Battered and Bruised, But not Broken Page 3

Next, I look down each arm. I’m sleeved out on both. Along one side, colorful skulls and roses blend in with a few vines and ivy’s. Not too shabby.

  The other is decked out with random prison tatts, all black and white.

  I look at my face and the scar under my left eye, then down to the deep scar on the right-hand side of my abdomen. That one’s the very thing that changed my life in so many ways, it still spins me stupid.

  Yeah, I’m a real sight to see…NOT hardly.

  I dry off and flip the towel over the top of the shower curtain rod and walk out, back to the kitchen chair, letting the ceiling fan dry off any parts I may have missed.

  Elbows on the table, I run my fingers through my hair then rest my forehead in my palm. I need to forget about him, it’s probably better for him if I do. Besides, he’s already got me breaking my own rules. Yes, just forget him. Having this inner conversation with myself is the first sign of complications.

  After finishing the other beer, I hit the sack, just as I am, buck naked.

  I start to doze off and am in one of those sleep states where you’re halfway there, but still hear things. My phone starts to ring. Without thinking it could be him, I answer, half dazed out of my mind.

  “Is this Hunter?” whispers through the phone and I sit straight up.

  “Yeah, who wants to know, who the hell is this?” I rumble, as my heart pounds straight through my core. So many things rip through my mind, and I come across hard for a reason. Total defensive mode is out and blasting like it did when I was in prison. It’s a learned behavior in a semi-controlled environment.

  “It’s Elliott.”

  Crap! “What time is it?” I ask him. I need to calm down, now. Son of a bitch. I wasn’t trying to be mean, but to get slammed off guard like this makes me realize the need to chill out a bit. I’m not in prison anymore, and I have to quit acting like it.

  It’s just that sometimes-learned behaviors tend to hang on for dear life, especially when you don’t even know they’re doing it. Breathe, just breathe.

  “Almost ten-thirty. Why, do you have a hot date or something?” Elliott laughs into the phone.

  “Hmmm…I don’t know, do I?” I start laughing, and try to kick myself in the head for saying that, all at the same time.

  “You could, if you wanted to,” he flirts, which is totally new to me.

  “Is that right?” I grin.

  “Well, you did ask me out,” he reminds me.

  “I did, huh? Sorry I didn’t call, but I came home, took a hot shower and crashed out. Rough day.” What am I doing even going here with Elliott?

  “We can do it some other time then. Call me when you’re available.” Click.

  Oh, hell to the fucking NO! He did not just hang up on me. No freaking way.

  I’m up and out of bed redialing quicker than a bolt of lightning. As the phone rings, I want to hang up, but can’t make myself do it.

  “Hi, Elliott, let’s try this again. I apologize for not calling earlier, I hope you’re still awake. Would you like to go hang out or something tonight?” I bite my tongue twice while spitting that out.

  “Um, hang out or something?” he says that in such a cute, but sarcastic, sassy kind of way.

  “I mean, go out. Out, like as in grab a bite to eat, maybe figure out something to do after that?” Reason number three for being pissed at him, he’s damn near got me stuttering here.

  “Sure. We can do that. I know this little place called Diego’s, it’s a Mexican food place that’s open late. Does that sound okay to you? Do you even like Mexican food?” He laughs and it’s freaking adorable. “I probably should’ve asked that before suggesting it, huh?”

  “No. That works, what’s the address? I’ll meet you there.” I rush to the table for a pen to scribble it down with.

  “I can swing by and pick you up, if you want,” Elliott offers, but slash that shit, not going to happen that way either.

  Fuck! I’m a more private person than I thought and obviously have major trust issues.

  That kinda happens when your whole family takes a shit on you.

  “No, I’ll meet you there. See you soon.”

  Elliott gives me the address and I flip through my drawers trying to find something to wear. Jeans and an unwrinkled shirt works, assuming the place is casual.

  ***

  As I pull into the parking lot, I see him standing near the front door, wearing skinny jeans and a nice dress shirt. God, he looks sexy as fuck.

  Elliott spots me and starts to smile as I approach.

  “Hi.” I reach out and shake his hand, because I don’t know what else to do. “Sorry I was a few minutes late. You look incredibly sexy, by the way.” Not like I can jump his ass in a public restaurant parking lot, can I?

  “You wouldn’t have been late if you’d let me come get you.” He arches an eyebrow and puts his hand on his hip.

  Cocky little fucker. I like that.

  “Probably true. Let’s go inside.”

  He jerks my hand from my front pocket.

  Well, hellz bells, he has a way of putting me in my place now, doesn’t he? As we enter, the smell of fresh grilled fajitas, onions, cilantro, and bell peppers hit me, and my stomach starts to grumble and growl.

  Elliott cracks up laughing. “Are you hungry?”

  He’s adorable when he does that. I love how his grin curls at the corners of his lips.

  “Starving. I forgot to eat today.” I hold up two fingers when the waitress reaches for the menus. Fact of the matter is, I didn’t eat because I can’t afford to eat every day. After paying for tonight’s meal, this might be my last meal for the next week.

  She walks us over to a table first, asking if it’s okay, but I point to a booth in the far corner and she leads us there instead.

  “What can I get you to drink?” she asks, placing the menus in front of us.

  “I’ll have a bucket, Coronas, and he’d like…well something fruity to hide the taste of alcohol.” I grin and wink at him. “Like a daiquiri or a mai-tai.”

  “Mai-tai please,” he tells her before she heads off, and we both open our menus. “You remembered that, huh? What are you ordering?” Elliott asks.

  “I’m observant like that. As for the order, give me a second. Hmmm…probably one of everything,” I laugh, as my stomach grumbles again. “Sorry. I think I’m going for the platter with a little bit of everything on it. You?” I ask him.

  “Thinking. I don’t like to rush into anything.” He counters my wink with one much sexier than mine, then turns to the waitress. “I need a few minutes, please.”

  She gives him a little smile and he waits until she turns her back, then nods his head to the left side, rolling his eyes at her.

  The waitress returns with chips and salsa, red and green sauce, then another waiter brings our drinks. He sets a silver bucket full of ice and Corona bottles toward the end of the table and places Elliott’s drink in front of him.

  “You guys ready to order now?” She reappears, pulling a pad out of her apron pocket, ready to write and snatches the pen from her shirt pocket all in one swipe.

  “I’ll have the Grande platter,” I tell her, handing over the menu. “And a side order of queso and guacamole.” Reaching for the salt, I sprinkle it over the chips then take a bite.

  “Just give me the mini-version of what he’s having.” Elliott hands her his menu and takes a sip of his fruit punch.

  I snicker at his drink choice, but quickly hide it behind a smile as I chug a swallow of my Corona.

  “So, tell me about work? I’ve never worked for an IT company, and I’m not exactly certain what they’ll be expecting if I get the job,” I ask him, hoping he can give me insight to whatever job I applied for. Hell, after seeing him, I don’t even know the position anymore. Pun totally intended here.

  “Well, you checked security guard for the position on your application, which actually out pays our entry level IT prospects. So basically, you’ll either be a guard at
our doors, or riding around in an old granny golf cart through the parking lot. They do have one opening at the main gate, where you’d register everyone that comes in and out of the place.”

  “Yay for me, but it dishes out way more than I make at my temp job I’m at now. Beggars can’t be choosers.” I nod to him and eat another chip, as the waitress returns with the queso and guacamole.

  Quickly dipping another chip in, I shove it in my mouth. This dude’s going to think I’m a complete failure, and the sad thing is, he might be right, but I can’t just go, ‘Hey, by the way, you know you’re having dinner with an ex-convict’, now can I?

  Mmmm... noooo! Don’t think that’ll fly very far with him, and I can’t seem to muster the courage to be that bold. This kinda thing takes a little weaning into. Step by step.

  Chapter Four

  Elliott

  I don’t know what it is about Hunter that turns me into a total twink. I switch to full blown queen mode and start acting like Nathan Lane in The Bird Cage. But damn, that smile of his sends my heart racing and I want to bolt over the table and nurse on his bottom lip. For some odd reason when he smiles, that scar under his eye scrunches up in the cutest way. Down boy, you’re in public. What the Fuck is wrong with me?

  I’m still in shock that not only did I call him and ask him out, but I did it at ten-thirty on a Friday night. I must be hard up or something and then to top it off, I fucking hung up on him like a scared little kid when he turned me down. Really freaking mature, Elliott. But much to my surprise, he called me back. Now I’m nervous as fuck, out on my first date. What if he expects me to put out?

  And here I am. Looking across the table staring back into those soul-searching eyes when his tongue darts out, licking the salsa from the side of his mouth. My dick twitches and I’m trying my best to nonchalantly adjust myself. Total failure, his eyes clock my every move.

  “Problems?” he asks through a cocked brow and smirk.

  “Um, no. Just needed to make a minor adjustment.” My ears are on fire from the embarrassment of being caught.

  “Need some help?” he asks.

  My mouth falls open, he reaches across the table pushing my chin up to close it.

  Note to self, buy boxers with a button fly. This tent I’m pitching keeps popping out of my boxers like a soldier standing at attention, painfully rubbing against the zipper on my jeans.

  Thankfully, the waitress chooses this time to deliver our food. A couple bites in and I finally feel like I’m calmed down enough to function normally. “So, Hunter, tell me something about yourself?” That might’ve been the wrong question to ask as he gets the ‘deer in the headlights’ look on his face.

  “Ah, um not much to tell.” He quickly shoves a bite of food in before turning the Q&A back my way. “Let’s hear about Elliott instead.”

  “Okay.” Not sure how I feel about him ignoring my questions, but it makes me think he’s got something to hide. “Well, you already know where I work.” I want to tell him I’m going to be checking his references, but I’m afraid he’ll feel like I’m snooping. So, I opt not to share that bit of information.

  “Yep, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope, do you?” I ask, spinning it back his way and taking a bite of my mini-chimi.

  “Do you live nearby?” he asks, totally avoiding question number two, sending up more red flags.

  “About ten minutes away. I uh—” fuck, Elliott, man up, “I live with my grandmother.”

  He raises a brow. “How old are you?”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I like living there and it helps her out. I have the basement apartment to myself and come and go as I please.” I probably say that more defensively than needed, but damn that’s fucking rude.

  “Whoa, whoa.” He puts his hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Chill.”

  Exhaling deeply, I release the breath I was holding in. “To answer your previous question, I’m twenty-three.” Damn, that came out bitchy.

  “Hey,” Hunter says, reaching across the table for my hand. “We got off on the wrong foot. Let’s back up a bit and return to enjoying our meal. Okay?”

  I nod, asking, “How’s your dinner?”

  “Good, yours?”

  “Good. I’ve eaten here a few times. It’s one of my favorite places.” Sucking down the last of my drink, I feel my inner bitch relaxing and spot the tats poking out of his rolled-up sleeves. He catches my gaze and pushes his sleeves back down.

  Needing bigger cahones to address all these red flags popping up, I wave to the waitress and order another adult beverage.

  “So,” he begins, “where’d you go to college?”

  “ITT Tech. I graduated a year ago and went straight to work at Globo-Tech. Did you go to college?”

  He laughs and says, “No, I went to the school of hard knocks,” while laying his napkin across his plate.

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  “Here comes your fruity drink,” Hunter chimes.

  I quickly suck it down, craving the liquid courage it provides me. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on or if you’re some sort of escaped convict, but I don’t appreciate you dodging my questions. I’ve answered all of yours and feel you owe me the same in return.” This is really starting to piss me off.

  “Listen here, princess, I don’t owe you shit.”

  That’s enough for me, I reach for my wallet, toss forty bucks on the table before turning and saying, “Lose my number. I don’t want to hear from you again.” And head out to my car.

  I’m so fucking pissed and as I reach to put the key in the lock, someone grabs my arm. I turn, fully expecting to go to blows when I see it’s Hunter. He reaches behind me, grabbing the back of my neck and pulls me toward him smashing our lips together. I push against his chest with all my might, barely opening the space between us, but allowing just enough to yell, “What the fuck, dude?”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Well, you sure as hell didn’t treat me as an equal in there. What am I to you, a piece of fucking meat to be used at your leisure, then tossed aside? I deserve better than that.”

  He releases his grip and I reach for the door handle.

  “Please.”

  “Please what?” Oh boy, the bitch is back.

  “Please don’t go. Come back to my place and we can talk. I’m sorry, but it’s not easy for me to trust or open myself up to others.”

  The sincerity in his voice mixes with the alcohol in my system leaving me judgmentally impaired, as I nod, agreeing to go with him.

  “I’m on the bike over there,” he points in the direction his ride is parked. “Follow me back to my place?”

  “Okay.” Once inside the security of my car, I curse myself aloud, “What the fuck are you thinking, Elliott? You’re an idiot. You’re nothing more to him than a piece of ass.” I look completely insane yelling and banging my head against the steering wheel. And when I look up, he’s perched atop his motorcycle staring blankly at me. I give him a one-handed wave, letting him know all is good. Even though it truly isn’t.

  I follow him for about fifteen minutes, heading south into the seedier part of town. My heart rate increases and the further we drive, the more I feel like throwing up. This night is going from bad to worse and now my safety is in question.

  We park outside of a less than desirable motel, and my brain begs me to stay in the car. He dismounts his motorcycle and walks over to me, holding his helmet in one arm, and taps on the side glass with his knuckles.

  “Is everything okay, Ell?” He looks concerned.

  Ell? Where did that nickname come from? “Um, you live here or you booked a room for the night?”

  Shrugging he replies, “I ah,” he picks at something on his helmet, “I’m in between places, so I’m staying here for a while.”

  “In between what places?” I’m not feeling good about this.

  “Look, are you gonna come in
or not? I promise not to touch you. I’ll even sit across the room so I’m nowhere near you. You wanted to talk and if that still stands you’ll need to come inside.”

  Being the nervous Nellie that I am, I stay put, so he starts walking away. Fuck, I think to myself, judge not lest ye be judged yourself. At this point, I’ve already lost the internal argument with my logical self.

  I get out of the car and follow him to his door. He opens it, beckoning me inside. It’s a cramped room with a bed that has seen better days, night stand, dresser, small round table with two beat up chairs and an old ass TV along with a small refrigerator that is perched atop the dresser. I see bi-fold doors for what I assume is the closet and an open door with a toilet peeking out from behind it. There are clothes strewn across the floor telling me he really does live here.

  He reaches into the fridge then looks at me. “Do you want a beer?”

  “No thanks.”

  Hunter grabs one for himself, twisting the top off before taking a swig. I sit down on one of the questionable chairs while he walks over to the bed and takes a seat.

  “See, I’m nowhere near you. You’re safe. Now, to answer the questions you asked earlier. No, I don’t have any brothers or sisters. At least none that I’m aware of. My parents kicked me out when I was fourteen…when I came out. My dad told me he won’t have a son who’s a faggot then gave me the boot. I lived on the streets for a while until I got involved in some shit that landed me somewhere I’d rather not be. So, the school of hard knocks is where I learned to take care of myself– on the streets.”

  This isn’t what I expected and I’m truly at a loss for words. The sadness in his eyes hurts my heart and without thinking, I bolt across the room and plant myself in his lap and began furiously pounding his lips with mine.

  Sucking in his bottom lip, my tongue teases, begging for entry. His tongue locks with mine, allowing me in. As our mouths battle for dominance, his hands find their way under my shirt, caressing my sides before sliding down and grabbing the round globes of my ass. This unexpected, but not unwanted, occurrence forces me to moan. Having never been touched this way, I quickly find that I like it. Like being man handled, and like being in Hunter’s arms even more.