Because no one likes a drunk, anyway.”

Good. Leaning my head back against the seat, I watch as we drive down the farmer’s road. “How is your training job going so far?”

Turning my head to the left, I look over at Blake. He’s relaxed. One hand resting on the steering wheel and the other lying on his lap. “Okay. Besides rehab with Weston. He drives me insane.”

Blake laughs beneath his breath. “I’ll second that notion.” We talk about our majors and families the rest of the way home. Blake’s originally from Houston which isn’t too far from where I moved from in Texas.

The parking lot is quiet when we pull in. It’s a nice change. The quiet, awkward silence when a guy is dropping you off settles over the pickup. Grabbing my keys, I look over at him. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he says.

I nod. Then I take a step forward.
Okay, you can do this.
Slipping out of the truck, I shut the door behind me. Blake falls into step beside me. The moon shines down on our small apartment complex and a chilly wind wipes my hair off my shoulders. “I had fun,” he says, stopping in front of me.

I drag my eyes from the ground up to his brown ones. The herd of butterflies starts fluttering in my stomach. Blake is … nice. I could see myself going out with him again. Stable. Good for me. Blake’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows and wets his lips.

“This is the part where I give you an awkward kiss,
Mami.
If you’ll let me.”

I burst out laughing. He just asked me if he could kiss me. It’s adorable. “I think I may.”

Another smile. Stepping forward, he rests his hand on my neck, dragging my mouth up to meet his. It’s a soft, sweet kiss. Enough to make my stomach flutter and then he pulls back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,
chica
.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Tomorrow.”

I unlock my door with shaky hands. My heart hammering in a good way. Slipping out of my heels, I lock the door behind me. My small apartment is quiet but it sounds like Heaven to me.

After I slip out of my clothes and take a really quick shower, I pull on some sweats and a long T-shirt. My stomach is growling. I need to get something in my stomach before the liquor starts eating away at me.

With my bowl of Raman noodles in one hand, I turn on my TV with the other. I slurp up my first noodle when something catches my eye. Sitting on the living room table is a small Post-It note. Untangling my legs, I reach forward and grab it.

You weren’t home when I came by.

Sorry I picked the lock. I really wanted to see you.

Please call me back.

Ryan

Ryan?
My mouth dries at the same time my body turns cold. He was … in my house?
Call him back
? Has he lost his mind? Does he not remember abandoning me two years ago? How did he even find me? And why now?

I’d gotten a strange call from a private number the other day but didn’t think anything about it. Unless he has a wad of child support money in one hand and a brand new tire in the other, I have nothing to say to him. He broke into my house! My fingers curl around the note crumbling it. I toss it onto the table. Why is he even here? It’s a six hour drive home. He drove six hours to find me? How did he even find me? It takes two tries to swallow the lump in my throat. Before I can fathom the reasons why Ryan is here, I get up and double lock my doors and windows. I pull the blinds and curtains on every window. Then I check behind the shower curtain, under the beds and in each closet. When I’m satisfied that he isn’t hiding in my home, I go back to the living room and sit down.

Ryan is in Magnolia. That thought haunted me for months after I made the move. I just knew his sleazy friends would follow me and use Maddox and me as collateral to get their drug money. But it never happened. I did just up and leave without telling them anything, but I’m sure it took Ryan two weeks to even realize we were gone. It wasn’t like he was at home much anyway.

Sitting back down, I stare at my living room. Nothing looks like it’s been touched but why would it? His parents are loaded and give him whatever he wants, except child support money obviously.

My fingers stay curled over the sides of my bowl as I stare down at my bowl of noodles. He could be watching me now. Or the people that were after him. Obviously they didn’t kill him if he wrote this note.

Closing my eyes, I see everything. His face. Those blue eyes I fell so deeply in love with. The addiction. The pain. The torment.

***

It was so hot. My sports bra was stuck tightly to my sweaty body. Sweat poured down my back and into my eyes. My vision was blurry. Limbs slapped at my face and stung against my sweaty skin.

The darkness blinding me didn’t make the situation any better. I had no idea how close he was or how close I was getting to my house. The park was only through a small cluster of trees, I thought. The black SUV that had been stalking the house disappeared.

The heavy weight that had been pressing against my shoulders lifted and I was able to live again. Ryan hadn’t been home in two weeks. The longest so far. My jogs were stress relievers—for everything.

He came out of nowhere. Something heavy was thrashed into my upper back—aimed at my head, for sure—I didn’t even look back until I had been running for
ten minutes. But when I did I knew who it was. The moonlight shown down on us through a cluster of trees. Each time the moonbeams brightened his face up, the more my skin began to crawl. He was there to kill me because Ryan stole drugs from him. Ryan, not me. Ryan almost got me killed.

“You might
as well give up, darlin’. I’m gonna catch ya!” the man yells. I’d seen him first at the park while Maddox played. He left as soon as we did.

Then at the movies for Maddox’s first trip. He held the door open for us. And then in the black SUV that had been stalking the house. And then chasing me through the woods.

I blindly ran through the woods, dodging limbs, broken tree trunks and jagged tree branches. The crunching of his boots seemed to be the only noise I could hear. No animals. No vehicles. Just his feet.

All the energy in my body seemed to be seeping out slowly, prolonging my death until I saw the streetlight ahead. Almost there. Almost there. I repeated it over and over until I knew I was going to make it. When I broke through the trees I kept running.

Even when I ran into someone’s yard I jumped the fence. Maddox’s face flashing in my head. He would have no one if something happened to me. Absolutely no one. By the fourth fence, I’m running down my street.

“Gaining on you, sweetheart!” the man yells.

I keep running. Three houses down. Almost there. “Open the door!” I begin to shout at the top of my lungs. My throat feels like I’m swallowing fire but I screech. The porch light of my neighbor’s house flickers on.

Then our front door opens and the babysitter, Allison, pokes her head outside. “Open the door,” I yell again, pushing myself to run up the steps and slam the door shut behind me.

***

I don’t even realize I’m crying until a tear slips into my mouth. Sighing, I wipe the tears away and focus on my food. That was a long time ago. My old life. A life I never want to see again. Slurping up a noodle, I rest my head against the back of the couch. I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I can’t be afraid anymore. The stress I felt in that last year with Ryan was the worst I’d ever felt. I won’t let it happen again.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Shit.
Who in the hell could that be? My thoughts go back to that night in Texas. But I push past it. They are not after me anymore. They couldn’t be. Biting my lip, I set my bowl on the table.

Bang. Bang. Bang
.

Damn. Slowly I walk toward the door and unlock it. My fingers curl around the knob and I open it an inch. A soft sigh escapes my lips. Weston. “What are you doin’ here?”

Weston runs his fingers through his hair and kicks the door open with his good foot. Both arms cross over his chest as he leans against the doorjamb. “That depends on if you let me in or not.”

Why is he here?
Heat swarms my cheeks remembering everything we just did in that bathroom. Could he embarrass me anymore? “Why would I let you inside? It’s the middle of the night.” I give him a good once over. “And you’re drunk.”

He reaches down and digs into his front pocket. He pulls out my cellphone and dangles it in front of my face by two fingers. “This is the reason you’d let me inside.”

What?
I slap my palms against my sweats and realize I really don’t have my phone.
Dammit.
Weston hums underneath his breath as he brings my phone closer to his face. “Looks like someone has a new text message.”

“Give it back, Weston.”

The edge of his lip pulls up slightly. “Let me inside and I will.”

“Why? What’s in here that isn’t out there?”

Something passes over his face that I can’t pinpoint. “Let me inside,
Roxanne
.”

I felt
that
in-between my legs. That word slipping from that mouth is more than I can take. Keeping my eyes on his, I take a step backwards while opening the door wider. Something appetizingly wicked heats in those brown eyes.

With the help of one crutch, he wobbles forward. I watch as he shuts the door and locks it behind me. His gaze rolls over my small apartment and then back to me.

Taking his bottom lip in-between his teeth he places one arm against the wall. “Is he here?”

What? Who?
Leaning closer, he presses his cheek against my own. “Is he here?”

“Is who here?”

A stern grip cups my hip and guides me until I’m pressed against the wall. A strong wisp of alcohol heats my face. He’s definitely been drinking but for some reason he doesn’t seem too drunk. “Don’t play with me,” he whispers against my mouth. “Is Blake here?”

Blake? Why would Blake be here?
“Weston you’re clearly drunk–“

A groan slips from his clenched teeth and he presses his hand tighter around my hip. “Is he here?”

There is a demanding tone in his voice that makes a side of me quiver. “No.”

Ten rough fingers grip the nape of my neck and force my mouth upward. “Was he here?”

My thighs turn to goop. If he wasn’t pressing himself against me I’d probably fall. “No,” I whimper out.

Lowering his mouth to my ear, he breathes in. “Did he kiss you?”

I bite my lip and close my eyes. I’m burning up … everywhere. A hard weight is pressing against my lower stomach, eating me alive. I don’t lie. And it’s mostly because I want to see his reaction. This aggressiveness is searing underneath my skin. I want it. “Yes, what’s it to you?”

There are a few short moments of silence. All I hear is his harsh breathing against my ear. Then he laughs. It’s a low chuckle that sets that fire ablaze inside of me. The hand on my hip lowers to cup my ass and the other slides up my throat to cup my neck. “You like him, Roxanne? You like the way he talks to you? The way he touches you?”

Anger rushes my throat and a painful lump begins to grow. Tilting my chin upward, I stare up at him. Those brown eyes bore into me, lowering toward my lips. “Yes.”

Something wild darkens his eyes. He laughs beneath his breath and presses the pad of his thumb against my bottom lip. “Does he touch you like this?” he whispers against my mouth. He squeezes my ass and presses me harder into him. And I feel how excited he is pressed firmly against my stomach.