Giving In (The Sandy Cove Series Book 1) (5 page)

He pulls away. I feel my blood pressure rise,
and my pulse quickens at the same time. I lunge forward, but Max,
who is next to me grabs my arms to hold me back.

I struggle to get myself out of Max’s grasp. The
girls are rushing towards me, and try to pry his hands off my
arms.

“You son of a bitch. You made me look like a
fool last night. I knew what you were up to and I am going to get
your ass canned for it!”

The look on this brute’s face energizes my
madness. He crosses his arms and is watching as I struggle to try
to claw at his perfect face. He smirks. He’s smirking like he knows
he got me, that he’s proud of what he did to me.

“What the hell are you smiling at, you
bastard?”

He comes closer to me, knowing Max won’t let me
go at him. I stop my struggling, and now we are practically nose to
nose.

“I was getting my revenge on you, for not giving
me your last name. You know who I am, baby. How could you
forget?”

He licks those God damn lips of his.

Oh, now he’s done it.

So what do I do since my legs are not seized, no
longer bound to the ground?

I knee him in the testicles.

Take that, Dickcop. Those self-defense classes I
took in college just paid off.

“And don’t call me baby,” I scream.

He falls to the ground. Max releases me, and
bends down to see how the asshole is.

Dickcop holds himself in between his legs,
gasping for air, rolling around on the deck like some kind of
wounded animal.

Good.

Max looks up at me, obviously horrified.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

Dickcop still can’t catch his breath, and I’m
suddenly hit with a case of guilt. Did he really deserve that?

Let me think…

Yep!

“He’s pissed because I never gave him my last
name.”

And the confusion between my friends and Porter
continues.

“Har, he called you Miss Hannum. How did he know
that if you just said you didn’t give him your last name?”

I don’t want to tell Porter. What would he think
of me? I’m like a sister.

Dickcop raises his head enough to speak,
gruffly, “She’s the girl from the bathroom last summer.”

Porter, God bless him. He shakes his head and
studies the air in front of him to try to get around what Dickcop
just said.

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.

***

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.”