Always the One, page 20
part #1 of Always and Forever Series
“No, you shouldn’t. But you did it to show her you love her. You love her, right?”
He sits on the couch with his newly filled whiskey glass clenched tightly in his hands. The muscles in his arms flexing with his attempt at restraint and the tick in his jaw looks almost painful. The tattoos on his arms and back are vibrant against the lights from the ceiling. He’s twenty-four and has barely any room left for more tattoos. Other than his neck, feet, hands, and tiny areas throughout his body, he’s covered in intricate stories of his life. My favorite is my name tattooed above his heart. I love my big brother, my hero.
His head turns slightly in my direction, the light catching the gleam in his eyes, making them spark a new discovery. His face turns stoic. “I’m devastatingly fucking ruined. I’m caught in captivity by the feelings I have for that woman. Saying I love her can’t even touch the magnitude of love I’m feeling inside of me.”
Shot to the heart. This is not the brother I once knew; he’s emulating a different person, one with mature, capable feelings. I mean really, I didn’t know he had it in him.
“Well, crap, Kingston.” We both stay silent as I sit next to him on the couch. “I think I need a drink,” I state, taking the tumbler from his hand and downing the rest of its contents.
“If it makes you feel better, somewhere deep in my heart, I know you guys will be together. In the way you want to, not just as a fling. Lana is your person. Just ride it out, fight for her.” He nods slowly, letting the thought tumble around his brain.
“I’ll never stop, damn it,” he says with finality.
“You shouldn’t, she’s my best friend, and I’ll be the first to admit she’s a pain in my butt, but she’s the greatest person to love.”
“I know, and I can’t picture a time in my life where I will ever stop fighting to truly have her as mine.” His sweet words resonate.
“About that, I get what you mean when you tell me she’s yours and you want her to be yours. But maybe ease up on that, she’s still recovering. Let her decide that, okay?”
His fingers play with the rim of his glasses while he thinks about it. He looks ever like the big brother I know, the real Kingston many don’t see, glasses and all. Lana would be so lucky to have him, if only she could let go of the past and strike a new future, let the burning flame between the two simmer and start a never-ending fire.
“True. God, you are the smart one of us two, you cute little shit.”
“Good. Now, why don’t we lie on that big bed and binge watch Full House. The hotel has Netflix!” I say excitedly. Remembering the times I would wait for him after school when we were kids, binge eating junk food, and watching Full House was a daily routine. Most of my fondest memories of my brother happened when we did things like that together.
“You’re the coolest little sister. I thought sisters were supposed to be fucking annoying and high-strung all the fucking time. What happened to you? Why are you so cool?”
Moving to the bed, I begin jumping on it while he turns the TV on. “Because I was raised by the coolest big brother out there. You might know him.” He winks at me, and I cease jumping then crawl under the blankets.
Kings grabs the menu and starts looking through it. I study him for a few minutes, noticing how handsome he is. Girls line up to get his attention, but he doesn’t see any of them. No one but Lana. His green eyes match mine perfectly. They have a bold contrast against his dark locks, which he combs back, showing more of his rugged facial structure. Strong jawline, long sharp nose, which is proportionate to his other features. Not only that, my brother is big, and I mean big. He stands six feet tall and is solid muscle from his biceps to his calves. He never skips the gym; he is religious with it. The tattoos give off this masculine, take no crap, macho complex. You know, the “bad boy” type. Which he’s far from. He’s cocky, but he’s no bad boy.
“What are you looking at?”
“You’re a handsome dude,” I say dude in my best Michelle Tanner voice.
“Thanks, sis,” he says, flexing the muscle on his bicep before leaning in to kiss it.
“Okay, a ton of people are handsome, so calm down.” He laughs, enjoying my sarcasm.
“Oh really, like who?”
“You’re no Trey, but at least you try!”
“That’s it!” He throws the menu down and jumps on the bed. Grabbing a pillow, he covers my head playfully, as I struggle to retaliate with my hands. I’m blinded by the shield over my eyes, but I finally get a solid punch to his arm, giving me the upper hand. I continue to take advantage and climb on his back, trying to tackle him flat to the bed. It’s no good; remember how I said he was big? Well, I’m no match. It’s like trying to rob a bank when your getaway car has a flat tire. I will lose for sure.
He stands from the bed, and within the blink of an eye, I’m flipped over his shoulder and thrown flat on my back. He has my wrist in one hand and his other one is tickling my sides. God, I feel like we’re kids again. I love my dang brother.
“Mercy!” I shout through a fit of laughter.
“What was that?” I know he heard me.
I attempt to hold my breath and push my stomach out, thinking this will help with the tickling. Suffice it to say, it doesn’t. I let the air drain from my full lungs and shout mercy again, trying to regain a steady stream of breathing.
“That’s what I thought. Big brother one, little sis zero!”
He starts pacing the room, hunched low with his hand cupping his mouth. “The crowd goes wild for the winner of this round. Kiiiiiiiiingston Donovaaaaan! Ladies, he’s a shark in the bedroom and a gentleman at dinner. Come and get him!”
Sitting up only enough to throw a pillow at him, I let myself fall back on the bed, laughing like a dang hyena. I’m thankful that we were able to turn this night around and end it on a playful note. We don’t get these moments together very often, but when we do, it’s the greatest thing that I will forever hold dear to my heart.
We’re two episodes in and have consumed enough sugar to kill a horse, when I hear my cell phone ringing on the table from across the room. I slowly drag my feet, mumbling complaints about having to get up when my stomach is about to explode.
“Ugh. It’s been weeks and she decides now, of all times, to call me.” I hold up my phone and roll my eyes. “It’s Mom.”
Kingston smirks. “It wasn’t me this time, score!”
I flip him the bird and answer the phone. I put on my best fake voice, lacing it with high-pitched niceties and overly cheerful enthusiasm. “Mom. Hey!”
“When were you going to tell me you were dating that…thug you and your brother ran around with?” I feel my fist clench at the mention of Trey. How dare she call him a thug, she barely knew him. I want to punch the empty air in front of me.
“He’s not a thug, Mom. And I was gonna tell you soon…ish.”
“Ish? What the hell do you mean by ish?” Her tone is heated, I can see her perfectly in my mind, she’s probably sitting on the couch reading self-help magazines.
“It’s new, and I wanted to wait until I knew what it was.”
“You must know what it is, Shayla Lynn Donovan. Because that stupid video of him, you know, the one of him singing and dancing like a complete asshat? You called him babe in the caption. So obviously, you know what it is!”
I hate when she uses my full name, as if it’s going to make her some sort of real mother. It’s like she uses it as a tool to make it sound like she’s active in my life and holds some motherly bond with me. I’m now sitting next to Kings on the bed. He muted the TV so I know he can hear her attacking me.
“Mom! Don’t call him names like that! It’s uncalled for; he’s a great guy. What has he ever done to make you think you can say those nasty things?” She has some nerve calling me on my vacation, and getting hotheaded and trigger-happy over attacking my boyfriend. Ugh! She can be such a—a bitch! We haven’t spoken in weeks, and the time before that I can’t even freaking remember.
“I know the shit your deviant brother was up to. I also know Trey was a big influence on those poor choices. He’s a slut, and I bet you’ve already jumped into bed with him. Didn’t I raise you to be a classy young woman? I like to think I didn’t teach you how to be a little tramp.”
Tramp. Me? And she thinks she taught me different. She’s delusional! She’s lucky my vagina didn’t turn out to be a drive-in movie for every guy in high school, like hers was. She’s the perfect example of a sloe. That’s what Lana and I call a slutty hoe. But anyway, she’s the one who taught me everything but class.
“Wow, Mom, thank you for crushing my self esteem and supporting my relationship with Trey.” The phone is ripped from my hand, and I take a second to analyze what just happened.
“Mom, it’s your deviant son here. I think you should go back to blowing whatever guy you are mooching off of currently and let’s do this chat again in six months, when you bless us with a check-up call!” He hangs up and throws the phone on the floor. I hear the thudding noise the phone makes when it hits the carpet, and I stay silent. He gets back into his position and pulls me into his side.
“Fuck her. Let’s get back to Full House. DJ Tanner is a babe, and I’d rather watch that than talk about whatever that trick had to say. She’s wrong about what she said. Trey is a great guy, don’t let her weasel her way in.” I concede by way of silence. When Kings is done talking about something, he is just that, done. Another thing he and Lana have in common…I wonder if they ever really talk.
I don’t talk or think about my mother often, because of encounters like that one. Anytime she speaks to me, or graces me with her precious time, it’s just control, disrespect, and abuse. She’ll never be a mother figure to me, and I’ll never let her in my life as anything more than the egg donor. Erica thinks she has the right of passage to me, but she doesn’t. To be a mother means more than just donating your body for nine months. You have to water the plant to make it grow; all she did was drown it with poison.
The lack of relationship that I have with her causes a slight ache to form in my chest. I almost feel selfish, she may be a shitty mom but she’s still my mom. Trey didn’t even get to say good-bye to his mom…she just left. I can’t be selfish for wanting to be better than she was, right? I aspire to be a mother one day, one that can love wholeheartedly without reserve. Nothing will mean more to me than the happiness and well being of my future children. Children, that’s a wanted thought, but even more foreign at this point in my life. Maybe one day.
Attempting to concentrate on the screen to calm my racing heart, all I can think about is Trey. When my mom said those things about him, it just awoke this beast inside of me. This driving urge to protect him came rushing over me, blood pumping through my veins, causing the desire to go to him and show him that I love him regardless of what anyone thinks. Eventually, the thoughts in my head—running on a continuous loop—drain me and I let sleep take over, finding Trey in my dreams.
“KINGSTON. HE DIDN’T SHOW up. I’m so embarrassed,” I choke into the phone, my throat thick with emotion. I’m hiding in the cramped bathroom stalls on the phone with my brother. My fingers grazing over the words scripted into the bathroom walls, trying to keep the tears from fully forming and cascading down my face
“What! Shay, are you serious?” He sounds pissed. I can tell he is walking away from his co-workers he’s out of town with when I hear a creaking door in the background and their loud voices fade.
“I want to go home. I’m going to call Dad.” I take a shuddered breath. “I can’t believe this is my prom, it’s ruined. I won’t get another shot.” I finally give up the fight and let the tears fall.
“Sis, listen to me,” he states firmly. He pauses, waiting for my full attention. When he knows I’m fully coherent, he starts up again. “I can’t be there and it sucks, but this is your prom, you can’t leave. I want you to go out and find Lana. I assume she’s there with Joel?” I hear the disdain in his voice echoed with his name.
“Yeah. She’s out there dancing.”
“Good, now go out there and wait for me to call you back. Got it?”
I’m unsure why he’d call back, it is what it is. “Kings, I don’t know. I don’t want to go out there. I’m too embarrassed.”
“Shayla, don’t piss me off. I’m your big brother, so what I say goes. Get your ass out there and wait for me to call you. Better yet, go dance with my girl and keep her busy.” Lana’s not his girl in the literal sense, but he wishes he could change that.
“Fine. You better call me back, Kings. Please don’t leave me hanging,” I beg him.
“Have I ever abandoned you?”
No, he never has.
“No.”
“Exactly, now wipe the makeup off your face, put on that beautiful smile, and get out there.”
“Okay.” Hanging up, I stand in front of the mirror and wash my face clean from any smudged eyeliner and running mascara. Opening my clutch, I pull out some foundation and do a quick re-apply. Once I’m pleased with my appearance, I make my way back into the gym and sit at the nearest vacant table.
The floor was covered with a new dance floor that changes colors every few minutes. The lights hung on top of the sheer white drapes give a moonlit vibe that complements the star-crossed lovers theme. It’s elegant and classy. The tables are laced with white cloths, which are accented with fake candles placed inside marble filled vases. I’m impressed with how a small town school gym can look this nice.
I search the crowd for Lana. With no luck, I shoot her a quick text.
Me: Hey, where are you?
I wait ten minutes before my phone chimes with a message alert.
Lana: Joel wanted to talk to me outside. He got mad and left me in the truck. I’ll come back when I clean up…
Pig. I know what she means; he freaking hit her. He hits her and I have to stand here silent. I want to tell someone so bad, I do, but she begged me not to, pleaded with me. Joel scares us all, I feel defenseless.
Me: L, are you okay? What did he get pissed about? Where are you? I’ll come out.
Lana: No! Don’t. He’ll only get more angry if you do.
Sad thing is, she’s right, and if I want my friend to spend time at her actual prom and not a hospital room, then I’ll stay put. I wait another twenty minutes and text Kings.
Me: You haven’t called. I’m leaving.
Kingston: You won’t be able to leave now.
I re-read his mixed message, trying to understand it when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I’m glad Joel let Lana come back. I stand and turn quickly, and I about fall back on the table when I’m greeted with the most handsome person my eyes have or will ever lay eyes on.
“Trey? What’re you doing here?” I ask, shocked that he’s here in this gym, with me.
“I got a call that my best friend was looking for her date. I must have got lost, but I’m here now,” he says in a sarcastic tone, but I hear the sincerity in his voice.
“You didn’t have to ruin your Saturday by coming to my prom. You graduated years ago, this must cramp your style,” I state, noticing the onlookers staring. Trey is ridiculously good-looking in his all black tux; I take notice of all the girls drooling over him.
He reaches forward and takes my hand. “I actually think it gives me street cred to be roaming my old stomping grounds. But please, make my game better and let everyone in this room see me dance with the most gorgeous one here tonight.”
I feel the butterflies in my stomach disperse widely. I’ve had a crush on Trey since I was eleven and here we are, full circle. I know he was just saying it to be nice, but the way he’s looking at me right now is overwhelming my senses.
“I can’t believe this. You really are too good to me.” I smile up at him, reveling in the feel of our hands joined together and his firm grip on my hip.
“Are you kidding me, you’re my best friend. What could I possibly be doing on a Saturday night that would compare to this?” He gestures to us on the dance floor.
“You’re too good to me,” I say again, because no other words can express what my heart is feeling. What I wouldn’t give for this to be more than just a fantasy. I wish this were my everyday reality.
We’re lost in dancing when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn quickly, smiling at whoever is waiting for my attention. My smile fades when I am met with Lana’s bruised and broken one. Her eye is swollen and red, her lip has a cut.
“Whoa, what the fuck, L!” Trey yells, clinging his hands to the structure of her face, assessing the damage.
“It’s nothing, you guys.” Her eyes have welled with new, fresh tears, and I can see her wall slowly crumbling.
“Where’s that piece of shit, sweetie?” Trey’s tone softens, and I watch him turn into the gentle voice of reason. He must have realized his yelling was coming in way too hot, and the last thing she needs is another male aggressor in her face, yelling at her.
“He left. I don’t have a ride, so I’m going to walk home.”
“The hell you are. It’s pouring outside,” he states, motioning to the side door that leads to the parking lot, rain hitting the small window.
“It’s fine, I don’t wanna be here anymore.” Her voice is low and somber. Trey wraps her into a bear hug, careful to not add more damage to her bruised, tender skin.
“You know what?” Trey pauses, looking around the surrounding area. “Let’s go outside and dance like idiots in the rain.”
Instantly, my heart fills with gratification when my friend laughs. Her laugh comes out on top of a hiccup and it’s music to my ears. Could Trey ever do anything wrong?
He grabs our hands, running for the side doors. We spend the next hour dancing and making memories. Trey slow danced with us both and selflessly wasted his Saturday night to make sure Lana and I were happy. I need to give thanks to Kingston when he gets home.
“Shay, wake up.” I’m jolted awake with no idea where I am.
“You’re in my hotel room, and lover boy keeps blowing up your phone. Go back to him.” I roll over and see a freshly showered Kings standing over me. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and his face is partially covered in shaving cream. I gain my bearings, noticing the sound of the shower running in the background. Standing up slowly, feeling dizzy and off balance, I slip on my boots, my silk robe still tight around me.
