I bolt upright, glad I didn’t drink enough the night before to have the usual brutal hangover. Finding Kelly will require a clear head. I could start at the party house, but what if that big guy who kicked us out of his room recognizes me? Would Adam come along if I asked? He has wheels, which would be a major bonus if Kelly’s too hung over for the long walk back, or if I need to get away from that big guy in a hurry.
I’ve been up all of two minutes and I’m already thinking of Adam. It’s not just that he’s incredibly good looking, but there was an invisible connection drawing me to him that felt so right. I could’ve talked to him all night long if it hadn’t been for my conscience dragging me down. While agreeing to meet him again may have been a mistake, I can hardly wait for the chance to talk to him again.
Meeting Levi was a completely different experience. There was so much alcohol involved that I only remember bits and pieces of the night. He was hot, I was horny.
What we probably both thought was going to be a one night stand suddenly became me wanting more of the great sex he delivered. It filled the empty void. The next time we got together it was awkward because we were virtual strangers who had barely said more than a few sentences to each other. We still don’t get into deep conversations beyond sex.
I untangle my sweaty limbs from the bed sheets and grab my phone before springing to my feet. The mirror next to the closet shows dark circles underneath my normally bright blue eyes. Without eyeliner and mascara, they seem deceivingly innocent, reflecting confusion and regret. My blond hair sits in a rat’s nest above my head where I must’ve pushed on my pillow in the night. Even my skin looks a pasty white.
Holy hell. I look one step away from death. I fell asleep shortly after Adam brought me back, and the usual nightmares involving Jason followed. Sometimes the dreams will start out bittersweet, a replay of prom, or homecoming, or one of a thousand other things Jason and I did in our happier days. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, the dreams play out as if Jason and I got married and had a gaggle of kids while living in a suburb.
But I can always count on the dreams turning dark and terrifying. Too many times Jason will appear distorted, yelling at me in a voice that doesn’t sound human. I can never understand the words he’s saying.
For a time I was on sleeping pills that would quiet the dreams, but they really messed me up in the mornings, making me too groggy for early classes, so I convinced my doctor I was past needing them. Only I wasn’t, and the nightmares resumed. My mental health has waged a delicate battle this past year between what I can handle, and what makes me appear sane. If it weren’t for the pills, I doubt I’d be functioning in a way that’s acceptable to my parents.
Then again, if it weren’t for the pills, maybe I’d be able to cry again. Maybe I’d be able to feel some kind of emotion instead of this dull static that I mask with humor and feigned happiness.
Sometimes I hardly recognize myself anymore. My mom tells me that when I was a baby and toddler, people always stopped her because I had the biggest smile they had ever seen on a child. In elementary and middle school, I was always getting into trouble because I was unable to be quiet or sit still. I was voted “most likely to go places” in high school because I was always so full of energy and positive vibes. When I first signed up for college, I was determined to find a career filled with the most amount of interaction because I loved being around people.
I’m still studying my disheveled reflection in the mirror when there’s a knock at the door. Hopeful that Kelly forgot her key again, I bound toward the door and swing it open.
Levi’s smoldering gaze waits for me on the other side.
“Hey, gorgeous. Miss me?”
THREE
Meet Levi Travis.
Twenty-five, never been married, estranged father of one toddler. Thin leather coat, black button down, dark jeans, black boots. Dirty blond hair hanging loosely around his chiseled jaw in slight waves from his helmet. Intense brown eyes that pierce right through you, straight nose, full lips. He oozes sex appeal. No, seriously. I have this theory that he bathes in pheromones.
Sometimes it feels more like a physical thing between us. It’s not like we’ve ever sent each other love notes or read sonnets, and he’s never called me his girlfriend. And the two of us really don’t have anything in common other than sex. There are times when I’m hanging with him and his buddies that I even wonder if my role in the
“relationship” is to look pretty so he can brag.
For the record, bikers have never really been “my type,” but somehow I fell hard and fast for Levi. Maybe it was the “older” guy thing, or maybe it was because he’s just so damn good looking. Or it could’ve been the three shots of Patrón that gave me the courage to approach him in the first place.