“You don’t want to cuddle up and sleep with me, Koala bear?” he mocks me by reaching out his fingers in a grabby childish manner, using Elisa’s pet name for me, and I throw another nearby cushion at him. Shaking my head at the mess he’s in.
“I would rather not….. How much did you drink? I can smell it from here.”
“I dunno… enough …..I’m celebrating.” He seems to take the hint that I don’t want him on my bed and gets up awkwardly, swaying left before he catches himself and then steps right again. His boot is undone, and I sigh at the possibility he will face-palm the floor by tripping over it and move to re-tie it.
“Celebrating what? Another meaningless conquest? Or did you excel at beer pong?” I droll, my words oozing in disdain as I duck down, quickly knot his boot, and then move away before he falls over me with excessive sway. I start picking up my strewn cushions and tidying up, hoping to get him out of here pronto.
“My win… you’re looking at a guy who earned himself five K for a twenty-minute race. Start of much more to come.”
“What?” I spin on my heel, eyes widening in alarm. “What do you mean race? What race? Where? When?” my anxiety triggers spring up all over the place, confused by what he’s saying and scared by it. This doesn’t sound good, and seeing as he's not exactly part of any legit clubs or tracks that he could do anything like that, I don't know what to think.
“Kayla…..why are you sooooo…” he walks towards me with an odd look on his face, narrowing his prey-like eyes on me, and I instinctively start walking backward to put space between us, but he’s faster than me. He speed walks at me until I bump into the closed door behind me and end up with him caging me against it. A flat palm on each side of my head as he leans in so close his nose touches mine. This odd behavior momentarily silences me, and even though I have a scolding brewing for him, I feel weirdly vulnerable.
“So, what?” I hesitate, tilt my face away, and move as he edges in with his instability. He’s so intoxicated he’s oblivious to how invasive of my space he’s being.
“Goodie, two shoes? You’re like Mother Theresa and not in a good way.” He smirks, then sighs and leans in, moving his face to the side, so his forehead touches the door, and I'm caught between him and the surface with his leather-clad shoulder in my face. He presses into me, getting heavier by the second as though he’s slipping into an intoxicated sleep.
“Dane, seriously, you’re drunk and being strange. Get off me.” I shove him back, but he catches me by the wrist and pulls me with him, so I end up tripping forward and colliding with his chest. The smell of alcohol, leather jacket, Dane's usual aftershave smell, and something … street air, smoke, and fumes from his bike and the sweet, cloying scent of a woman all over him that somehow riles me up.
“You wanna see? I don’t need to rely on my dad for cash after this… I can earn it myself. A surefire way to bring it in fast and ready and get the hell out of here in no time.” Dane lets me go and staggers backward, sliding his zipper down on his jacket and reaching inside for a brown envelope. He’s so unsteady I impulsively reach for him for fear he’ll fall and stand with my hands out like an idiot while tossing it to me like it’s a dead fish, as though I was maybe asking for it.
I catch it, confused, unsure what he wants me to do with it, and open the flap to see a pile of used bills that add up to a lot of money. Thousands. Stunning me into gawping quiet.
I flick them with my finger and stare at them in disbelief, knowing nothing is legal about how this is presented. I have never seen this much cash in person, and it hits me in all kinds of wrong ways. All the blood drains from my face, and my body runs cold at the sight of it.
This doesn’t seem right at all.
“What are you talking about? Dane, what is this? Who gave this to you?” I forget about getting him out of my room and follow him when he turns and heads for my bathroom. He seems drunker by the second, and I wonder how recently he stopped downing it for it still to be catching up. I have seen Dane drunk before, but not normally like this. He’s way over his limit.
“Bike racing…. there’s a street race twice a week…. an entire group of bikers that does this for cash as long as you don’t get caught.” He states it so arrogantly. Like this isn’t even a problem, and I gawp at him in horror.
“Are you serious right now? Are you talking about illegal drag racing? Dane, are you crazy? Do you know how stupid and dangerous that is? What could happen to you? What your dad will do? You could die… you know that, right? Or get arrested… what then? Your life will be screwed.” Hysteria hitches in my voice, and my throat tightens with millions of scenarios spinning through my head because of this idiot in front of me. Churning me up all tight and terrified at the fact he might seriously die.
Dane might be a lot of things, and sometimes I want to strangle him myself, but I don’t want to imagine anything happening to him. Not getting messed up in an accident or even killed. My heart pounding through my rib cage makes me lightheaded, like I might faint, and my anxiety levels skyrocket through the roof.
He turns on my bathroom taps and bends to start washing his face, ignoring me and shrugging me off as I try to pull him my way. Seemingly more interested in removing streaky marks caused by road dirt. I spot the smear of lipstick on his neck and an obvious love bite, and it kicks me in the chest. A stabbing pain in my abdomen fuels my sudden rage.
“This isn’t some ‘fast and furious’ movie, Dane. You could get hurt or hurt other people. Don’t you remember that toddler that died after street racers hit her in Tampa?” I almost wail at him, tugging his jacket by the sleeve and getting an irritated jerk to get me off. I don’t care, and I grab at him again to make him face me.
“Are you my mom or something? Cos I know you ain't my sister or my girlfriend, and I didn’t ask for your advice.” Dane shrugs me off once more, yanking his arm from my grip as I try for another turn at him, but he lifts his head and stares at me in the mirror. Glaring, even through half-closed lids, his expression feels like a bullet to my heart. Momentarily stopping me.
He reaches for my dry washcloth and dabs his face.
“I didn’t ask you to come in here…. If you don’t want me to worry about you, don’t enter my room. Don’t tell me about the stupid shit you’re doing.” I bite back at him, upset by how he’s being and hating on him for being so reckless and stupid with his life that he doesn’t see what an utter moron he can be. It’s more than my already fragile heart can take tonight, and I'm exhausted by all of it.
Tears well up from deep inside, and I know it’s a combination of tiredness and everything piling in on me. This isn’t just about him racing and stupid love bites from partying and women. It isn’t just about falling into my room drunk and acting like I’m the last person with a right to care. Making it clear that if roles were reversed, he would not give two cents about me. It’s weeks or months of living in stress and dealing with everything alone.
It's my family fighting and my life falling apart while feeling so alone, like no one cares. I have no control or ability to stop any of it, and Dane just makes it all worse. It’s about my own father being absent and acting like I’m some forgettable no one. All crashing together into one unbearable stone in my stomach, making breathing hard.
My voice cracks and shakes, and my hands start to tremble. All the inward turmoil spilling out because there is only so much I can hold in.
“Why are you so selfish and irresponsible?… You only think about yourself and not anyone around you….. You’re blinkered to anyone else's feelings, and life is one big fucking party to you. Don’t you have any sense of responsibility or one ounce of decency? Do you even care about anyone else… or see how I struggle?” The floodgates open, my voice getting more strained and pathetic with every word as tears roll down my face and sheer frustration consumes me.