Tortured Sinner by Tessa James

Claire - 17

"Wow, I can't believe you finally did it," Rosie says through the speaker of my phone. "I mean, I'm glad. Griffin is a major tool, but I know you liked him. You’ve got that always seeing the good in people even if it’s not really there thing going on.”

“Yeah.” I slump against the stiff couch in my mother’s living room. “It was time. Had been for a while.” I pause and shift the subject. “Have I told you how weird it is being here? Existing in someone else’s house while they’re not here?”

“Only once or fifty times.” Rosie’s reception cuts out a little. “Why don’t you pretend you’re at an Airbnb or something?”

“I guess…but eventually she’s going to show up, which will make everything super awkward.” And I’m not sure I can handle more weird stuff going on right now.

“Get your room situated so you don’t have to leave it if you don’t want to. You have your own bathroom, right?”

“Yep.”

“See, there you go. Stock up on snacks and you’ll be good. What about your dad, have you heard from him?”

“Only a few texts. He hasn’t gotten his data plan sorted out yet for international stuff.” I realize how one-sided this conversation is going. “Tell me about your weekend. Which party did you decide to go to? Where was it?”

She sighs like she’s about to settle into a long-winded rant. “Well, Brice wanted to do one and I wanted to do the other, so we compromised and went to both. Let me tell you, I have never seen that many frat boys stuffed into a house in my entire life. I shit you not, I was one of the only girls there.”

I let the sound of her voice lull and distract my mind from everything else that’s going on. It’s a Band-Aid, but I’m grateful for it, and for her.

* * *

Ifinish typing my English paper and submit it to the professor. I had intended to spend the rest of the weekend getting my homework completed, but come Saturday evening, I’m nearly done with all of my assignments.

Cora has sent me two messages, following up about going out tonight, but I've blown her off to study. Now though, my excuse doesn't seem as valid.

I order Chinese takeout and wait for it to arrive, clicking through the channels on the cable TV in hopes of finding something decent to watch. I settle on reruns of The Office and braid my still-damp hair in pigtails to kill more time.

The buzzer goes off and I ring the delivery guy into the complex. I grab a twenty and make my way to the door.

I open it and find a pimple-faced teenager holding my bag of food.

“Thanks, how much?”

The kid shakes his head. “Taken care of.” He points down the hallway. “Tip, too.”

I exhale and try to keep my composure. “Thank you.” I force a smile, taking my dinner and leaving him behind.

How can Johnny think that feeding me will make me hate him any less? Is food his love language? Who does this? It’s like the weirdest form of stalking. And I can’t exactly stop him from doing it. What am I supposed to do, give the kid the money and tell him to go give Johnny a refund?

It makes no sense at all. He's an asshole. He clearly told me we couldn't be friends. Why is he randomly picking up the bill every chance he gets? Is it a peace offering? An olive branch of some sort?

Whatever it is, I wish he would stop. If he’s not willing to use his damn words, I don’t care to be bothered by him.

He’s driving me insane with this back and forth. He needs to pick which side he’s on and stick to it.

I toss the bag onto the dining room table and pull out a carton, diving straight into some lo mein to distract myself from the chaos that is my brain.

I’m only ten minutes in when my phone goes off. Then it vibrates three more times. I glance down and my stomach tightens.

Griffin.

I’ve been doing my best at not responding to him since our blow-up last night. I said everything that needed to be said, even if it was in an incredibly intoxicated state, and now I want to move on with my life.

Only with him, nothing is that simple.

Griffin: Please Claire, talk to me.

Griffin: I’m lost without you.

Griffin: I’m scared. I need you.

Griffin: If you ever cared about me, about us, you’ll call me.

Griffin: I’m begging you. I don’t think I can go on without you.

Griffin: I won’t stop until you answer. I just need to hear your voice, please.

His face lights up my screen and the green and red buttons stare at me. Accept and ignore. Which one should I choose?

Maybe if I answer, he’ll stop blowing up my phone?

Because the opposite has only resulted in him calling and texting me every few hours and continuing to beg me to reach out to him.

Against my better judgment, I accept the call.

“Hello?” I bite my lip and wait for which version of him that will show up.

“Claire, thank God.” He’s out of breath. “You had me worried. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Griffin. I’m fine.” I maintain my composure.

“Good, I’m glad.” The nice Griffin is here, but for how long? “We’re going to get through this, okay? Together.”

I shake my head to rid myself of his stupid words. Is he really this dumb? “Griffin, hold up.”

He cuts me off. “I know you were drinking. You didn’t mean what you said. It’s okay. I know you’re sorry.”

Is he freaking serious right now?

Griffin continues in his cool and calm voice. “We all make mistakes. I forgive you.”

It’s everything I can do to not explode from every single thing he’s implying.

“Look, Claire, you can make it up to me. How’s that sound?”

I try and try and try to hold back the tidal wave of fury, but I can’t.

“Have you lost your mind? I meant every single word I said to you last night. Especially the part about being done. I don’t have to be drunk to acknowledge the truth. You’re horrible to me. You have been for a long time. Do we have to even mention the cheating? You’re a disgusting pig, Griffin.”

He doesn’t bother playing pretend anymore either. “Oh, and you’re any better? Don’t act like you aren’t already fucking around. All those early mornings and late nights at some place called Bram’s…is that where you’re meeting him? Did you forget I can still see your location?”

“Meeting who? Are you listening to yourself right now? You’re accusing me of sleeping around because I found decent coffee?”

“Don’t lie to me. I knew the moment you told me you were going out west that you’d fuck the first guy who gave you any attention.”

I stand from the couch. “I don’t have to listen to this anymore. There’s no point in trying to convince you of something you already have your mind made up over. And if that’s the story you have to tell yourself to sleep better at night, knowing you’re still messing around with Shelby, then so be it. I couldn’t care less. Forget my number, forget I ever existed.”

He starts to mouth off again, but I don’t allow it to happen.

I disconnect the call and throw my phone into the loveseat next to me. I grab a nearby pillow, holding it to my face to muffle the scream that leaves my body.

How can one person be so incredibly infuriating?

He managed to manipulate me into accepting a phone call, only to turn it around and make me the bad guy somehow. The craziest thing of all is he probably actually believes the things that he says.

I reach through the cushion and pull my cell back out. If there’s any hope of going five minutes without losing my own mind, I can’t stay cooped up in this condo all alone.

I flip through my text screen and find the person I’m looking for.

Me: Text me an address.

I need another night like last night to forget all about what’s going on. Only this time, I plan to pace myself a bit better and not end up in a stranger’s bed.

I get ready in a hurry, tossing on the first outfit I find in my closet, a black bodysuit and high-waisted ripped denim jeans. I lace up my all-white converse and glance in the mirror. I don't give much thought to my face, dabbing a little blush on my cheeks and a coat of mascara on my lashes. My braids are tussled from being on the couch and unless I want to re-do them, they're a lost cause.

I settle on grabbing the blow-dryer and applying some heat before running my fingers through to pull them out. Luckily, my hair ends up with a decent little wave and doesn’t look too horrible.

With an application of Chapstick, I complete my ten-minute transformation.

It’s not much longer until I have all of my necessary belongings and am making my way out of the condo. I latch the door shut behind me and check Cora’s last message she sent me with the details. Tonight’s bar is only a few blocks away.

I’m just about to reach the stairs when another unit opens. I pray like hell it’s not him. I don’t need to deal with that right now.

But the universe enjoys taunting me because that’s the exact person who appears. White pocket tee and black jeans. Effortless and infuriating, just like him.

His wide emerald gaze meets mine. “Hey.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Not happening.” I continue on my path, making my way down the stairs and into the courtyard.

Johnny rushes to catch up. “What did I do now?”

“What didn’t you do?” I mouth off.

“That’s fair.” He matches my pace. “Um. How was dinner?”

I stop suddenly, grabbing his arm and stopping him, too. I ignore the way his skin feels against mine. “Listen, buying me food is not going to win me over. If that’s even what you’re trying to do. I appreciate it, and I’m not ungrateful, so thank you, but seriously, cut it out. You don’t owe me anything. We aren’t friends, remember?”

His lips part and he hesitates for a second. “It’s not that I don’t want to be friends.”

I roll my eyes and take off again. “Whatever.”

He moves too, so I halt.

“I’m not lying,” he continues.

“Don’t follow me,” I tell him.

“I’m not.” He points toward the gate. “I was leaving, too.”

Stupidity suddenly takes over me. “Oh. Right.”

Johnny keeps his attention on me. With his voice quiet, like he’s speaking to himself he says, “You look beautiful tonight.”

I disregard the seriousness of his tone and the tingling in my chest that follows.

I don’t allow it to show that he affected me. “Thanks.”

We approach the gate at the same time, but he rushes forward to grab onto the handle and open it for me. He motions for me to go through ahead of him.

I head off in the direction of the address Cora sent me, but Johnny follows.

“My thing really is this way,” he reassures.

We walk in silence for a minute until we come upon a group of rowdy people.

Johnny steps closer, placing his hand on my lower back to guide me through the throng. When the crowd gets too tight, he slides his fingers down my arm and latches them onto my hand, weaving me safely through.

My breath hitches on his touch, and for a second, I think I’ve gone into shock.

Together, we make it through, his grasp lingering once we’ve cleared the boisterous bunch.

He drops my hand. “Sorry.”

I swallow and keep my mouth shut, words seeming to fail me at the moment. I cross my arms over my chest and eliminate the possibility of something like that happening again.

I hate that I didn’t hate it.

That it felt natural. Like it was something we had done a million times before.

The illuminated sign up ahead signals that I’m near my destination.

Johnny trails by my side, not showing any indication that he’ll be departing.

Was he lying? Is he actually following me? Is he really going somewhere in this direction, just maybe past where I'll be stopping?

“Did something happen?” He glances down at me.

“What?”

He keeps walking a few inches to my left. “You seem different. Tense?”

How is it possible that he’s picking up on that kind of energy? Clearly, I’m edgy, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m not trying to pry.” He meets my gaze again.

“Then don’t,” I snap at him. If he isn’t trying to intrude, then why is he?

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked.”

I notice the inflection in his tone. "Why does it matter?" I stop in front of the bar.

He points to the entrance, and I nod a confirmation.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” He clutches the handle and tugs on the door, holding it open for me.