Page 80 of A Little Luck
“Is she making you nervous?” Britt slants an eye up at me. “Worried she’ll try and steal your man?”
“Oh, she’s not interested in Adam.” Cass exhales heavily. “As if her life wasn’t bad enough, she’s obsessed with Raif Jones. She keeps saying he’s her James Dean daydream and singing about how they’ll never go out of style. The delinquent from the worst family in town is her new crush.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to write him off.” I think about how he acted in the newspaper office, and I think about what I know. “Sometimes the good guys aren’t who they seem to be, so maybe it’s true of the so-called bad guys as well.”
“Okay, Miss Ecumenical.”
The popcorn is done, and I refill our glasses. We all sit and watch as Nicole Kidman makes bad choices and ends up with the abusive Jimmy. My stomach tightens, and I start to feel hot around the neck as they struggle in his car.
The more they fight, the sicker I get, and I don’t know why I’m reacting this way. I’ve watched this movie before. Still, my breath is shallow, and I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes on the screen. The room grows smaller, and my throat grows tighter.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been talking about it so much to Drew. Maybe I’ve dug all those skeletons out of the hard dirt where I packed them away so long ago.
Or maybe it’s because I’m so close to telling Adam, and decades of anxiety are rushing to the surface.
“I hate this part.” Britt puts her hands over her face, and Cass hugs her.
Jimmy pulls out the lighter to brand Gillian, and invisible fingernails claw at my throat. I struggle against the phantom sensations, doing my best to regain control, to be cool. But as the fighting onscreen grows more intense, the pain in my temples becomes unbearable.
I have to get up and walk. It’s too much…
“Did you like the way he looked at you?” Rex’s rough voice cracks like his lips.
His eyes are glazed, and I know he’s done something, meth or coke or alcohol or all three. His dark hair slips over his dark eyes, and I can see it’s going to be one of those nights.
“Did you want to fuck him?”
“No!” My voice shakes, and the word comes out as more of a strangled gasp. “I only want you.”
At that point in our relationship, it was a total lie, but I had to tell it. I had to be convincing.
Tonight, I’m failing.
My stomach muscles tense. My whole body is tight, and I try to pull away from him, to make myself small so I can slip out of his grasp and run away.
It’s my recurring dream, running away, being free.
“You are mine.” His fingers wrap around my upper arm, and he shoves me against the wall. “You can never leave me, because if you do, what will happen?”
His hand is under my shirt, and the tears coat my cheeks. Little whimpers escape my throat on every breath.
Swallowing my fear, I summon my calm. I want him to stop, not do it tonight. “They’ll know I’m yours because you marked me.”
“I don’t think it’s enough for them to see.” His hand moves from my arm to my face, grabbing my jaw and slamming my head against the wall. “I think it’s time to put it where they’ll see it. When they try to touch what’s mine.”
His hand goes between my legs, and I cry out. But nothing will stop him when he’s determined to hurt me.
I’d made some inadvertent look, some errant gaze I don’t even remember.
My eyes had lingered too long on a boy at the beach or I’d automatically smiled in response to a greeting, and now I was going to pay for it.
First the pain would come.
Then, he’d see the blood.
Then he’d be overcome with guilt and want to kiss me. He’d want to fuck me, and if I didn’t want to touch him, it would start again.
Over and over…