Addicting Lust

 

It was freezing. I remember my mind wandering, trying to comprehend why I always let myself get dragged into situations such as this.

“Learn self-discipline. Stand up for yourself, at least once. You’re better than this.” I told myself over and over but even I didn’t take myself seriously.

            Jonathan sure didn’t either. He knew I’d do anything that he asked me to, absolutely anything. That’s why when I told him for the umpteenth time that I was done with his s**t, he laughed in my face and asked when he should come over that night. He knew I craved the attention.

            He was right.

            I first met Jonathan when I was in eighth grade. I had just moved to a new neighborhood and his house was not even a block down the street. I would see him through the front window, on his skateboard, flying past. We both went to the same middle school, though you could hardly tell. I skipped as many days as he did, even before we became close. It wasn’t because of my lack of friends or anything like that, it was my simple hatred for being told what to do and how to do it.

            There was a CVS on the corner of our street. I went there often, they never asked for my ID when buying cigarettes so I took great advantage of that. This particular day, I was on my way back to the house and I could hear the distant humming of the wheels against the cement, getting closer and becoming louder.

            He popped up beside me and started talking.

“Hey, I’ve seen you around here. What’s up girl? What’s your name?”

            So, I casually told him. By this point he had stopped skating and was holding the board under his arm. I lit my cigarette and offered him one. We walked side by side the rest of the way in silence until we got in front of my place. I told him maybe I’d see him later.

            That night I was eating a grilled cheese just watching Law & Order on our TV and I heard a knock at the door. My heart sunk. I remember just knowing that it was he. An overwhelming feeling of anxiety and nervousness took over my whole body. I didn’t know why I was so nervous, maybe because I didn’t know what I was going to say or because my mom was home. Sure enough, she answered the door and there he was, leaning on the railing. My mom looked at him, then at me, and back at him. I introduced him as my friend Jonathan from school and explained how he lived down the street. She invited him inside. I offered him a soda and then motioned towards my room.

            We talked for a while, just small talk, examining each other, each of us trying to figure out what kind of person we were dealing with. I could already tell what kind he was. He joked a lot and the sarcasm poured from his mouth. He was also very touchy, playful, but still touchy. None of it bothered me. I liked it. I liked him. His whole persona was exactly the kind of guy I wanted to be with.

            My mom knocked on my door, while opening it at the same time. It used to irritate me more than anything, why even knock if you’re going to open it anyway? She wanted to remind me it was a school night and that she wanted Jonathan to leave before 11 pm. It was already 10:30. I nodded in agreeance and wished her a goodnight.

            Weeks went by, Jonathan and I hung out more and more in the afternoons. Very rarely would I ever see him at school but if I did, we would acknowledge each other from a distance. It didn’t bother me too much at first. He had his group of friends and I had mine. We left it like that.

            October is my favorite month, not only because of the weather but my birthday falls a few days before Halloween; my two favorite days of the year are side by side. Jonathan was supposed to come over that night and we were going to watch a movie. We tried taking turns deciding what movies to watch but we always ended with his choice, no matter what. I told myself that this night was going to be different.

He arrived at my place around 8:30 pm.  I was in a particularly good mood that night and he was looking hotter than usual. He gave me a long hug and wished me a happy early birthday then told me for my gift that he would watch any movie I picked. I didn’t give a damn what movie we watched, I just wanted something to happen. The sexual tension was there, it had been building for the last few weeks. I didn’t know what was taking him so long to make that first move. Being a girl, I was terrified about being the first one. We watched Single White Female, one of my favorites.

I was sitting on the end of the sofa and he was laid out across the entire thing with his feet in my lap. He tried to get me to give him a foot massage every time we were together. Each time I told him there was no chance in hell that I’d touch his disgusting feet. Truthfully, I didn’t care. I would have sucked his toes if that were really what he wanted. He pretended to get mad at me and started play fighting. He had me pinned on the sofa, under him. I stopped laughing and was just looking at his face, not even an inch from mine. We both leaned together and started kissing. It was intense, I’d go to lean up from my back and he would just push me back down with my mouth. Our bodies were pressed so firmly together. I could feel every part of him against me.

We heard my mom’s door open and he hopped back from on top of me and put a pillow in his lap. I just leaned up a little bit and adjusted my shirt. She poked her head from around the corner and again, said she was going to bed and wanted Jonathan gone by 11pm. It was a routine by this point. Though, I never thought twice when she would say things like that. My mom had a few substance abuse issues of her own, so when she went to sleep, she was out for a long while. I knew that. I could tell by her pinpoint pupils that it wouldn’t take her long to pass out until the next afternoon.

Jonathan and I went into my room and it took only an instant for us to pick up where we left off. I was so content. I wasn’t upset about mom or worrying about school. All I wanted was right in front of me.

He had his hand under my t-shirt on my back, trying to unhook my bra. The same time I had my hand down by his belt. I was trying to loosen it up enough for my hand to fit in his slim fitted Levis. He was hard as rock. I leaned forward and pushed him back to straddle him. I bent down to use my mouth and I could tell from his sudden silence that he wasn’t going to argue with my decision. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes later that he finished and came in my mouth. He sat there for a moment while I was adjusting my bra back in place. I got up to go brush my teeth and when I walked back into my room he was gathering his things together. He said he was tired and that he would call me tomorrow. But not before thanking me.

            I fell asleep that night with him on mind.

            He stayed on my mind for the next few months. We hung out everyday. Well, we hooked up everyday. I would ditch my friends constantly. As I was losing my friends, his friends started talking to me more. One in particular, his name was Patrick. He, like Jonathan, skated as well. He was also just as good looking, but lacked that certain a*****e appeal that attracted me to Jonathan.

            The more I hung out with Jonathan, the more I was thinking about Patrick. Austin was Patrick’s off and on girlfriend, who was also a friend of mine. She was nice enough but it was difficult to keep track of their relationship, one week together, one week not. Not that it mattered because by this point I was Jonathan’s and Patrick knew that.

            I was texting my best friend, Julee. We were talking about the both of them and how I was getting attached to the idea of Patrick but taking it out on Jonathan. My mind was so caught up in the moment that I accidently sent a certain text to Jonathan instead of Julee.

“Pat’s hot as f**k and not as much of an a*s like Jonathan. But I still have this strange attachment to Jon. Julee, what do I do?!?!”

I didn’t know what to do except pray that he, for some tiny chance, didn’t receive the message.

            He showed up later that evening. I didn’t bring up the message just in case. He didn’t bring it up either. He was torturing me. Finally, after some time, he asked me about the message. I told him the truth that I didn’t mean to send it to him.

He laughed at me and said that he called Patrick about it already and they had a good laugh together. I was furious. I also didn’t know whether I should believe him or not because it sounded like something he’d do but not Pat. It also wouldn’t be the first time Jonathan lied to me. We argued for a little while. Which usually ended with us putting our clothes back on but not this time. I told him that he needed to leave because my mom was coming home early that night. Not that she’d really care but he didn’t know that. 

            He called me later on and invited me to his house. I didn’t like going to his house. I felt uncomfortable. His father was always home but he had some social issues and was usually locked up in his room alone. Jonathan’s sister hated me, which wasn’t saying much. She was going to a high school for the troubled. She got kicked out of ours for bringing a piece of glass and threatening another student.

            Maybe that’s why Jonathan and I got along so well, because we both knew what it was like to come from a fucked up family.

            Regardless, I agreed. I showed up at his door, which was already open. I walked inside and went immediately down the steps, where his room was. He was laying on his tiny, twin sized bed watching skate videos on YouTube. I sat down by his feet and just waited for him to say something. He picked up a bottle of SoCo and took a gulp then handed it to me. I hated dark liquor but drank some anyway. That awkward silence went on for a few more minutes. During which I downed enough of the bottle to where I couldn’t stop smiling.

            It’s funny, I always complained about how he treated me but deep down, I loved it. I fed on it. I liked the sex. I still liked him. I didn’t know what I wanted.

            I eventually shut his laptop and he got pissed and started yelling at me. I just sat there and waited for him to finish screaming. I grabbed him and shut him up by giving him a forceful kiss. He leaned in for more and I pushed him away. I told him I was done being treated like his sex toy.

I wanted him to beg me to stay or at least, confess his how much he liked me just so I could have the pleasure of turning him down.

            Instead, he slapped me. He slapped me so hard that it knocked me off balance and I fell back on his bed. It didn’t hurt so much as shock me. I froze.

            I just held my hand to my cheek and stared at him. He instantly knelt beside me and started continuously apologizing. I told him I needed to go home. He asked me stay so he could explain himself but I left anyway.

            On my way back home I started tearing up. I was upset at him but more so with myself. I wanted a car to swerve around the corner without paying attention and just hit me. I knew if I told my mom what happened she’d call the cops , or worse, go talk to his dad.

            I didn’t know what to do so I just sat against my neighbor’s brick fence. They were out of town.

            I just kept overplaying the slap in my head. I couldn’t believe that he actually hit me. Then I started cursing at myself because deep down, the moment after I realized what happened, I wanted him to do it again because I deserved it.

            Over the next couple of years, things didn’t change much. Our lives were intertwined and we couldn’t break free from each other. Not that we wanted to. We did a lot of kissing, a lot of drinking, some hitting, and too much apologizing. 

He grew to resent me. I grew to love him, to love the guy who physically and mentally caused me so much traumatizing pain.