Abandon

  For all the Tristans

  I’ve ever known.

  Chapter One

  She walks into Yogurtland with her cell phone pressed to her ear and a scowl on her face. Behind the scowl, her vulnerability shines like a fucking nuclear explosion in a dark closet. Whoever she’s talking to has stripped her bare. I find myself wishing it were me who affected her that way.

  She’s digging inside her purse while balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear; probably searching for money to get her frozen yogurt fix. What is it about frozen yogurt that makes us feel better? Maybe it reminds us of being kids, and how something as simple as a trip to the yogurt shop could turn a bad day into a great one. Whatever it is, I can see that she desperately needs her fix. But with each passing moment that she’s unable to locate her money, I see the hope draining from her face.

  “I told you to stop calling me. I don’t care if your car is in the shop. I’m not picking you up!”

  She drops her purse and cell phone onto the checkered tile floor and curses loudly. “What the fuck are you staring at?” she barks at the man who’s ogling her ass while ushering his small child out of the shop. “You’ve never seen a girl in a skirt bend over?”

  She falls to her knees as she reaches for the cell phone. She presses it to her ear and says hello a few times before she realizes there’s no one there. I walk over to her, coolly taking my time, then I kneel next to her and reach for the lipstick tube that rolled behind her left foot. I hold it out in front of her. She looks sideways at me and her mouth drops as she’s stunned into silence. Most girls are stunned when they see me. I’m used to that. But Senia has seen me plenty of times. She’s not amazed by my good looks. She’s stupefied by my impeccable timing.

  Her gaze immediately falls to my lips, which are just inches from her own. Then she begins to sob as she drops her purse and throws her arms around my neck.

  I can’t help but chuckle. “Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper into her ear, breathing in her scent. She smells like strawberries or pineapple. Something fruity. It’s intoxicating.

  I reach up and grab her face to pull her away, so I can look her in the eye. “What flavor do you want?”

  A tear rolls down her face and I wipe it away as she stares at me, still dumbfounded. “Cheesecake, with strawberries.”

  “Perfect.”

  I help her gather the rest of her belongings into her purse then I order her yogurt as she watches me from where she stands next to the trash bin. Her gaze follows me as I approach her with her bowl, one of her perfect eyebrows cocked skeptically.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I say as I pass her the bowl of yogurt.

  “Why?” she says and she pops the first spoon into her mouth.

  She licks the spoon clean and I find myself wondering what it would feel like to have those full, red lips wrapped around my cock. I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Because you’re turning me on and I can’t fuck you in Yogurtland.”

  She continues to cock her eyebrow as she takes another spoonful of creamy yogurt into her mouth. “Then maybe we should get the fuck out of Yogurtland.”

  In the three years I’ve known Senia, we’ve almost fucked three times. The first time happened the day I met her, after a show we played in Durham. We were interrupted backstage by Xander, the band’s manager, just as Senia was about to get on her knees. The second time was at a Memorial Day picnic. We were both pretty shit-faced and she ended up tossing her cookies all over me as I was sliding her panties off. The third time was less than three months ago, in a pub restroom stall. She started crying and couldn’t go through with it; she was too heartbroken over her ex. I think the fourth time may be the charm for us. For some reason, this makes me really fucking nervous.

  I’m not afraid I won’t be able to satisfy her. There’s no doubt I’ll make her come harder than she’s ever come before. But for the first time in my life, I’m afraid of what will happen after the sex.

  Senia is Claire’s best friend. And Chris is my best friend. Once upon a time, Claire and Chris were the golden couple; everyone assumed they’d be together forever. Then they broke up before we went on tour last year. They’ve spent the last few months attempting to reconcile the issues caused by their breakup. Even if Claire and Chris never get back together, I know Claire will always be around. I can’t avoid Claire and, therefore, I can’t avoid Senia. Something about this terrifies me and intrigues me – like I’m flirting with danger or, more accurately, fucking with danger.

  I grab the door handle on the passenger side of my silver Lightning and pause as I look her in the eye and pull the door open. “Get in.”

  She smiles and shakes her head as she slinks into the passenger seat. “Please don’t bother using your manners.”

  “I won’t.”

  I slam the door shut and walk around to the driver’s side, tapping the trunk as I note my surroundings. It’s eight in the evening. There are only three other cars in the parking lot and at least one of those belongs to the guy working behind the counter in Yogurtland. I look up at the lamppost in front of the car illuminating the hood and shining through the windshield.

  I open the door and slide into the driver’s seat. Gazing into her eyes, for a moment I’m reminded of the last time my mom took me to get ice cream, when I was nine years old. I clench my jaw against the visceral nature of this memory and Senia takes this as an invitation.

  She climbs into my lap and takes my face in her hands as she crushes her lips to mine. I thread my fingers into her hair and roughly grab a fistful of her dark locks. She whimpers as I thrust my tongue into her mouth and squeeze my fist around her hair, intermittently tightening my grip then easing up. Finally, I pull her head back by her hair and her eyes widen with shock and excitement. That’s when I notice her styrofoam bowl of yogurt upended between us, the cold stickiness seeping through both of our shirts.

  She smiles as she swipes her finger through the cool, sticky substance and slowly eases her finger into her mouth. “Creamy,” she purrs.

  “Fuck,” I whisper as my dick jumps, trying to escape my jeans.

  I grab the bowl and toss it into the backseat and she smiles as I swipe my finger through the yogurt on her shirt then shove my hand under her skirt. Her thighs are smooth and warm against the back of my fingers as I move straight for her panties. She holds my gaze as I slip my fingers under the fabric and find her clit. She swallows hard, and her smile melts into an expression of pure ecstasy.

  “Oh my God,” she breathes as I stroke her gently.

  I grab the back of her neck and pull her mouth against mine, swallowing her moans as if they were the air keeping me alive. I shove two fingers inside her and she gasps as I curl my fingers to reach her spot. Her body folds into me as I lick the soft skin below her earlobe. I pull my hand from her panties. Her face is incredulous as I grab her shoulders and push her away.

  “Get in the back.”

  For a moment, it seems as if she’s questioning this abrupt request. “This better be good,” she says as she slithers between the two front seats to get into the backseat.

  I reach under her skirt as she crawls into the back and yank down on her panties. “Jesus Christ, Tristan!”

  “Make up your mind,” I say as I place my hand on her ass and push her into the backseat. “Am I Jesus Christ or Tristan?”

  She laughs as I scramble into the backseat after her, holding onto her panties so she’s forced to leave them behind. I quickly position myself between her legs as she lies on her back and smiles. “You can be whoever the fuck you want.”

  I slide my arm under her waist and lift her up so I can place her back against the passenger-side window. Pushing up her skirt, I spread her legs wide open and marvel at the sight of her. She’s perfectly sh
aved with a small landing strip of dark hair that ends at the top of her slit.

  “I prefer Tristan,” I say, flashing her my crowd smile.

  She whimpers like a kitten in pain, her hips writhing against me as I devour her slowly and methodically. She tastes like the frozen yogurt I smeared all over her.

  “Oh, Tristan,” she moans and I hook my arms tightly around her thighs to steady her as her legs begins to tremble. “Oh, my fucking God!”

  I suck gently as her clit pulsates against my tongue. She lets out a loud cry that sounds like a sigh mixed with a scream. I can’t help but smile as I continue to stimulate her until she grabs chunks of my shoulder-length hair and yanks me up.

  “Holy shit,” she breathes as she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me on top of her.

  But she doesn’t kiss me. She just holds me there and I quickly begin to feel uncomfortable with this closeness. I start to push away, but she tightens her grip.

  “Please don’t move,” she begs, and I can hear something strange in her voice – she’s crying.

  I lie still with her for a while until I no longer hear her sniffling. I slowly pull my head back to look her in the eye and she quickly wipes at the moisture on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  I grab her hand and pull it away from her face. “It’s okay,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her cheekbone.

  “No, it’s not,” she says, a hard edge to her voice as her hands reach down to undo the button and zipper on my jeans. “But it will be.”

  She pushes my boxers down until my dick springs free and I suck in a sharp breath as it comes in contact with her.

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  My hair hangs around my face as I hover over her. She reaches up and pushes my hair back as she pulls my mouth to hers. I groan as I try to resist making such a stupid mistake. Despite the rumors, I don’t have unprotected sex. I may be a whore like my mother, but I’m not as reckless as she is.

  I try to pull my face back, but Senia holds my head still. Suddenly, I’m royally pissed off. I tear myself from her grasp and glare at her.

  “This is just a fuck. Nothing more,” I insist and her eyebrows scrunch together. A sharp pang of regret twists inside my chest. “I’m sorry.”

  Why the fuck am I apologizing?

  “Then shut up and fuck me,” she says, tightening her legs around my hips. The tip of my cock presses against her opening.

  I slide in slowly, watching as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back. Leaning forward, I suck on her throat as I gradually ease myself further inside her with each stroke.

  “You’re tight as fuck,” I whisper as I carefully work my way deeper inside.

  She doesn’t respond, so I keep thrusting, slowly at first then working my way up to a steady pace. I pull my head back to see her face and her eyes are still closed. I don’t know why, but I want to see her eyes.

  “Look at me,” I command, and she opens her eyes instantly, her gaze finding mine.

  Her eyes are slightly red and that’s when I notice the tear tracks running from the corners of her eyes, down her temple, and disappearing into her dark hair. A strange urge overcomes me and I lean down and kiss her temple. Licking my lips, the saltiness of her tears turns me on even more. I ease my hand behind her knee and lift her leg higher so I can thrust deeper.

  She whimpers as she threads her fingers through my hair and pulls my mouth to hers. I kiss her slowly, matching the rhythm of my hips to the movement of our tongues. She bites my top lip and I feel myself getting so close to blowing my load.

  “God damn,” I whisper as I try to pull my head back, but she holds my head still and kisses me deeply as I let go inside her.

  My dick twitches as I fill her with my gushing warmth. I grunt into her mouth and she continues to kiss me, swallowing my cries the way I did hers. Finally, I tilt my head back and look her in the eye. Then I ask her a question I haven’t asked anyone since I broke up with Ashley four years ago.

  “Who was that on the phone?”

  Chapter Two

  Twelve Years Ago

  I can hear her voice coming from the living room and I don’t want to come out of my bedroom. She’s so loud. I don’t know why she always has to yell. She yells at me, at Grandma, and it won’t be long before she starts yelling at Molly. Molly’s only a baby. She doesn’t know nothing about Elaine.

  I don’t call her Mom unless we’re in the same room, and she’s hardly ever here. Grandma takes care of Molly and me after school and whenever Elaine doesn’t feel good – and that’s a lot. Why is Elaine already back here? Tonight, we’re spending the night at Grandma’s so Elaine can be with her friends. I don’t remember a lot of stuff that happened before we moved here to Raleigh a few months ago. But I do remember that I hate Elaine.

  “Where’s the fucking check? I know it came yesterday!” Elaine shouts at Grandma.

  I can’t stay in this bedroom. I have to protect Grandma. I slide off the bed and trudge across the grayish-blue carpet. Opening the bedroom slowly, Elaine’s shouting gets louder.

  “It hasn’t come! And where are you going dressed like that?” Grandma shouts back, but her shouting doesn’t sound like her daughter’s shouting.

  Grandma’s voice is soothing and strong, but it’s not harsh like Elaine’s. I hate Elaine’s voice.

  I step into the living room and Elaine is wearing a dark-red dress that looks more like a sweater. It only covers her to the top of her legs and her black boots come up over her knee. She isn’t dressed for the snow, which is probably why Grandma asked her why she’s dressed like that.

  “Where the fuck do you think I’m going, to get a fucking ice cream?” Elaine laughs and Grandma’s round face scrunches up in disappointment.

  Elaine’s dark hair is messily flipped over to one side of her head. I didn’t inherit her dark hair. Mine is light brown, probably like the sperm donor. That’s what Grandma calls my father. I’ve never met him, but I think that’s because Elaine doesn’t know who he is. When I was seven, she told me that she wished she’d had an abortion. I didn’t know what that was until I looked it up in the dictionary. That was two years ago. That was when I started calling her Elaine.

  “You should take Tristan to get ice cream,” Grandma insists as Elaine digs through her big brown purse.

  “It’s fucking snowing,” Elaine replies with a chuckle. “He can go outside and scoop some snow into a cup.”

  The blonde girl standing next to Elaine lets out a low, rumbling laugh. I don’t recognize this girl. Elaine’s always bringing different girls to our house and Grandma hates it when she brings them here, ever since one of them threw up on her carpet. This girl looks younger than the other girls Elaine usually brings home, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Her eyes are covered in dark make-up and her mouth hangs open, making her look a little stupid.

  The blonde looks at me and her top lip curls up. “We should take him to get ice cream. I need some ice cream.”

  Elaine glances at me then she goes back to digging through her purse. “Fine. We’ll get a fucking ice cream. At least it’s too fucking cold outside for it to melt. Last thing I need is for him to make a mess all over Sadie’s car.”

  “I don’t want ice cream,” I say as I scoot closer to Grandma.

  That’s when Molly starts to cry. She has a fever and Grandma has been fussing over her all night ever since Elaine brought us over here. Maybe I should pretend to have a fever.

  Grandma pats me on the back. “Go with your mom, Tristan. I have to take care of Molly.”

  “I can help you,” I insist, but Grandma’s already in the hallway on her way to her bedroom where she keeps Molly’s playpen that Elaine hauls around everywhere.

  Elaine rolls her eyes as she opens the front door for the blonde and me. “Hurry up,” she says.

  “I need to get a jacket.”

  “You don’t need a jacket. The ice cream parlor is indoors. Just get in the
damn car.”

  A whoosh of cold December air blasts me in the face as I step toward the front door. As I make my way out the door, my eyes repeatedly flit over to Grandma’s purple sweater, which is draped over the arm of the sofa. I consider swiping it up and wrapping it over my shoulders, but purple is for girls. I’ll look stupid and Elaine will make fun of me.

  It’s freezing inside the car. I could tell by the emblem on the hood that this is a Cadillac. The inside of the car smells like smoke and perfume and the gray leather in the backseat is cold as ice against the backs of my arms. I try to lean forward a little so it doesn’t touch my skin, but I begin to get carsick from the way Elaine drives, so I just lean back and close my eyes.

  A few minutes later, the car stops and I open my eyes when the engine stops rumbling. The blonde girl is looking over her shoulder at me from the front seat as Elaine touches up her make-up in the rearview mirror.

  “What’s his name again?” the blonde asks.

  “Tristan. I named him after—” Elaine stops herself before she can finish this sentence. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go get a fucking ice cream so I can take him home. I have shit to do.”

  The entire time we’re standing in line, Elaine is tapping her foot against the white tiled floor. When we make it to the front of the line, she doesn’t even ask me what I want, she just orders a scoop of vanilla on a sugar cone. I hate vanilla.

  I take my ice cream cone from the man behind the counter and he can see the disappointment in my face. “Is this not the flavor you want, kiddo?”

  “Yes, it is,” Elaine replies quickly as she grabs my shoulders to turn me away from the counter. “Come on, come on. Let’s go sit down. I don’t got all day.”

  I take a few licks of the ice cream cone once we’re seated in our plastic chairs at a small, round table. But then I think of a solution.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say as I stand from my chair.

  “You can’t go to the bathroom alone,” Elaine says as she pulls her cell phone out of her purse. “Just hold it till you get home.”

  The vanilla ice cream is starting to melt. I have to throw it away without her seeing. “I can go by myself. I’m nine years old.”

  “Charlene, take him to the bathroom,” she says as she begins dialing a number on her cell phone. “I’ll be outside.”

  Charlene stands up, not bothering to bring her bowl of orange sherbet with her. “Come on, kid.”

  She grabs my shoulder to lead me forward and I wriggle out of her grasp. “I can go to the bathroom by myself.”

  The corner of her red lips curls up and my heart thumps against my chest as we near the bathroom. She reaches for the doorknob and opens the door for me. It’s a private bathroom. No stalls, just a single toilet and a sink. It smells like cherry air freshener and it’s almost as cold in here as it was in the Cadillac.

  The lock clicks and she crosses her arms as she waits for me. “We ain’t got all day.”

  The toilet is on the same wall as the door. If I take a piss, she’ll see me from the side. All I wanted to do was throw away this damn ice cream, which is now dripping down my hand and wrist. She huffs as she takes the ice cream from my hand and tosses it into the garbage can next to the sink.

  “What a mess. Come here so I can wash your hands.”

  She pulls me toward the sink and turns on the water. It’s cold so she turns on the hot water and waits until it warms up before she sticks my hands under the water. Her chest is pressed against my shoulders as she gently scrubs my hands with the slick soap. She begins massaging my fingers and I pull my hand away.

  “Stop,” I mutter, trying to back away, but she’s pressed against me, locking me in place.

  “Your mom will kill me if you take your sticky fingers in the car. Just relax, Tristan.”