Page 48 of Chasing Storm

My accordion smile stretches as I say, “Better than okay.” I pat his hand. “But I better dress before I’m late for school.”

Joey drops me off at the building for my first class. He gives me a tightened hug, kissing me with a softness so different from earlier.

He takes a step back, licks his finger, and says, “I’ll be back at 3:00 p.m.”

My eyebrow cranks upwards, and I ask, “Did you wash your hands?”

“Never. There’s nothing like the smell of your pussy on me during your absence.”

I swivel my head around the area, hoping no one heard him. “Joey…”

He laughs at my embarrassment, and as he backs away, says, “Love you, Tea.”

“Love you, too.”

This is the second week of attending classes, and aside from a couple of guys, I haven’t met too many people. At first, Andrew and Todd hit on me, vying for my attention, until I broke the news of having a husband. They’re nothing compared to my man, but I’d never tell Joey about them. I can’t take the chance on his possessiveness getting the best of him. He flounders to control his jealousy sometimes, and I don’t want the man I love behind bars. His presence is needed beside me.

Andrew and I have the same class, so I find him outside the room, waiting for me. My assigned seat is near the window, and Andrew’s is behind me. When I get bored, I stare out the window and daydream. What Joey did to me earlier scrapes at my brain. As quick as it pops up, I’m squeezing my thighs together, tossing my coat over my lap. A light throb in my core reminds me of Joey’s delicious deeds. It’s an indicator of how much he owns me by leaving a lasting impression on my body and mind. He’s been tattooed on my heart, so it’s no surprise his cock is the measurement of how deep he’s created an internal birthmark.

Forty-five minutes into the lecture, and my mind coasts in and out of sexual consciousness. My chin rests on my palm, staring onto the college’s side lawn, punctuated by trees. From here, I can see the parking lot; the cars coming and going. Roaming the area, I notice a partial body hidden behind a tree. It’s probably a couple’s rendezvous. This college, like all others, is crawling with hookups. I sigh, glancing over at the professor, whose dress code for today consists of a polka dot bowtie, buried under a large shirt collar and baggie corduroys. I remember seeing such an outfit in an old Sears catalog piled in a corner at one of my grandparent’s houses.

I return my focus to the window, and I freeze. Next to the tree is a well-built man. From this vantage point, he appears older, and…Is that…? I lean forward, squinting at the man, who crosses his bulky arms over his chest, taking several steps out of the shade.

His eyes lock on me, leering and pressing a finger to his lips, as if to say, “Keep quiet.” He points to me and then himself while grabbing his crotch.

My mouth goes dry, heart hammering in my head, accompanied by a thickness in the air. I can’t take my eyes off him. I’m grasping at my sweater, squeezing and twisting the material. There’s a commotion behind me. Andrew’s hand rests on my shoulder, asking what’s wrong, but I’m mute. My hands gather my things, knocking a book down along with a flutter of papers. I’m shaking my head while picking them up.

Andrew helps and asks, “Teagan, what’s wrong?”

“I gotta get out of here.”

With all my things smashed against my chest, I glance out the window again, and he’s gone. My feet move on their own accord. I’m racing from the room, down the hall, and out of the building. My body moves in circles, trying to catch a ghost. Someone who disappeared as fast as he appeared. The racing of my heart doesn’t slow, it only catapults me toward the sidewalk, sprint walking to the side of the building.

Why am I looking for him?

Because I can’t be wrong about it being him. If it is, we’ll uproot ourselves. Find another home. Another neighborhood.

Unsure of how I managed to find a bench, I squeeze my books to my chest, staring at the ground. My eyes flutter and close, remembering his attempted assault. Fingernails clawed at his face, legs kicking at him. I recall his laughter too. A sinister cackle, too strong for me to fight off. Between his punch and slap, I was dazed from my head being jostled. He leaned over my body, his cigarette alcohol breath blowing against my cheek and neck. Fast forward, and now I’m shaking from his words to me and Joey. “I’ll get you and bury myself deep into your whore.”

I’m bent over my lap, clutching my items, and then boots come into my line of sight. Familiar boots. Joey’s boots. He’s here to pick me up from school. Crouching down, hand against my cheek, he asks what’s wrong. I can’t control the shaking. It starts in my bones, rattling them and jostling my blood, nerves, until nothing is motionless.

“Tea, talk to me.”

All I can say isJames.

He stands, head whipping in all directions, but his fingers balance on the top of my head. When he doesn’t find anything, he helps me stand, takes my things, and gets me into the car while still searching for him. Joey tosses my stuff in the trunk, settles into the driver’s seat, and reaches over to attach my seatbelt. It’s loving and caring, which only causes more crying. He kisses my lips, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears, and whispers that everything will be all right. Joey gives me one last kiss on the forehead. The drive home is quiet while he keeps peeking over at me.

Once we’re home, he punches in the security code and guides me to the couch in the living room.

Gathering me in his lap, he rocks for a bit, and asks, “Did you really see him?”

My head rests on his shoulder, sniffling, and coughing, and in a brittle voice, I say, “Yes.”

But now I’m starting to second-guess myself. Was he there? Did my mind conjure him up out of thin air? Am I clinging to the idea he’s right around the corner because we found happiness?

Joey smooths down my hair, and I add, “Maybe?”

“Start from the beginning.”

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