Suddenly I feel like an asshole for implying what I did. He let me in. Sure, it’s a crappy place, but maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe it’s all he has left. If that’s the truth, it’s so sad. I feel like I’ve been the worst friend in the world. Since everyone else hates him he counted on me to understand. He trusted me and I’ve been inconsiderate of how he might be feeling. How had he ended up with this small building as a last resort? What more wasn’t he telling me about his family?

  “Garver, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I guess I didn’t expect it to be the place you call home. I sort of took it like you were kidding. You’re always joking around. I figured you were bringing me to a cool hideout where maybe you’d get into my pants. It’s not like you haven’t asked.”

  His embarrassment is obvious as his voice raises and the pain of his secret past echoes off the nearby trees. “Well you were wrong. My life isn’t a damn joke. I should have known you’d be like everyone else.” He kick starts the bike and revs the engine loudly before continuing. “Get on, I’ll take you home.”

  My hands come up on my hips, my elbows folding in place as I stay planted where I’m standing. “Not until you listen to me. I’m sorry, Garver. What can I say to make it better?” I’ve come to the conclusion that the several shots of alcohol have entered his blood stream. Opposite of how my father acts, Garver gets angry. He’s defensive with every sentence.

  “Nothing. You think I’m a piece of shit like everyone else does. I don’t know why I thought you’d be different.”

  “I am different.”

  “You pity me.”

  I won’t stand around and let another intoxicated person tell me what to do or who I am. “Like you don’t pity me? Look where I live. My house is falling apart. I can’t judge you. I’m not.” He takes a few seconds, the motorbike still running, shooting out a smoky haze from the exhaust. When he says nothing more I feel the need to press for a resolution. “It means a lot to me that you brought me here, that you trust me enough to show me what your life is like. I don’t want you mad at me. We both have issues. I’m cool if you don’t want to hang out with me, but you’re wrong. I really like you, Garver.”

  Approaching the bike, I reach my hand out to place it over his. A slow smile forms from the corner of his lips. He takes his other hand and palms his face, as if to brush away the negative thoughts. “Come on. I’ll take you home.” His hand pulls away from mine and I’m being handed a helmet. “Put this on. The liquor is starting to hit me. I’d hate to kill you on your birthday, accidentally of course.”

  “Or I could drive.” The words come out before I could contemplate what I was saying. I rode on the back of a four-wheeler before. I’d even driven a golf cart, but let’s face it, I was not experienced whatsoever.

  “I think you should trust me. I’m not drunk. I’ve had far more than this and traveled the distance to your house before.”

  What did he mean? My house? “Huh?”

  He corrects the statement. “I’m saying I’ve traveled just as far as your house is and never wrecked. Stop being silly and hop on the back. The storm is coming.”

  He was right. Even with the cover of the woods, we could hear the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance. I was wasting time stalling.

  Was the risk worth it? I wouldn’t have time to decide. Garver takes me by the arm and pulls me closer until I’m up against the bike. He taps on the helmet again. When I look down at it, he takes the opportunity to lean forward and grab me by the chin. He pulls my face closer, his lips grazing over mine. The taste of alcohol is prevalent as his tongue drags over mine. Before I know it my eyes close and every part of my body begins to relax. I respond with equal attention, my hands coming up around his neck. When he pulls away my eyelids fleet open. I’m only coming down from the temporary high when he breaks my focus. “Just get your ass on this bike behind me and hold on tight. It’ll be quick.”

  Damn him and his skills. I should have known better.

  As soon as we break the shelter of the forest the wind whips raindrops like shattering glass across my exposed face. I honestly have no idea how Garver manages to keep going with the discomfort he must be in without protection. He’s right about the ride being quick. He somehow manages to get us there before my ass numbs from the vibrations. In fact, I’m utterly speechless that going through the woods cut that much time off the distance it is to walk from the highway.

  My arms cling to him tightly, his warmth keeping the center of my own body comfortable with the wet chill in the air.

  We rip across a cut corn field before the back of the estate comes into view. From this angle it almost looks well-kept. The closer we get the more the structure shows its neglect. I’m not surprised Garver knows where it is and how to get here. He obviously rides the bus, and from what I’ve gathered, everyone in this town knows where everyone else lives, does and has done in their past. They’re like gossip mongers with nothing better to do. You’d think living in the country would allow privacy, but instead it’s the opposite, at least that’s what this town is like. Maybe that’s why Garver doesn’t privy me to his secrets. He’s probably sick of it.

  We roll up to the back door and the motor cuts out. He waits for me to climb off the back before cocking the bike and setting the kickstand. Garver brings his leg around easily and takes a long look at the exterior of the home. The rain is still coming down, but it’s not as severe. He places both hands in his jean pockets and scans the back of the house. The hairs stand up on my arms when I catch him gazing at the upper windows in the attic, the ones that are just “for show” as my father put it. I don’t understand why someone would want fake dormers when they can’t get inside them to clean or see if dead people might be mummifying in there.

  “Creepy right?”

  He shrugs then gives me that cocky grin. “You have to admit, it’s pretty cool though.”

  Playfully shoving him, I step forward to open the back screen door so that we might enter and stop standing in the rain.

  Dripping from head to toe, we amble into the kitchen just as a heavy gust of wind slams the door shut behind us. Almost jumping out of my skin, my body crashes against Garver’s hard chest. It’s obvious he doesn’t mind the sudden intrusion. His hands come up my back until they stop at the top of my shoulders. Our faces are mere inches from one another, so close that he’s able to hypnotize me with his eccentric eyes. “If your dad comes home will he chase me out with a gun?”

  “He won’t be home,” I say as I unknowingly lick my lips. “At least not until later tonight.”

  “So we have this whole big house to ourselves?”

  “Well yeah, and the slew of ghosts that screw with me every night.”

  He claps his hands. “Sweet, lead the way to your bedroom.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me that the first place he wants to venture is my room. Garver is an extremely hot, and funny, and cocky, guy who obviously finds it entertaining to hit on me whenever he has the chance. Once again, I consider my comfort level with him then come to the conclusion that he's not a threat. He’s had ample opportunity to take advantage and hasn’t. We’ve been alone at the bowling alley without a single bout of awkwardness. “I’m just letting you know, my clothes are staying on.”

  He smirks, then flat out chuckles in response. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Rolling my eyes, I proceed in the direction of the steps, all the while hoping Garver isn’t as lazy as my dad when it comes to the noises in the attic. I need someone to get on the roof and look into those fake dormer windows and tell me what the hell is living inside the one above my bedroom. I’m not imagining it, and it’s pissing me off that my dad doesn’t believe me. If Garver thinks he’s just going to chill, he’ll have to work for it.

  When we get to the second floor landing he halts in place and stares straight at the attic door at the end of the hall. Pointing with weary eyes, he lowers his voice but frankly asks, “Tell me that’s not your room.”

  “It’s the attic. The creepy place I was telling you about.”

  Thinking it will deter him from wanting to explore, I’m suddenly shoved out of the way as he saunters toward it. “I bet you have a poltergeist,” he suggests while jiggling on the handle. He yanks the key from the hole and checks it out before placing it back in. “This door probably holds negative energy. Who puts a lock on the outside anyway?”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I tell him. “My dad and I checked out the attic a couple times. He says there’s nothing there.”

  “Step aside and let the expert check it out.”

  I throw my hands up. “Go ahead with your bad self. If you figure out what’s going on, I may consider letting you get to third base.” I’m saying it with a serious face, though I think we both know I’m blowing smoke up his ass. I’m not that easy. Garver might be hot and something romantic is definitely between us, but I’m not taking off my clothes just because he claims to rid my house of what bumps in the night. He’s going to have to work a lot harder than that.

  Who am I kidding, I’m seconds away from throwing myself at him.

  He opens the door, the creaking only proving the age of the house. I’m paying close attention to the interest Garver has in debunking my paranormal fears. Because being alone on my birthday is the suckiest, I can appreciate the company he offers. It makes me blush when I contemplate the other reasons he would want to come to my home when he knows we’re alone. I follow behind him wondering how awful of a person I would be if I just let him have his way with me. Who is there to even judge me for my actions? Who would ever find out?

  God knows I’m lonely, and having someone handsome and helpful wanting to touch me gives me a sense of comfort. I want to have someone touch me again. I want to feel wanted, and he does that, just about every single moment we’re together. It’s also nice that he isn’t the kind of guy who wants to run his mouth. His secretive demeanor could be an advantage.

  While silently picturing his hands in places he’s never ventured, my cell phone chimes. The number displayed on the screen makes my stomach drop. Of all the birthday wishes on social media that I’ve avoided, this is unexpected.

  Garver turns around and takes one look at my astounded face, somehow knowing I’ve been caught off guard. “Who is it? Dad coming home early?”

  There’s a long pause before I’m able to bring myself to respond. “It’s my ex. He wanted to wish me a happy birthday and tell me he misses me.”

  “Well, maybe you miss him, because the look on your face makes it seem that way.”

  Shrugging, I’m unable to offer an immediate answer. The last we spoke weren’t friendly words. I basically wished death on him and his dick. The fact that he still had the decency to offer this gesture makes me almost feel guilty. After all, we’re just kids trying to navigate through life and learn from each experience. If I can develop feelings for Garver I obviously wasn’t that devoted to a future with my ex. “No way! He’s a cheating jerk.”

  “Then send him the middle finger emoji and let it go.”

  It’s a good idea, but something more vengeful pops into mind. Garver catches my smirk and reflects a smile off of it. “Something tells me I’m about to be used, and I’m totally up for it.” His lowered tone is sinful.

  Closing the distance between us, my hand raises until it’s placed flat on the upper chest area of his shirt. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  Our eyes meet and that hot fire ignites all over me again. It’s like he can persuade me to do anything he wants. I hate that my body wants what my mind is fighting to prevent. “I’d never deny someone like you from using me. I’m here for the taking, Soph.”

  Taking him by the hand, I pull him out of the attic stairwell and toward my bedroom. I’m still having doubts that I’ll go through with this, but since I’m already hot and bothered I figure it’s worth a go. “It’s probably better if you don’t talk.”

  “You planning on pretending I’m him, because I can guaran-damn-tee you that I’m every bit of a real man in the sack.”

  His statement causes me to react with a giggle. How could one know if they’re great or mediocre. It’s all opinionated, and because everyone has different preferences it’s impossible to be certain. “Like I said, shut up already.”

  Shoving him within the confines of my room, I shut the door and lock it before turning around to face him. Without direction, he’s already lifting his shirt over his head. “I’ve been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

  Running my fingers through my hair, I give this idea time to sink in. Then I catch sight of his damn rock hard chest and I’m hypnotized. Rejecting him now is pointless. There’s now two reasons on the table as to why this should happen. Revenge and need. “If you tell anyone this happened I’ll remove your lower appendages.”

  “Threats get me hard,” he says while approaching. When he’s close enough that I can feel his hot breath against my face, he narrows in and brushes those irresistible lips over mine, and I let him, greedily reciprocating like I’m a starved sex maniac.

  The thought can’t be pushed away, because as soon as Garver touches me again it’s wiped from my consciousness. All I’m able to do is feel EVERYTHING that’s happening; his hands, his tongue, his earnestness regarding what he plans on giving me.

  I’m like a pot of melting butter in the hot southern sun. There’s nothing I’m able to say or do to stop this. I don’t even want to. This isn’t just some much needed birthday sex. It’s so much more than that. It’s feeling wanted, being wanted, needing, longing. Admittedly, I need this guy, right here and now, while the whole world is still spinning around us. I could give two shits about his past right now, or what he’s done, and even with who. This is about me. The term, ‘it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to,’ pops into mind, though it’s not enough to pause from the act of which we’re involved. His hands are gently studying my exposed skin. As more clothes are being removed, the wall I’ve wedged between us seems to disappear. Temporary, I tell myself, albeit how can I be so sure? We all long for that one person in life. Maybe Garver is supposed to be my one person, at least for right now.

  I’m putting too much thought into it, unconsciously attempting to talk myself out of this. It’s casual sex, something I never contemplated until this very instance. How can something I considered dirty feel so right?

  Screw it.

  The next kiss is deep, hot, salacious. My chin itches from his rough facial hair, though it doesn’t deter me. Our embrace never stops, but continues with a burst of wild fire, spreading through each limb until I’m engulfed in desire. Our soft moans echo against the sad, empty walls of my house. I don’t even have time to wonder if spirits are listening. He’s passionate and careful. His warm hands gradually risk being smacked as he ventures to uncharted areas. I gasp when his lips begin to brush over other places, lowering until there’s only a greedy need for fulfillment. There’s no backing out of this now. He’s taking me to new places, and I’m allowing it, craving more, and unable to even think about anything besides this.

  There isn’t even a pause as we make our way to my bed, and when he enters me we both succumb to everything it entails.

  There are a few pauses and quick sentences before we’re gasping for air, both covered in sweat and lying side by side staring deeply at each other. He wanted me to be sure, in fact he was adamant about having my permission. At one point, both of us totally naked and exposed, which was inevitably uncomfortable for me, he stopped touching me altogether and made me state it loudly for the ghosts to hear. He found humor in it, but I have to say it gave me a cold chill thinking about what could be lurking in that attic above us.

  Assuming my inexperience, and not knowing his past, would make this awkward, we came together as if we’d done this before. After only a few moments we were on the same page, touching, caressing, and finally succumbing to the growing needs inside of us.

  His beautiful eyes glare at me, seemingly staring through me. “Well, this was cool.”

  I suppose some girls would want terms of endearment, but cool fit the situation. It was cool. Reaching the mere inches between us, my fingers trail across his lips, lips that had just kissed parts of my skin that I’d kept private. I refuse to tell him he’s a good lover. It would only acclimate his already huge ego. “My birthday isn’t so bad this year.”

  “Speaking of.” He sits up abruptly and leans over to fish around the floor for his pants. Reaching into the pocket, he pulls something out. I wouldn’t say it’s neatly wrapped. At first it looks like someone had a sandwich, ate half, then wadded it up in the bottom of a small bag to toss. He snickers. “I’m not a wrapper, but here. This is for you.”

  Still thinking it’s leftovers, I take the package and open it, reaching inside the bag. There’s something hard at the bottom. The small box, and when I say small I mean it’s like an inch square, is within my palm. It’s purple in color, with a matte finish. Looking closely I noticed it’s a tiny plastic treasure chest that can be opened. It appears to be something out of a gumball machine found at the grocery store. The kind the kids beg for change to be able to get the prize. I know, because I was one of those kids.

  Now the tiny thing has my attention. Garver points to the object. “Open it.”

  My eyes narrow in on what’s inside. An even smaller round disk comes into view. Using my fingernails to dig it from the chest, I find it’s not just a piece of round wood, but also has something carved and stained in it, and that’s not all either. A large S fills the small space of the wood. It’s a darker color, noticeably hand made, and as I pull it from the container, I discover it even has a silver hook attached to a small chain. After further inspection, I realize it’s a bracelet.

  “Do you like it? I sort of made it myself.”

  “Sort of?” I’m still checking out the details.

  “Well, obviously I didn’t make the chain.”

  I can’t explain why tears well up in my eyes. Maybe I’m just emotional in general. It is my birthday, and maybe I need to cry like the song says. Perhaps it’s everything that’s been happening in my life coming to a huge crescendo. “It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given,” I’m able to say.