Get Off on the Pain (5 page)

I hold my camera above me to scroll through the pictures I just took, but nothing stands out. There’s at least a hundred of them and none of them interest me one bit. Actually, since moving here I haven’t had much of a desire to photograph like I used to. Nothing really seems to catch my eye anymore. It takes the fun out of what used to be a passion. I’m losing my touch.

Sighing to myself, I sit up and set my camera on the lawn chair behind me. I’m getting out of this place. I’m bored out of my freaking mind.

I stand up, place my camera around my neck, and start walking around to the side of the house when I hear what sounds like someone punching a heavy bag. The noise is coming from the garage next door and I can’t help but to notice the door opened enough to see inside.

Against my better judgment, I walk over to his garage, the noise getting louder and angrier with each step, piquing my interest more. I’m not usually one to be nosy, but he seems to have started a new hobby for me.

I stand here for a moment and listen to the blows of his punches and heavy breathing, before pushing the door open, my eyes landing on his back.

The muscles in his back flex, showing through his white shirt as he grips the bag with both hands and leans his head against it, fighting to catch his breath.

I can see the sweat dripping down the back of his head and neck. His shirt is completely drenched and transparent, clinging to his every muscle. I was right; this man is definitely in shape. Watching him, tense and full of so much emotion, makes something about this moment so damn hot. To top it off, that firm ass on display in those sweats is enough to send any girl into a hormonal hot flash.

“I thought I told you to stay away?” He growls out, punching the bag one more time. “Have you ever heard of privacy?”

Stepping inside, I snap a couple pictures of his backside as he takes another swing and then grips the bag again, letting out a small grumble. Is it wrong of me to want to capture this moment? Probably so, but I’ve never played by the rules much.

I run my hand along the old Pontiac Trans Am and admire it as I walk around it. “This is a beautiful car. What year is it?”

Running a towel over his face, he lets out a little breath, obviously giving up, before turning to face me. “It’s a seventy-six.” He drapes the towel around his shoulder and reaches for a bottled water. His jaw muscles are grinding in between gulps as he stares at the car, downing half the bottle already. “It’s a-”

“Trans Am,” I cut in, grinning at him proudly. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I don’t know my cars. I was raised by my father most of my life.” I frown at the thought while pulling my hand away from the candy apple red paint. “I’ve seen and heard a lot of stuff; too much.”

He gives me a look of curiosity as I step closer to him, my eyes wandering out of my control as I check out his tattoos. He looks uncomfortable, but doesn’t say a word as I read the script up his left forearm, “Strength,” and then read the script on his right forearm, “Pain.”

I look up at him and our eyes meet. They’re conflicting. I can tell that a part of him wants to tell me to leave. Why he doesn’t I have no clue. I have to admit; I like it, for now at least.

Clearing his throat, he pulls his eyes away from mine, clearly feeling awkward with being so close to me. Pausing for a moment, he runs a hand through his sweaty hair before turning around and walking away from me, toward the door leading to his house. “I have some things to take care of. Lock the garage on the way out.”

I don’t say a word as I watch him reach for the handle. I guess I just don’t really know what else to say at the moment besides, “Do you have a name or should I just give you one?”

He squeezes the handle and pushes the door open, the smell of Vanilla seeping out. He freezes, but doesn’t turn back to face me. “Memphis,” he says in a flat tone. “Don’t forget to lock the door.”

Stepping inside, he turns around to face me with a slight look of humor on his face. He grips the doorframe, his muscles flexing as he looks down at my neck. “Nice camera.” His lip curls into a half smile before he shuts the door behind him, once again leaving me standing by myself.

“This feels awfully familiar,” I mumble while showing myself out of the garage, but not before
locking it
of course.

After closing the door behind me I turn around to see Bailey walking around the side of the house. She looks lost until her eyes land on me.

“What the hell?” She gives me a questionable look while jogging through the grass to keep up with me as I walk toward the front of our house. “I’ve been looking for you for over twenty minutes now. If you were going to be sexing up our mysterious neighbor, you could at least leave a note saying so.”

I let out a humorous snicker as I reach the porch. “Sorry. I thought it was only going to take like five minutes or so. You know, just a quickie to hold me over until later.” I wink and walk in the house, peeking into the living room to see what all the noise and screaming is about.

Landen is sitting next to one of his work buddies, Liam, and they’re both yelling at the TV while playing Call of Duty. Clearly, they’re sucking ass.

Jumping to his feet, Landen yells down at Liam while pulling on his black hair. “How the hell could you not see that shit? Open your eyes, man! He was right there.”

“Well fuck! My bad,” Liam mutters. “I got this shit now. I got it, man. Sit down.”

Bailey grabs my shoulder and turns me around to face her. “You can’t say something like that and just walk away. Put that mouth of yours to use.” She tilts her head and cracks a smile. “Or did you already?”

Liam peeks over the back of the couch at us with wide eyes. “What am I hearing about you girls putting your mouths to use?” He turns back to the TV when Landen punches him on the shoulder, hard. “Fuck!”

“You’re the worst back up ever.” Landen looks over his shoulder at Bailey and winks.

Walking up behind Liam, I push his head down and laugh. “You’re lucky you’re harmless, Liam.” I mess up his hair and wrap my arm around his neck in a hug.

Liam is a like a cute little puppy that you just want to take home and cuddle to death. He’s about five foot ten, short blonde hair, and an adorable baby face that makes you just want to pinch his cheek. It’s hard to take him seriously, so I just laugh him off. He’s been a good friend though and I really like having him around.

“That’s messed up, Landen. Lyric just put me in the harmless category.” He drops his controller. “I quit. My man card was just taken away.”

“Dude!” Landen complains while setting his controller down and motioning for Bailey to sit on his lap. “You’ve never had one to begin with.”

I release Liam’s neck and give Landen a hard look. I’m not done with him yet. I’m still mad about my pizza. I even ordered extra bacon on my half. “Just remember.” I grab Bailey’s hand and pull her off of Landen’s lap. “Six weeks,” I say firmly, which gets a grunt from Landen. “Come on, Bailey. Let me take a look at your lip before I spend the next two hours stuck behind my computer. I need to get these pictures edited.”

Bailey gives Landen a side kiss, avoiding her piercing as she stands up and follows me to my room.

Flipping on my light, I take a quick look at her lip just to make sure there’s no infection. Not that I expect there to be since I did it myself, but Bailey is like a sister to me. I want to look out for her.

“Looks so good,” I say with a smile. “Any regrets yet?”

She shakes her head and looks over my shoulder in the mirror. “Not at all. Do you know how badass I feel with this thing?” Her tone is teasing.

“Well you sort of have to be badass to be my friend,” I say with a smirk. “It’s only right.”

“Yeah, you were sort of hogging the spotlight at first with your sweet tattoos and nipple rings, being stingy and crap. You can share for a while, dammit. I have to take a couple steps up to get on your level, but I’m one step closer, baby.” She brags while backing up toward the door and giving me her pierced side. “And I still want details about our sexy neighbor. Don’t think that I won’t be barging in here after Landen and Liam leave, ‘cause I will. You better believe that. I want to hear all about . . . wait. What the hell is his name?”

Thinking about him makes me curious all over again. I can’t help but to get lost deep in thought.

“Lyric?”

Looking up at her, I raise my eyebrow and pull my camera off my neck. “Memphis.”

“Really?” She thinks about it for a second before repeating his name under her breath. “I like that. It’s sexy and sort of mysterious. Don’t ya think?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Mysterious alright.” I take a seat in front of my computer and spin around to turn it on. I hear Bailey walk away, so I turn on my camera and relax in my chair while waiting for my computer to boot up. The first picture that pops up is of Memphis gripping the heavy bag, his muscles flexing through his white shirt.

I swallow hard while pushing back the thoughts of wanting to see every last inch of what is under that wet material, feeling it with my own hands. There’s something about Memphis that draws me to him. Maybe it’s his broody personality, or the opacity of his emotions. He seems dark. That alone should be pushing me away, but it doesn’t. It only gives me a thrill to find out more.

I guess you stick with what you’re used to . . .

LEANING AGAINST THE WALL WITH my face buried in my arm, I take a long, deep breath before slowly releasing it and looking around me.

Standing alone in the hallway of this house, the emptiness consumes me, bringing back all the memories of the past. When I close my eyes all I see is the misery and heartache that once lived in this house. The feeling is almost too hard to describe and definitely too hard to swallow.

There’s an ache in my chest that gets tighter and tighter with every breath that I take, making the memories of the past seem that much more real. As hard as I fight to push the feeling aside, it can’t be ignored. I know this, and I hate it with everything in me.

A part of me knows that I need to just pack up and get out of this shit town, leaving this house and everyone I used to know behind me, but my heart won’t let me leave without knowing that Alex is safe. I always told him I’d protect him no matter what, and I meant it.

When I was locked up I asked my mother to promise me one thing: to never let Alex find a way to visit me no matter how hard he tried. She kept that promise. I didn’t want him worrying about how I was doing or beating himself up over what happened that night. I saw the guilt in his eyes as they dragged me away, and I have to admit that hurt more than anything else.

That and my mother . . .

Thoughts of her cause my throat to feel as if it’s on fire. I swallow hard, trying to push the feeling away, but it only seems to burn more. I need to go visit her, but I think I need a little more time before opening that wound. That will be sure to send me over the edge.

I push away from the wall and head down the hallway to Alex’s room; at least the one he was using before I left. Opening the door, I flip on the light and take a look around. There’s got to be something here that will tell me where he’s been: a phone number or a letter, something. He wouldn’t just leave town knowing my release date was coming up. I would like to believe that anyway, but who the fuck knows, a lot can change in someone over a period of time.

I toss around all the papers on his desk and look in the drawers, leaving a huge mess in my wake just to come up empty handed. I have searched every other place in this house and have found nothing. I’m fuming and I suddenly feel as if I’m suffocating. I need to just get the fuck out of here and fast. It’s too much too soon.

Rushing out of his room and through the house, I slip on my leather jacket and make my way into the garage to uncover my old Harley. I fucking love this motorcycle. It took me a shit ton of fights to save up enough money for it, and it took even more fights for me to keep it in one piece. It’s a huge part of who I am, and having it within my grasp almost makes me feel like the old me again, or at least the one I used to be.

Grabbing my helmet, I straddle my bike before revving the engine a few times to be sure she’s running good. It sputters a bit before roaring to life. That could only mean that Alex has done a little work on her since I’ve been gone. She’s good to go. I can’t help but to feel a rush; the realization of freedom creeping in.