Too Consumed (Consumed #2)
Page 4“I’ll be waiting for you to tell me that I’m right, and you will, eventually.”
I snap my head to look him dead in the eyes. His eyes are light, almost apologetic and I glare at him. “Don’t hold your breath.”
I storm the last few steps toward the door and pull it open. Without a glance in Fae’s direction, I march from the office and out into the street. I dodge around an old woman pushing a shopping cart and unlock my car before dropping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door.
“Asshole!” I shout, slapping the steering wheel with the palm of my hand.
How am I supposed to have a positive outlook on my relationship when everyone else is so damn negative? All I want is for someone to be happy for me—like Dad was or Selena is. I can’t give everyone what they want. I can’t make everyone happy so what the fuck am I meant to do? How can I be happy when people refuse to let me? I drag a slow inhale through my nose and expel it at the same speed. I pull my phone from my pocket and decide to skip a phone call to Seth. If he finds out Mason upset me, he’ll probably come down here and do God knows what, so I send him a text instead.
TO: SETH. TIME: 8:00 A.M.
Done. On my way home to help Mom.
I’ll call you later.
Love you.
xx
I drop my phone into a cup holder and put my keys in the ignition. As I pull away from my old workplace, I can’t help but feel a little relief under the huge pile of worry and guilt. I’ve officially closed the ‘Mason’ chapter of my life…it’s finished. Never will I ever have to see his judging eyes or hear his unwanted comments. Closing that chapter in my life was surprisingly easy…maybe it’s because I know every new chapter I start from here on out will bring new opportunities, new memories, and new endings, and hopefully, all of them will feature Seth.
Chapter Three
Seth
FROM: OLIVIA. TIME: 8:00 A.M.
Done. On my way home to help Mom.
I’ll call you later.
Love you.
“Fucking Mason,” I growl, slipping my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.
I lean against my car and keep my eyes trained on the darkened concrete at my feet as Jackson saunters up beside me.
“What’s up?” he asks, leaning against the car beside me.
“Mason,” I tell him, refusing to bring my eyes to his face.
Although Olivia never hinted that Mason has upset her in her text message, I know he did. Mason had a habit of running his mouth where it wasn’t wanted. Jackson stiffens beside me. “What’d he do?”
“I don’t know.” I cringe. Jesus-fucking-Christ. I sound like an idiot. I pull my keys from my pocket and push off of the car. I should go see her—fuck it, I’ll go see him. Jackson snags my arm, his grip hard and strong.
“Don’t be an idiot.” He snickers, reading my mind. “You don’t even know if he’s done anything.”
“I don’t have to, Mason’s a dick.”
Jackson releases me and his eyes thin as he laughs to himself. “Look at you all smitten and protective. I never thought I’d see the day.”
I roll my eyes as he crosses his jean-clad legs over each other and flicks his eyebrows suggestively at me. “It seems you’re no longer looking to lease, my friend, you’re looking to buy.”
I fold my arms over my chest, forgetting I want to get in my car and drive to Mason’s. “So what if I am?”
I haven’t told Jackson about my plans to ask Olivia to marry me…or that I’ve already bought her a ring. I’ll tell him eventually, when I know when I’m going to ask her. I can’t risk him telling Selena, she can’t keep her mouth shut even if you pay her to. Jackson flashes his palms at me. “No disrespect, man. I just never thought I’d see the day.”
“Yeah, well, things change.”
“So it seems.”
I don’t bother pointing out that he and Selena also seem to be getting pretty serious. My guess is, he either hasn’t shown her what he’s really like or she’s just as damaged as he is. I don’t blame Jackson for being the way he is. After the childhood and teenage years he’s had I’m surprised he has stuck with Selena for so long. His first real relationship was fucking unhealthy. Poor kid was only sixteen and the woman—twenty-three. She was into some dark shit sexually and he ate it all up, thinking that was how things worked. If he puts Selena through any of the shit he had to go through, I can’t see their relationship stretching past the three month line. I’ve fought the urge to ask him if he’s shown Selena any of his…toys, but prying into Jackson’s sex life is something I prefer to avoid.
“Let it go, bro,” Jackson says, interrupting my train of thought. He takes my brooding over his past as thoughts of Olivia and Mason. “Call her, make her feel better and forget the rest.”
I frown. Am I seriously getting relationship advice from Jackson? The same guy who has had as many serious relationships as me? How the fuck did that happen? I guess it isn’t too farfetched. He’s been coaching me on women since high school and now that I think about it…maybe that’s a bad idea considering his relationships all consist of one night stands and consensual, sexual abuse. The thought of tying Olivia up and giving it to her arouses me, but I’d never do it with half of the shit Jackson uses.
With a slap on the back, he strolls away from me and I retrieve my phone from my pocket, dialing Olivia’s number immediately.
It rings for a while before she answers. “Hey.”
Her voice is happy and high, but I hear the way it falls flat on the last syllable.
“Hey yourself.” I clear my throat, trying to find the right question to ask without looking like I’m demanding information from her. “How’d it go?” Nailed it.
She sighs, pausing for a few seconds. “It started off okay…but you know Mason and how he feels about you.”
The thought makes me smile. “That I do. Are you all right?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” She laughs nervously. “Onwards and upwards, right?”
“Right.” I stuff my free hand into the front pocket of my jeans.
“I just got home and Mom is all dressed up and ready to garden, so I have to go, but I’ll see you later? We’ll go out for lunch?”
I smile, happy she isn’t going to blow me off on account of Mason. “Absolutely.”
“Okay, see you then.”
She hangs up, leaving me smiling at my own reflection in the gym windows. I can’t wait for lunch. I can’t wait to see her milky skin and plump, pink lips. Seeing her is what I look forward to most in my day. Most people look forward to their favorite TV shows or their favorite meals, not me. I look forward to the same time every morning when I step through the gym doors and I know I’ll see her. I look forward to seeing her cute wave and wide smile when she sees me, scanning the room for her. I love her, and it’s the sweetest feeling in the world. I slip my phone into my pocket, open the back door to my car, and pull out my gym bag. Training is going to drag on because I’m desperate for lunchtime to roll around. I want to see her…I need to see her.
I open my eyes and glance sleepily around my room. In between tossing and turning, I didn’t get much sleep. Last night—and almost every other night—I was plagued with images of Olivia that deterred me from sleep. Much to my brain’s delight, tonight in my dreams, she was naked, desperate and begging for me. After I left her house yesterday, I couldn’t shake the look of her in that tiny fucking shirt and tiny shorts—not to mention the fact that she wasn’t wearing underwear. There I go, torturing myself again.
I groan, throwing off my blankets. I haven’t felt this wound up since the night she wanted me to take her on her couch and I refused. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and push myself onto my feet, running my hands over my face. I stroll toward the bathroom because the only thing that is going to help the ‘tenting’ issue I’m currently having in my pants is a cold shower.
I drop my pants and open the shower door. I turn on the cold tap, stepping well out of the way of the cold stream. As the cold water crashes against the floor tiles and splashes onto my skin, I decide a little bit of warmth wouldn’t hurt…or at least I thought it wouldn’t. The warmer the water became, the harder I got, and the harder I got, the tighter I wound.
I reach for the body wash and squeeze a large amount into my hand. I ignore my cock that so eagerly juts out in front of me and begin lathering soap over every inch of my body, purposely leaving my length for last. When I have no choice but to wash it, I curl my hand around the shaft, washing as quickly as I can without causing myself too much grief. I almost got away with it too, until my index finger slides over the over-sensitive head, sending an overwhelming bolt of arousal through me. Without a second thought, I grab the tip of my cock and squeeze it firmly. A heavy, pleasured sigh leaves my lips and I feel my eyes become half lidded. I start out slowly, almost at a teasing pace and rest my free hand heavily against the glass.
“Fuck…” I groan, my voice barely above a whisper.
My skin is still damp as I march through my room and throw on a white tank top and slip into a pair of shorts, tossing my towel to the side. I glance over my shoulder at the clock on my wall. Fuck. How long was I in there?
I’m running late and I don’t think I can handle the five minute planks as a punishment today. Darryl makes me do them whenever I’m late and I don’t care who you are, they fucking hurt. I slip into a pair of ankle socks and tear from the room.
I stroll through my kitchen, swinging by the fridge and claiming a yogurt from inside. As I pass the bench, I reach across and grab a granola and nut bar from the fruit basket. I hate training on an empty stomach. I tear the lid off the yogurt tub and drink it, pouring the sour Greek yogurt down my throat. The nutritionist the MMAC assigned to me would have a fit if she knew how little food I’m consuming this morning and the fact that I’ve yet to take one of their protein shakes.
As I reach the front door, I slip into my shoes, step outside, and lock my door behind me.
The drive to the gym passes by quickly and I pull awkwardly into a space. I’m sure my wheels are over one side of the line, but I don’t bother rectifying it—not while I’m busy staring at the giant billboard of me bolted to the top of the gym. It’s much bigger that I expected…
This is real.
This is happening.
Shit.
I exhale and close my eyes. I’m a pro MMAC fighter with huge billboards of myself spread all over America…I deserve it. I fought my ass off to make this happen, so why does this whole sport suddenly feel so new to me? I open my eyes and look up at the billboard. I’ve never been the kind of person who loves themselves, despite what other people might say about me—and looking at my picture—topless with my fists up, all taped and dirty, makes me cringe. I never want to do a photo shoot again. I’ve never felt more feminine in my life than I did that day. One shoot is more than enough. They better re-use that same photo for the rest of my career.
I slip from the car and shut the door, pressing the buttons on my keys to lock it. I saunter toward the gym, still tired, even after my shower. I hate skipping breakfast. I need meat, I need eggs, and I need a million other things just to keep me running all day. Going off the way I feel now, I’ll be lucky to make it to brunch.
As I approach the door, I notice three men in brightly colored overalls installing our new security system and cameras. Olivia fought me a little on the cameras. She insisted they were unnecessary—and they were—until the grocery store down the road was broken into.
I reach out to push the gym door open, but a buzzing in my pocket forces me to withdraw my hand and retrieve my cellphone from my pocket. Jackson’s name flashes across the screen and I contemplate answering it. He’s undoubtedly going to chew my ass off because I’m running a little late. I hit answer and bring it to my ear.
“I’m here now,” I say.
“Hey, man.” Jackson clears his throat, ignoring my greeting. “I’m not going to make it to the gym today. Selena and I got into it this morning because I almost punched her father in the mouth.”
A laugh rumbles through my chest. “You almost punched her father?”
He growls. “You should meet the fucking guy. He’s a fucking dickbag and he treats her like shit. No wonder she has so many issues.”