Page 42 of Toxic Wishes

A devilish smirk spreads across his face as he asks, “Do you like that?” His eyes pinned on me, and I have a funny feeling he was not asking the blonde that question.

“Yes, I’m cuming, oh God, Colt!”

A minute ago, the girl who wasn’t vocal screams loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. She wanted everyone to know she was cuming and that she was. Colt still had his shirt on, and I could tell his boxers were down just enough for his dick to be inside her. She, on the other hand, had nothing on but her knee-high socks.

Colt thrusts a few times and barely makes a noise when he finishes his release inside her. Pulling out, he quickly tosses the condom in the trash. The blonde moves her head side to side, looking frazzled as she lifts herself up on her elbows on what looks like a Murphy bed.

“God, I came so good.” She coos.

Before she turns around, Colt has his boxers up. His cheeks aren’t flushed at all. He looks like he just finished using the restroom. When she turns around, I see her flushed cheeks and a pissed-off face.

“What the hell,” she says, looking at Colt. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

The girl takes one of the sheets and covers herself with it, “what are you doing here? Because I know you aren’t here for Colt.”

She looked me up and down, sizing me up, and compared to her, ya, I was definitely not Colt’s type. She had straight blonde hair and angular features with high cheekbones. She had those types of features, no matter what angle she took a picture, she would look perfect. She had delicate, all-American features with a wide mouth and smile. She looked a lot like my cousin, who supposedly he was dating.

“Ya, I was supposed to meet-”

“Josh,” Colt finishes the sentence for me, and I glare at him. “Josh doesn’t own this house, so his invitation isn’t valid without my knowledge or approval.”

“Ya,” the blonde says like a fucking side cheerleader.

Tears start to prick in my eyes, but I fight them back.

“Sorry to bother you.” I’m about to shut the door but reopen it and say, “Ya know, I see why your brother hated you. You really are a selfish dick. And no matter how many women you fuck, you’ll still be a soulless, narcissistic bastard.” I slam the door shut and start running back to my car.

17

Colt

“You can cage the singer but not the song.”-Harry Belafonte

That tattoo on her wrist was burned into my mind. It had been since I saw it that day at the baby shower. Then, as I fixed my gaze on her standing in my guest house, holding the door open, nothing else registered but that tattoo on her wrist—except for the comment she just made. And now that my mind was clear after releasing my load, I knew the brother she was talking about.

Blake.

And when I think about it. Blake would like a girl like Abigail, a lot.

I halt when I see her in her car, talking to someone, her hands flying everywhere. Either she knows who I am, or she hates my guts, or both. But if she knew me, she would probably have said something before now, wouldn’t she?

I watch as she continues to talk on the phone. I need to speak to her about Blake, so as soon as she is done, I plan to knock on her door.

I play back the story about the night Blake died. It was the night we won against the Broncos. And the game put us in the lead for the top teams to play in the Super Bowl. My first Super Bowl. I remember that day like yesterday. I was on cloud nine. Hours later, my whole world was ripped from under me.

When I spoke to the doctor that night, he said a girl found him—a girl. I always wondered who it was because Blake never told me about any girls he dated or friends he hung out with. It’s like my brother was a walking ghost. Could she have been that girl? She had to be?

“Colt!” I hear Heidi call from behind me, and a surge of regret runs through my veins. I knew I should not have broken my streak. I have been celibate for a whole month, and I even turned down Namoi when I dropped her off after the baby shower. But after going out with the boys, then going to the strip club made me hornier than I’ve ever been, and I decided it was a wise choice to fuck someone with no strings attached. I know if I fucked Namoi, she would take it all wrong and think we were back together.

I walked up towards Abigail's car, not caring who she was on the phone with.

“You done?” I say, opening the car door. She looks over at me all wide-eyed, and then her face scrunches up in anguish.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Her eyebrows furrow at me, and she’s pretty cute when angry.

“Get out of the car, we need to talk.”