Barbie World (Baby Doll Series) Page 6

  My hands spread out on the thick walls of the house, keeping me tethered to this pain. Pain. I will never not know a time when there is not pain. “Why?” I choke out around the tears. “Why couldn’t she love me more?”

  “I don’t know,” Dylan answers, his voice is hoarse from what he just witnessed. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “It is going to be okay.”

  I slide my hands down the wall. So much sadness, it has filled me to my core. It has filled my life and I can’t help blaming everything and everyone except the woman who is truly to blame. The weight of it is too much for me to bear anymore and I crumble into myself, burying my face into my knees and crying.

  Dylan kneels down next to me. “Come on; let’s get you out of here. Nothing is going to change by beating up on this old house.” I remain still, unable to move. “I got you. Come on.” He lifts me up and I let him. I don’t fight it. I am tired of fighting what I feel for him. I let Dylan lead me away from my pain.

  He holds me close to his chest and I grip at his shirt, breathing in the comforting smell that is him. It almost blocks out the pain and memories that lurk behind me. I can feel that numbing feeling I crave begin to form in the lower pit of my stomach. I glance back at the ghost of my past; its windows growing larger, wanting to swallow me up. I grip him tighter, letting him rescue me form the monsters. Even if it is a fake sense of safety, it is one I will take.

  The rain pours down us, glistening off his pale, white skin as he opens the truck door. He carefully places me in the truck before getting in on his own side and then starting it up to turn on the heat. We don’t drive; we just sit in the truck, the headlights and rain providing a shield of light from the vision of horror that sits right outside his truck. I stare at my hands, still in shock. My hands look exactly how I feel on the inside. Broken.

  “Here.” Dylan leans over, careful not to touch me as he pulls a rag from the glove box. He hands it over. “It is probably not the cleanest, but it is better than nothing.” I take the rag and wrap my hand in it slowly. We sit silently for a while as I continue to stare at my hands and Dylan stares off in the distance.

  “I wish I was there that night. I wish I could have stopped him. I came here after you told me what happened. I was going to kill him. I would have, too, if I had found him.” He breathes. I can feel my pain becoming part of his and I want to instantly retract it, to take the pain away from him. Why is it that everyone I care about gets hurt when they come in contact with me? “He took a part of you that I don’t think I will ever find again and I hate him for that.” Maybe it is hearing his confession or my deep sorrow, but at that moment, I don’t care anymore. I need him. I need his touch to take some of this pain I feel at the same time that I want to take away the pain that he is feeling. We can soothe each other, why should I deny him that?

  I drop the rag I was playing with to the floor and slide over across the bench to him. I climb onto his lap, straddling him. I am careful not to let our skin touch, letting the anticipation build up a wall between us. The feeling of him between my legs sparks something deep inside of me. I squeeze tighter against his hips while he licks his lips hungrily at me. I cannot help myself; I bite on my bottom lip, teasing him.

  I can feel the effect I have on him between my legs. I push up against him as I lean in to him, letting my lips linger just above his, teasing him. He waits. I am in complete control of the situation, but I want him to take control. I don’t want to be strong anymore. I want to let go. I lean back against the steering wheel and his hands begin a long, torturous journey up my thighs. He sits up, closing the distance between us, pulling me to him. His other hand slips under my tank top, traveling up between my shoulder blades, painting pictures with his fingers on my skin.

  He pushes up against me and I rock slowly against his hips. A moan of ecstasy escapes my lips as he takes me to another place. A place where I can forget about the pain of my everyday life. I lift my arms above my head so he can peel the wet shirt off. I help him take off his and explore his broad chest, feeling the familiar caresses of each well-defined muscle. He pulls close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him as our bare skin touches and that spark which only happens between us ignites.

  In a quick move, he flips me over so I am under him, my bare back sticking to the cool leather of the bench. I tighten my legs, keeping them wrapped around his hips then run my hand up and down his back, loving the soft growl that escapes with each lingering touch. He leans in to kiss me, but I quickly turn my head and his mouth finds the bare flesh of my neck. My mind goes to another place, a place where I can feel every sensation. I arch my back against him, exposing my chest to him. My body is going crazy with each nip he takes at the sensitive skin. His mouth is everywhere and my hands are all over him. I cannot get enough of him. It is like he is bringing a part of me that was dead back to life. I want to breathe in the life that he is offering me.

  “I have been dreaming of you. I almost forgot how good you feel against me,” he whispers in my ear. “I am going crazy not being able to touch you. All I want to do is touch you.” He spreads his hand across my bare stomach. “If you let me, I will take away all your pain.”

  I desperately want to believe his words, but how can I when words lie?

  ###

  I flitter, in-between being awake and that fuzzy dream world, my mind dancing with thoughts of last night’s escapade. What we did was reckless. My cheeks burn with the memories of wanting to experience something other than the turmoil I was feeling. He was a balm for my deep wounds that resurfaced last night, but now, there are consequences that I am going to have to face. Not to mention that he has a girlfriend. No matter how much I don’t like her, she is still his girlfriend and now the rumors about me are truer than before.

  I try to get the thought of his lips on me out of my head to no avail. He would have kept going, trying to take away the pain I felt, trying to fix the fucked up girl I am. Thank God we stopped while I still had some sort of clarity, though. He didn’t want to, I could tell his body still wanted me, but Dylan—being the good boy his momma raised—nodded his head, took deep cleansing breathes and helped me find my shirt before he put his back on.

  My skin still tingles with his touch. It was as if he simply couldn’t get enough of me. It was like being thirsty and unable to quench that thirst, each of us frantic to drink the other in. What happened was hot, really hot. Thank God we stopped when we did because one more touch from him and I would have let him take me to a place I could not come back from. I refused to let our lips touch because kissing him would have made new wounds and I don’t think there is room on my heart for another scar. I was spinning so fast with his hands on my body that they were the only thing keeping me from spinning off this planet. I wanted to plea for him to continue. I want to beg him now to bring me back to that feeling

  I listen to the soothing sound of his breathing; my own matching his while our hearts beat in sync. I revel in the stolen moment. Nuzzling my nose into his shirt, I take a deep breath, breathing in the sweet smell of cut grass mixed with the sharp smell of his soap. He is warm against me with his arm draped over me and his hand holding onto my elbow. I don’t know when I stopped crying or when we both fell asleep, but Dylan’s truck is still running and the sun now shines through the windows, warming my face. I hadn’t been ready to go back to Dylan’s house and he’d understood, letting me cry and not saying a word or expecting any in from me.

  The vibration from Dylan’s phone in his pocket jerks me from my memories. He stirs and I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Dylan moans and reaches in his pocket, answering his phone.

  “Hello,” he says groggily into the phone before he bolts up, wide awake “Mom… Yes, ma’am… Mom… No, ma’am… I am okay… Yes, she is okay, too… Her old house… Mom, I am sorry. We feel asleep… No… Mom… In my truck… I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you… Yeah…Okay, we will be home in ten… Mom… Okay… I love you, too.” He ends the call and
stuffs the phone back into his pocket. “She is really mad.” He looks at me with his eyes puffy from sleep.

  My stomach does a flip. I blush and look away before I try to kiss him into being fully awake. We stop at the only coffee shop in town to order caramel coffees with whip cream and chocolate drizzle. A few giant chocolate chip cookies finish our order. Yummy. We both need the caffeine and sugar fix before we have to face the wrath of Mrs. Knight.

  We drive in silence, sipping on our coffee and nibbling on the cookies. I hold my coffee in my hands, letting the heat from the cup burn them slightly. “Thank you for everything,” I say, glancing at him. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes still hold an adorable sleepy look.

  “What are friends for?” He grins. Yeah, friends. I blush, remembering the way I straddled him and the desire for him to touch me is back. Just friends, I remind myself. What happened last night can never happen again.

  Mrs. Knight meets us on the front porch, arms flailing about, yelling before we even take the first step onto the porch.

  “Mom, I said I am sorry. We didn’t mean to. It was just Barbie was upset and—”

  She turns to me. Her face softening as she pulls me into a hug. “I knew something was up when Dylan was practically barricading me from entering your room last night.” She holds onto me.

  I glance up at Dylan who is very interested in a rock under his toe. “I am sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “I should have listened to my gut and not my heart.” She shoots Dylan a look. What was that for? She holds me out at arm’s length and her soft, brown eyes examine mine. “Why did you leave? You could have told me that you needed to go back to that house,” she says “that” like it is a dirty word.

  “I am sorry,” I repeat lamely.

  “Barbie, promise me you will never do anything like that again. I have to be able to trust that you are safe.”

  I nod my head. It feels heavy on my neck. “I got the closure I needed,” I lie. Closure is the farthest thing I got. If anything, I have more unanswered questions and loose ends that need to be tied up.

  She pulls me to her again. “It is okay. I understand that you needed that. I am getting you a cell phone. You need a cell phone,” she says. “Come on, I will make you guys some breakfast.” She pulls me into the house and I pray that Dylan will not notice my legs shaking as I struggle to walk.

  Mrs. Knight lets us both off with warnings and a heavy dose of guilt that sits funny with me. Trust. It is never something I needed to earn. It was never something I had. I still don’t. However, Mrs. Knight wrapped it up in a nice little package and gave it to me. It feels like a ticking time bomb so I tuck it away and try to ignore the sound of the clock ticking down the seconds.

  I go up to my room and spend the rest of the day trying to catch my breath, but life finds me by sending a person also known as Roxie. I promised her we would go look for jobs today. Since Dylan has to go in to town, Mrs. Knight insists that he gives me a ride. She is afraid I might lose it again. I wonder how much of last night Dylan told her.

  I now sit as far away from him as I can. Not far enough, though, because I want to climb across this center console and feel that feeling again. I want to feel his mouth on mine. I want to spin so fast that the world flies by me in a blur of color and silence.

  He clears his throat. “Barbie?” His first word to me in so long and I want to melt. I want to hear him say my name over and over again. I try to pull myself together from this gooey mess he has made me become, so when he looks over at me, I avoid his eyes, or else he will have me completely undone.

  Chapter 7.

  Dylan

  I try not to make it obvious, but I can’t stop staring at her. I would never have thought that it was possible to miss someone so bad and have them so close to you at the same time, but that is exactly how I feel. My chest aches. She is so close that I can touch her and it hurts. The pain is almost unbearable.

  She sits right across from me in Katie’s car. Since we fell asleep last night, I never went back to pick Katie up. I know she is mad at me. She didn’t send me one of her million text messages last night or today. Do I care? Isn’t this what I really want? I want to be with Barbie not Katie. I tried to show her how I feel last night. I wanted to erase any bad moment or hurtful words that were ever said between us. It is ironic that I have become the very thing that I accused Barbie of being. A cheat. I know that Katie deserves better, a real boyfriend, but I will keep her until Barbie tells me differently.

  Barbie has her bare feet posted up on the dash board. I don’t think Katie would appreciate that her feet are up all over her new car, or the fact she is even riding in it. Katie hates Barbie, I guess now she really has a reason, too.

  The windows are open and the warm Alabama wind whips Barbie’s hair around her face as I forget all about Katie. She turns into that angelic girl I love so much. She has haunted me all day and it was all I could do not to think about her every second. The way she looked, the way her body felt undermine. Touching her in places I have never explored before.

  Now, she can barely make eye contact with me. All I want her to do is look at me, to say something to me. I will take anything she is willing to give me. I am like a puppy waiting for a treat. As if she heard my thoughts, she glances over at me and I cannot breathe. Then, as quickly as the look comes, she looks away and is gone again, lost to her own thoughts, looking out the window. Leaving me gasping for breath. It is these moments that I long for, the pain that is associated with it is becoming addicting. A cut that I need to feel and, just like a drug, the high is quickly gone, leaving me desperate for the next fix.

  “Barbie?” I say her name, needing to feel it on my lips. I wish I knew what is going on inside her head.

  “Don’t,” is all she says. It is such a small and simple word yet, it is the word that hurts the most. I cut myself waiting for the next high.

  “What happened…What happened between us…” I trail off. How do I tell her last night was beautiful, magical, all I have ever wanted, without sounding like a complete, desperate loser?

  “It was a mistake and it can never happen again. There will never be anything between us ever again. We are just friends.” she says shortly.

  Just friends. I hate those freaking words, but aren’t they the exact words I used on her? F that shit. I don’t want another friend, I want her. All of her. I can’t just leave well enough alone like I should. It has been so long since we spoke and then, when she finally starts to come around, she clams back up, refusing to let anyone in. Well, I am done with that shit.

  I jerk the car off the road and slam it into park. Another action that would piss Katie off, I can hear her complaining now in my head. ”Dylan my car. Dylan she is a whore. Dylan…” Dust rolls by the window and I shake the nagging voice from my head, focusing on what I really want.

  “What are you trying to say? That what we had didn’t mean anything? That what we had wasn’t—”

  She cuts me off, filling in what she thinks I need to hear. “What do you want me to say? That what we had was beyond words? That you made me feel things that I never felt before? That you scared the shit out of me, but at the same time, made me happier than anything or anyone has ever made me feel? That I didn’t know what happiness felt like until I met you?” I can see the walls beginning to crack around her and I know that I am almost in. I am almost back to that guarded place I want to be in so bad, but she quickly rebuilds those walls and shuts me out. “Because I can’t, Dylan. I can’t say that. I can’t risk everything again and I will not. If you were my true friend, you would not ask that of me.” She opens the car door, grabbing her sandals, and climbs out.

  Forget that. She is not getting off that easy. I am out of the car, running after her to where she is walking away from me. I am not going to just let her walk out like that. No. I am here. She can’t walk away from me. “Where are you going? You’re just going to run away from this?” I shout, throwing my hands in the a
ir. I am desperate to have her back.

  “I am going anywhere you are not,” she throws at me. She looks frazzled, on the brink of breaking down. “When I am around you, you make me lose my head. I don’t have sense when it comes to you. I feel like I am going crazy. So yeah, I am just going to run away,” she shouts at me.

  “Barbie, I need you,” I say in a pathetic and desperate attempt to keep her. I cannot let her walk out again, not when I am so close to her. Maybe it is sick and really messed up, but I need her. Like I said, it is an addiction and I have to feed the angry beast growing inside of me. “Barbie. Will you just stop walking?!” I shout, but she keeps walking, so I race to catch up to her.

  “Dylan, last night I was drunk and fucked up from the memories. You caught me at a moment of weakness.” A moment of weakness, maybe on the surface, but deep down, there was more. Besides, she was sober when she was with me; I saw it in her eyes. Maybe I took advantage of the situation, but I felt her desire to be with me as badly as I needed to be with her.

  “That is bull and you know it. That was not a moment of weakness. You wanted to be with me as badly as I wanted to be with you. That is the truth and that is what you’re running from. The truth. Because, hell, sometimes the truth is scary. It is scaring the hell out of me right now, but I am not running from it.” She doesn’t respond, she just turns and starts to walk way again and like a puppy I follow her.