Giving In (The Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 4

  And just like that, the recognition in his eyes says he knows.

  “Holy shit! Cruz? Harlow? Last year? Bar? Missing for a long time? No clue where you went until you came back looking like you returned from a war? I’m going to be sick.”

  Willow smacks his chest.

  “Oh, please. She’s still a woman with needs Porter. She’s not a baby.”

  “I know she’s not a baby, but I know what went on that night and Cruz said she… and then he said they…” Porter stammers for words, runs his hand through his hair and down towards the stubble on his face. “And then he was like, and we were like… oh, God, never mind. It’s Harlow.”

  He looks exhausted.

  Dickcop rises, barely, off the ground, and he’s angry. I mean really angry.

  “You bitch. I need my balls. Why would you do that to me?”

  Now I feel tough as nails, stronger than strong. I’m not afraid of him or his flaring nostrils.

  “You made me look like a fool. You made me dance that stupid dance on a street, in the middle of the night. Then you have the audacity, the… the impudence, the insolence to smirk?”

  He contorts his face in a confused way and crosses his arms across his chest. He looks to my friends as to say ‘help me out here’.

  “Does she always use big words like that?”

  They nod in unison.

  I’m so out of here. I turn on my heels and head for the door.

  Thea turns to stop me.

  “Where are you going, Har?” Flustered, I turn back to look at her.

  “I can’t look at him anymore. Porter, I suggest you get your friend to leave and let him go back to whatever rock he crawled out from.”

  “Yes, Porter. Tell me to go back where I came from. Please. I beg you, dude.” Dickcop clasps his hands together as to plead with him. I have one foot almost in the door. I never want to see him again, and I cannot believe that Porter actually hangs with someone this ignorant.

  “Cruz, maybe it’s better if you did. It’s only the beginning of the summer and it will be a long one if you don’t.”

  The big jerk nods, agreeing and starts for the slider. As I wait for him to exit, I begin to feel a bit of relief. He turns, still in those tight boxer briefs and as much as the sight of him repulses me, I ponder the reason for the sudden dampness in my underwear. Willow has drool seeping from her mouth, and before I have a chance to, Thea wipes the corner of it, near her lip, and whispers, “Close your mouth, Willow. You’re salivating.”

  “No shit. I’m surprised you’re not.”

  He suddenly turns to me.

  “I apologize, Miss Hannum. My balls and I do, actually. I hope you have a very enjoyable and unforgettable summer. Nice knowing ya.”

  With that, he’s gone, and thank the sweet Lord.

  Now I just wait for the questioning, but it never comes. It’s just a constant state of confusion on the faces of the people surrounding me.

  Max glares at me, then makes his way back into the house.

  My frustration seizes me. I grumble and go in the house. The remaining people on the deck follow behind.

  I go into the kitchen to finally have my caffeine fix. I stand in front of the coffee pot, pour myself some of the dark, smooth liquid goodness, spoon a half pound of sugar in it, and take a long, well-deserved sip. I shut my eyes, savoring the moment it reaches my taste buds. I lean on the counter and feel a presence behind me. Actually, several.

  Without turning around I address them.

  “What? I feel you all staring at me. You want the run down?”

  Three well-orchestrated yes’s make their reply.

  I shake my head and make my way to the dining table. They crowd me, like hungry dogs waiting for a meal. The events of last year and this morning are things I don’t care to repeat, or revisit, but I know if I don’t address it, it’s going to be a long summer.

  “Fine. But first things first. Do not ask questions, do not ask for details, do not pass go, and do not collect $200.”

  They nod like Stepford wives.

  “Last year we went to that bar. We were all having a good time. I had just seen the man whose name we do not speak of making out in a corner with someone. He looked at me and continued the deed. I felt devastated and decided to go to the bar, order something to try to numb what I was feeling and that’s when I saw him.”

  They are looking at me, waiting for the next chapter of the story. They know the rest. I just wish he wasn’t part of it. He, I mean the one whose name we do not speak.

  “I really don’t feel like discussing this. You know what happens next.” I bow my head and pass through them towards the sofa. When I think about the events leading up to my bathroom rendezvous, my heart hurts.

  It’s only been fifteen months, only fifteen. The pain, the mistrust, the lies. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did. I’ll never forgive him for allowing it to happen. I’ll never be the same. The walls are built up. No one can tear them down now. No one. They can try, but I’m just bricks and mortar at this point. When it comes to matters of the heart, that best describes me.

  Porter comes and plops on the sofa next to me.

  “I’d like to kill that bastard, you know that right?” He grabs my hand in a brotherly sort of way, like he always has and winks.

  “Killing him would do no good. I think he’d be more of a God to his disciples if you did, but thanks for the offer, Porter.” I give him a half-hearted smile and rise from the sofa. If I stay in this house any longer, tears may come, and there is no way on God’s green earth, I’ll let anyone see me do that. I need the sun. I need to feel the warmth of it on my face. I need to feel the salt on my skin and not by tears on my face.

  “I’m going to the beach. Who’s in?”

  A show of hands is displayed before me. Porter comes over, kisses my forehead, and whispers, “You are a strong girl, Harlow, and you can handle anything bad that is thrown at you, and I’m proud of you for that, but there’s something I need to tell you. Cruz, well, he…”

  I hold up my hand in front of his face to stop him.

  “Porter, no. He’s gone, I don’t have to see him if I don’t want to. I know he’s friends with Max and if he comes to hang out with him, then I will just avoid his presence. Simple. Now off you go. I’ll see you at the beach.” I shove him down the hall and I hear him calling my name as I enter my bedroom and shut the door.

  I sit on my bed, still reeling from what happened not twenty minutes ago. My anger has subsided. I feel calmer. It was just sex I tell myself. Just one night of sex between two consenting adults. Get in and get out. That’s what I wanted. I wanted not to feel the pain, replace it with temporary bliss, euphoria.

  I didn’t care to think. I didn’t want to be inside my own brain at that time. I wanted to step outside myself, to not be Harlow Hannum, to not be the doting daughter, sister, and friend. I wanted an escape. The whole ordeal was so unlike me, unlike my personality, but that is what he does to me. I’m a different person around him. He creates a different person within me. Makes me do things beyond all reason. Makes me doubt myself, my self-worth, yet I can’t stay away. He pushed me to have sex with a stranger, just so the image of him kissing another girl would diminish from my memory. I did that. Now I see the stranger again. Yes, I was drunk, but not drunk enough not to know what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing. I just wanted it all to go away.

  Take my pain.

  Bury my pain.

  Make me forget.

  Make it so it was all just a dream.

  Too late. I made my bed, now I’ll spend my life lying in it.

  ***

  CHAPTER 3

  Let’s call a truce, or something along those lines

  Cruz~

  My fucking balls. My mother fucking balls. I’m probably sterile. Fine with me, don’t want any rugrats running around my life anyway. Fuck that shit. This ice is just not cutting it. I need booze. I need booze now.

  “Max
, get me a whiskey, please.” I still see stars when I open my eyes. The pain is unbearable. Sometimes I wish it was okay to hit girls. Yea, I said it, so. Sue me. I would never, but what gives that royal bitch the right to do that to me?

  Here comes Porter. Oh, great, a lecture. I ain’t got time for this shit.

  “Harlow, Cruz? Really? Fucking Harlow?”

  “So what?” And really, so what? I fuck girls all the time. This one, in particular, stuck with me, but still, so fucking what?

  “She’s like a sister to me. I’ve known the girl since she was ten. Our parents belong to the same country club together. They travel to Europe. I took Harlow to her first Cotillion. This is so fucked up.”

  Max and I stare at him, wondering what the fuck a Cotillion is. He rolls his eyes, knowing just from the looks on our faces what we are thinking.

  “Jesus, it’s a ball for rich people, okay. You dance and do fancy shit, but that’s beside the point.”

  I don’t really want to hear his point. I just want my balls not to be shoved up my throat anymore, and I want to go crash on the beach until I have to be back at work by six.

  Porter is pacing, annoying me. Max is biting his nails like a chick and not getting me my whiskey like I asked. Some friend.

  “Ok, so here goes. You fucked my cousin’s best friend in a bathroom down here last year. You bragged about it, profusely, I might add, then you pulled her over, made her look like an idiot, and then you brought a girl up here and…”

  I stop him because I totally forgot that my Saturday night special is still here. Probably in my bed, naked, legs spread, waiting for me to give it to her. Outdoor sex was hot, but she needs to go.

  “Porter, no need to remind me what happened, but Max, dude, I need you to go into my room and go kick what’s her name out of there.”

  The expression on his face is priceless, comical even.

  “Why should I do it? You’re the one who brought her home. Come to think of it, you worked till six a.m. How’d you score that?”

  “I bailed her out when I got off. Saw her in a holding cell.” I recall seeing her, a hot mess of a woman, sweaty, lipstick smeared, mascara running down her face. That’s hot.

  “She beat the shit out of some girl in a bar. They called the cops. I took my opportunity to help the poor damsel in distress. She sucks dick like a vacuum.” I lean back on the sofa, my Morty suddenly sporting to life from the memory. Hands linked behind my head, I shut my eyes and wince a bit at the pain still radiating throughout my balls.

  “So you brought her here and fucked her on my deck?”

  Pretty much.

  “Yea. So? I thought this is the kind of shit we talked about. Getting blasted, having fun, hooking up with as much random snatch as we can. We’re twenty four years old. We have the rest of our lives to be serious and work, and for some of you, get a… what do you call it, um, the thing where all you do is bone one girl for the rest of your life. Ew.”

  Man, that’s a scary thought. One pussy for the rest of someone’s life. I always say ‘variety is the spice of life.’

  Porter stops pacing and looks at me with all the seriousness of a priest.

  “Maybe, just maybe, some of us do want that, one person to be there for you. When you’re having a shit day, someone to come home to every night, to wake up to, to laugh with, to live with.”

  He is making me nauseous. If he says the ‘L’ word, I’m so outta here.

  “Someone to love, someone who’s going to love you back.”

  And… I’m gone.

  “Where are you going?” He asks.

  I turn to him after I throw the damn bag of ice that was on my balls on the counter.

  “I’m going to go get my suit on, grab a towel, and go take a nap on the beach. I haven’t slept yet.”

  As I make my way to my room, Max yells, “That chick is still in there. What do you want me to do?”

  Shit! I forgot. I’ll let Max have a go at her if he wants, but first he’s got to go get my stuff out of the room.

  “Go get some from her, dude, but before you do, grab my swim trunks on the table in there and a towel.”

  He lets out a frustrated sigh, but heads to the door anyway. His hand on the knob, he says without looking at me, “What do you want me to tell her?”

  Interesting question, so I just go with the first thing that pops into my head. “Tell her I had to go on a secret mission for the C.I.A.”

  “C.I.A.?”

  “Yea, she thinks I work for them and that I was just undercover as a cop, trying to solve a case of corruption among the police force.”

  Max scrunches up his lips, thinking of how that worked, and Porter shakes his head at me, as usual.

  “That worked?”

  I give him a sly smile.

  “She rode my cock outside at the break of dawn, what do you think?”

  He gives an agreeable look, making his own sense of the whole thing, and makes his way into the room. I wait around the corner until Max comes out with my stuff. I hear a loud crash when Max opens the door, and I only see his face.

  “Dude, she’s pissed, you better get lost. Here’s your shit.”

  He throws it at me. I’ll just go get changed in my car. I rush down the hall, with Porter on my tail.

  “Cruz, there’s just one more matter we need to discuss before you take your, um, nap. Harlow still doesn’t know you are living here, and when she finds out, she’s going to want to leave. I know her, she won’t stick around.”

  I forgot she doesn’t know. Oh, man, she is gonna be pissed. She’s a feisty one, seems like the littlest of things sets her off. I don’t really care. I like a challenge. Not that I plan on revisiting her hotdog highway again, but I’d like to think it would be fun to get under her skin, try to make her want me again, then blow her off.

  “Listen, P, I paid you a thousand bucks to stay here this summer. I’m not going anywhere if that’s what you’re thinking. I have a job here this summer, and possibly permanently, ‘cause God knows I’m not going back home.”

  He nods, agreeing with me, but I know he’s not done with his little tirade.

  “You’re right, but I have to tell her. She paid my aunt too, you know, so if she wants to leave, I have to try to convince her to stay.It’s only fair, and the two of you will have to learn to live with it.”

  I can live with it, but the question is, can she?

  “Fine, man. I’m okay with it. I won’t give her a hard time. I won’t even be here a few nights a week, so she won’t have to deal with me. Sound good?”

  I’m not sure he’s convinced. Porter and I are friends, but he knows what I’m like, and I’m not like Max. Max is smart. He has brains. He has a bad temper, but he’s not a man-whore like myself. Yes, I call myself a man-whore. Hello… Proof is in the pudding. Max doesn’t do the shit I do. He has more self-worth than me, more to lose. If he says he’s going to do something, he does it. I can’t keep a promise to save my life, but I’m a loyal friend. I’ll give myself that. I learned that in the Marines. Stand behind your fellow brothers., There’s a code of ethics that I’ll carry on for the rest of my life.

  “Cruz, just take it easy on her. The girl has been through a lot this past year and a half, and she needs a break.”

  That’s interesting. Wonder what that’s all about. Wait, I don’t care. She kneed me in the gonads.

  I salute Porter, and then we hear the subtle moans of Max and the chick in my room. Good for Max. He needed a little pink cookie to start off the summer.

  I run out, go to my car and make a quick change so I can get out of that damn house and out of any other trouble I can get myself into. I lock my car and make my way down the four blocks to the beach. Between work and working my dick out, I’m exhausted. As soon as I find a nice, sandy place to crash, I’ll be out of it in no time.

  OW! What the fuck! What is that pain shooting in my leg? I throw the towel off that’s been covering my head and feel a little confused. Ho
w long have I been sleeping? When I open my eyes and squint into the sun, I see an image standing in front of me. I can’t make it out, between the brightness of the sun and the pain traveling through my lower limb, so I quickly scurry backwards on the sand. That’s when I hear it. The voice of the ball-kicker.

  “What in the hell are you doing here! Of all places on this beach, you have to camp on my beach block?”

  Damn her.

  When I adjust my vision and the pain in my calf begins to subside, I get a look at Harlow Hannum.

  In a bikini.

  Mercy.

  Doesn’t matter, ‘cause this chick has now injured my nuts and my leg. No freaking way it’s going to happen again.

  “Listen lady, who do you think you are? I’m not some punching bag you can take out all your sexual frustrations out on.”

  She clenches her fists at her side. I’m well aware that her long, strawberry blonde hair is blowing around her like a wind tunnel. I can make out her freckles that are splayed across her nose. I didn’t notice them last year or this morning. I like freckles, but this one’s a pain in the ass, so I try to pay no mind to how cute they are.

  “I am not sexually frustrated, you puerile neanderthal. But why is it that everywhere I am, you are? I thought I told you to get lost?”

  What’s with her and the big words? She sounds like Max and his big brain.

  “I did get lost, Little Miss Mike Tyson. I left the damn house to get away from you.”

  “Me? Get away from me? Of all the asinine things. I don’t even think you fathom the extent of the things you have done to me.”

  I am who I am. I’m not a revenge kind of guy by nature, but pushed far enough, I can easily be persuaded.

  I inch a little closer to her. Her friends are by her side, but I lean into her ear so that only she can hear me.

  “Listen, baby, let’s not forget about the things that you have done to me.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down and slowly trace my lower lip with the very tip of my tongue.

  I can see it, the steam coming out of her ears. The color in her cheeks is heating up to a nice dark pink, and it’s not because of the sun. I can really get under her skin, rouse her up. Drive her absolutely, bat-shit crazy. This is going to be a fun summer.