Bound to You

Chapter 16

I turned down an eighteenth birthday party for a lot of reasons, but the two biggest ones were Aaron and Marie. I hadn't seen you since that awful night. Partially because I could still feel the heat of your angry gaze on my skin. And partially because I was terrified of what would happen if Aaron found out. He'd cooled down a lot. I spent most of my time messing around with him in the back seat of his Mustang or watching him fix cars in his dad's garage.

But the night of my eighteenth birthday, I only asked Aaron for one thing: a bottle of Jack, which he happily provided when he thought it would get him laid. I threw half the bottle back and pretended to pass out so that he would take me home. He tucked me into the pool house so my parents wouldn't ask any questions, and then I was alone.

I stared up at the dark ceiling as the room spun around me. It was my birthday. I didn't want to lay here in the dark. I didn't want to fall asleep drunk in my parents' pool house. I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

It was by chance that I knew where your apartment was. My father had accidentally forwarded me an email with your address attached when he meant to send it to one of the nurses you and he worked with. I'd never deleted the email, just in case.

I pulled it up on my phone and tried to focus on the small print, but my vision was blurry. I pushed up on the bed, just to fall back immediately when the world seemed to tilt upside down.

"Fuck," I groaned. But it didn't matter. I knew what I wanted, and I was going to go after it. I was done being quiet. I was done being a child. I was ready for what I wanted.

I forced myself onto my feet, grabbed my purse, and tip-toed out of the pool house. I was pretty sure I was going to puke. I spun around and stumbled back into the dark living room, rushing quickly to my dad's liquor storage and snatching up a bottle of vodka. Just in case I sobered up on the way there.

It was a long walk for a Saturday night, drunk, after midnight. My parents thought I was spending the night at Allie's, a lie I had told them when I was still planning to spend the night with Aaron. So this was what freedom felt like.

I sung to myself as I walked through Stamford, my head tilted back as far as I could get it without falling over so that I could look up at the stars. By the time I got to your apartment, I was sweating. It was almost August, and the skies were threatening a rain that made the air thick.

As I rounded the corner of a tall, shadowed building in your complex, I stopped cold. Marie. God, I hadn't thought about Marie, and there she was, walking to her car, unlocking it, climbing in.

I just assumed she lived with you. Why was she leaving your apartment so late? I didn't want to think about what you'd been doing together upstairs. I gagged. I couldn't believe I'd managed to gap her existence so efficiently.

It took me a second to find your apartment. I wandered through the complex for a few minutes until I finally found the right number. And then I was standing on your doorstep, and I couldn't even remember how I'd gotten there, how I'd managed to get off the guest bed in the pool house.

I knocked.

You answered so fast that for a second, I thought you were waiting for Marie to come back. You were still fully dressed even though it was past midnight, a glass of wine in your hand. You didn't look like someone who'd just gotten laid. That was a relief.

Your eyes went wide, and like a blessing, they swept down over me. I was wearing a brand new dress, black and lacy and short, just the way Aaron liked it.

"Lena. What are you doing here?"

I pushed my way in, although you didn't put up much resistance. "It's my eighteenth birthday," I slurred, finding myself in your cozy living room. You were watching TV, some British mystery show. Such an old man. I fucking loved it.

"I know," I heard you say as you closed the front door. You came into the living room and flipped off the TV. "That doesn't really explain why you're here."

I spun around quick to face you and stumbled. You rushed forward to help right me.

"Are you drunk?" you demanded. I'd figured you'd get that from the bottle of vodka in my hand, but when I looked down, the bottle was gone. Shit. I must've set it down somewhere between my house and yours. But it didn't matter because you were gripping my arms, and I was relishing in the feel of your fingers on my bare skin in the heat.

"Yes," I said, trying to sound seductive. "But it's okay. I'm eighteen now."

Your hands fell away from me. "Yes. Eighteen, not twenty-one. Does your father know you're here?"

I waved your comment away. "I saw Marie leave. She doesn't live with you."

Your eyes seemed to darken when I said her name, your mouth becoming a straight line. "No. Her parents are strict Roman Catholic."

"So Jesus says you can sleep with her but not live with her?"

Your eyes shot to me, either out of anger or surprise, I didn't know which. "Why are you here, Lena? Just to insult Marie?"

I sat down on the armrest of your couch. I couldn't stand anymore. "No. I came here to-" Why had I come here? To seduce him? To confess my love for him? To beg him to love me back?

To tell him not to marry her.

"He'll kill me if he finds out I'm here." I didn't even know why I'd said it. Like a glitch in my brain.

But you knew exactly who I meant. "Why are you with him, Lena? Why do you find guys like him?"

I snorted. "He may hit me, but at least he doesn't rape me."

It was the wrong thing to say. Your eyes had a fire in them I'd never seen before. "I could kill them both. Tell me, Lena. Tell me why. You're better than both of them."

"You know why I'm with him," I challenged you. "You said it yourself. Because I can't have what I want."

That made you pause. You put your hands on your narrow hips and watched me for a long moment.

"I'm not wrong," I said, and even to my own ears, it sounded like pleading. "I'm not wrong. I can't be."

A crease appeared between your eyes, and I knew you knew what I meant. I wasn't wrong about there being something between us. I wasn't wrong about how safe you made me feel. I wasn't wrong about how easy it was to be around you.

"Don't marry her." The words were spilling out of my mouth, and as if they were tangible things, your eyes dipped down to my lips, and I felt a thrill low in my stomach.

Only, it wasn't a thrill. It was that half bottle of vodka.

I threw up on your carpet.