Page 175 of Beyond the Temptation: Vol 2

My head twitches toward him as a dark smirk pulls at my lips, and the venomous hate I have for them digs its claws a little deeper into my soul. “You’re mad. I get it. We all are. But don’t let it make you lose sight of what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Take your hate for them and put it to good use.”

“Don’t fear the reaper, be the reaper,” we say in unison.

CHAPTER THREE

ETTA

I run as fast as my legs will carry me back to my apartment, waiting for the fear to settle into my bones, but it never happens. There was a split second when the gun was against my skin that I thought I was afraid, but every step I took away from him forced about a gallon of hate through my veins. If I ever see him again, I’ll be ready. He may have drawn the first weapon, but I’ll draw the last.

“What are you doing over there exactly?” My roommate, Brynlee, raises her eyebrow on her side of the room. She closes her book and lays it on her chest, rolling over and immediately smashing the book under her boob. “Ack!” Her fingers yank the book from underneath her, and her eyes squint as she inspects it.

“I could ask you the same question,” I say with a small laugh. This is our third year living together, and I’m just as surprised as anyone else that we still get along. She’s everything I’m not, but we work. When we were assigned a joint dorm our freshmen year, all signs pointed to one of us killing the other before our first year of college was complete. Somehow, at some point during that time, we came to an agreement to get along and became great friends. By the end of the year, we both had our feel of the on-site campus life and went apartment hunting. I’m grateful to have her.

“Please don’t be dogeared. Please don’t be dogeared,” she repeats, thumbing through random parts of her paperback to make sure she didn’t mess it up. Books are everything to her. We installed a second bookshelf in the living room for her this past week because the one in her room was filled to the brim. She collects paperbacks like I collect tattoos. We both have something to splurge on when we get the chance and make a girls’ day out of it. One of these days, I’ll bring her to the dark side with me and get some ink on her sun-kissed skin.

“Bryn, your tit was only on it for a millisecond. I don’t think your A cups have enough power to do that much damage in such little time.”

She glares at me over her book but smiles as she closes it and sets it on her desk. “We can’t all have big old hangers like you.”

“Hangers? Are you saying my boobs are droopy?” I toss a pillow off the loveseat at her, and she ducks as it soars past her head and over the couch.

“No, I was saying they hang down.”

“Isn’t that the same damn thing?”

“No, they look good for natural tits. Really.” She sighs, getting up to fetch the pillow and tucking it neatly onto the couch behind her back as she sits back down.

“You’re definitely saying I have saggy titties. Some fucking friend you are. We can’t all be in the itty-bitty committee.”

Her nose scrunches, and her eyelids partly close as she scowls at me again. “I wasn’t calling your boobs droopy, at least not on purpose. Everyone knows that big boobs hang a little, at least if they are real. Gah. Maybe I was. Blame your self-proclaimed boyfriend. I heard him call a girl’s boobs hangers the other day. Must’ve picked it up on accident.”

My eyes widen as I stare at her. “Why would you ever repeat anything Adam says?”

Her shoulders rise and fall. “I don’t know. It just slipped out. You have beautiful tits, Luetta,” she purrs and then blows a raspberry as she moves her face from side to side. “I could motorboat them for days if you’d let me.” She laughs.

I giggle and shake my head. She talks a big game but isn’t serious. The one time I called her bluff, she about shit herself on the spot and immediately backpedaled by apologizing profusely. She said she was sorry about a million times afterward, and it led into a conversation about her admitting she thinks women are beautiful, but in her words, “she didn’t think she could ever take the juices.”

“He really is an asshole, isn’t he?” she says after taking a deep breath.

“Without question,” I agree with her. Adam is like a stray dog that followed me back to our apartment one night and has found his way back more times than I care. He isn’t my boyfriend, but when I have an itch, he’s always happy to scratch it for me, so I keep him around. It beats having to go through the small talk and shit that I would have to do if I meet someone new. I don’t mention he should be here this evening. I’m not ashamed of him, but it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if he didn’t show up ever again, either.

I’m using him, but I think the feeling is mutual. And before we ever hooked up, I told him that I didn’t want a relationship now or ever. I’ve watched my dad put himself out there numerous times, only to get fucked over more times than I can count. After Mom died, I think he always looked for her in other women, and when the other woman didn’t live up to his expectations, he lost interest. When that happened, it was usually too late for him to make a clean break. The women figured out how much money Dad had and how he earned it, and then they used it to their advantage.

“I guess he could be worse,” she speaks absentmindedly, reopening her book and snuggling onto the couch.

“Yeah. He could.” The thought of Adam being abrupt and demanding isn’t something that should excite me, but it does. Thinking of him standing toe-to-toe with me has me shifting my weight and leaves my body aching to be touched. But that isn’t who Adam is, and I’m okay with that. He’s a decent lay, and really, that’s all I want him for. He can never be like the man who held a gun to my head and called me his little fox. Getting turned on by the stranger is wrong on so many levels, but I can’t get him out of my head. It’s as if he’s rewired my brain, and only he has the instruction manual. Maybe I’ve grown bored of Adam, and that’s all any of this is. Adam isn’t doing it for my twisted mind anymore.

Adam:

We still on for tomorrow? ;)

Me:

Uh sure.

I don’t bother telling him he was supposed to be here tonight instead. It doesn’t really matter to me if I’m being honest with myself. If I keep thinking the way I am right now, nothing is going to happen whether Adam does come over or not. I should break it off with him, but with every breakup comes explanations—ones I don’t have because I can’t exactly explain what I’m feeling to myself, much less to him.

“I think I’m going to head to Balls for a while. You wanna go?” I ask Brynlee, and she holds her finger in the air, not lifting her eyes from the words on the pages in front of her.

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