"Man,” Vance puts his hand on my shoulder, "I'm so glad you got my back. We have to keep these grimy assholes away from girls like V." I look down to hide my face and cringe.
Fuck.
Intoxicating
I hang out with Vance for another hour before leaving. We didn't drink much more so I knew we both were okay to drive. My feelings for Veronica are heavily weighing down on me; the happiness and thoughts of pursuing something with her have evaporated. Seeing Vance stressed out over some random guy asking out V...I can't even imagine what he'd do if he knew about how I felt. I can't do something like that to my friend--to a friend I consider a brother. I’d, more than likely, be creating a fall out to people who are like family. Even more than my own.
Speaking of my family, the white Mercedes parked out front of the house indicates that my parents are home from their vacation. An involuntary groan slips past my lips. I do not want to deal with their shit, on top of the shit storm of feelings for someone I shouldn't even have feelings for. After parking my truck behind said Mercedes, I head inside, pausing in the foyer to listen for any sounds within the house. It remains quiet.
"Hello?" I yell out.
"In here," I hear my mother’s voice call from the back of the house. I walk straight down the hall, passing the staircase and into the large open kitchen. My mother looks up when she hears me enter, disregarding the stack of mail she’s sorting on the center island in front of her.
"Chase, honey?"
"Hey, Mom."
A large floppy white hat sits upon her head, even though she's indoors where the sun can no longer reach her. She rushes towards me. A wide smile forms on her lips, exposing her white and perfectly straight teeth. Her reaction to seeing me seems genuinely happy. I’m surprised. The anger I've felt for the past two weeks has momentarily subsided. I allow her arms to wrap around me--not even caring that her hat is poking me in the neck--and pull me into a hug.
"I am so sorry that we weren't here for your homecoming," She pulls away but keeps her hands on my arms, "It's so good to have you home."
I bite my tongue, knowing it won't make a difference, and just smile. "It's good to be home. Where's Dad?" I ask.
She backs away swiftly. The question seems to annoy her for some reason, and she goes back to her pile of mail. "He went to check in on everything at the office."
"But you guys just got home," I say incredulously.
"Yeah," she waves her hand. "You know how your father is."
I grunt. "Yeah. Well, I'm going up to my room."
My mother doesn't say another word. I watch her for a second, sorting through the mail before turning my back, and head towards the stairway. Skipping two steps at a time, I unbutton my shirt as I walk down the hall to my room. I rip it off my body, then toss it into the laundry basket just inside my closet. I pace my room until I settle on the edge of my bed--no longer thinking about the unexpected arrival of my parents--but the girl who takes up most of my thoughts anymore.
The effect she has on me, the fact that I cannot stay away from her, and the primal urge to claim her. I'm experiencing feelings I've never felt before. I feel like a damn caveman right now; possessive and jealous. Shit. I just remembered I never responded to Veronica's messages. I pull my phone from my pocket and see that there are three unread messages.
Nic: Helloo?
Nic: Did you fall asleep on me?
That makes me smile.
Nic: Just let me know you’re okay. Please.
Her last message hurts my heart. She's worried. I absently rub my hand across my chest. "Damn it," I whisper to myself. The last thing I want to do is cause her to worry. I send her a quick text letting her know I'm okay, and I'll see her in the morning. I toss my phone on the bed. My chest hurts no matter how much I rub it, so I stand up and stretch my coiled muscles. I rub the back of my neck and acknowledge that I need to let off some steam. My father has a make-shift gym in the basement that he occasionally uses and urges me to use as much as possible.
The Army kept me in great shape, but I haven't worked out since coming home. Switching out my slacks for some sweats, I head down the two flights of stairs and into the furnished basement. The gym is situated in the far back so I have to pass through my father’s man cave--a typical room including a bar, a pool table, a poker table, a large leather couch, and massive TV hanging on the wall. One would think that this would be the place to hang out but my father would never let me have any friends down in his cave in fear that we would ruin something. Ironically, he's okay with me using his gym. Whatever.
I make my way to the closed door and push it open. Immediately turning to the left, I open the cabinet that holds the surround sound receiver. The room is engulfed in hard rock music that’s coming from the speakers in every corner for the room, as soon as I push the power button. I use my foot to close the door and walk straight to the weight bench. The loud music is successfully wiping anything troubling from my mind. I check the weights on the bar before laying down on the bench. I go hard for about an hour but bench press less than my normal weight since I don't have a spotter. Safety first. I do one last set; exhaling as I push the bar up onto the rack and drop my arms. The burn I feel in my biceps and triceps is a welcoming feeling. I sit up and allow my breathing to slow, grabbing a nearby towel, and clean the sweat from my forehead. Powering off the receiver, I leave the room and snatch a bottle of water from the small fridge under my father's bar. I down half of its contents then make my way back upstairs; beaten and tired. My shower lasts five minutes. I'm in bed before I know it--so tired that I don't even think about anything else before letting my body drift to sleep.
My alarm startles me from my deep slumber. I instantly reach out an arm to turn it off, wincing at the soreness. In the quiet room, I force my eyes to open and rub them with my fingers. I don't even recall falling asleep. It was probably the best I've slept in a long time. I stare up at the white ceiling before sitting up in my bed-- my hand hits something hard. My phone. I swipe it open, and there's another notification.
Nic: Oh, okay. See you.
Just reading her message...I know she feels dejected. The same pain I felt in my chest yesterday returns, but I don't bother to try and subdue it; nothing will help. I place my phone on the side table and stumble to my closet. My closet contains more button-up collared shirts and polos--all purchased by my mother. The thought alone makes me laugh. My mother buys my shirts. I sigh while pulling a shirt off its hanger, then remove a pair of slacks from another hanger. I know this is something I don't see myself doing for the rest of my life; I don't envision wearing polos and button-ups every day. I remember Veronica saying that she doesn't know what she wants to do, and she doesn't realize how much I can relate to that.
At Twenty-one, I thought I'd have my life more figured out. The Army has given me amazing opportunities but I know that's not something I want to do forever, either. Once I'm finished dressing, I grab my phone off the nightstand and shove it into my pocket. Damn. I've been looking forward to spending these next few mornings with V, but now I'm dreading it--dreading knowing that I can't make this into the relationship I thought we could have. I must put a stop to this. I'm just not sure how.