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Authors: K. D. Carrillo

Self Destruct

 

Self Destruct

Destroy #1

 

Published by K.D. Carrillo at Kindle

Copyright © 2013 Kimberly Dahl

 

All Rights Reserved

 

Edited by Fawn Sanchez

Cover design by Indie Designz http://www.indiedesignz.com

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.

 

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.  The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

 

This book is available in ebook format.

Table of Contents

 

 

 

Prologue

Five months ago

 

“Do you want to dance?”
I looked up into dark chocolate eyes and tried to smile encouragingly.  This was the game right?  Catch a guy’s attention, and keep it long enough to decide if you like him or not.  I’m not a lesbian, but I do know there should be some connection to some guy.  There never is, but I keep trying.

He reached out to brush his hand across my face, and I flinched.  The anticipation of being touched made my skin crawl.  “I would love to dance, but I want a drink first,” I evaded.  He smiled, completely undisturbed by my mini-freak-out.  He handed me a cup with rum and coke, very heavy on the rum.  I noticed only the girls were being handed drinks mixed out of the kitchen.  They weren’t wasting the hard liquor on the guys.  This wasn’t some stranger though.  We lived in the same dorm freshman year, and flirted with each other constantly.  I realized he was never going to muster the courage to ask me out, so I invited him to this party being held by a friend’s boyfriend. 

I did a few shots, and chased them with my mixed drink.  Soon the familiar fire radiated out from my stomach.  I melted into my date’s arms and we began to rub and grind against each other, or as my fellow college students called it, dance.  His touch no longer made my skin crawl.  I waited for the butterflies, that stirring of desire, but it never came.  I watched as his eyes darkened, and his hands explored more and more skin.

I didn’t stop him when he led me outside, not when we went down the street, and not even when we entered his empty apartment.  He kissed me passionately, but I still didn’t feel anything.  He frantically pulled at my shirt, and popped the snap on my jeans. 

His clothing followed until we were both only wearing our underwear.  I tried to focus on kissing and touching, but the spark refused to come.  His breathing increased as one of his hands slipped into my underwear.  His fingers stroked and probed, and I lied there waiting for it to be over.  He sucked at my neck, and continued to try and arouse me.  I could only handle this because of the alcohol. Otherwise, I'd never let him touch me, there.

“I have condoms,” he breathed heavily.  I stiffened.  “I’m really not ready to go that far,” I admitted.  “Are you sure?” he asked.  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have let things go this far,” I told him, and began getting dressed.  “What are you doing?” he asked irritated.  “I think
it's time for me to go,” I replied without emotion.  That was the problem.  I was flat, unfeeling, going through the motions.  When would I feel something?

“Oh come on, it isn’t like we don’t know each other.  This has been building for a while, let’s just go with it and see where it brings us,” he pressured.  “I can’t,” I told him, and raced out of his apartment.

I ran home. Forget the walk of shame, this was the run of shame.  Once in the bathroom I stripped naked and turned the shower to as hot as I could tolerate.  I scrubbed at my skin with my loofah, and sat on the floor of the shower until the water ran cold. 

The shower door opened, and the water was shut off.  “When are you going to quit doing this shit?”
demanded my best friend Antonia.  I looked up at her with my eyes that were bloodshot from crying.  “Why do you do this to yourself?” she repeated with more concern.  I continued to stare without responding.  “Are you ever going to tell me what this is about?”  I blinked, and nodded.  “Someday, as soon as I can talk about it, I’ll tell you,” I answered.

“Fine, you don’t have to tell me now, but you have to quit this self destructive bullshit. 
I get it.  Really.  We all have secrets Becca, but you aren’t just hurting yourself.  It is too hard for me to watch,” she scolded.  She handed me a towel and gave me a hand to get off the floor. 

She nagged and nagged me for the next couple of weeks, until I agreed to see one of the school counselors.  Antonia gave me the shove I needed to get help.  I was long past caring about myself.  She was right, I was on a path to self-destruct, but it was all I knew.  I was fine with it until she showed me that I was bringing others down with me.  She gave me a reason to care for myself, and for that she’s my hero.

1

Rebecca

 

“Why are you staying in Ellensburg over the summer when you could be here in Chelan at my lake house?” my best friend Antonia demanded. “There are some super delicious male specimens staying next door.  They spend almost all day outside shirtless.”  I could practically hear her salivating over their partially nude bodies.

I could picture her pacing back and forth on the dock, trying to get the guys to notice her in her tiny bikini top and jean cut-off shorts.  Not that Toni, as we called her, ever had to try hard.  She is petite in a way that makes men feel the need to protect her.  Her tiny waist and ample chest doesn’t hurt her efforts to gain the attention of the opposite sex.  Her confidence, intelligence, and sharp sense of humor increases her sexiness.  Yes, I’m a hundred into guys, but I can see she is sex personified.  Yet she is kind, loyal, and my absolute best friend.

“I don’t need to meet a bunch of guys who I won’t see again once the summer is over.  I’m not interested in random hook-ups
anymore. You know that.”  “Ok Becca.  I’m not trying to be a bitch here, but I gotta say this once.  I like Jake, he is a nice guy, but I don’t see this working out.  He is twenty-eight, and you have been twenty for like five minutes.  I think he is jerking you around.  You are wasting the summer pining for a guy that comes and goes with the wind.” 

Ouch.  “Well, thanks for sugar coating it,” I snapped. 

“Oh honey, that was sugar coating it.  If you want it straight I'll give it to you.  He acts like he likes you, and then ignores you for days.  If he was really interested nothing would keep him from seeing or talking to you every day."

Toni let out a frustrated huff.  "I know you have worked hard to stop all of that self torture garbage, but emotionally shutting yourself off is just another way of
tormenting yourself.  You need to get off your sexy ass and help me compete with the sorority skanks down here.  I’m hot, but there is only one of me.  These guys are looking for quantity.  I want to give them quantity and quality.  While you are at it, convince Kate to take a few days off work and come too.”

“How are three of us quantity compared to a sorority?”  “There are only six of them, and they are all blondes.  If you get Kate here we have a blonde knockout
too.  Not to mention, you with your long Auburn locks and green eyes.  Last, but certainly not least there is my Latina hotness.  Ok, so quantity was the wrong word, I meant variety.”

“Toni, I really appreciate you
trying to cheer me up, but I am not moping around waiting on some guy.  Yeah, I like Jake.  And sure I want to see where this is going, but God, I am not as pathetic as you seem to think.  And I am
not
going to fix this by gettin’ it on with some man-whore.  Remember?  You made me learn that lesson.  You know I love you, but I am hanging up now.”  “Why do my good deeds always come back to haunt me? You suck.  Call me later.” 

I hung up and tossed my phone on the couch, it bounced up once, and started ringing again.  “Seriously Toni I don’t care how hot these guys are I am not tarting myself up to help you get a hot piece of ass.”  A masculine chuckle responded over the line.  “I am extremely glad to hear that.  Is there any chance I might see you tarted up?” Jake teased. 

I groaned and slapped myself in the forehead.  I really need to remember to look at who is calling before I let words spew out of my mouth.  “Uh, I thought you were Toni,” I feebly replied.  “So she wants to go fishing and use you as bait huh?”  The humor seemed to have vanished from his voice.  I laughed nervously.  “She doesn’t need me to get a guy's attention she just thinks I am sitting here bored all summer while I should be strutting around in scraps of fabric for jocks and frat boys.”

“Well, if she is worried you aren’t spending enough time in a bikini I am willing to open up my hot tub tonight so you have more opportunities.  Maybe we could go to dinner first? I’m not a jock, and certainly not a boy, but I think you would have a better time with me,” Jake offered. 

“That sounds nice, but you should know I’m not the bikini type.  So if you are still interested I would love to go out with you tonight.”  “Damn, I was really looking forward to the bikini.  Seriously, I just want to hang out.  I’ll come and get you around seven.”

I jumped around the room doing a happy dance.  Totally dorky, I know.  Then it hit me, he said he wants to “hang out”.  Not that he was looking forward to spending time with me, or missed me, only that he wants to hang out.  Shit, is Toni right?  Am I seeing things that are there, or that I want to be there? 

I don’t have the best luck when it comes to guys.  I know I am pretty, but I’m not sure it's the kind of pretty guys notice.  I’m twenty and aside from going to a couple of school dances, I have never really been out with a guy.  I don’t count drunken make-outs as dates.  Maybe Toni is right. What does a twenty-eight year old guy have in common with a twenty-year-old virgin?

Yeah I said it, I’m still a virgin.  It shouldn’t seem like a dirty little secret, but the way Toni talks about it I feel like I should hide it.  You know that lowered whisper even when
it's just the two of you, “I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.  I mean it isn’t like you plan on waiting for marriage right?” 

No
, I don’t personally plan on waiting for marriage. But, there is something romantic about falling desperately in love and knowing without a doubt that you will never want anyone else.  To never have to suffer the awkwardness of giving yourself to someone, and having it all go to shit afterwards. 

I’ve kissed a lot of guys, and it is always weird to run into them later.  To go all the way, have it end, a
nd then run into them afterward?  No thank you.  But hey, what the hell do I know right?  I’m a virgin.

I’ve almost convinced myself that I do want to wait for
the one
, except for one small problem.  I’m not convinced such things are real.  To me the idea of a soul mate is a beautiful fallacy that only exists in the world of books and movies.  I’ve never seen it in action.

My parents married for all the wrong reasons.  Horribly, tragically wrong reasons, and instantly regretted it, but didn’t get around to remedying the situation for fifteen years.  Unfortunately
, they brought me into their disaster because they thought it would fix things.  It didn’t.  They only managed to bring another person into the chaos with them while they tore each other apart. 

They have both since remarried.  My stepfather is great for my mom, but I can’t help but feel separate from them.  I was in my last year of high school when they married and we moved into his house.  They were still wrapped up in the honeymoon period and as a result I spent a lot of time alone.  Even with the whirlwind around them I have never looked at them and believed they were
made
for each other, or would never truly be happy without each other. 

My father was married for about five minutes, but ultimately he realized he preferred being single.  My stepmother’s interest in younger men didn’t help the situation, but he didn’t seem too broken up when it fell apart.  He doesn’t even pretend to think about it anymore.  He isn’t bitter; actually he is quite happy the way his life is now. 

Toni falls in love at least once a month. And she always swears it is the real thing.  Then a painfully short time later I am helping her polish off pints of Ben and Jerry’s and listening to Alanis Morrissette’s
Jagged Little Pill.
  The worst is when she reunites with her on again off again high school sweetheart Miguel.  He always inflicts maximum damage to her heart.

Toni has an obsession with everything nineties.  She has a nineties song or movie to answer every problem in life.  Alanis Morrissette's "You Ought to Know" covers most break-ups.  Of course, No Doubt's "Don't Speak" is necessary when the pissed off phase fades and the heartbreak sets in.  She also has boy bands and gangsta rap to cover her party moods.

I know it’s hella old, like my mom’s music, but Alanis seriously knows how to bitch about a break-up.  Every time I start to worry I am performing my duties as best friend to the detriment of fitting into my skinny jeans, she is in love again, but I have to go on a diet.

At quarter to seven I inspect
ed myself one last time.  I skipped wearing foundation because the melted face look is gross, and I know it will bead and slide off if we do get in a hot tub later tonight.  I swiped another coat of shiny berry colored lip stain over my lips.  I had already coated my eyelashes in waterproof mascara, because raccoon eyes are
not
sexy.  I grabbed a large leather bag, something trendy Toni pushed me to buy, and stuffed some comfortable clothes and my suit under all of my normal items. 

At seven on the dot there
was a casual knock on my door.  I don’t know how a knock could sound casual, but Jake is so laid back that it just was.  I opened the door and watched him scan me lazily with his eyes.  The corner of his mouth quirked up, “Are you ready?” 

Sinc
e he checked me out first I felt no shame in reciprocating.  I took in his purposefully messy brown hair that always makes me want to run my fingers through it.  I slid my eyes across the plane of his strong jaw, peppered with slight stubble.  I gazed at his full lips for perhaps a moment longer than necessary.  I know that when my eyes drift I’m going to be in trouble.  He was wearing a snug grey t-shirt that was stretched over lean muscles.  He was wearing perfectly worn Levis, and a pair of Dr. Martens boots.  I finally returned my eyes to lock on with his dark brown ones. Toni would describe them as puppy dog eyes.  He had me where he wanted me, and he knew it.  Now if I only knew where in the hell he wanted me.

Jak
e reached out and grabbed my hand playfully tugging me out of my apartment.  He chuckled.  “Rebecca if you keep looking at me like that we are going to miss dinner.”  I turned my face away feeling the heat burn in my cheeks.  I just knew that my face was as red as my hair in the sunlight.  “Well, if you insist,” I teased.  God who is this girl?  I’m never this confidant. 

He opened
the passenger door of his truck, because Jake is a really nice guy.  In fact besides his boy…I mean man-next-door hotness, I was drawn to his niceness.  It isn’t that I’ve never seen the appeal of bad boys, but I have seen the futility in thinking you can change another person.  I slid onto the vinyl bench seat and started to reach for my seat belt. 

“What is the purpose of having a bench seat if you are going to sit all the way over there?” Jake said while patting the empty space between us.  I pulled my lower lip between my teeth in contemplation and decided to go for it.  I am overly cautious, forever over thinking things, and I am really sick of it. 

My nerves were humming with anticipation.  I couldn't stop wondering if he was going to try and hold my hand or slip his hand onto my thigh.  I really just wanted him to try something.  Apparently my newfound boldness won’t allow me to actually initiate anything.  I didn't notice him turn down Main Street, and I didn't realize he parallel parked until the truck came to a stop.  He never tried to touch me.  I’m confused, why did he want me to sit this close to him?  Maybe he wanted to torture me.  I was being tortured with sexual frustration.  Can you be frustrated with something you haven’t experienced?  If the tension between my thighs was any indication the answer is hell yes.

We walk
ed down the sidewalk and he opened the door for me. He pulled out my chair, in short he was the perfect gentleman, and it was pissing me off.  Before long though, his laid back personality had me relaxing and I was having fun again, until he decided to play a word association game.

“I was nervous about
tonight,” Jake admitted.  “You were?  Why?” I knew my forehead was doing that scrunchy thing it does when I am confused, but I was too curious to worry about the wrinkles Toni swears it is going to cause.  “Well, you know typical first date jitters.  We have hung out, but it has always been so casual, and mostly school related.  I wasn’t sure if you were going to verbally bash an ex, eat with your mouth open, or order a salad when you really want a steak.  You know the typical bullshit that happens on a bad first date.  I really didn’t want to ruin the idea of you with something like that.”

“The idea of me?” I manage to respond.  “Come on, you are gorgeous, smart, funny, and really sweet.  I wanted to continue to think of you like that, but I had to know you better.  So I decided what the hell.”  “Sure what the hell,” I muttered.  Wow,
I am a great conversationalist. Somebody shoot me.

“Let’s take this up a level.  W
anna play a game?” Jake suggested with raised eyebrows.  My stomach dropped at his suggestion.  Play with Jake?  Uh, yes please.  “Depends,” I began.  “On what?”  “On whether or not this game leads to skinny dipping, or any other acts that might make me infamous on YouTube,” I answered.  “No nudity.  Although I might revisit the skinny dipping idea later on,” he smirked devilishly.  “You can ask me a question and I will ask you one like it.  The more personal you get the more I do.  Get it?” 

I gulp
ed.  There are so many things that I don’t feel like sharing.  Oh well you only live once. “How old were you when you got your first kiss?”  “Twelve.  Ok, same question for you.”  I nod, this I can answer, “Fourteen.” 

Shit I
was running out of safe topics, and I only asked one question.  I’m not really prepared to announce over dinner that I still have my V-card.  I really don’t want to get into my parents' divorce, or my mother’s fears.  Especially not that, seriously how many mothers don’t let their children go to their friend’s house because she has an older brother?  Don’t let their daughters hang out with friends in their own yard because the neighbors
might
be perverts?  She suffered because of my past.  I get that, but how am I supposed to move past what happened if I'm constantly sheltered.  Sure, talking might help, but we never recognize the
incident
.  See, I really don’t want to take this game in this direction.             

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