Rocket Car

Chapter 18

Author's Note: I got my hand caught in a batting trainer in -4°F weather (don't ask) and then hurt my shoulder getting body slammed at work. So apologizes for any mistakes in this and the last few chapters. I'll fix them once I can type quicker. sorry for them being literal trash.

Also, fun fact: IRL "girl attempts to drive over guy" situation happened twice, the second one ending with a car going through his living room.

I should bump the rating based on language but no one has complained yet.

Rocket Car

Listening to Barry and Bryce retell stories is quite entertaining. I have to admit I'm a bit shocked to hear the real story behind his heart attack a few years ago. I remember him telling my parents that the bruise on his chest was from motorcycle handlebars. At the time I had found that a bit odd as Bryce wasn't one to ride motorcycles. Now I understand why he lied; no way in hell did he want to explain he was in a bar brawl.

At some point Bryce starts teasing me about Davis. He asks, "Did you guys really hook up?" I don't answer outright. There isn't a need, as Barry confirms it instead. I sit in silence and listen as the two of them begin to badmouth the absent victim, starting with Bryce saying, "I thought he was gay?"

Hearing them talk about how "worthless" he is proves to be more upsetting than I expect. It's not as though he's the only person on the planet that has bad luck with women; it's not like he's the only one that has failed at something. Plenty of other people have stayed in bad relationships or given up on dreams. That doesn't make them less than human in some way. I find myself mentally defending him, pointing out all the flaws in their observations.

Eventually, they both do agree that Davis isn't a bad guy, just kind of an i***t. "Yeah, you could do better, Kiki. You could do me," Barry teases. Jesus, was he always this obnoxious?

Bryce elbows him and says, "Don't say that with me around."

Whatever was to be said next is silenced when the front door opens. In stumbles Davis, nearly tripping over a pair of shoes left in the entry way. He laughs, and I know right away he's been drinking. A glance at the clock says it's barely turned eleven. The game just ended; does he really drink in the middle of his job?

I stabilize him and say, "Are you drunk?"

"Not at all," he lies. I can smell the beer on his breath. I'm amazed no one from his work is upset that he's beyond gone at this point, but I guess a tiny ball club like our local one couldn't care less.

"Did you drive home like this?" I ask, concerned.

"I told you I'm not drunk," he assures me with a hardy pat on my shoulder. There's a fun-loving grin on his face that doesn't match the blurriness of his eyes. He straightens up and says, "I'mma get a… water…" I let him go and watch as he makes his way down the hall and to the restroom.

"Welp, I think we're going to hit the bar up," Bryce announces as he stands up and stretches. Barry joins him, the only noise he makes is the sound of his beer can touching the coffee table. I look around the two of them and realize they've thrown back their fair share of drinks, too.

I frown. "You're not driving, right?"

"Unlike that i***t, I really am not that drunk. I'm not risking it though. We'll just walk," he tells me. I watch as the two shuffle out into the night. Barry offers a wave at least, before lightly closing the door behind him. I watch out the front window as Barry takes off in a sprint, the bewildered Bryce a few steps late.

I sigh. No doubt they did this on purpose. I thought the entire reason I was here and not home was so people could look after me? No way in hell do I trust a drunk Davis to take care of my wounds. In fact, I'm due for a cleaning of them. I think… I can't remember the doctor's instructions and Barry just left so he can't remind me either.

With no other option I follow Davis's footsteps to the bathroom. I'm hopeful that I can ask him for some assistance, even if he's tipsy. Rushing water from the faucet guides me to my destination. The door is wide open and the lights are off. I enter the bathroom and reach my hand to where I know the light switch is. Before I can turn the lights on I hear the water shut off and I can hear Davis make an odd noise as he dries his face off.

Light cascades down on the both of us when I finally flip the switch. I watch as he places his glasses back on. Grin present, he turns to face me. I have no time to think or react as he pulls me into a needy embrace. Chapped lips are attacking mine and all I can taste is beer. I push him away the best I can with my aching hands; he takes the message differently and sighs, "Yeah, the bathroom is a bad spot."

"That's not – ow!"

Did he forget the dozen stitches I have on both my hands? Did he fail to see the bandages covering them? I'm so irritated that he's crumbled my hand that I'm unable to even curse at him. It doesn't help he's moving faster than my feet want to move, so I'm practically being dragged down the hallway and into his room.

Once inside he slows down, of which I'm grateful. His hand releases mine and I feel like I can breathe again. I open my mouth to tell him off but he smiles at me warmly and just like that I'm muted. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, his eyes never leaving mine. Warm fingertips lace themselves gingerly around my wrists and pull me into his lap.

"You make me so happy," he whispers.

"I'm glad, but Davis," I say, showing him my hands, "I need to take care of this." I really do. Is my right hand bleeding again? Did that asshole just tear my stitches? I swear…

"It's okay, you can just use your mouth."

I'm blown away by that brazen statement. That's confirmation that he's drunk. That was a classic Barnum Waechter line, not something Davis would ever say. As I sit quietly and motionless in my shocked state, I feel his fingertips dip under my shirt and run along my ribs. In one motion he's pushed my bra up and has both hands on my breasts. There's no stopping my heated sigh.

"Davis, stop," I tell him to no avail. He's grinning at me like a teenager touching boobs for the first time. I can't grab his wrists to halt him like I normally would. I place my forehead against his and force eye contact. Despite the fact his eyes are a bit weary from the alcohol intake I can see the desire aflame. "We're not doing this," I say.

"Why not? I bought condoms earlier."

"Don't remind me that you're the only grown ass man on the planet that doesn't keep condoms in his house regularly," I say. It was meant to be mean spirited, but for some reason I think it goes over his head. He's too absorbed in his ministrations. His eyes aren't focused anymore.

"Thanks for letting me come inside you last night," he says, cheeks burning red. No doubt mine are changing color to match. I can hear the way his voice is changing slowly, deepening with each passing second.

"Don't thank me. That was stupid of us. God, I don't know what you've picked up from Alexa," I mutter, disgusted at the thought.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Instantly his eyes are focused again; their dark but with a passion that is much more sinister. My heart actually stops beating from a moment, around the same time he sends a glare at me that has a cold shiver run down my spine.

A sharp pinch on both of my n*****s takes me off guard and I can't stop whatever pathetic noise it is that leaks from my throat. In a flash he has one of his hands on my throat, fingers leaving imprints under my jaw. "Don't ever say that again," he snarls.

Something clicks and I see his eyes widen in surprise. Instantly his hands are off my body and I can tell he's scared himself. Honestly, I'm just as shocked; that wasn't some sort of rough foreplay – that was legitimate violence. The only thing that prevents me from scurrying off of him his that strong grip he suddenly has on my hips.

"I-I'm sorry. I, um… I don't have anything. I tested myself regularly," he says, as though he hadn't just nearly snapped. The action must have sobered him up some, since he's speaking clearer. His eyes leave mine and they end up staring down at his lap were I'm straddling him. "Are… are you alright? I'm sorry."

It's sincere. I do my best to remove his glasses, and the action seems to startle him. The nightstand is too far away and I can't fold them anyway, so I just drop them onto the carpet. It doesn't seem to bother him. I don't think he even knows that I did it. His eyes are straining to focus on my face. I lean down to kiss him, but a hand leaves my hips and ends up cupping my face.

Halted, I stare at him, hoping for an explanation. Isn't this what he was just asking for? "I.. I, uh… got the hint by Barry, earlier. The rough thing. That's not what I was doing there. I don't… I don't want to do that with you. Be rough, I mean. I did things like that with, um… with Alexa. Because I hated her. I hated thinking about all the others and I… it wasn't for the right reasons."

"Davis, please shut up," I beg him quietly. Whatever rambling mess he's trying to spew isn't important right now. It's not the right time. I try to break through his grip and kiss him, but he just calls upon his other hand for backup.

"No, you need to know this. Because I can't be like that with you. It's selfish of me, probably. But I just want to be gentle and take things slow and… just, cherish it. Cherish you. All of you. God, that's lame, isn't it?" he mumbles. Afterward he lets my face go to wrap his arms around me and bury his face into my shoulder. He's nuzzling me like a child.

"Davis –"

This time he hushes me with a furious kiss that shuts my brain off. Who knew something so simple could display so much passion? For a moment I can't even react; I let him devour every bit of me that he desires.

He pulls away, breathless, and snuggles against my chest. "I don't deserve you," he says.

Ah, there it is. The sensation of my heart breaking for someone else. I'd heard others talk about such a feeling but this is the first time I've felt it. It's like his voice has cut straight into me and gutted me alive.

Suddenly, I'm angry. I'm pissed off that Alexa has done this to him. She's done more than broken his spirit. She's destroyed him. For as sweet and cute as my relationship was with Willie, theirs must've been a savage mess of ill-intentions. And the thought of how fortunate I was and how unfortunate the kindhearted Davis was makes my blood boil.

March 17th, 2004

"What's with the face?"

"Hm?"

Davis whipped his head around to the origin of the question. Jeep was clicking away at his Nintendo rather furiously, not even looking at him. Somehow, he knew that Davis's face was upturned into a bitter expression. With a sigh, he leaned against the small chain link fence that separated the baseball field and softball field. It was hot – so damn hot for March – and Davis felt his throat drying up each agonizing second they were stuck outside for practice.

Behind him he could hear the sound of the girls' softball team hard at work. They were running drills at a pace that would make the weakest of them quit. He wondered why the softball team was worked so much harder than the baseball team. Then, he remembered that their baseball team was just a side note in that town compared to their football team. He couldn't complain, though; it just meant practice was spent ogling girls while Jeep attempted to beat whatever game he'd just snatched up.

An odd noise in the back of this throat signaled he was about to speak. He admitted, "I heard somethings from the guys."

Jeep's lightning fast clicking slowed to a halt before hesitantly picking speed back up. "The guys? They're always saying weird stuff. Who cares?" Jeep said. When Davis said nothing, merely shoved his cap over his eyes to cover his expression Jeep continued, "If it's about Alexa, I wouldn't worry about it. You know that most locker room talk is just bullshit, right?"

Davis could only sigh again, the hot spring air suffocating him slowly.

May 20th, 2005

"Ready for your big game tomorrow, Barnes?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

Davis answered but he wasn't really paying attention to what he was answering. Willie, the one who prompted the question, noticed this right away. For a moment he just eyed his friend, looking for something that would clue him. A glance around the locker room revealed it was empty aside from the two of them. Patient Willie opted to take a seat on the bench next to Davis in a silent display of comradery.

As for Davis, his mind was elsewhere. It'd been a rollercoaster of a week for him. He'd done some royal damage to his arm, too. Scheduled to start tomorrow, he was starting to get nervous. He tried to focus on literally anything other than baseball, but he found his mind constantly turning to Alexa. It was driving him crazy. They had called it off – "we're taking a break, that's all," she'd told him – but he found that the less time he spent with her, the more he wanted her.

It shouldn't have worked out that way. Now that he knew she was messing with other guys he shouldn't have wanted anything to do with her. What was it that made her pick them over him, anyway? A sideways look at the short guy next to him revealed another average looking teen, nothing spectacular. Wait, why was he comparing himself with Willie? He'd never go anywhere near Alexa. What about the rest of the team, though? With their defined muscles, disgusting confidence, and arrogant swaggers. He didn't fit in on this team.

"U-um… Barnes?"

Willie and Davis looked up to find that their first baseman, Trent Abel, standing in front them. The grip on his duffle bag was oddly tight, showing the white of knuckles. The poor kid was shaking. His eyes never once looked Davis head on. The quiet, timid teammate looked ready to throw up.

"What is it, Abe?" Willie asked. The combination of the nickname and his calm voice helped Abel relax and take a deep breath.

Abel held something up. A piece of paper? A photo? He wouldn't reveal it to them just yet. "I, uh… um, she… Alexa. Asked me to give this to you. I'm sorry."

Willie felt his fists clench and Davis felt the tip of his ears turning red. He had a good idea of what it was. Ever since their little break up she'd be taunting him with lewd photos. What the hell is the matter with her? Wasn't this hiatus her idea? he asked himself. Somehow, he built up a brave mask and smiled at Abel. "Don't worry about it, Abe. No hard feelings. Just tell her you gave it to me. Keep it."

Abel shook his head so hard the other boys were afraid he'd have a seizure. "No! No, no! This isn't right! You're just gonna let her - ! I'm… I'm sorry!"

Abel shut his mouth the moment Davis let his mask fall to pieces. He was glaring at the shaking mess in front of him, daring him to speak another word. Davis lowered his head and said, "She's free to do whatever she wants. It's fine."

At that moment, both Willie and Abel wanted to correct him, but both were too terrified of unleashing the wrath that burned in his eyes.

August 11th, 2010

"Why in God's name do I put up with you?"

"Because you love me!"

A spark appeared in his eyes for just a second before a grin spread across his face. It wasn't his idea to spend all this damn money for a dumb vacation but here they were, on the other side of the country without even a penny. It was the kind of romantic setup people dreamed about. For him? It only made his blood pressure skyrocket.

The woman in front of him had caused him much more suffering than just high blood pressure. It had been one crazy on-and-off again relationship for the past seven years. Yet when he watched her dance freely down the storied streets of New Orleans, he felt a steady rise in the beating of his heart; each intake of air made him hyperaware of his surroundings. It was a feeling he could only get around her.

She'd treated him like dirt throughout high school. He gave her credit for being open and honest about it, at least. Was that a virtue? He wasn't sure. Ever since they'd started university, though… things had been good. Real good. Picture perfect good. Other women simply didn't exist to him anymore. Despite all the ribbing his old buddies gave him about her, he was glad he stuck it out. They'd all laughed at him and stuck up their noses.

"Davis? He'd never get anyone else, so why wouldn't he hang onto that w***e Alexa?" they'd said. "He'd rather be treated like s**t than lonely, I guess. What a loser."

Jokes on them. He was the one that still had the girl. No, not the girl. The woman. The goddess. And she was here, at his side, being gorgeous, cute, funny, lovable, exciting, eccentric, ambitious, perfect..

"I think I want to marry you."

"What?"

Instantly his face was red. He could feel his chest tightened. s**t. Did I just say that out loud? f**k, he panicked inside his head. Hands hidden in his pant pockets turned into terrified fists. Well, this is going to be an awkward vacation…

February 19th, 2016

"That's it. I'm calling the police."

It wasn't mean to be said out loud, but it was. Damn, did he have a habit of saying the wrong thing out loud or what? Somehow, he managed to calm his racing heart long enough to get his cellphone out of his pocket and search for the non-emergency number. He'd barely gotten the first three digits inputted when he heard her gasp.

"You're seriously calling the police on me? For what?" she demanded.

The size of his headache was growing; its origin was the blood running down his face being illuminated under the porch light. He pointed at the gash and screamed, "Because of this, you crazy b***h!"

"I didn't do that!"

"Are you kidding me?! You threw the f*****g plate at my face!"

"I didn't mean to hit you!"

Thinking back, he wasn't sure exactly when things had gotten this out of hand. Perhaps their attitude toward each other in high school revealed more about their true selves than they had realized. It was such a waste. All of the years he'd wasted on hoping she would stay that darling angel forever and all of the dates, the gifts, the jewelry, the money – god did he waste a lot of money on her! He'd dropped out of college for her!

He'd expected her to fight the phone out of his hands, but instead she went inside. As she disappeared he managed to get through to the police dispatch. A voice in the back of his head laughed at him. "Look at weak, pathetic Davis! Calling the cops on a woman! Won't the town just love to remind you of this once it gets out!"

"Non-emergency dispatch," a calm male voice answered.

"Uh, yeah, my name is Davis Barnes and I'm at…"

As he relayed the information he watched Alexa storm out and toward her car. This was it – the last time he'd ever watch her leave his house. At one time they'd talked about it being "their" house. Now that was a terrifying thought to him. Just a few months ago the idea of her leaving was horrific. Now? He wouldn't miss her, at least not regularly. Even the s*x had turned violent. This entire arrangement wasn't healthy for either of them anymore.

"Her license plate? Let me see…"

There was no way in hell she would do any real harm to him. Physically, at least. Certainly she'd already damaged him in other ways. So he didn't even think about the dangers of stepping behind her car and reading the license plate number off. Until he saw the bright white lights as the car was put into reverse.

"Holy –!" was the only word out of his mouth as he attempted to jump out of the way. His phone slipped from his hands when he felt the impact of the car on his gut. It wasn't a hard enough hit to do any real damage. Hurriedly he scurried to the driver's window and screamed, "What the f**k is the matter with you?!"

She didn't even look at him. The car flew backwards a bit more before he saw her crank the wheel and aim the vehicle right at him.

Everything after that was just a blur. Somehow his feet carried his body at record speeds through the lawn and over a fence, all of which she destroyed in her wake. He'd scurried across his neighbor's lawn and onto their deck. It was the concrete blocks underneath that structure that did her car in.

The neighbors woke up to the sound of tires screeching and panicked cursing. When the police arrived several minutes later, they found a bleeding, shaking Davis trying to wiggle his way out from under a pile of lumber and concrete. All the while he was bellowing out a string of profanities rivaled by few.

Alexa? She'd waited patiently for the police. When asked about what happened, she presented her bruised arms and said, "f**k it. Just get me away from this asshole."

Thanks to that comment, both of them ended up sleeping in the county jail that night.