More Than This
Page 56
“Well, maybe I should, since that’s what your friends call you, right?”
“Jake—”
“Well, if I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m not your friend, then what the fuck am I?” He’s yelling at me. “What the fuck am I to you, Mikayla? Tell me, please, because you sure as shit aren’t making it clear!”
I look down and shrivel inside, hoping to God this isn’t happening. I need him so badly, and he hates me right now.
JAKE
“Jake, I can’t. I can’t be more than this—not now, not yet.” Kayla’s voice breaks as tears form in her eyes. She won’t look at me.
“More than what, Mikayla?” I growl. “More than friends? We’re more than friends, and you know it. You can’t deny it, either—all the touching and feeling, the innocent kisses and hand-holding. You—” I point at her. “You sit on my goddamn lap whenever you get the chance. What about last night, when you rode my dick, and I made you come? Is that what friends do, Mikayla?”
“Jake, that’s bullshit! Don’t put it all on me. You know damn well you’re partly responsible for that, too. It’s not just me! It never has been.”
“I’m not the one denying anything, Micky.” I spit out again, just to bring it home. “You’re the one who can’t decide what the fuck we are.”
“I don’t know!” she yells. Her voice is hoarse, and tears are leaking from her eyes faster than she can wipe them away. She bites her lip. “I don’t know what to say, Jake. You know how I feel about you. You know that I . . .” She trails off.
“Know what, Mikayla?”
“I don’t know, okay?” She starts pacing the floor. I watch her. “I just know that we can’t be together—not in that way. It’s just too much . . . I’m not ready! It’s too soon, and I’m not fucking ready!” She screams more loudly with every word. Then, calming down, she looks at me. “But you know how I feel, Jake. I want you—only you . . .”
MIKAYLA
He instantly rushes over to me and pins me against the wall. He lifts me up by my ass, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He’s kissing my neck, my collarbone, my face—everywhere but my lips. I grip his hair and throw my head back so he can better access my neck. I’m moaning and groaning, so fucking wet I’m sure he can smell it. God, I want him so bad.
He places me down on the bed, his lips never leaving my skin. He starts to remove my top, and I sit up to help him pull it off. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples are so hard they could cut glass. He continues to kiss my neck while gently and passionately cupping my breasts. I scream quietly. He positions himself between my legs, and I let out a cry as we start to move together.
He moves his lips lower and lower down my neck until they reach my chest. He starts to kiss my breasts, one, then the other, licking the slope in between them. Then his tongue is on my nipple, and his mouth covers it, sucking gently. He moves to the other and does the same—licking, sucking, nipping. I’m about to lose control, my hands gripping the comforter under us and my head thrashing side to side on the pillow. The pleasure is so amazing, I’m struggling to keep from crying out loud.
He moves lower, his tongue dipping into my navel. I know where this is going, and I want to cry in anticipation—I want it so badly. Holding the band of my pants, he slowly starts to pull them down. My hands are in his hair as I not-so-subtly push him further down, begging and pleading for a release, the alcohol making me braver.
“What do you want, Kayla?” he asks.
“What?” My brain is too fuzzy from the heat between my legs.
“What do you want?”
I stop to think about what he’s asking. “I still don’t know, Jake.”
He sits up, and my body already misses him. “I can’t be what you want,” he says, slowly standing up. I whimper internally for him to come back. “I need to be more than this.” He points his finger at himself then me. “You need to pick. It’s all or nothing.”
I can’t—I can’t pick. I sit and pull my pants up, then I throw my top over my head to cover myself. I start sobbing uncontrollably. I can’t lose him, but I can’t give him everything yet, either. And he deserves everything. “I can’t, Jake.”
“What do you mean you can’t? You can’t choose? Or you can’t be with me?”
“Yes.”
“So which one?”
“It’s been six months, Jake. Six fucking months since my life turned to shit.” He flinches at my words, and I know he’s taken them the wrong way. It’s not about him at all. “Jake, it’s not—”
“It can be six months or six fucking years, Mikayla! Your boyfriend will still be an asshole, your best friend will still be a whore, and your family will still be dead!” he spits.
My eyes snap to his, and I see the regret instantly. “Kayla, baby, I’m sorry. I’m a dick. I shouldn’t have said—”
“Go to hell, Jake.”
“Kayla, please.” He’s crying now, his voice breaking.
“Get the fuck out, Jake!” I scream.
He flinches but walks out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
I don’t see him for the rest of the night.
FORTY-SIX
JAKE
I left Kayla alone in the hotel and ended up crashing at Cam’s dorm. He asked what happened. I told him to fuck off, so he left me alone.
I’m at the school gym, lifting weights to try to get rid of this angry energy I have. I’m pissed off that I fucked up—that both of us fucked up. Because it’s not just me—it’s her, too. We both said shit that we can’t take back, and I think this is it. This is the point when it’s over. I’m so fucking angry, because it never even began. She won’t even give me the chance to try.
I’m not concentrating on what I’m doing, and I think I put the wrong weights on the bar. I can’t press them, and I’m struggling to get the bar off my chest.
“Whoa,” I hear someone say. He spots me and gets the bar back on the rack. James. Of course it is. “You all right, man?” he asks.
“I’m fine, asshole,” I snap.
He’s taken aback for a second. He then removes his earphones and starts winding them around his iPod, like he’s ready to have a long conversation.
Great, just what I fucking need.
“I, uh.” He clears his throat. This kid’s awkward as hell. “I heard you went to Emily’s grave on her birthday.”
“Jake—”
“Well, if I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m not your friend, then what the fuck am I?” He’s yelling at me. “What the fuck am I to you, Mikayla? Tell me, please, because you sure as shit aren’t making it clear!”
I look down and shrivel inside, hoping to God this isn’t happening. I need him so badly, and he hates me right now.
JAKE
“Jake, I can’t. I can’t be more than this—not now, not yet.” Kayla’s voice breaks as tears form in her eyes. She won’t look at me.
“More than what, Mikayla?” I growl. “More than friends? We’re more than friends, and you know it. You can’t deny it, either—all the touching and feeling, the innocent kisses and hand-holding. You—” I point at her. “You sit on my goddamn lap whenever you get the chance. What about last night, when you rode my dick, and I made you come? Is that what friends do, Mikayla?”
“Jake, that’s bullshit! Don’t put it all on me. You know damn well you’re partly responsible for that, too. It’s not just me! It never has been.”
“I’m not the one denying anything, Micky.” I spit out again, just to bring it home. “You’re the one who can’t decide what the fuck we are.”
“I don’t know!” she yells. Her voice is hoarse, and tears are leaking from her eyes faster than she can wipe them away. She bites her lip. “I don’t know what to say, Jake. You know how I feel about you. You know that I . . .” She trails off.
“Know what, Mikayla?”
“I don’t know, okay?” She starts pacing the floor. I watch her. “I just know that we can’t be together—not in that way. It’s just too much . . . I’m not ready! It’s too soon, and I’m not fucking ready!” She screams more loudly with every word. Then, calming down, she looks at me. “But you know how I feel, Jake. I want you—only you . . .”
MIKAYLA
He instantly rushes over to me and pins me against the wall. He lifts me up by my ass, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He’s kissing my neck, my collarbone, my face—everywhere but my lips. I grip his hair and throw my head back so he can better access my neck. I’m moaning and groaning, so fucking wet I’m sure he can smell it. God, I want him so bad.
He places me down on the bed, his lips never leaving my skin. He starts to remove my top, and I sit up to help him pull it off. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples are so hard they could cut glass. He continues to kiss my neck while gently and passionately cupping my breasts. I scream quietly. He positions himself between my legs, and I let out a cry as we start to move together.
He moves his lips lower and lower down my neck until they reach my chest. He starts to kiss my breasts, one, then the other, licking the slope in between them. Then his tongue is on my nipple, and his mouth covers it, sucking gently. He moves to the other and does the same—licking, sucking, nipping. I’m about to lose control, my hands gripping the comforter under us and my head thrashing side to side on the pillow. The pleasure is so amazing, I’m struggling to keep from crying out loud.
He moves lower, his tongue dipping into my navel. I know where this is going, and I want to cry in anticipation—I want it so badly. Holding the band of my pants, he slowly starts to pull them down. My hands are in his hair as I not-so-subtly push him further down, begging and pleading for a release, the alcohol making me braver.
“What do you want, Kayla?” he asks.
“What?” My brain is too fuzzy from the heat between my legs.
“What do you want?”
I stop to think about what he’s asking. “I still don’t know, Jake.”
He sits up, and my body already misses him. “I can’t be what you want,” he says, slowly standing up. I whimper internally for him to come back. “I need to be more than this.” He points his finger at himself then me. “You need to pick. It’s all or nothing.”
I can’t—I can’t pick. I sit and pull my pants up, then I throw my top over my head to cover myself. I start sobbing uncontrollably. I can’t lose him, but I can’t give him everything yet, either. And he deserves everything. “I can’t, Jake.”
“What do you mean you can’t? You can’t choose? Or you can’t be with me?”
“Yes.”
“So which one?”
“It’s been six months, Jake. Six fucking months since my life turned to shit.” He flinches at my words, and I know he’s taken them the wrong way. It’s not about him at all. “Jake, it’s not—”
“It can be six months or six fucking years, Mikayla! Your boyfriend will still be an asshole, your best friend will still be a whore, and your family will still be dead!” he spits.
My eyes snap to his, and I see the regret instantly. “Kayla, baby, I’m sorry. I’m a dick. I shouldn’t have said—”
“Go to hell, Jake.”
“Kayla, please.” He’s crying now, his voice breaking.
“Get the fuck out, Jake!” I scream.
He flinches but walks out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
I don’t see him for the rest of the night.
FORTY-SIX
JAKE
I left Kayla alone in the hotel and ended up crashing at Cam’s dorm. He asked what happened. I told him to fuck off, so he left me alone.
I’m at the school gym, lifting weights to try to get rid of this angry energy I have. I’m pissed off that I fucked up—that both of us fucked up. Because it’s not just me—it’s her, too. We both said shit that we can’t take back, and I think this is it. This is the point when it’s over. I’m so fucking angry, because it never even began. She won’t even give me the chance to try.
I’m not concentrating on what I’m doing, and I think I put the wrong weights on the bar. I can’t press them, and I’m struggling to get the bar off my chest.
“Whoa,” I hear someone say. He spots me and gets the bar back on the rack. James. Of course it is. “You all right, man?” he asks.
“I’m fine, asshole,” I snap.
He’s taken aback for a second. He then removes his earphones and starts winding them around his iPod, like he’s ready to have a long conversation.
Great, just what I fucking need.
“I, uh.” He clears his throat. This kid’s awkward as hell. “I heard you went to Emily’s grave on her birthday.”
