Ten Below Zero(22)

I heard his soft chuckle. And then he pulled me from the wall and walked me to the living room. His lips caught mine again, keeping my attention on him and not on the room he’d carried me into.

I felt my back hit the couch cushions before he came down on me, pressing me into the softness. I felt like I was sinking, into the couch and into heady desire. It was scary, letting these emotions control me, consume me, but my body was stronger than my mind. So when Everett lifted my shirt off my head, I helped him remove his.

He breathed air in between kisses down the center of my chest. When he reached the button of my shorts, my body trembled. I reached a hand down to unbuckle them, but his hands stilled on mine.

“No,” he whispered. He pulled my hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles of one hand before laying my hands on my chest.

I heaved a breath and my entire body shook. It was like being on the precipice of hell. And I badly wanted to fall, to let Everett fall with me.

So I did.

My hands reached up and found his bare chest. In the darkness of the living room, I made out something tattooed along his ribcage, but it was hard to figure out what it was.

All thoughts left my head the moment Everett’s hand reached into my shorts, pushing pass the brief barrier of underwear and touched me. I couldn’t help it; I bucked.

His free hand grabbed my hip and squeezed reassuringly, while his other hand stroked me, stoking the fire that was burning me up. He was gentle at first, and I whimpered – wanting a million things, all at once. I felt my body climbing and I reached up, desperate to grab hold of anything. It ended up being his jaw. I pulled him down, curling my nails into his jawline as his lips descended onto mine. I felt the bite of his facial hair and suddenly, it was sensory overload. His fingers on me, inside of me, his lips gracing my jawline, his teeth nipping my earlobe, his free hand pushing and squeezing my hip. I descended into madness, into bliss, within what felt like seconds.

When my breathing slowed and my heart settled in my chest, I turned my face away. What the hell had just happened? I couldn’t dare look at Everett, so I swallowed hard, clenched my jaw.

There was silence between us, as if we both couldn’t believe this had happened in just a few moments. He’d essentially kicked me out and then I’d come back in.

I didn’t want to identify the emotions that swept over me. I sat up and found my shirt, tugging it over my head. I stood up and buttoned up my shorts, all the while keeping from looking at Everett.

My hands trembled on the button and I squeezed them into fists to still them.

“Parker,” Everett started, but I interrupted him.

“No,” I said, putting a hand up, letting my hair spill down and shield my face from his.

“No?” he asked. I felt his hand touch my arm and I immediately yanked it away from him. Regret. That’s what I was feeling. I didn’t want to name it, but it sat within me anyway, flowing in my veins, keeping my eyes from his.

“No,” I repeated. “This was a mistake. You. You aren’t good for me.” The words were hard to say, but they came unbidden from my throat. “You’re an alcoholic, you’re dying, and yes, dammit, you’re really rude.” The words, though true, weren’t why he wasn’t good for me. But I wanted my words to cut deeper than a knife. I wanted to hurt Everett. Because in making me feel all these things, he’d hurt me. He’d cut me deeper than Morris Jensen ever had.

I whipped the door open and ran.



I hadn’t slept. I’d fallen into my bed while the night replayed over and over in my mind. It was like walking through a nightmare, on repeat. And the feelings lingered. They weren’t drops that I could numb myself to. They were real, true feelings. I didn’t want them.

Around sunrise, I stood at the kitchen sink in the apartment, taking desperate bites of leftover, cold pizza. I used my fingers to push in the pieces that hung out of my mouth, trying to fit where there was no room. That was when I felt the first tears. They ran from my eyes so steadily that my hands were drenched, my mouth capturing some of the salty tears while I tried to swallow the pizza. The lump in my throat wasn’t from improperly chewed pizza; rather it was suffocated regret. I was using food as hate, punishing myself with my mistake.

I threw the remnants of the pizza onto the counter and hacked out what was in my mouth into the sink. What the hell was I doing? I used my hands, furiously pushing the pizza down the garbage disposal as the sobs wracked my body. I gripped onto the edges of the sink, hung my head, and let the regret pull me under.

Why did I always do this? Why did I purposefully hurt people? And why was it bothering me now? Pain was growing inside me like a weed. Ugly, twisted, the roots curling around whatever I let it touch. And I’d let that pain take root in someone else. Why? I couldn’t say. Maybe it was less lonely to know I wasn’t the only one hurting. He’d hurt me, so I wanted to hurt him.

I ripped off a few paper towels and mopped up my face before staggering out of the kitchen and collapsing onto the sofa. I threw an arm over my eyes to block out the sun that shined stupidly through the windows. Why hadn’t my roommates closed the blinds? Half the time they wandered into the apartment just as the sun was making its way across the kitchen. When I didn’t give them a ride from whatever hell hole they walked in to, that usually meant they were out until early morning. Carly and Jasmine were often loud and still inebriated at dawn, their legs unable to carry them to their respective beds. The sofas served more as beds than actual places to relax. It was usually why the sofa usually had a slight scent of booze.