Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Twenty-Three:

It's odd seeing Ellis in the back of an Uber. Bizarre really. I never imagined wealthy people using Uber. I assumed they all had drivers to escort them around. But seeing him crammed in the backseat of the car with me makes me want to laugh.

The driver is silent upfront, barely giving us a glance as I stumbled into his car, nearly hitting my head on the roof. Ellis was sweet and kept his hand on top of my head as I entered the vehicle, making sure I didn't concuss myself.

I wonder if Mrs. Bythesea is going to be sitting outside waiting for us. Arms on her frail hips, hair forced back in her horrible bun.

I do wish the driver would play some sort of music. The sound of our breathing and the cars outside is unpleasant. I lean towards Ellis, then forget how smashed we are in this car, and almost hit him in the face with my head. My hand falls on his thigh in a rather ungraceful manner. "You're going to be thirty, flirty, and thriving." I tell him and smile.

His face is nearly pressed to mine. Breath intertwined. He nods silently.

"Do you normally go for older women?" I ask him.

"No."

I can't seem to pull my eyes away from his lips. I'm unsure of what I'm even saying to him. I want to tell him to kiss me. To fuck me senseless in the back of this Uber while the driver watches. "Younger?"

"Reign." My name slips through his mouth like a small gust of wind. A slight breeze that rustles the branches.

"I find you incredibly appealing and interesting."

He smiles lightly, one of his hands moving to the side of my neck. I tilt it slightly, opening the bare skin to him. Showing him where his lips can land. I hear him suck in a breath.

Where Ellis lacks in words, he makes up for it through his actions. The touch of his hand, the lingering of his eyes, the way they sweep over me, devouring every inch.

The car comes to a stop, and we force ourselves to break away. I'm slightly disappointed to see the front empty; no wicked wife is waiting for us to arrive.

"I'll walk you round to yours." He says it as if I don't live just in the yard.

I nod, and he stuffs his hands in his slack pockets, as if to make sure to keep them to himself. I walk slightly in front of him as we move across the damp lawn. My ankles growing itchy. At my door, I turn around to face him. We stare at one another.

"Thank you." I say. "For everything tonight."

He rocks slightly on the balls of his feet. "Thank you. Today was..." He shakes his head. "Seeing you made it better."

"I like being here."

"Good." He takes a small step forward. My heart pounds.

"Do you like me being here?"

His lip twists up. "I do. I really do." Suddenly his hands are cupping my face, he's backed me against the door, and our breath is heavy as my arms wrap around him and as he lowers his mouth to my neck. A gasp of excitement escapes my mouth, and I press myself harder against him. He presses his forehead against mine, his eyelashes resting on his cheeks. We stay frozen as I anticipate what he's going to do next. "I can't." He then says, and annoyance sweeps through me.

"Why?" I ask in a much snarkier tone than I intended.

He shakes his head once, then takes a step back from me, his hands dropping to his sides. His face conflicted, eyes full of guilt. "What do you mean, why?"

"Just come inside with me." I tell him.

"I cant." He repeats, his head turns, and he looks back towards the house. The window to his bedroom is dark. Mrs. Bythesea fast asleep, unaware of us right down here. "I'm sorry." Without looking at me again, he walks away towards the house, leaving me behind.

I grind my teeth with frustration. Watch as he walks, head dipped forward, hand moving through his hair, until he disappears inside the house through the back door. I see the light switch on in the kitchen. He was so close to kissing me.

I try to not let it get me down too much. We made a lot of progress tonight. This is only the beginning.

Inside the guest house, I lock the door behind me and fall down onto the couch, unable to make it down the hall to my bedroom. I hate sleeping with makeup on, but the thought of trying to get up again sounds nearly impossible. The room twists and turns. The dark room makes me feel uneasy.

I hate being alone here. Especially after what happened. I constantly feel like someone is watching me. Standing at the end of the bed while I sleep at night.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine I'm back in the classroom. I feel his eyes on me as I write in my notebook. They always seem to be looking at me. He sniffs the air as he walks past my desk, inhaling my smell.

I want to cry. But I've forgotten how. I feel the ache in my chest. Moving away was supposed to be a big step toward moving on. It was supposed to help the memories stop flooding my mind at all hours of the day. Instead, they still linger, hunched in the corner, a figure standing at the end of my bed, reminding me they're always there. That they're here for good.

Panicking, I reach for my phone. The light blinds me momentarily as I call his number.

He answers on the third ring. "Are you okay?" He asks right away, voice full of worry.

"Yes." I say, my voice shaking.

I hear him sigh. "Happy Birthday, Reign."

"Thanks."

"Don't think about him on your birthday." Lake says it as if he can read my mind.

"I'm not."

"I miss you." His voice cracks, like he might cry.

"I have to go." I end the call hastily, hating myself for calling him when I'm supposed to be letting him move on. I'm a horrible person. Did I really just call him right now to see if he would answer? To see if he's still at my beck and call? Yes. I'm so shitty, I know.

I called him for a distraction. To help me feel better. Even though I know now he will only feel worse. The person I want is up in bed with his wife, while I'm alone in the dark in this creepy guest house, and thoughts of the past dance around me, making me feel dizzy.

My phone pings. I look at the message from Lake.

I know you called me because you're drunk and thinking about him. I don't care about the shitty things you said to me, Reign. I just want you to be okay. I know you're hurting. Please get help before it kills you. Reach out to that therapist. I love you.

I turn my body into the couch, bringing my knees up to my chest. I don't believe I can ever love someone. Not because I don't believe in it or because I don't want to get hurt, but because I truly don't think I'm capable of feeling that emotion. I'm not wired that way. Maybe my upbringing caused me to shut down in order to survive. Maybe I was born this way.

Where my heart is supposed to be is actually just a rotting, black hole. There's no room for love. Love can't grow there. Love dies there.

Perhaps I just haven't meant the right person yet. That is a possibility. Maybe that person is Ellis. Or maybe with Ellis, I just want what I can't have. The forbidden fruit. I want a taste of him.

Maybe a mix of both. I can possibly grow to want something more with him, but for now, he's the prize at the end of a race. The trophy I can raise in the air. A trophy I might keep on my shelf for longer than the others in the past.