I didn't want to feel that way anymore; it was killing me inside.
I squeezed my pencil so hard that it snapped in two, drawing several sets of curious eyes over to me. I shoved the broken pieces into my purse and held my breath until the professor started up his lecture again.
I was a smart, modern, powerful woman and I didn't need this, didn't need to obsess over any boy, much less my stepbrother. I had a brain and I had dreams and I knew how ridiculous this all seemed, but Flor had somehow managed to get under my skin and, like a drug, he'd gotten me addicted. Love is a drug, in a way, isn't it? I thought as I stared down at the empty notebook page and tried to come up with something, anything, to make myself feel better about this whole situation.
The only thing I could reasonably come up with was the truth.
Maybe, just maybe, if I told Flor how I felt, this would all go away. I didn't want to admit it, but deep down, where my darkest desires lived and breathed, I hoped that something else might happen, that maybe this wouldn't go away but actually become something. I told myself that was the addiction talking, slammed my notebook closed and, even though everyone in the class was once again staring at me, I marched out of there with my head held high.
I could do this. I would do this, and something would change. No matter what it was, it was better than living with shame.
My confidence only lasted so long as it took me to get to Flor's studio.
I found a lucky parking space across the street and leaned on the wheel, watching men and women dressed in ink go in and out the doors. I waited for a good long while, but I didn't see either Florian or Max. Not surprising since a single tattoo could take all day and I knew that they took their smoke breaks out back, but I was starting to lose my gusto. Going into the shop and getting Flor – especially if Max or Rhonda was there – would be a hell of a lot harder. I had banked on him coming out at some point, to grab food or get something from his car, but after about an hour I realized that wasn't going to happen and sat up, putting the key into the ignition.
A knock on the passenger side door made me jump and I glanced over to find Florian leaning down and staring at me with a frown on his face and a loose tank that gaped at the neck, revealing way, way more of his skin than I needed to see.
Shit.
"What the hell are you doing in there, stalker?" he asked me, reaching down and testing the door handle. I had the strongest urge to hit the lock button, like Flor was some sort of raptor from Jurassic Park, intent on destroying me both body and soul. I swallowed as the door swung open and he scooted inside, leaning back and giving me a look that I didn't know how to interpret.
"Is it Mom and Dad?" he asked, causing me to roll my eyes.
"Why do you always ask that?" I snapped, wishing he'd do something other than refer to my dad and his mom as our parents. "If something was wrong with them, you'd know it." The words came out more sharply than I'd intended and I flushed, curling my fingers around the steering wheel.
"How's Max?" Flor drawled, like he didn't give a shit. I knew he did, knew it bothered him more than he'd ever admit.
"How's Rhonda?" I snapped back.
More silence, but I didn't dare look over at him. I can't believe I left class early for this. What the hell am I doing here? I kept my hands on the wheel, my eyes forward. I knew my breath was coming in quick, staccato bursts, but I couldn't seem to stop; my nerves were on fire.
"How are you?" Flor asked suddenly, his jeans squeaking on the leather seat of my Taurus. The car your dad bought for you. I felt another surge of guilt and anxiety, enough that it was almost crippling. This is what I'd come here to avoid, to surpass. Dad never had to know what I said to Flor. I could ask Flor to keep a secret and, considering he'd probably freak when I told him, he'd keep his word, if only to avoid the embarrassment of talking about it.
"I'm … " Just say fine and go, I thought to myself. Just say you were thinking of getting another tattoo or something. Make up an excuse like you've always done! I bit my lower lip, worried it between my teeth so hard that I tasted blood.
Flor's fingers found my chin and brushed across my jumping pulse.
"You're hurting yourself, Abigail," he said, and his voice was unusually soft. I turned my head slowly, so very slowly, to look at him and found those ridiculously green eyes staring back at me, like two perfect emeralds. He adjusted himself, crossing his arms over his chest. I watched the swell of his muscles, drank in the set of his strong shoulders, the tattoos that danced in a colorful collage from the edge of his tank top all the way down to his hands, ending in fingers fit for the God of Ink himself. They were long and strong and I felt if I could just feel them on my skin once, just once, that my body would know the ultimate reaches of pleasure.
"The truth is, Flor," I began, sucking in a massive breath, "I'm not okay."
He frowned and my resolve faltered just a little.
"Drive," Flor said suddenly, and I blinked at him. When I didn't immediately start the car, he nodded his chin at the windshield and repeated himself, voice low and rough, like there was something stuck in his throat. "Drive. Go." When I hesitated again, his eyes locked onto mine and cut straight through me.
I turned the damn key.
I pulled the car out of the space and took off through three green lights and a red before I remembered that I had no idea where I was going. I decided to keep heading straight and go back to my apartment. If this went the way I wanted, the way I was hoping, then we'd be having a long talk, best kept out of the curious reaches of other ears. Addi would be in class right now, so we'd have the apartment to ourselves. I could've gone to Flor's place since it was much closer, but I didn't know if Rhonda would be there. What if she'd moved in already or something? I shivered.
Silence descended, digging its deadly claws into my shoulders, making me even more tense than I already was. For ten long, agonizing minutes, neither of us spoke. It wasn't until we'd left Springfield and entered downtown Eugene that I finally got the courage to keep talking.
Flor beat me to it.
"Is it Max?" Flor asked, and the anger in his voice made me acutely aware that I better fess up and quick or Flor's best friend was likely to suffer for my sudden indecision. "Did he hurt you?"
"No," I said quickly and then, just because I felt like this was the time for honesty, "not anything other than my feelings." I lifted my right hand to stop Flor before he could speak, keeping my eyes on the street and the shops that lined either side. The downtown Eugene area was going through a serious revitalization, too, getting proper street lamps for the first time in a long time. Most of the shop fronts were full and the crowd looked vibrant. I was happy to see the area coming to life; it was the only place in the world I'd want to live anyway. Well, at least for now. Maybe if this tactic of mine worked, I could pry myself away from the one landmark I couldn't seem to live without: my stepbrother. "He and I … we dated for a while after I turned eighteen."
I hazarded a quick glance at Flor and noticed that his lips were pursed.
"I know," he said, and his voice had dropped to a gruff whisper. "I practically beat the truth out of him after you called." He gave me another look and shook his head, dark hair falling onto his forehead. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, run my fingers across his skin and see if, maybe, just maybe, his pulse would jump in response to my touch. "So it was him, wasn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"That took your virginity. It was Max." That part wasn't a question, so I didn't bother to answer. "He's bad news," Flor said, getting out a cigarette and putting it between his lips. He rolled the window down and leaned his arm on the door, but he didn't light up. "I mean, he's my best friend and I love the bastard and all, but he's a whore, Abi."
"Flor," I began, but he wasn't done.
"He's no good for you. He won't admit it, and he keeps it pretty well hidden, but I know he cheats on you." My heart skipped a beat. I'd thought about that, of course, but I could never prove it, so I didn't even bother to bring it up. "Max isn't the right guy for you, Abigail."
Then who is? Certainly not you.
I kept the words to myself.
"Flor," I said, feeling a small shiver work its way up my spine. This was going to hurt, bad. I could already tell. I circled around the block and pulled up in front of my apartment, grabbing the last space on the street. "I didn't come to the shop today to talk to, or even about, Max."