Page 25 of All I Desire

Chapter Seven

NATALIA

“You don’t like it when a guy takes charge, Natalia? I think you do. I think you love it, just like you love me.”

One wide hand slaps the metal locker just inches from my ear. Then the other hand, on the other side. I’m caged, and alone with Chad in the hallway of Paradise Beach High. He’s in a possessive mood, I can tell. Probably because he saw me helping Jason with the project in chemistry class.

I roll my eyes.

With a swift motion, he twirls my body to face him, so my back smacks against the metal lockers. He’s so big, a football player. He’s like royalty here at school, which is why he gets away with everything.

I’m a skinny geek, and I still don’t know what he sees in me. He grasps my jaw in one hand. “You know you love me, babe. What was up with that flirty little smile you gave Jason last period?”

“It was nothing,” I mumble.

“Nothing. Hmm. You know what?”

I scrunch my eyes shut. My heart’s pounding against my ribcage and all I want is to get to fourth period English class. Chad’s in a different class, which means I’ll have an hour-long reprieve. From his affection and his abuse.

He presses his lips to my ear. “You’re mine. Now that I’ve fucked you, you’re mine. You’re my property, Natalia. All mine. Don’t you ever fucking forget it. No other guy’s going to want you now that I’ve stuck my dick in you. Jason won’t want you. No one will.”

I wake, whimpering. My cheeks are wet. Fuck. I hate these dreams that take me back to high school. Haven’t had one in a few years, but my absurd date with Jordan must have triggered something in my still-traumatized brain.

Mister Sinister’s curled up on the end of the bed and protests with a grumpy meow when I turn on the nightstand lamp.

“Sorry, dude,” I say, then pad out of the room and into my kitchen for a glass of water.

My heart rate’s still high even after I have a few sips. I hate these dreams. They’re always the same, featuring Chad’s bullying and verbal abuse. And they seem to happen just when I think I’ve gotten over all that.

I’m thirty-two years old, for God’s sake. When will I stop reliving those days? My relationship with Chad has reverberated throughout my entire life — not because I still love him, but because it’s forced me to put up walls with men. To feel always on edge, like I have to fight at the first sign of conflict. Like I can’t trust anyone with a penis.

And some of them aren’t worth trusting. Many of them, actually. Take Jordan, for example.

Even when I’ve met decent guys, I’ve tended to pull back because I fear the inevitable switch from nice guy to bully asshole. That’s what happened with Chad. He’d been so sweet the summer before our junior year, wore me down with his kindness. I lost my virginity to him, and then when school started, he was hot and cold, scalding and frigid.

I went along with his bullshit for years. Years. Until I basically broke down. That’s the thing with toxic relationships — you know they’re eroding your confidence and life. But you churn along, assuming things will get better. Hoping. Because the guy was once so damned sweet, and you’d give anything to have those days back.

Ridiculous. That won’t happen again, because I’ve got a mental filing cabinet filled with coping skills and years of therapy to back me up. During my last visit, my therapist said she was proud of me for putting myself out there in the online dating pool.

Wait till I tell her about Matthew…

But is Matthew any different from the others?

Back in my bedroom, I turn out the light and hoist the cat next to me. “I’m an adult now, Sin. When am I going to have a healthy relationship?” I murmur into his fur. “What about Matt? Can I trust him? Or is he going to change, too? What do you think?”

I hug Sin tight against my body, his soft purr lulling me to sleep.

* * *

It’s Friday at seven-thirty.I blast into Ma’s kitchen, still in my work dress and heels. All eyes in the room swing to me: Dad, Ma, Remy, and Leilani.

“Hey, where’s the lasagna? You made it, right? I’m so late. God. I can’t believe two people called in sick today and I had to deal with the front desk alone.”

Dad’s sitting at the kitchen table, shoveling what looks like fried plantains into his face. I walk over and pick one off his plate.

“That’s the reality of running a resort, kiddo,” he says in between chewing.

“I know. I’m just overwhelmed here, holding the fort down while Max is in New York for the weekend.” I pop the juicy plantain into my mouth.

---