lips. And I was Jared’s first kiss. But at this New Year’s party, we went to the park next door, where I sat on his lap. And that’s when I discovered what happens to a fourteen-year-old boy when a girl sits on his lap. I also discovered it felt really good when I faced him while sitting on said lap and that hard part of him nestled up against the seam of my jeans and rubbed a part of me I didn’t know existed. Add in my first french kiss, and I was going to marry him for the feelings he sparked inside me.
You guessed it—I loved him. Until he dumped me a couple of months later when his mom found out he was french kissing his girlfriend.
Throughout all of this, I was a dancer. Had been since my mom put me in ballet in kindergarten. If I wasn’t thinking about boys, I was thinking about dancing. I was good. Damn good. Contemporary was my dance of choice. I loved the way my body would take over when I absorbed the music and let myself go. I was even able to take it as my PE in high school, which was a blast, because I was finally known in school for something other than being so-and-so’s girlfriend. I was that dancer girl. People showed up at the talent show and our seasonal recitals to watch me. My head was finally clearing of the boy craziness toward the end of my sophomore year… until I met Brandon.
Brandon was on the football team. Not the captain or anything. He was big, like muscular, but also built like a house. One of the guys that protects the quarterback. Not sure what he was called, because I always spaced out when he talked about the game. He was hot, a bad boy for sure. He said he thought I was way more beautiful and talented than any of the cheerleaders, and—once more, for the people in the back!—I was instantly smitten.
We were the “it” couple. When the pretty dancer girl and the football player hooked up, the popularity came with it. I was hanging out with the popular kids, the football team and with them the cheerleaders. But the not-so-popular kids still liked me thanks to my little sister, Twyla. Sweet Twyla. If you looked up nerd in a dictionary, there would be her portrait. But God, I loved my little sis. It was us against the world. Yes, I teased her constantly for always concentrating on her studies instead of any type of social life, but I was still good-natured about it. I was never mean. If anyone were to be mean to my little sis, they would regret it. And I had the entire football team to back me up.
Anyway, back to Brandon. Brandon took over as far as all the rest of my firsts. The first time I was ever actually fingered—thank you very much, seventh-grade bully. The first time I ever had sex.
A few years later, the first time I moved in with a guy.
The first time my hair was pulled.
The first time a guy ever made me cry with his angry words.
The first time I was separated from all my friends and family with threats and guilt.
But I stayed. And even more years later, I thought if I could improve our sex life, he’d be nicer to me, so I suggested some things I’d read in my naughty books. Books I read to escape my reality, since by then, I had nothing else to do.
So then came the first time I was choked unconscious.
The first time I was truly forced into having sex when I didn’t want to.
And finally, the first time I was beaten black and blue.
So with my boy-crazy personality, I got what I guessed I deserved—a crazy boy.
And after that, I swore never to fall in love again.
Chapter 2
Doc
I pull into my driveway, using the huge cement width to back my car in between my SUV and my old truck, where I can sit for a moment and watch the beauty flit around the kitchen through the window. It’s the only window I don’t digitally fog over until I’m home, knowing no one else can see inside from this angle, since I have the entire property locked down like a fucking fortress. I sit here every evening for a few moments just to watch Astrid dance around as she makes dinner, my heart nearly bursting at