Her Shadows, His Secrets

My breath shudders, my entire body erupting in goose bumps. Who talks like that? And why is he the only one who makes me want it?

“Theo—”

“I’m not fucking done, puppet. You speak when I let you.”

I bite my tongue and clench my thighs, trying to soothe the dull ache, find relief. I nod slowly, shamefully hanging on to his words, standing on the edge of the cliff, begging to hear what he has to say next.

“You and I are strangers, but that doesn’t have to mean anything when we’re in the bedroom. I can’t stop thinking of all things I want to do. You’re consuming me, and I know I’m doing the same to you.”

I lift a brow. He’s cocky as hell but isn’t wrong. I hate that, but a man like him has never shown me this kind of desire. I’m not a virgin, nor have I never had a boyfriend, but the one I did… he took it all from me. My heart. My love and my virtue. I hated him, not because he fell out of love with me. No, that’s understandable; sometimes things don’t work out. But because he never loved me. It was a cruel joke. Make the school loser, the fat girl, sleep with him, tell all his buddies, and then tell the whole school how desperate I was and how he pity-fucked me.

Those memories come back, and I’m suddenly a stone wall, his words not holding control over me like they were mere seconds ago.

“Hanna?” He must notice that my body language changed. Just as I open my mouth to tell him there is no deal, no chance I will agree to this, we’re interrupted.

“Fitzgerald?” a man says to Theo, calling him by his last name.

We both turn our heads to the man standing there. He looks a bit out of place here, wearing khaki pants with a mint polo and some slip-on shoes. Way out of place. If frat houses had a stereotype, he’d check all the boxes. Theo has a look on his face—he looks annoyed. The man simply said hello. Maybe there’s bad blood?

“Jerrick.”

“Man, I haven’t seen you since that grad party at Steener’s house! Dude, that’s gotta be what… twelve years?”

Yup, he was definitely in a fraternity.

“Yes, that’s right.” His tone is even, flat, and uninterested.

“Can’t believe we’re in our thirties now.”

I never thought to ask how old he is. I know Brenda is year older than me. I’m twenty-three, giving us at least a seven-year difference. Another small thing I’ve learned.

Another reason this could never work. I have to know more than just someone’s body if I’m going to be that intimate with him. Hell, the way Theo says it—that animalistic.

“Yeah, big surprise, man,” Theo mocks, and I wonder why he’s being so callous with this man.

“Who’s this? Family friend?”

“My date,” he bites out, and I snap my eyes to him, seeing a fire brewing in his brown orbs. What is his problem?

“Theo?” I reach across the table, placing my hand on his forearm. It’s on fire. His neck is growing red, the veins becoming more pronounced. This man must really be an enemy to elicit this reaction. I pull my hand back as if he scorched me.

“Your date? Yeah right. Theo, the town playboy, slumming it with a fat girl?” He throws his head back, and immediately, my insides turn. This is reality. I’ve been here before, and sadly… he is not wrong. Men like Theo don’t normally exist, and they especially don’t exist and are attracted to women like me. I stand up fast, hiding my tears and just focusing my blurred vision as best as I can to get out of here.

The trauma. The ridicule. The gut-shattering pain that comes with being treated like anything but a human. It eats me alive.

I hear it then. The sound of bones crunching. And it stops me in my tracks. Turning slowly, I see Theo towering over the man, who is now lying on the floor and holding his bloody nose while groaning. “You ever disrespect her again, I’ll rearrange your entire fucking face.”

“Dang it, Fitzgerald. Get out of this bar before I have to call the cops,” someone hollers from the bar.

“Fucking gladly.”

I watch as he throws down a wad of cash, and then he is on me. Taking my hand roughly, he pulls me toward the exit. I stumble a bit, unable to keep up. “Theo, please, stop. I can’t….”

Finally outside, he throws me against the wall with just enough force I gasp and look up at him. He grabs my throat and drags the tip of his nose up my jaw to my cheek and ear.

“I will never let a man, or anyone for that matter, disrespect you, puppet.” He brings his other hand up, the one with a bit of blood on the knuckles, and moves my hair. The blood streaks my cheek, and I shiver. “Now you wear the blood of the man who disrespected you.”