Hard to Resist (26 page)

It was no surprise that I woke up with tears in my eyes. All night, I had been thinking about it. All night, I realized the truth. What Bryson and I had wasn’t love. We weren’t in love and he couldn’t have loved me because a lover wouldn’t have forced themselves onto someone that they shared their heart with. I’m such an idiot. I hate that I did that to myself.

Snatching a towel from my basket, I rush for the shower. After about fifteen minutes, I wrap the towel around me and blow-dry my hair. As I gaze into the mirror, that’s when I realize that I’m crying. I have been since I stepped foot into the bathroom.

I honestly can’t believe myself. It’s a shame that after everything is over is when I want to face facts. I’ve been lying to myself for four years just to cover up for Bryson. I wanted him to be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect friend. I didn’t want any of his flaws to get in the way so I ignored them. I ignored everything about him that had made me uncomfortable. If I would have known how fucking stupid I was making myself look, I would have broken up with him way before two months ago.

I rush for my room and grab for my phone quickly. I dial Grace’s number and she answers after the second ring.

“What happened to my picture?” she whines.

“Sorry, Grace. I forgot.”

She groans. “Forgiven. I take it that he’s just really ugly and you don’t want me to see him. It’s okay if he is. Ugly guys usually have kind hearts.”

I would usually laugh at something like that, but I don’t. “Grace, I have a question and I want you to be completely honest with me right now.”

She pauses. “Okay.”

“When I dated Bryson . . . did you notice anything . . . wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean did he seem controlling, edgy, manipulative? Did I seem like his puppet?”

Grace’s side of the line goes silent. I wait for her to answer for almost ten seconds before saying her name again.

“Grace, please be honest with me.”

“Nat, I never wanted to say anything. Bryson had an abusive edge. We all knew it. He never hit you or anything—at least I hope he didn’t—but when he said come, you came. When he said run, you ran. When he said jump, you jumped. He owned you in his own little way. You did everything that he said. Sometimes it scared me. You brushed me off too much. Too much to the point where I didn’t like speaking on it anymore. You were in love, Natalie. It’s what happens. We’re blind for months—years—and we don’t even realize it.”

I want to speak. I want to say something to that but I can’t. Something is keeping the words trapped. Perhaps it’s my dry throat that has suddenly become scratchy. Or maybe it’s my tears that are blinding me once again. I slouch down on the corner of my bed as the tears pour uncontrollably. I seriously can’t believe myself. I can’t believe Bryson.

“It’s okay, Natalie,” Grace coos. “It’s a lesson. I’m glad you got out of it. I was afraid that one day he would have actually ended up hitting you. Then I would have had to beat his ass.”

I choke on a sob and a giggle. “I just feel so fucking worthless, Grace. I loved him—”

“You thought you loved him,” she corrects. “It wasn’t love, Natalie. He just wanted you to believe that it was. I’m sorry to say it, but Bryson has that kind of effect on girls. He had you wrapped around his finger.”

“But all I can remember is the good of him.”

“That happens,” she notes. “We only store the good. Never hold in the bad. It’s a part of being human. We don’t want to face reality so we block it out and try to hold on to the best that we have.”

I shake my head. All of this time, I’ve been some sort of blow-up sex doll for Bryson. Now that I think about it, Bryson and I had sex almost every other day. Even during my first month of meeting him, he asked to make love to me until I finally gave into him. We were only freshmen but I still find it odd that he can be that way after so many years. And it’s a shame because he didn’t change at all. From freshman to senior year, Bryson was the same.

Now, I can’t believe myself for comparing him to Nolan. Nolan is nothing like that. Of all of the times that Nolan and I were together, not once has he pushed himself onto me. He could be manipulative and try, but he doesn’t. He can make me as horny as he wants to make me—he can tease me until I can’t take it anymore—but he never goes against my free will.

Wow.

As it occurs to me, I hop from my bed and rush for my dresser. “Grace. I’m gonna have to call you later.” I end the call, not even allowing her enough time to get a word in.

Although what I’m about to do may cause damage to myself even more, I have to. I have to go.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

As my tires roll near the curb, a slight panic swarms my emotions immediately. The beach house is two-stories high with patio on top of patio. Various cars are swamped around the house along with a few motorcycles. Stepping out of the car, I place my hand over my eyes to block the sun. I gulp the brick in my throat as I spot the mud-green Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway. It’s a shame how that car is the one that stands out the most to me.

“Okay,” I breathe to myself. “I can do this.”

Clutching my keys in hand, I weave my way through the cars and bikes to get to the porch of the house. It’s around nine-thirty in the morning and I’m sure no one is going to be up considering the fact that when graduates party, they do it like there’s no tomorrow but I don’t have any other choice. I refuse to wait because if I do, I’ll think about it too much and I won’t make it happen. I’ll regret my decision.

As I meet the tall white door, I hesitate on my next step. I push my bangs away from my eyes, take a deep breath, and then step forward to knock. At first, it is silent. I can’t hear a thing inside. But after only few moments, I hear footsteps and with every one of them, my heart thuds against my ribcage.

I hear the lock on the door clink, the sliding of the chain, and then it swings open quickly. Spotting the sculpted chest and the white basketball shorts that are riding low on his hips, I jerk my gaze up quickly to meet the light-blue eyes of Mark.

“Hi,” I breathe.

With a busted bottom lip, Mark smiles as he leans against the frame of the door. His arms fold as he looks me over in my white shorts, custard-yellow tank-top, and my purposely messy bun. “Took you long enough.”

“Whatever,” I groan. “Don’t think you’re forgiven because you’re not.”

He sighs as his smug smile fades. “I know. Natalie, I’m seriously sorry. It’s like I remember it, but I can’t believe I actually did that to you.”

I keep my mouth sealed, refusing to speak on it. “Bryson here?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you called me for this morning? Bryson?” he grumbles.

“I have to speak with him. It’s important.”

Mark steps away from the frame while unfolding his arms. “Well, good luck with that. He’s upstairs with your “
best friend”
.”

I frown, knowing that he’s being sarcastic while referring to Sara. “Can you just go and get him and tell him to come out or something?”

“What, so I can get Sara’s claws in my back while I sleep?” he quips. “Don’t think so. Come in, Nat. We won’t bite . . . but Sara might.”

I groan but at the same time I’m debating. If this wasn’t so serious, I would say fuck it and bounce. But it’s serious to me and I need to talk. It almost feels mandatory. “Fine.” Mark steps back and I step past him.

As soon as I’m in, I spot a few bodies lying on the carpet. Red cups and glass bottles that I’m sure were once filled with alcohol are spread around the hardwood floorboards. Clips of marijuana blunts and joints are lying in ash trays of every table along with butts of cigarettes. It must have been one hell of a party last night.

“Ignore the mess,” Mark says as he steps past me. “Follow me.” He turns to lead the way up the stairs and I follow him, but suddenly I’m not so sure about this plan anymore. Suddenly, I feel like I’m being led towards a dungeon full of dragons. I know for a fact that Sara is lying in the same bed as Bryson and at the thought of it I shudder because if he hadn’t fucked up, that would be me lying in his arms.

Dragging my way behind Mark, he continues up another flight of steps and trails down the hall until he stops in front of the last bedroom on the left.

“Oh, fuck yeah, Bryson!”

My eyes widen immediately as I come to a screeching halt in the middle of the hall.
Was that Sara?
Is he seriously fucking her right now? Just thinking about them two together rips me in half.

“Shit,” Mark hisses beneath his breath. I begin to turn around, planning on rushing down the stairs, slamming my car door behind me, and speeding home with tears blinding me but Mark stops me before I can reach the stairs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl. “Let me go.”

“Bryson! Oh, God! Go faster!” Sara screams.

Listening to her seriously makes me want to throw up while crying at the same time. I try to shove Mark out of my way but he barely stumbles. His hand remains tight around my arm as I scratch and claw for him to let go.

“Mark, get off of me!” Tears sting my eyes but I force myself to keep my eyes focused on Mark’s large hand that is still clasped around me.

“Nat, chill! I’m not letting you go out like that. You have to get over it. You have to get over
him
! It’s been two months!”

I scowl at Mark’s hand. Although he’s right, it’s easier said than done. I want to forget about Bryson so damn bad. I want to toss all feelings aside and just stand up to him like a real woman should. I want to face my fears by talking with him privately, but I can’t. I hate the fact that another girl is touching him because not too long ago, he was mine. Not too long ago, we were together and we were happy . . . or so I thought.

Mark pulls me in and holds onto my tightly. I’m still mad that he came onto me two days ago at the beach but I decide to fall against him because he is my only option of remaining sane at the moment. The tears spill as Mark coos and shushes me. “Nat, it’s alright. You want me to drag him out?”

“No!” I yell almost immediately as I pull away. “No, Mark. You really think I want to talk to him after he’s just been fucking
her
? Hell no!”

“Either way you would have been talking to him, Nat. He’s been fucking Sara since he’s gotten here. You knew that way before you came. Don’t be dramatic.”

My eyebrows stitch as I bore holes through Mark. He shrugs but that’s when I realize that Sara has stopped her screaming and moaning. A door unlocks and my heart leaps to my throat quickly. I want to back away and clamber down the stairs but as I spot Bryson with his shirt off, revealing his healthy abs that come along with a sheen of sweat, somehow I can’t. His green eyes are wide as they meet mine and as he spots Mark, he rakes a hand through his spiky dark hair. He shuts the door behind him quickly before meeting up to us.

“Nat, what are you doing here?” Bryson asks in a whisper. “Are you crying?” His eyes narrow.

“No point in whispering,” Mark sighs as I swipe the tears from my eyes. “You and Sara have practically woken up the whole house.”

Bryson gives Mark an edgy look but Mark just shrugs as he turns for the stairs. Right now I wish I was doing what he was doing. Leaving. Now it just feels hard to talk, to speak, to breathe. While I’m standing in front of Bryson, I still can’t believe that I went through with this. I honestly feel like I’m dreaming and need to be pinched extremely hard to know how stupid this decision was.

As Mark trails down the stairs, I turn to meet Bryson’s confused gaze again. “I think I’ll just come some other time,” I mutter before turning. As I turn, Bryson catches my hand.

“Natalie.” My eyes meet his again and now they’re pleading. “Don’t leave. Please. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He swallows before pulling his hand away. “What’d you come for then?”

I shake my head because by his tone, I know that he’s trying to get under my skin. He’s trying to get me to feel guilty for showing up. “I wanted to talk to you about us and how our relationship was before.”

“You want to date again? Nat, I’ve wanted to talk to you about—”