Use Somebody (61 page)

Vance scowled at her. “Stop saying that!”

“I will not! Don’t you see what she’s doing to you, Vance? This girl
torments
you. She has single-handedly led you astray. Look at yourself. Cussing.
Fighting.
This isn’t you.” Her voice softened. “This isn’t the Vance that I know.”

He sighed and lifted his face to the ceiling. “Not now, Summer.”

“Yes, Vance. Listen to me. Because I’m the one who’s always been there. I’ve known you since we were six years old. Now you’re selling yourself short and I can’t keep quiet anymore.” She took a step closer, her voice growing gentle. “Wouldn’t you rather be with someone kind? And stable? Someone who won’t leave you or play games? Someone who makes you happy? Because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to be with someone who loves you back.” Another step. “Just give me a chance and you’ll see. It would be so easy…”

“Damn it, Summer! How many times do I need to say it!”

She gasped, taken aback.

“You know nothing about this girl,” he said, addressing everyone in the room. “Nothing. If you did, you’d see someone
worth
fighting for. Do you have any idea what she’s been through this year? Have any of you even asked? Or were you all too busy judging her?”

“Listen to your friends, Vance,” I whispered. “They just want what’s best for you.”

“Contrary to what you all seem to think, I’m not blind. There’s nothing you’ve said tonight she hasn’t already said before. I don’t care what you think of me, but you have her all wrong. Who do you think manipulated whom here? Because I’m not the victim. She is.”

No one in the room dared to look him in the face.

No one except me.

I’d suspected Vance had been manipulating me. I’d experienced it enough to recognize the signs. And after all, he had learned from the best.

But to hear him admit it publically and unapologetically gave me a strange mixture of feelings. Maybe I hadn’t always done right by Vance. But he was right—he wasn’t a victim. I had given him full disclosure about my boundaries and emotional deficiencies from the very beginning. He was the one who pushed. He was the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was the one who learned my weaknesses and then used them against me.

All I did was compromise.

Should I have been angry? Offended? Maybe. But I didn’t feel like I deserved that. I’d been using him just as much as he’d been using me. So instead of feeling guilt or anger, I stopped looking at him like my casualty, and saw him clearly for what he was—a man. A man who willingly entered into this destructive relationship. A man who was equally culpable.

He might’ve said he wanted to see me happy, but he was still just a man willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted from a woman. This is what men did. This is what we all did. We were nothing but rooks and pawns, just looking for somebody to use.

At last, I tied my guilt to that helium balloon, and watched it drift away.

“All you need to know is I care about her more than anything. So just be a friend, alright? Just support me. Because I’m not giving up.”

* * *

We were on our way back to his place when I finally spoke up.

“Come on. Surely you see the irony in this.”

“Don’t go there, Rosie.”

Yes. He saw.

Summer was him, and he was me.

I couldn’t help myself—I laughed. It was classic! Two best friends. One falls, the other does not. It didn’t get any more complicated than that.

Now he didn’t even have a leg to stand on. Every argument he could possibly form would be one I’d already made.

‘I can’t change my feelings,’ he’d say. ‘I’ve been honest with her all along.’

Sound familiar?

Classic.

I wanted to drop it. Honest I did. But there was one more question I couldn’t resist.

“Do you think you could grow to love her?”

That was the paradox. How could he answer? Were we talking about him, or me?

He pulled the truck over sharply and exited with a loud slam, leaving me alone in the cab. I twisted in my seat and watched as he walked past the truck bed. He took a seat on the sidewalk, knees up, dropped his forehead into his hands, and just stayed like that.

I crossed the line. I knew. Comparing my feelings for Vance to his for Summer wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t accurate. I cared for him more than I was brave enough to admit. We both knew it.

The truth was, I didn’t even know why I asked it. Was I taunting him, or genuinely curious? To be perfectly honest, it was a little of both.

The entire time Summer was confessing her feelings and asking him to choose her, Vance was staring at the ceiling. I saw remorse there, like he felt bad for her, but not an ounce of conflict. And I knew this, because I was watching him the entire time.

How does it feel?
I had thought.

Not so fun when someone doesn’t take no for an answer. Is it?

And not so fun to break someone else’s heart.

I scoffed at what a hypocrite he was, dismissing Summer as if it were so easy to hurt a friend. Perusing me relentlessly as if together we made a lick of sense. Pretending all night as if any of this would matter two days from now.

And then it dawned on me… Our situations were completely different. We weren’t the same at all.

Because Vance never would have used her.

As the anger bled out, guilt trickled back in. It was always there, ready and waiting, prevalent in my mind. Aware that nothing about this was quite right. Not this damn farewell party, or Vance’s denial, or the fight and Ricky’s brute violence, or the hole in the wall, or Summer’s unrequited love, or Vance’s unrequited love, or the struggle for this tight knit group to support their friend while disagreeing with his choices.

Better yet, my secrets. My cowardice. My mistakes galore. And my running away.

“Did you keep it?”

“Keep what?” he asked.

“The drawing of the rose?”

Vance’s bedroom was simple. The walls were gray, the furniture black, the accents green. And yet, just like him, it was full of warmth and life, with personal touches that told me a little more of his story.

An old fashioned phone hung on his wall—the kind with a rotary dial and the voice piece attached to the unit. A wooden chest sat at the foot of his bed with the initials V.H. carved into its side. The laptop on his desk, whose screensaver flipped through images from I Can Has Cheezburger. The bottom ledge of his bookshelf dedicated fully to comic books. The custom fishing lure I gave him for Christmas dangled from the chain on his ceiling fan. His Eagle medal and badge displayed proudly in a shadow box. And the picture of us asleep in his cabin sat in a frame on his nightstand.

“Cole told you, huh?” he chuckled, folding his arms and leaning on a dresser. “I’m not sure what happened to that. Guess I wasn’t always the hopeless romantic I am today.”

A hopeless romantic
… I couldn’t argue with that. It was sadly fitting.

I turned to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I gave you hints every day… Rosie.” He smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “Guess I hoped maybe you’d remember someday.”

“I remember now,” I said softly.

He stayed put and just watched while I studied every corner of his private space. For so long I kept a wall between us and resisted fully entwining our lives. Now that our time was coming to an end, I wanted to soak up as much as possible. I wanted to know everything I could about his humor and his hobbies and his dreams.

But perhaps I hadn’t shut him out as much as I thought. Because although this bedroom was brand new to me, so much of it felt familiar.

It dawned on me how very final this was. Our last night together, our last time pretending. Still, as the seconds and minutes and hours ticked away, I couldn’t yet find the courage to say goodbye.

“Would you…” I drifted off, looking down and suddenly feeling shy. I was about to leave. I was going to be all alone. And as the weight of that sank in, an irrational neediness took over.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Would you…” I tried again, then let my eyes flicker to the bed.

He trained his attention on that bed as he processed the weight of what I was asking, his thoughts warring visibly within.

“With you?” he asked, his green eyes not wavering from the bed. We had never laid down in here together. He had never invited me any further than the couch.

I nodded, though he wasn’t looking at me. Slowly I walked over to the bed—Vance’s bed—and folded the covers down, sliding over to make space for him. The king size left plenty of room for both of us, though something told me we wouldn’t need this much space to spread out.

It took a minute for him to move. He started slowly, first removing one shoe, then the other. Next peeling off each sock. His fingers moved to undo each button on his dress shirt, shrugging out of it, leaving only his Spill Canvas concert tee and jeans. All the while he never took his eyes off his bed.

He walked over to the edge and finally met my eyes, staring down at me with longing and apprehension. “You sure?” he murmured.

I peeked up at him through my lashes, and pulled the covers back in invitation.

He studied me with his penetrating gaze, then reached up to tug the chain on the ceiling fan. After a metallic
clink
we were surrounded in darkness. I felt the bed dip and shift as he climbed in beside me. His hand found mine under the soft sheets, and our fingers interlocked, but that was the only part of us that touched.

My eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness. Every personal item in his room scaled down to shadows and outlines. I could scarcely make out Vance laying beside me on his back, eyes open and staring at the ceiling.

I got the impression he was holding himself back. But why, on our last night together?

He didn’t move when I slid closer to him, bringing our bodies into contact. When I laid my head on his chest, he sighed and wrapped both arms tightly around to hold me in place. Listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat, everything else faded away.

“Why have you never brought me in here?”

His voice became gruff. “It’s my bedroom, Rosie. I’m only so strong.”

I squeezed him affectionately and smiled. “It makes you think of naughty things?”

“Plenty,” he said, “But that’s not what I worry about. It’s the other things that tempt me when you’re in here. Holding you after a long night. Listening to you ramble til you fall asleep. Waking up in the morning with you still in my arms. Making you breakfast in bed. Does that make sense?”

I nodded. It wasn’t the physical temptations that worried him—it was the emotional ones. As Vance had told me once before, he had boundaries too. This was his arbitrary line.

Was it selfish of me to be laying here with him, on the cusp of goodbye? Yes. Yes it was. But I didn’t have a shred of willpower or decency left.

I once believed that all would be okay so long as I didn’t let anybody in. Then Vance Holloway came along and shattered that to pieces. Having him within reach became a need, his touch an addiction. As much as I had wanted to push him away, to agree with his friends and set him free from myself, to do the right thing and leave this all behind… the thought of our impending separation was breaking me.

He had set out to befriend me, and succeeded. He endeavored to kiss me, and succeeded. He ventured to love me and break down my walls, and against my best efforts, he succeeded.

His embrace might’ve been enough to comfort me, had I never discovered the softness of his lips. As it was, I was more than well aware of the power those lips possessed. He held me with all his warmth and tenderness and still I needed more. I needed his touch to leave me totally and completely incinerated. I needed his unyielding kisses to devour me whole. I needed him to tell me with his mouth, his eyes, his hands, that I was beautiful, redeemable, and loved. That we were going to be okay, even if we couldn’t end up together.

I needed him tonight more than ever before, everything else be damned. Nothing short of letting this man crawl inside my skin was capable of alleviating this burning ache within me.

“I want you,” I whispered suggestively, and trailed my hand down his chest, over his stomach, and lower. The muscles in his abdominals clenched under my fingers as they made their teasingly slow descent.
Yes.
The way his body reacted to mine made me feel so sexy, so alive. This was exactly what I needed. After a day of anger and affliction and goodbye, I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to connect with somebody, to feel as close to another person as possible. And I wanted to do that with Vance.

Before my hand reached its southern destination, he grabbed my wrist to halt its movement. He sighed, resigned, as if he had already expected I might attempt this.

“Stop,” he said hoarsely. “You’re just upset.”

“I don’t want to stop,” I lilted, and pressed a sweet kiss just below his jaw, using everything in my power to convince him. Surely, deep down, he didn’t really want to stop either. He just needed to know I was sure. Vance was considerate like that.

His answering groan was full of conflict, yet he laid rigidly, rejecting my assault. “You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?” he said. “We can’t. I promised you.”

To kick it up a notch, I lightly grazed my lips up the length of his neck with just the barest trace of contact, whispering all the things I never said against his skin. I was rewarded with another long, deep groan.

I crawled on top of him. A hand came to the nape of my neck, tangling his fingers in my curls and lightly tugging at the roots, pulling me closer.
Yes.
He was at least responding to me, that gave me hope. He had wanted me for months, pursued me relentlessly, and seduced me on more than one occasion just for my kisses alone. Now here I was, practically gift-wrapping my body for him. Begging him to take it. He’d be crazy to refuse.

“Don’t you want me, Vance?” I breathed into his neck. To seal the deal, I leaned back and looked down at him with those big, vulnerable, doe eyes he loved so much. I used them to communicate everything I wanted…
kiss me, take me, make me forget
.

Tonight would be the night we shut everything out—no more rules or baggage or boundaries. There was only tonight, and it was only us. Only one thing would fill the emptiness inside me.
This had to work. It had to.

But when he looked up at me, there was no molten desire swirling in his deep, green eyes. There was only softness and pity.

No.
I didn’t want his pity. I wanted him to desire me. I straightened, sitting up on his hips without taking my eyes from his. My fingers made fast work of the buttons down the front of my shirt. My goal became less about needing to be close to him, and more about avoiding another rejection. He said he loved me. To the stars and back. He had to want me still… right?

Right?

Tears of frustration burned my eyes when his hands came up to stop mine. I gave up my undressing and hung my head, ashamed. I didn’t understand. What was I doing wrong? Why didn’t he want me anymore? Why was I losing him, too?

Tenderly, he gripped my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. “It’s not that I don’t want you,” he said. “But not like this. You wanted to wait. You wanted this with your husband.”

I shook my head, eyes shining. “I don’t want to wait anymore!” I said, my voice wavering despite my conviction. “All my life I’ve been
waiting.
I’m tired of trying so hard not to feel anything. I’m tired of pretending to be brave. I’m tired of avoiding it all, waiting for everything to be perfect, then being afraid to take a chance when it finally feels right. But what if the stars never align, Vance? What if we never see each other again? What if
you…”
My chin trembled under the weight of my grief. My sentence hung incomplete.

Helpless, Vance just watched while the horrible thoughts from my past invaded. The last time I really loved a man, I lost him. I accepted that losing Vance had been inevitable from the beginning. Of all my life’s great regrets, I recognized the remorse I’d feel if I didn’t keep this piece of him for myself. So why should we hold back, when this might be our only shot?

“I’m not going anywhere, Rosie. Have a little faith.” The tips of his fingers pressed into the flesh of my thighs, assuring me that he was here, that he was real. But it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t make that promise. How could he? We didn’t know what the future held. I was leaving tomorrow. Half the country would come between us. Eventually he’d fall in love with someone else. Maybe he’d finally grow to hate me. Or worse… I couldn’t bear the thought of what I’d do if something happened to Vance, too. It all seemed so fragile.

All at once, I cursed myself for pushing Vance away for so long, and cursed myself for giving in and having another relationship I feared to lose.

My throat ached with unshed tears. When I spoke again, I could only manage a whisper. “What if this is all we get?”

“This isn’t it for us,” he insisted. “I know it in here.” He took my hand and placed it over his chest so I could feel his heart thumping the vitality through his veins. It was strong and steady, and I tried to hold on to it. I tried not to let this slip away. He looked up at me in supplication. “And you’d regret it tomorrow. How can we do that? How can I love you like that tonight, knowing it would devastate you tomorrow?”

I heard the reason in his voice, and how ultimately he was saying no because he was thinking of me. But all that registered was
rejection
.

This entire day had pushed me past my limit. Nobody wanted me. They were only too glad to see me go. And when it hit me just how unlovable I really was, I couldn’t handle that realization without some kind of escape.

“I can’t lose one more thing.”

“You’ll never lose me,” he affirmed. “I’m right here with you. As long as it takes, to the stars and back.”

But I was too far gone to process his words.

My body was throbbing with ache. With fear. With loneliness. With yearning. With guilt. A thousand emotions, overwhelming and growing out of control by the second. I had to block it out. I had to feel something—anything other than this hollow pit inside me. I was wound up so tightly, the smallest catalyst might shatter me into a thousand pieces.

My limbs started to weaken, unable to hold up even my own weight. Vance rubbed my arms and comforted me with soft sounds. But it was no good. I couldn’t get a grip. I was about to lose it.

“Please,” I choked back the emotion threatening to break out, in order to make my final plea. “I need you, Vance.”

His silence was enough. I couldn’t even open my eyes to see the refusal written on his face.

Vance was a giver by nature, and even though I had toyed with his heart and complicated his life, he had never denied me anything I asked. But I was taking advantage now. This was going too far. I was leaving and that would change everything for both of us, and it wasn’t fair of me. Desperation had reduced me to this, and I was ashamed even as I continued to beg.