Crushed (Torn #7)(6)
Taking a hefty amount of gulps from the bottle, he didn’t meet my eyes when he said, “This and that.”
“You’re pretty vague there, buddy.” I was concerned. Besides, it seemed as if everyone was busy with their own lives these days, and the ones who didn’t have a significant other… Well, we mattered, too.
“It was just one of those things. Shit happens.”
“Doesn’t it always?”
He tried to shrug it off, but I knew better. He was still there, crawling his way out. It was a daily struggle. It was something you couldn’t shake off when you grew tired of it, because the moment it latched on, it was like a leech, sucking your blood out consistently until you had none to give. It would drain your energy, your daily motivation to get out there and live the kind of life you had dreamed for yourself. It would take it all away … slowly, persistently until you were stripped from everything you once were. It choked your breath, numbing you from any emotions while you watched your world pass you by.
Heartbreak didn’t only apply to one organ, but to the rest of your body and soul, too. It viciously gutted you, broke you. Coping with the aftermath was the most critical part because the numbness within was something you had to learn to live with on a daily basis. It would not leave you even if you were asleep; your subconscious would sprout and taint the very thing you used to escape from reality.
I was a byproduct of survival. I had been to Hell and back, and in my darkest days, the urge to give in to my demons and let them take over was still a struggle. Every day was a test, and I admit, I was getting too exhausted to keep on fighting. That was why I liked to surround myself with friends. That way, I didn’t have to think about the temptation of what it would be like to surrender to the Devil himself.
At peace with my camaraderie with Carter, I felt as though he and I had reached a different chapter in our lives, a different level of respect and understanding. It was as if our friendship was finally solidified, and I liked believing he and I would get through this dark phase of our lives.
Feeling a little sentimental, I made a slight move, nudging him on his shoulder. “Damn, I never thought I’d have a meaningful conversation with you. I’ve known you all my life, yet this is the first time I’ve had a conversation with you sober.” Heck, it was a milestone come to think of it.
He puffed out in denial, “That’s bullshit.”
“I’m totally serious. You were always drunk.” Had he not noticed the amount of beer his household consumed? They barely had anything in their fridge that wasn’t labeled ‘Drink Responsibly.’
“Well, maybe because you don’t come around often, and when you do, you’re always tagging around Brody.”
He had a point, but…
“You could be right about that, but I’m telling you, Carter Mason, you’re a certified booze junkie and a notorious man-whore.”
The light in his eyes reemerged before he busted out in a good laugh. “It’s like that, huh? I see … I see how it is.” He gave another round of guffawing before he nodded towards me. “You’re great, Amber. Don’t think otherwise.”
Instead of responding, I simply gave a smile, truly wanting to believe him, but it was hard to break a habit of always putting myself down. When someone gave me a compliment, I could never shake it off. I had to think twice about it before trying to accept it.
It was a feat to admit it even to myself, but my self-esteem was tattered, and I wasn’t sure how I could reshape it into something positive. Maybe my obsession with Brody masked all the ugliness in my world, because whenever he was around, I could only focus on how my heart would rapidly accelerate, making me feel completely alive and so passionate it was hard not to get addicted to the feeling.
Lost in the sea of tumultuous thoughts, my mind wandered to the one night that had sealed the deal for me.
Chapter Three
Approximately six years ago…
It was one of those balmy California summers where everyone gathered around the beach and their swimming pools to cool off. Donning their cute, sexy scraps of bikinis, they sipped their beverage, laughing and enjoying a lazy, hazy afternoon.
Desperately needing to get away from my problems, I sought out a pool party that was thrown in the Spanish-style mansion of Brody’s parents in Montecito.
It was also one of those rare moments where Lindsey wasn’t around, and Brody was being chased by the girls from school he flirted back with ceaselessly. Hormones raged and it was a given that, if Carter, Brody, or Cooper chose you to be their “girl,” you were the lucky one. They were dubbed the hot, sexy trinity, and every girl I knew wanted them, any one of them. The girls could have the rest because I only wanted one—the one I had been secretly in love with since middle school or maybe even way before that. Who the hell knew?
My parents were being their usual rotten selves, and that night, things had somehow escalated to a breaking point. I was an only child, one they had then kept pointing out that I wasn’t planned, that they had gotten married because my mother had gotten pregnant, and back in their heyday, it was imperative for a man to marry the girl. Since Mom came from an influential family background, my father had been left no choice in the matter. Shotgun marriage, it sure was.
I wasn’t sure what was worse, really: to be born into a family who couldn’t care less if I vanished or died somewhere or to be endlessly criticized for not being smart enough, pretty enough to be granted a sprinkle of attention. It seemed the only time they cared was when I got in trouble.