Destroy Me (Crystal Gulf Book 1) (28 page)

I let the shower wash my end down the drain.

When I’m done I walk to my bedroom naked and search through my closet for a black suit for the good and evil poker party Jona scored us. The ass there is going to be plentiful. The escape, the women, the chance to forget is going to be everywhere. If this were a couple months ago, I’d be ready. Now I dread it. How do I say no to escape when it’s staring me in face with big tits and a wet tongue? Why do I even want to say no? I push the question aside and shave, getting rid of the layer of stubble that started to win out over my jaw. I style my hair, spray on some cologne, stuff my pocket with the rest of my condoms, and get ready to leave.

As I’m heading down the stairs I avoid next door. I’m not sure Fanny’s even still there, but if she is I don’t want to see her. When I get to Jona’s house I’m shocked to find it empty. Frat house alley is quiet as well. The sun beats down on me when I head for the front door. Everyone’s still hung over. I should be hung over too.

Stepping into his house I immediately cover my nose with my arm. It smells like straight up piss. For a second I think I’m dreaming, that I pissed my pants again, but then I spot the sofa Justine was talking about. She wasn’t kidding. There’s piss stains all over it.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Jona shouts.

“Why do you have a pissy couch in your living room? That shit stinks.”

“It smells no worse than your apartment.” He grins at me at his island, stuffing a bite of chow mein in his mouth.

“You got any left?” He pushes a carton over. I open it up. “Orange chicken.” I shrug and sit down on a barstool next to him. “What are we pre-gaming with?”

“Depends. Justine hooked up with Dean Heed last night. Right in front of me. Then she went home with him. So right about now I’d snort a Texas sized line.”

I make a face. “He’s not even as hot as us.”

“No one is.”

“Maybe that’s our problem. We’re too fucking hot.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“Drink until we’re not.”

He chews slowly, staring down at his food like Justine’s going to pop out and propose. “Did you know I was into her?”

“I knew at Flutes. You kind of drooled on her when she was singing.” I smirk, remembering the two of them on stage. I don’t mention that I still let her blow in my car afterward. Or that she swallowed my load willingly. I’m an asshole, but not a dumb asshole.

“Don’t tell her. This shit will blow over. I think I’m just sick of everyone else and she’s the one who makes me forget it. Anyway, let’s get high.” He doesn’t sound excited about it.

I feel bad for him. I feel bad for myself. Harley and Justine will not blow over. If they were that easily replaceable we wouldn’t be where we are right now. These women are going to suck us under. I think we’re both going to let it. We’re waiting for it to ruin us in because there’s nothing left to let go of.

We jump over empty condom wrappers and red plastic cups on the way to his bedroom. When he pushes open the door I immediately spot the naked red head in his bed. She’s twisted in the covers and her perky pale tits are on display. She’s snoring softly. I raise my eyebrow at Jona.

“She’s Justine’s friend.”

“Ah. Got it.” I laugh quietly and lay down next to her. She snuggles against me, unknowing that I’m much better looking than the guy she went to sleep with. I let her lay on my chest. “What you got to give me?”

He produces a medium sized bag of off-white powder. “Coke?” I ask, disappointed.

“No. It’s Ketamine.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I want to escape, Jona. Not lose my mind.”

“Don’t be a pussy.” He sits down at his computer chair and takes his weed box out of his top desk drawer.

“I want some,” the red head mumbles. She looks up at me and smiles. “Hey.”

I wink at her.

“You’re eyes are amazing.” She sits up and looks into them. “You must be Bach. Justine told me about you.”

I ignore Jona’s glare. “What’d she say?”

“Great lay. But you’re the biggest asshole she’s ever met.” Jona laughs. “I wouldn’t be laughing,” she sneers at him. “You talk a lot when you’re high.”

He shuts up. “You suck a lot when you’re high.”

“I suck a lot when I’m sober,” she growls back.

I laugh at her unashamed response. “I like her.” I try and ignore her tits, but they’re right in my face.

She watches me curiously and then picks up my hand and places it on top her breasts, squeezing herself with my hand. “Don’t be afraid. They’re just tits.”

Nothing. My dick doesn’t even want her. I never got to see Harley’s tits, never even took her shirt off. This girl’s shirt came off before I even got in the room. The separation between the two should comfort me, not torture me. “What’s your name?”

“Brittney. Maybe I can see if you’re as great of a lay as everyone says you are sometime?”

“Whore,” Jona grumbles. “She’s not a good lay, dude. She likes it rough. Almost broke my dick off.”

A spark flashes in her dark green eyes. But right before that I saw something else. Something that makes me remove my hand from around her tits. I grab her hip instead and pull her back down on my chest. “Ignore him,” I whisper, hugging her to me. I want to hug someone. “He’s an asshole.” Brittney sighs a sigh I’ve heard every morning for years. She shivers a little. I bring Jona’s sheet around her bare skin and resume my hold around her frail shoulders. “Better?”

“Mhm.”

Jona finishes rolling the joint and jumps into bed with us next to Brittney. He fires up the joint and takes a long toke. Then he hands it to me. I put the joint between my lips and inhale deeply. I ignore the need to cough and leave the smoke in my lungs, letting the drugs fill as much of me as they can. Then I lean over and kiss Brittney’s lips. She opens her mouth as I fill hers with my smoke. Handing her the joint I lay down and pretend this is what perfection is. This is what I want. Used girls with perky tits and drugs laced with more drugs. Kisses, naked skin, and forgetfulness.

I don’t stop her when she reaches for my zipper. Or when she reaches for Jona’s. She goes back and forth, satisfying us both until we take turns satisfying her. The party hasn’t even started and already I’m forgetting. When all three of us are done Brittney and I keep going. Jona disappears for a good hour while she and I smoke another laced joint and show each other which is more fucked up. I think I win.

“Justine was right,” she gasps, falling onto her back. Sweat coats her chest. “You’re a good lay.”

I’m crawling out of my skin again. This time I can see my skin moving. It’s the dope. It has to be. I shake my head and blink my eyes. “You bit the shit out of me.” I touch my hip where her teeth marked me. When I look at her she isn’t Harley anymore. The only way I could finish was by pretending it was her hips grinding against mine.

She laughs. “You loved it.”

Only because Harley did it. “You want a ride home? I’m leaving anyway.” I have to get the hell out of here.

“No, I’m good.” She jumps up and looks around the room for her clothes. As she hops into her skirt she spots me watching. “You cool? You’re pupils are dilated and you’re looking at me funny.”

“Can I get your phone number?” I don’t know why I ask. This one doesn’t want strings. She’s my new Justine. “In case I want another bite to match this one.”

“You want my number?” Her cute mouth opens wide. “Really?”

No. Not really. “Yeah. Why not?”

She laughs in disbelief. “Not happening. I don’t do seconds. One and done. Sorry.”

I put my hands up, secretly relieved she turned me down. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Maybe I’ll see you at Justine’s party next week though. Her old man is going out of town. It’s on Saturday. Bring some more of that laced shit and we’ll see.” She snaps her bra in place and then her shirt. She looks like she just walked off a runway. “I had fun.” She hops into her black heels and then glances at me once before waltzing her ass out of Jona’s room, leaving me the way I’ve left so many.

She’s the girl version of me.

I’m impressed and I feel slightly used at the same time. The feeling is not something I’m used to.

I also get dressed. I feel slimy again, covered in sex and sweat, and some of it’s Jona’s.

Rock bottom is fucking disgusting.

I struggle down the stairs. They’re moving, trying to keep me up instead of letting me go down. When I finally make it, Jona steps out of the kitchen dressed in a sleek black suit holding three shots.

“Where’s Brittney?”

“She left.” I take her shot and mine, tossing both back. My dress shirt is wrinkled now. So are my slacks. “How do I look?”

“Like you just had a threesome.” He laughs at my face. “Don’t worry. I’m not ashamed of my dick now after seeing yours. But do you really need a dick that big though? It doesn’t seem fair.”

I shove past him for the kitchen. More. I need more.

“I smell like you,” he continues, rubbing it in. “Thanks for the cologne.”

“You’re welcome.”

“She’s even dirty for us, huh?” He can’t breathe, he’s laughing so hard. “You going to puke?”

I nod.

“There’s a garbage can in the corner.”

I barely make it there in time. After the last few pieces of orange chicken and tequila shoot out of my mouth I slide to the floor.

Rock bottom is fucking uncomfortable.

“Here,” he says, offering me a piece of gum and another shot. What are friends for? “I’ll meet you in the car.”

I drag my disgusting, filthy, Jona covered body out to his truck. “I can’t do this anymore,” I sob. “I don’t want to be like this.”

He starts his car and turns the radio up. “Too bad. We don’t have a choice, Bach. This is our lives. This is who we’ll always be. Forever,” he adds solemnly.

I roll my window down and puke over the side.

Rock bottom is fucking puking into the wind.

Harley

Back is lying.

I repeat this mantra over and over again. He’ll come around. He’s running. When he gets tired he’ll come back and apologize the way he has since Dylan left. He’ll show up on my doorstep and whisper my name. I’ll pick up the pieces like I promised I would.

But Bach doesn’t come back.

He doesn’t apologize.

Maybe Bach wasn’t lying.

I roll over in bed and force my body to move, breathe, and exist. If I don’t Mom will come and get me. She’ll give me that
a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do
look again. I can’t stand that look. It’s her fault he ran.

After I take a long shower, I stand in front of the mirror in my towel, staring at my reflection in the steamed up glass. I don’t know who this girl is anymore. She looks like me. We still look the same. But I can’t recognize her in my eyes. There’s an ugly sadness in them that didn’t used to be there. It’s Dad’s fault, Dylan’s fault, and now it’s Bach’s fault. Men hurt. They pave the way with hopes of love and dangle the connection in front of us, and then take it with them when you follow their path. They give so much and take even more. They leave you lost.

“Knock knock.” Mom pokes her head in the bathroom. “Oh good. You’re up.”

I give her a forced smile. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. Unless you think I can pull off being naked at the breakfast table?”

“Not this morning.” She glares at me and closes the bathroom door.

I have to remind myself that Bach never promised me anything. We weren’t together. He wasn’t mine. I threw myself at him. He didn’t want me. I was just a promise to Dylan.

“Bastard!” I shout, smearing my face on the mirror.

I want to slap him again. My hand aches to leave another mark on his face. I stomp back to my bedroom and get dressed, seething. I pull my skinny jeans on and plunge a camisole over my head, sweeping my brush through my hair before heading downstairs. Being mad is a lot better than being sad. That’s all Bach elicits is anger. Anything else is wasted on him.

I wasted something on him.

When I get to the breakfast table no one waited for me. Grams’s helping cut Stacey’s French toast while Grandpa and Froy read newspapers. I sit at the only free spot with a plate of food in front of it. I miss him. I don’t want to miss him. We barely know each other. So what if he’s gone? He was never here to begin with.

I take a sip of my cold black coffee. I can’t stand the images of him face down, suffocating in his puke like he almost did at my apartment. What if no one’s there to help him this time? What if there is and she’s better than me? I can picture just about anything when it comes to him and other women. It drives me insane.

I cut into my sausage and shove it into my mouth, chewing through it. Carolyn catches my eye and winks, knowing damn well I’ve been pissed ever since Bach left. I wink back, mouthing the word “bitch” right at her. She laughs quietly to herself as if my troubles amuse her.

“How’s breakfast, baby?” She runs her fingers through her husband’s hair, throwing her happy marriage at me. Froy nods, smiling at her with his mouth full. “Good. Eat up.”