“Darlin’, the only thing that’s going make it less painful is if I go back in time.”
Darla frowns. Her blonde hair is in perfect ringlets framing her face. And she dresses exactly like my bitchy ex. Pristine. An image to be had.
“Well I can’t turn back time, but history can definitely repeat itself if you want.” She crawls onto the bed like a cat stalking a mouse. I just lay there and watch her move, coming closer and closer to my weary body. I contemplate so many things in that moment. Should I let her touch me? Should I send her away? My body is screaming for the release, but my head wants no part of the aftermath. She wants more. It’s evident. And I just don’t, at least not with her. She’s too much of the same, too much of what appalls me.
Darla reaches me and begins kissing my neck. My body and my mind wage war. I shouldn’t let her do this, but Jesus Christ, I need it so bad. My eyes roll to the back of my head as she works her mouth over my skin. My body responds, but my brain shuts down. “Darla.” I grab her arms, stopping her
“Kam?” She looks at me confused.
“Please stop.”
“What?” Her eyes widen.
“I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what? Fool around? Your part’s broken or something?”
I glare at her. “No, it works fine. I’m just not that into you anymore.”
Her green eyes darken with rage. “The tent in your pants says otherwise,” she snaps.
“Yeah, well that head isn’t in charge at the moment. I’ve tried to be nice, but you’re just not getting the message. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
She rears back with a hurt look on her face. Fuck. This is never easy. Why do they get so attached?! I am always honest up front. Shit, I couldn’t be clearer if I wore a sign. No relationships. Just fun.
Someone suddenly coughs in the doorway. I look past Darla. “Lemon?” I sit up straighter.
“Is this a bad time?” Laney herself glances between me and Darla in the very compromising position on my bed.
“Not at all,” I answer. Darla pins me with her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to study.” She holds up a very full backpack.
“You’re my tutor?”
“Uh huh,” she responds. I think I hear angels singing. “I’ll come back though …”
“No! Darla was just leaving.”
“You sure about that?” Laney asks snidely. Shit, I missed that smart mouth.
“Yes.” I look at Darla, hoping that’s all I have to say. She pouts, but there’s fire in her eyes. I don’t like it one bit.
“Yeah, I was just leaving.” Darla slinks off my bed. She smoothes out her skirt, lifts her chin, and starts for the door. She walks past Laney without so much as a hello, and it pisses me off to no end. Most of the girls in school think it’s okay to brush her off because she isn’t like them. A stepford southern belle with a pole stuck up her ass. “Kam, you know my number. Call me when you feel better,” she says over her shoulder right before she leaves.
Um, yeah. Darla. Delete.
After she’s gone, it’s just me and Laney and a whole room of awkward silence. I break the ice.
“Hi.”
I never said it was going to be with poetry or anything.
“Hi,” Laney responds with an entertained smile. I know what she’s thinking. Once a player, always a player. I wish she knew how wrong she was. Laney walks into my room and drops the book bag by my desk, then takes a look around. I love her confidence and comfort in her own skin. She isn’t intimidated by all the trophies or the black and white pictures of me playing hanging on the wall. Captured movements suspended in time. My favorite is the close-up where I’m just about to fire the football into the end zone. It’s a representation of my dream, of my focus, of my life. It’s also a reminder those things might all be gone.
“It’s sort of just how I pictured it.”
“And how is that?”