Poison Me Sweetly (24 page)

I am once again reverting back to staring. He's
offering me the one thing that I've been aching for, but at the same time, I'm
scared. Scared to put my faith in him, only to have him break my heart in the
end. I have a tendency to ruin everything before it can ever really begin.

“Good sex doesn’t necessarily make us compatible
outside of the bedroom,” I feel the need to point out.

Caleb sighs and moves closer to me, his hands reaching
out to grasp mine. His fingers tangle with my own, and I have no urge to pull
back. “The sex is off the charts,” he agrees. “But I see so much more than that
within you. You're generous, and you are giving, especially with Micaela. You
are so good with that girl, and she's starting to really look up to you. I also
like the fact that you speak up for yourself and don't take shit from anyone.
I’ve also noticed you're completely loyal to your friends. You'll never admit
it, but you've got the biggest heart, Sparky.” He gives me a roguish smile. “It
also helps that you're sexy as hell. I have a mental list of all the things I
want to do to you if I can get you back in bed again.”

“How long is this list?” I ask instantly. I don't care
how serious or scary this conversation is. When a man like Caleb tells you he
has a list of things in his head that he wants to do with your body, you perk
up and listen.

His wide smile speaks volumes. “Long. It's a dirty list,
I tell you. Very naughty.”

Yep, my panties are now wet. I try to push the idea of
sex with Caleb out of my head, because that's not all that he wants, and I'm
not sure if I can give him more than that. I tug on my hands, trying to pull
them from him, and his hands tighten on mine briefly before he reluctantly lets
me go. I immediately scoot back slightly, putting several inches between us as
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Don't shut me out. Please, Zoey,” Caleb pleads with
grim eyes.

I look at him, and I see that he's expecting me to
reject him. And I really should. I'm not relationship material. “I need time to
think. There's so much that's been said today, Caleb. I'm feeling really
overwhelmed.”

He nods. “Understandable. I don't need an answer today
anyway. I just want you to think it over and consider what we could have. When
you're ready, call me or text me. Anytime, okay?”

I nod and slowly rise to my feet. When Caleb doesn't
stand up, I look at him questioningly. “Aren't you coming?”

“Nah. I'm going to stay here for a while. I can call
someone to pick me up later,” he says with an easy smile.

“Okay. See you later,” I murmur a bit awkwardly.

“Later, Sparky.”

I don't even remember the drive back to my apartment.
One minute I'm on the beach, and the next I am tossing my keys on the kitchen
counter. I walk to the couch and flop down on it, my mind a chaotic mess of
scrambled thoughts. I'm not sure which bombshell to deal with first. The
disorder or Caleb admitting he has feelings for me?

Caleb wins.

I stare up at the ceiling and sigh loudly. I don't
even know what he's asking of me. I'd been too shocked at the time to ask for
further details. It's obvious he wants some type of relationship, but does that
mean he'd consider us exclusive? Would we be dating—like boyfriend and
girlfriend? I know he wants sex. He definitely wants sex. But is he just
thinking along the lines of a
casual
relationship,
and we'll just see where it takes us?

A groan escapes me as I fling an arm over my eyes. I
don't even understand what a relationship means. I've only been in one, and I'd
been seventeen at the time. Does that even count?

All I know is relationships usually mean commitment
and expectations. The idea of accepting him in my life as a boyfriend causes
anxiety to swell in my gut. What if I get used to him being in my life and he
breaks up with me, because he can't handle my personality? I've always been
strong-minded. I'm fully aware of the fact that I am not the easiest person to
get along with.

I know there's something wrong with me. Probably this
PTSD Caleb mentioned. That has something to do with my current actions and most
recent meltdowns. But that doesn't mean it'll all just go away now that I have
an idea of what's causing some of these issues I seem to be having.

Some of it is just plain me.

What if he's disappointed six months from now because
not much has changed?

Hell, I don't even know what the treatment is for
people dealing with PTSD. As soon as I realize this, I jump up from the couch
and go to my room. I get comfortable on the bed and begin to do some research
on my laptop. I spend over an hour reading up on the disorder that Caleb has
brought to my attention.

Dang.

He's right.

All the symptoms I can relate to. Or at least the
majority of them. The flashbacks in the form of nightmares, the frightening
thoughts I sometimes have—especially my anxiety over my mental state, and the
thoughts I sometimes have of my own death. I find myself staring for a long time
at the computer screen.

Strong sense of guilt? Check.

Losing interest in activities that one once enjoyed?
Check.

Feeling tense and on edge? Check.

Difficulty sleeping? Check.

Angry outbursts? Check.

My hand reaches out and slams the laptop closed. I press
my palms to my closed eyes as I process it all. PTSD can be caused by many
things, and a traumatic or life threatening event is one reason for the
disorder to develop. So is the loss of a loved one.

Double
freakin
' check.

I draw in a slow, deep breath. I don't know why I feel
such sudden anxiety right now. I'm finally realizing what is wrong with me, but
it doesn't make it any better. I know I need to be diagnosed by a doctor to
confirm the disorder, but I'm already one-hundred percent positive I'm suffering
from it.

Then there are the treatments the websites suggested.
It's generally different types of counseling and therapies or medications. Or
both.

“Fuck,” I breathe as I drop onto my back. It's just
too much at once. I feel overwhelmed and slightly resentful towards Caleb for
dumping this on me four days before the anniversary of Micah's death. Dread
seeps into my veins as I think about Friday. Maybe next year I'll be in a
better place. But this year I'll spend it doing exactly what I did last year.

As I think things over, I find that Caleb is
respecting my need for space. I see him a few times on campus on Tuesday, but
it's always in passing, and all he does is wave. Ace, Jeremy, and AJ are oblivious
to my inner turmoil. None of them have any idea that on Friday, I will be in my
own personal version of Hell.

I tried to get through the first anniversary sober,
and it had royally backfired. Last year, I got good and drunk, hiding away from
the entire world. The liquor had helped, and eventually I'd passed out. The
hangover the following morning had been a real bitch to suffer through, but the
downside of drinking had been worth it.

Next year will be different, I tell myself. I'll look
into this PTSD stuff once Micah's anniversary is past. I'll see a doctor and
get it confirmed. I'll even try their treatments. Yeah, I'm less than thrilled
with the treatment plans the websites suggested. I hate talking about Micah,
and I don't want to take some stupid medication that's supposedly going to help
with my mental issues and depression. Let's face it. No one likes admitting
they've got mental shit going on.

I'm one of them.

To actually have it on file, to have prescribed
medications... It becomes a reality. It's scary, because I have to make a
choice. Deny or accept. One or the other. Admit I have a problem or sit back
and do nothing while it destroys me.

Exactly.

No matter which way I look at it, I feel like I'm
about to paddle up shit creek, whether I have a damn paddle or not.

I can't breathe.

It's dark, and the air is stale. The space I am in is
confined, and I pound against the hard, smooth surface above my head. Panic
builds within me as I fight and kick, but the confining walls won't release me.

That's when I hear the voice.

I go still as I hear the pastor's sermon, and I
recognize it, because I've heard it before. Horror sweeps through me as I
realize I'm in Micah's coffin, and I hear dirt being shoveled on top of the
closed casket.

I begin to scream.

I wake up with a jolt.

With a soft gasp, I sit straight up in bed, proving to
myself that I am no longer in the casket. My heart thunders in my chest, and I
can feel my skin slick with sweat. The sound of my ragged breathing is the only
sound in the silence of my darkened bedroom.

With fumbling hands, I lean over and switch on the
lamp next to the bed. I squint at the sudden light, and as my eyes adjust, the
nightmare slowly begins to fade. Relief sweeps through me as I realize the
nightmare isn't going to drag me back down into its morbid, horrific clutches.

I'm now left with a numb feeling, and a chill sweeps
over my skin. After licking my dry lips, I slowly ease myself back down onto
the bed and pull the sheets up to my shoulders.  The light from the lamp
is a slight comfort, and I leave it on as I stare up at the ceiling.

One more day to go.

I just need to get through tomorrow, deal with Friday,
and then the worst will be over. Then, I'll push forward with this PTSD stuff.
As for Caleb, I have no clue what to do. I already feel way too much for him,
and if I allow him into my life further, he'll have the power to break me.

I'm already broken, and I'm just beginning to work my
way up to mending the parts of me that are splintered. I don't think I can come
back from another broken heart. I'm not strong enough to go through it a second
time.

I'm about two seconds away from dropping the liquor
that Lonnie had picked up for me tonight. I'm just coming home from my evening
shift at Grendel's, and my damn key won't go in the fucking lock. It keeps
catching on something.

“Hold up. Let me,” I hear Ace say and I look up. He's
sauntering down the hall in my direction, and I'm guessing he just stepped off
the elevator. He reaches me, plucks my keys out of my hand and inserts the key
easily. My door pops open and Ace holds it for me, motioning for me to step
inside.

I quickly walk into the darkened apartment and set the
two bags down gently on the counter top. Ace flips on the kitchen light before
shutting my apartment door, and when he turns, I flash him a smile. “Thanks.”

“What's all that?” he asks as he walks over to the
paper bags to peer inside. His eyebrows rise when he sees the liquor. “Throwing
a party?”

Yeah, a party for one.
“I was thinking about it. Maybe Saturday or
something. Depends on if I'm still in the mood,” I say lightly as I kick off my
shoes.

“Where's my hug?”

“Seriously?” I ask as I shoot him a look

He gives me a lazy grin. “You can give it willingly,
or I'll simply take it.”

“You're such a tool,” I mutter as I walk over and give
him a brief hug. Of course, he doesn't let me go, he tightens his hold on me
and spanks my ass playfully. “Stop sexually harassing me all the
time,”   I grumble as I squirm out of his arms and step back a safe
distance.

“Ah, you love it.”

“Whatever,” I say as I walk over to the refrigerator.
“You're turning into a total pussy with this hugging shit. I don't need that
crap, you know.” It makes me damn uncomfortable when they pull this hugging
stuff on me when we're not in the middle of bullshitting one another. I can
handle a hug once in a while, but they’ve been really pushing my limit lately.
I think they’re being overly affectionate simply to aggravate me and make me
squirm. They’ve found a new way to entertain themselves, and unfortunately,
making me uncomfortable is high up on their list right now.

“We know. But it's fun now that we can get away with
it.”

“Want one?” I ask as I hold up a can of soda.

“Nah, I'm good. Where have you been lately? I've barely
seen you around this week.” Ace says as he begins to pull the liquor bottles
out of the bags.

“I've been doing the usual, working and going to
class. I have some exams coming up.” I pull the tab on my soda and take a sip.

Ace grimaces. “Yeah, I got one tomorrow. You too?”

“Yeah.” I inwardly wince. I never miss exams, but
tomorrow I will be. It can't be helped.

“We should get out of town one weekend. Go somewhere
fun. I'm kind of getting bored with the same old shit around here,” Ace says as
he folds up the paper bags and sets them near the trash bin by the door.

I look at him with surprise and snicker. “Gone through
the entire Long Beach female population already, eh?
Gotta
find some new ass?”

“Ass wasn't exactly on my mind when I suggested it. I
was thinking it'd be fun to just road trip with the group or something for a
weekend.”

I nod, a flicker of interest developing within me.
“I'm game. If you leave Jake and Dillon out,” I add.

“Done,” he says easily.

My lips twitch. Jake and Dillon were left out a lot,
thanks to me. Ace will always choose me over them. Do I feel bad about that?
Nah. They're annoying little
pervs
. I walk towards
the living room and plop down on the couch, looking back at Ace. “So, is AJ
still dating that one girl?”

Ace walks over and sits down. “Yeah. Looks like maybe
he's found a keeper.”

“Hm. Not surprising. He's never been a player.” I give
him a playful look. “So what would it take for you to consider someone a
keeper?”

“Never happening,” he says dismissively.

“Yeah, right. Sooner or later there's going to be a
woman that will come along, and one time won't be enough for you.”

He shrugs. “So I'll screw her another time before I
send her on her way.”

“But what if a couple screws isn't enough?” I press.

He gives me a questioning look. “What does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn't.” I reach for my soda, taking a
sip as I think of Caleb. One night of sex definitely hadn't been enough for
either of us. What would it take to get our attraction out of our systems?
Would Caleb eventually get bored with me if I gave this whole relationship
thing a try?

“Why do I get the feeling there's more to your
question than you're letting on?” Ace asks me as he studies me.

“I'm just curious, that's all. You and I are a lot
alike. We don't do commitment. I was just wondering what would make you
hesitate...like what would make you have doubts about walking away from a
woman. I guess it was a dumb question,” I mutter.

Ace rubs his jaw thoughtfully. “I guess the only thing
that would make me want to keep coming back to the same woman would be if I
trusted her,” he says slowly. He looks uncomfortable and clears his throat
before his expression turns wicked. “And of course, she'd have to be completely
submissive and let me do whatever the fuck I want with her. The way it should
be.”

I shake my head and snort. “You need someone who's
going to stand up to you and all your shit.”

“Now what would be the fun in that?”

“Someday, you're going to find someone that you don't want
to control. You're going to come across a woman that you find fascinating
enough that you won't want to dominate her, because she'll be enough for you as
she is.”

“Have you found yours?” Ace asks me bluntly.

I stiffen up before I can hide my reaction to his
question. “No,” I lie.