Poison Me Sweetly (10 page)

I park my car in front of the large two-story house
and cut the engine. The house towers over my car with its tan and stone siding.
Large windows overlook the wide lawn, and I can see the deck peeking out from around
the side of the house.

I gaze at the house and feel absolutely nothing. I'd
spent half my junior year and my entire senior year living here before I'd left
for college. But it holds no appeal to me. The only reason I'm here for the
weekend is because I need solitude, and my parents are out of town until next
Wednesday. The biggest factor for my trip home to Pasadena is that there is no
trace of Micah in the house. He was never meant to be here. I can also hide
out, deal with all my shit, and not worry about people prying. I don't have to
worry about Ace insisting on seeing me to smooth things over. Because I know he
will. I'm surprised he hasn't text messaged me yet. Then there's the fact that
I'd had the nightmare in front of Caleb. I'm sure he's bound to bring it up to
Ace, and that will trigger Ace's need to watch over me even more than he
already does.

The guys are like mother hens; it's absolutely
ridiculous, because men aren't supposed to be naggers. I always try to hide my
crap from them, because when they know I'm struggling with the darkness that's
always there, waiting to swallow me up, they watch me closely. They know
someone would have to be around to pick up the pieces once it broke me. And it
always did. It always broke me until I managed to slowly and gradually put
myself back together, piece by piece, until the cycle ran its course. Then, it
inevitably came back to knock me on my ass again.

Life sucks.

I shove open my car door and climb out, slipping my
overnight bag over my shoulder before reaching in and grabbing my laptop case
and my backpack. I just need some solitude for a while, and I need to work on
my renovation project. I've sat on it way too long, and I really need to get
into gear with it. The only reason I'm still going to my classes is because it
provides a nice distraction when I'm not working or partying. If I didn't try
to keep myself busy, I'd lose myself and likely fall into madness. Hell, I'm
already halfway there considering I'm seeing my dead brother and actually
having real conversations with him.

After dropping my stuff at my feet near the main
entrance, I dig out the spare key my parents insisted I keep. Once the door is
unlocked, I pick up all my belongings and step into the foyer. I look around,
and the empty silence of the house almost smothers me. I ignore it and close
the door behind me before walking further inside.

The house feels sterile to me. Our old house had been
decorated in warm colors, and it had been full of odds and ends that had given
it a lived in feel. This house isn't appealing at all. Last year my mom had
worked up the nerve to ask me if I'd like to decorate the house for them, and
I'd turned her down flat. Everything had changed. They could decorate their own
damn house.

And decorate they did.

A grimace sweeps through me as I slowly walk through
the interior of the home. It's not like I haven't seen it before. But it's a
good reminder to me how much has changed, and how my parents were no longer the
parents that I had once loved.

The interior is a little more upscale than our old
house. I can spy the touches of a home decorator that my mom hired. No way
would she pick out some of the high end décor that graces the walls.  And
all those metallic accents made the place feel cold, rather than lived in. I
don't live here, so I guess it doesn't really matter whether I approve or not.

I trail up the stairs and walk down the hallway to my
old bedroom. I push open the door and look around, thankful my parents hadn't
touched it. My full bed is still in the corner with its stupid yellow lacy
comforter. I hate yellow. Yellow normally alludes to cheerfulness. I am not a
cheerful person. After dropping my stuff on the bed, I look around at the boxes
and large bins that still hold all my belongings. The white walls of the room
are bare of decoration, and my dresser and nightstand are unadorned with little
knick knacks or picture frames that would give someone a glimpse into my life.
Once we'd moved here, I hadn't bothered to unpack. There hadn't been any point.
It wasn't home. It was just a place to sleep while a broken family struggled to
continue to live.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself as my eyes close. My
emotions are so raw right now. I can't go there. The chime of my cell phone in
my pocket interrupts the heaviness in the room, and I am thankful for the
distraction. I pull it out to find a text from Ace. Not surprising.
You
still pissed at me or can we have a civil conversation?

I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose. No matter
how I answer that question, it's going to get Ace started in on what went down
last night, and where I'm at right now. I contemplate my options, then decide
on turning off my phone. I toss it on the bed and run my hands over my face. I
know running from your problems is a piss poor way to deal with them, but
running from them is my only option sometimes. It's better than facing them.

My stomach growls loudly in the silence of the room.
“Well, I guess that's the first thing I should tend to,” I mutter as I make my
way back downstairs. I hadn't bothered with breakfast. I'd showered, hastily
packed, and then left the apartment before anyone figured out I was bailing for
the weekend.

After I make a quick sandwich and grab a can of soda,
I go back upstairs and decide to work on my project. I spread out my stuff on
the bed, and as I eat, I momentarily lose myself in the world of ambient,
decorative, and task lighting.

By that evening, I've succeeded in accomplishing more
of the project and feel content to put it aside until next week. When my
stomach begins to rumble, I go back downstairs to whip up some spaghetti. It's
so easy to make that even I can't screw up the simplicity of it. My parents are
into wine, so I grab an entire bottle before going out onto the deck with my
meal. I settle in and eat.

It's inevitable that my mind would begin to wander.
Old hurts begin to resurface as I'd fled to my parents’ house of all places. I
could have gotten a hotel room, but for some reason I'd felt the need to come
here. Maybe I need a reminder as to what all is broken within me. What my life
has become. Or perhaps it's punishment. Punishment for me and punishment for
them
.
I'll leave just enough things out of place before I go back to Long Beach, so
they’ll know I'd been here this weekend. I want them to know that the only time
I willingly come here, is when they're gone. It's childish really. I'm
twenty-years-old, and I still want to hurt mommy and daddy like they've hurt
me.

I can’t help it, though. Everything has changed.

God, I hate this house. All it is to me is wood,
cement, plaster, and sheetrock. There’s nothing to show that a real family
lived here. This home holds none of the holiday memories our old one had. None
of the excitement or laughter has seeped into these walls, bringing to it a ‘lived’
in feel that only a happy household can bring. There were no memories of Micah
playing practical jokes on my mom, who is extremely gullible. There were no
paper airplane fights at the kitchen table while working on homework. No
piggyback rides from dad or ping pong tournaments in the basement. There were
no memories of being awake and hearing my dad quietly opening my bedroom door
to check up on me. Even at the age of seventeen, he’d peek in at me and Micah,
making sure that all was right in the house before going to bed each night.

The night Micah died, was the night he quit opening my
door. I became invisible. I became the daughter that survived, only to be
abandoned, because their grief was stronger than their will to see me. How many
nights did I stare at that door, waiting to see it open, so I could reassure
myself that they still loved me. That Micah hadn’t held most of their heart
while I owned just a sliver of it.

I take a long drink of wine and stare broodingly out
at the sinking sunlight. They sold the old house only two months after Micah's
death. Sold it right out from underneath me, saying that it'd be easier this
way, that life had to move on. At the time, I hadn't had a say in the matter,
I'd been too lost in my grief to really realize the significance of the change.
By the time I realized what they'd done, and that they had
erased
Micah
from our lives, it'd been too late. All his stuff had been packed up, and
they’d never mentioned his belongings again. Had they gotten rid of it all? I
have no idea.

Tears sting my eyes as I realize how fast things can
blow up and shatter with no warning whatsoever. My parents had adored Micah,
and I know that his death hadn't been easy on them. But they'd had each other.
While I'd sank into the darkness that the isolation brought forth, they'd
leaned on each other and forced themselves to move on by keeping busy. I was
simply left behind.

I'd been left
behind
.

Had they truly forgotten about me while they dealt
with their grief? Or had it been a punishment of sorts? If I hadn't been
trashed that night...

The agony of knowing that their love is no more, is
what still chips away at my broken soul. I will never allow anyone close again.
I won’t give them the power to break me, to cause me the kind of pain that has
ravaged me from the inside out these past few years. I don’t think I could
survive it. I’m barely living now as it is.

Bitterness rears its ugly head.

I rise to my feet and angrily heave the wine bottle
across the lawn; it shatters thirty feet away on the grass. Sometimes I hate
them for leaving me behind. Micah too. I've been alone for three years now, and
each year it gets worse and worse. I'm not suicidal, but sometimes I think it
would be a whole hell of a lot easier if I was no longer among the living. It's
too hard to live.

It hurts too much.

Ace corners me Monday afternoon. I'm sitting at one of
the outdoor tables at the University Dining Plaza, sipping a smoothie while studying
for an exam, when Ace drops into the empty chair across from me. With a silent
resigned sigh, I brace myself for the coming conversation.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asks, his gray eyes
narrowing on mine. “It's not like we had a fight or anything. Or are you
avoiding me because of Jeremy?”

“I'm not avoiding anyone,” I lie.

He gives me a look. “I sent you text messages Saturday
and a few yesterday. It's Monday, and you still haven't responded.”

“I was out of town and forgot to bring my phone.”

“Out of town, eh?” He studies me. “At your parents?”

I manage not to tense up, and instead, I calmly sip my
smoothie. Ace knows enough to know that I treat my parents like the enemy, but
yet I go back to Pasadena on and off anyway. He doesn't know all the details of
my past, and I'm content to leave it that way. “Does it matter?” I ask. “Out of
town means out of town. Last I checked, I didn't have to ask any of you for
permission.”

Ace sighs, running a hand over his face. “Guess that
answers that question. You're always all
pissy
after
a trip to Pasadena.”

I shoot him a warning look that tells him the topic is
off limits.

His expression clears and he slants me a look. “Jeremy
and I had a bit of a talk while you were gone.”

“Congrats for growing a vagina over the weekend,” I
say as I pick up my notes. Last time Ace caught Jeremy having a
heart-to-heart—but a manly heart-to-heart, mind you—conversation with Charlie,
he’d called him a pussy.

“Christ, you've got something up your ass today,” Ace
says with a grimace.

“It's called a thong.”

Ace mutters something under his breath. I'm betting
it’s about me and something nasty being shoved up my ass. “Jeremy thinks it's a
good idea to drop the whole 'friends with benefits' for a while,” he announces
a second later.

This causes my head to snap up, and I stare at him.
“You told him about our conversation?”

“Hell, no. I just happened to bring you up in
conversation, and with a few well-placed suggestions, Jeremy came up with the
thought that it'd be a good idea to keep things strictly platonic from now on.
That's what I wanted to talk to you about yesterday when you were ignoring my
texts. He's on the same page, so just deal with it and move on.”

Relief hits me, but I hide it well. “I left my phone
in the apartment. I wasn't ignoring you,” is all I say to him.

“Yeah? What's your excuse for this morning?” he
presses with challenging eyes.

“The battery is dead.” Of course, at that moment, my
phone chimes in my back pocket, announcing that I have a new text message. I've
always had some fucked up karma.

Ace shoots me a patronizing look. “Nice anal
acoustics.”

I'm caught in my lie but shrug it off. Instead of
apologizing, I pull out my phone and glance at the newest text message. 
Where
the fuck were you this weekend? We’re good, aren’t we?
Well, that just
solved one of my issues. Looks like Jeremy’s not holding a grudge. I’m glad,
because I suck at apologizing. I pocket the phone without replying to Jeremy’s
text. I’ll find him later.

“So if you’re not avoiding me, I can ask about Caleb,”
Ace says simply.

“Caleb?” I look at him sharply.

“How’s that one going to play out?” Ace asks, reaching
out for my smoothie and sucking on the straw.

I should have known. I can't help but narrow my eyes
as I wonder if Caleb had blabbed about my nightmare. “He's one of those types
that brags about his conquests, I see,” I say as my arms fold across my chest a
bit defensively.

“Actually, he hasn't said a word about you. Didn't take
much to figure out, though. You and Caleb disappeared from Playground around
the same time.” He gives me a pointed look. “You make it clear that he knows
the deal?”

“What do you take me for?” I demand as my eyes snap at
him angrily. “You think I go around deliberately leading guys on?” I start
grabbing my things and shoving them in my backpack.

“Hey, that's not what I said, Z.”

“Whatever,” I mutter as I rise to my feet.

Ace quickly stands up and puts a hand on my arm,
stopping me from walking away. “I meant that he's only been here for a few
months. He hasn't been around you enough to know what you're all about,” he
explains, his eyes holding mine.

“If he read more into it, that's on him. I didn't even
want to sleep with him, but he followed me around all night and got into my
head.”

Ace goes completely still, eyes glinting with a look
that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. “Were you drunk, Zoey?”
He's using my full name, which meant Ace means business. I look at him with
confusion, trying to figure out what set him off. “Did he take advantage of
you?” he asks through gritted teeth.

Realization dawns as I realize I need to back pedal
for Caleb's sake. Ace doesn't usually get mad, but when he does, you hit the
deck and pray his anger isn't directed at you. “No, I wasn't drunk,” I assure
him. “In fact, he stopped me from getting tanked like I wanted.” My nose
wrinkles and I say, “He made me drink
water
.”

Ace's expression shifts from anger to disgruntlement.
“So you were sober. What do you mean you didn't want to sleep with him? Why did
you?” he asks gruffly, a hint of concern in his tone as he tries to cover it
up.

Someone bumps my shoulder as they walk past our table,
and it has me looking around at the crowded tables surrounding us. This place
is getting packed. I look at Ace. “I'm heading out. You have another class?”

He pulls out his phone and glances at the time. “Yeah,
I have Biology in about fifteen minutes.”

“I'll walk you,” I offer as I toss my empty smoothie
cup in the nearest trash bin. We begin to walk in the general direction of the
Molecular and Life Science Building.

Ace looks at me expectantly as we walk down the
sidewalk. “You going to answer my question?”

I sigh, and my fingers play idly with the strap of my
backpack near my shoulder. “I decided that night that I need to slow down when
it comes to guys,” I grudgingly admit. When Ace's mouth opens, I shoot him a
look. “Don't ask. That's the only answer you're getting out of me.”

“So why sleep with Caleb?”

“He wore me down, plain and simple. It won't happen
again,” I say firmly.

A couple of girls walk past us, and the blonde on the
left flashes Ace a come hither look that states she'll drop her panties for him
if he's interested. I shake my head, fighting the urge to tell her to have some
damn pride. I will
never
act like that for a guy.
Never
.

I’ve just left Ace at his building when I spy AJ and
Jeremy walking towards me in the distance. My mood immediately brightens as I
rush towards them. I don’t see AJ nearly enough these days. He’s always busy,
or his time is taken up by someone else.

When I get close enough, I all but launch myself at
him for a hug. He laughs and pulls me up into his arms, hugging me tight. “It's
only been two weeks,
Zo
.”

I look up and grin as I take in his short, dirty blond
hair and quietly confident blue eyes. He's such a handsome devil with his
surfer boy looks. With that dark tan, he looks like he lives in the sun
twenty-four-seven, though his personality is the opposite. He’s the voice of
reason within our small group, and his height and muscular build rivals Ace's.
He’s used that athletic body of his to pull Ace away from numerous fights when
Ace is in one of his own moods. “Don't knock my hugs,” I tease as I squeeze him
harder. He chuckles and tickles me around my ribcage.

When I pull back, I see that Jeremy looks hesitant. “
Yo
,
Zo
,” he says lightly.

I walk over to him and playfully slam my fist into his
gut. “Don't be downloading porn on my laptop.”

He grunts, rubbing his stomach as he peers down at me.
“You didn't like it?” he teases with a grin.

My eyes narrow on him. “Nothing like opening an
unnamed file in class and having porn open up. Go watch slutty threesomes on
your own laptop. Or better yet, go make it a reality, go find two bimbos and
screw them senseless.”

“It's your own fault you fell asleep and left me with
nothing to do last week. You didn't even wake up while I jerked myself off next
to you. Take my advice and get a TV.”

A strangled sound escapes me as I stare at him. “You
didn't.” And then I ask, “Did you?”

Jeremy starts to laugh as he pulls me in for a hug.
“No. I didn't.”

And just like that, things are okay between us.