The Temptation of Lila and Ethan

Chapter Five

Lila

November is pretty much over and I’m running out of money and ways to escape the landlord. I know I need to get a job, but I’ve never worked before and I’m not qualified for any decent jobs. I guess I never really thought the whole being-on-your-own thing completely through. I feel like I’m standing at this fork in the road and both paths lead to places I don’t want to go. I could go backward, but I don’t want to go there either. My past is full of irreversible mistakes. I’m sure anyone who looked at me, when I was medicated anyway, wouldn’t think I had any problems. But I’m seriously considering breaking down and asking someone for help. Asking Ella. My sister even, although she can barely take care of herself. I even went as far as calling her, but she cut the call short, saying she had to go to work. I could hear her son crying in the background, the one I’ve met only once because I moved away and haven’t been back to California since. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, the conversation is causal and rushed because she’s always too overwhelmed with bills or her job as a waitress.

I could talk to Ethan, but I haven’t really seen much of him since the whole club fiasco. I’m not even really sure what happened. I mean, he’d finally given me what I wanted, touching me and kissing me, and even through the alcohol it’d felt different, good for once, like I was safe and maybe worthy of being touched like that. But it lasted for only a moment and then the past caught up with me. The second we reached the bed I knew what was going to happen. He’d fuck me and then leave me and I’d be completely alone this time because Ethan is pretty much my only friend anymore and now I don’t even know if he’s that.

So I let the off switch flip me into a state of numbness and I moved through the motions, knowing what I was supposed to do but making myself disconnect from my emotions. What shocked me though is that he was upset about it. No guy has ever been upset about how I act. Then he’d left without finishing and I haven’t talked to him since. I’m a little afraid too, afraid of what he saw in me that night or didn’t see in me.

The last week has been really depressing and the only company I’ve really had is a random friendly call from my sister and my mother’s phone calls that leave me feeling emptier than I did before them. She keeps making threats, telling me she’s going to disown me if I don’t get my ass back to California. It’s not too late, she keeps saying. Brentford Mansonfield is back from his six-month trip to Europe and he’s looking to settle down. I could win him over, start again, and turn myself into someone worthy of the Summers name. I asked her if she really thought Brentford wanted used goods for a wife.

“Well, you’re almost twenty-one, Lila,” she’d said. “No one expects you to be a virgin.”

“True, but I’m also kind of a whore,” I’d responded, mainly because I’d had a couple glasses of wine and was feeling a little bit tipsy.

“Lila Summers, watch your mouth,” she replied sharply. “You will not utter such things aloud.”

“Why? It’s true.”

“I know it’s true. I’m the one who had to come clean up the mess in New York.”

“How can I forget,” I said. “Since you’re always reminding me.”

“Lila, quit being a little bitch. I didn’t raise you to be that way. I raised you to keep your mouth shut and to do what you were told.”

I couldn’t take the frustration building inside me anymore, so I let it explode and screamed into the phone, “Like you do with Dad and his slutty mistress!”

She called me a spoiled bitch and told me she was going to hang up. I told her okay, because I didn’t really have that much more to say and she hasn’t called me since.

It’s overwhelmingly hot today, but I couldn’t turn the fan on since it would rack up my already overdue power bill. I open the candy cane slash pill drawer again, reaching for the bottle at the bottom. Ethan gave me the candy canes as a Christmas present after I told him I’d never had a candy cane, and it was seriously the sweetest moment I’ve ever had with a guy.

“Are you fucking being serious right now?” he’d said. We were in his truck and it was late, the midnight sky above us as chilly winter air filled the cab and frosted the windows.

“Um… yeah… What’s the big deal?” I’d wondered, turning sideways in the seat to face him.

“Because it’s a fucking candy cane.” He’d gaped at me unfathomably. “It’s like the most common Christmas candy there is. My mom even puts them all over our tree every year.”

“Oh, I’ve never had a Christmas tree either,” I admitted, which made him gape at me only longer. “What? She thinks that the pine needles on real ones are too messy and artificial ones are too tacky.”

Later that night, he’d given me an entire box of them. He didn’t wrap them or anything, just dropped them on my lap when I’d been sitting on his sofa in the living room of his parents’ house.

“There you go.” He’d said it like it was such an inconvenience for him as he flopped down in the recliner.

I’d smiled, then leaned over and gave him a hug before I unwrapped one. As I started sucking on it, I told him it was delicious and he’d made a dirty remark about my lips. I made a comeback about the zipper on his pants being undone and that I could see his special man parts bulging out. He’d rolled his eyes, but then checked his zipper anyway. I started to giggle and ended up dropping the candy cane on my leg. I was wearing a dress and the candy stuck to my thigh.

“Okay, maybe I don’t like them,” I’d said, pulling a disgusted face as I picked it up from my leg. I tried to wipe off the stickiness with my hand, but that only made everything stickier.

“Here, let me help you,” Ethan muttered, his eyes locked on my leg. I thought he was going to go get me a paper towel or something, but instead he got up from the recliner and dropped down on his knees in front of me. His dark hair hung in his eyes as he peered over my knees, smirking at me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, intrigued but slightly nervous. I mean he was super hot and everything, but I was fully sober and could feel everything going on, like my accelerating pulse and the weird flip my stomach did.

His eyes darkened as he ran his hand up my leg and it made my skin instantly ignite with stifling, overwhelmingly passionate heat. It was a new sensation for me since foreplay was pretty much absent with any of the people I’d hooked up with. The feeling was piquing my curiosity so I let my legs fall open just a little and suddenly he seemed like the nervous one. I kept thinking about how much I wanted another pill because I could feel way too much, but then I’d have to get up and break the moment.

Ethan had paused with his hand resting on the top of my thigh. I traced the lines of the tattoos on his arms, biting my lip as my heart leaped inside my chest. His breathing became ragged and his palms were starting to sweat the longer we sat there, unmoving in the silence and glow from the twinkly lights on the Christmas tree. Then he did it. He angled his face down, his lips parted, and his tongue slipped out as he licked the candy cane stickiness off my skin.

I dug my fingernails into the arm of the chair and moaned, a loud, blissful moan that surprised me, along with the burst of warmth that flashed through my body. He responded with a sharp intake of his breath and I quivered uncontrollably. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, touch him, push his face up just a little bit farther, and make him lick me in places that would send me into a euphoric, uncontrolled spiral. But then he quickly sucked my skin, nipping at it before pulling away.

I frowned disappointedly up at him. “Seriously?”

He shrugged, dropping down into the chair. “What?” He eyed me over, like he was waiting for me to announce that he’d gotten me all hot and bothered. “Is something wrong?” He’d pressed back a smirk, like he was the funniest person in the world. “I’m just waiting around for my Christmas present.”

Two could play at this game. Smirking back, I unhooked the front clasp of my red lacy bra through my top, then slid the straps down my shoulders, managing to get it off without flashing him. Then I threw it at his face. “Merry Christmas.”

Most guys would have grinned or said some dirty comment, but Ethan just flicked the little red bow on my bra, then shrugged and set it down on the armrest of the chair. “I’ve seen sexier,” he said, his grin shining through his eyes.

With my mouth hanging open, I tossed a candy cane at him and it hit him in the head. He laughed, picked it up and unwrapped it, and then popped it into his mouth. “Damn, these are good,” he said, smiling as he rolled the candy along his tongue.

I think that’s when I realized how much I liked him. Not because he was being an ass or because he gave me candy canes, but because he’d stopped kissing my thigh. He knew enough about me—how easy I was—to know that he could have pretty much gotten me to do whatever he wanted, yet he didn’t. Even if it was because he didn’t like me, I still kind of liked that he stopped, even if it left me sexually frustrated. I’d had sex with guys before who later made it clear they didn’t even like me, yet they still had sex with me because I was an “easy lay.” And I was left with self-hatred stirring inside me because deep down I knew they were right. I’m good for only one thing. A one-night stand, a good lay, a moment of distraction, and I’ll pretty much do whatever they ask, even when I don’t want to.

But now the good thing I had with Ethan is gone, thanks to my fucked-up head. It makes me loathe myself even more, knowing just how good of a guy Ethan is. He’d stopped it, refusing to have sex with the numb version of me. I’m still baffled over it.

Sighing, I force myself out of the memory and return my attention to what’s under the pile of candy canes and pick up the orange bottle. I take a couple, then lay down on the bed, on my back with my legs and arms out to my side, just like they were that day my life changed for the worst six years ago, when he used me and then abandoned me. I’ve been on a downhill decline ever since, but the good thing is I’ve barely been able to feel it. I feel the soaring rush from the pills and then the crash from the wine as the two substances mix and collide inside me. They’re diluting each other, so I turn on my side and take a few more pills and somewhere between the sixth or the seventh my thoughts start to melt together. Until I feel empty.

Alone.

And I desperately want to find someone to fill the void.

I’m way too out of it to be out here, but I can’t find my way back to my apartment. So I keep wandering aimlessly around the parking lot with no real destination, and I can’t even remember why I came outside in the first place. I think it might have been the fear of being compressed between the shrinking walls in my house that made me go outside, but I’m not sure.

This older guy comes up to me as I make my way over to a carport and he tells me about this party up the street. I mutter something about not really wanting to go with him, but then he takes ahold of my arm and kind of guides me along, or forces me (I sometimes have a hard time distinguishing between the two) toward the street.

He keeps talking about swimming or hitting or something, but the grogginess in my head barely allows me to decipher half of the words he’s saying. His lips keep moving and he has nice, soft, full-looking lips, and there’s this scar on the bottom one. I thought his eyes were green, but when we step into the house, underneath the light, I realize they’re blue. His hair is way too long for my taste and he’s wearing this ratty-looking T-shirt that makes me crinkle my nose with distaste.

“I think I have to…” I try to say go, but my lips have gotten really numb. I stumble over my shoes, which aren’t fastened.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” the guy whispers in my ear and I’m relieved I caught the whole sentence.

“Thanks…” I trail off as the stereo is cranked up and the floor starts to vibrate beneath us. Everyone starts dancing and shouting as they drink beers and grind against each other.

There are people crammed into a small living room and the furniture has been pushed out of the way. The kitchen to my right is lined with empty beer bottles and there’s a large bucket filled with ice and drinks on the table. The loudness and chaos kind of reminds me of being at Ella’s, where everyone could just roam free and do whatever they wanted. The first time I witnessed it I thought it was insane, but now it kind of feels like maybe this is the kind of place I belonged the whole time.

“Do you want a drink?” the guy shouts over the music as he holds on to my arm.

I nod, relaxing. He doesn’t seem that bad. “Yes, please!”

Then he smiles and it’s a dark smile, one masked with an alternate meaning. I’ve seen this smile before right before he tied me to the bed. I’m not sure what the alternate meaning is but I can’t seem to concentrate on it for long enough to care. He releases my arm and I brace my hand against the wall nearby so I don’t fall down. I want to dance, because I love to dance. But I’m dizzy and vomit burns at the back of my throat. I try to recall how many pills I’d taken. Two… No, I took more, didn’t I? After the landlord knocked on my door? Yes, but how many did I take. Four… five… eight. God, I’ve completely lost track and things are starting to get dark and chilly, not just around me but in my head. The song switches and I try to focus on the beat. The guy who brought me here returns. He hands me a beer. I drink it. Somehow I end up dancing with him. He’s grabbing me roughly, forcing me against his body as he grinds against my hips. I’m not sure if I’m into it, so I try to back away.

“Where you goin’?” he wonders, pulling me back.

“I want to…” What do I want?

He shakes his head and probes his fingernails into my arms. I feel the skin puncture and the pain spans throughout my entire body. I try to shout, but the sound is lost in the music. He grins, all desire and need, just like every other guy who exists on the planet.

“Come here, baby.” He presses me against his chest, his hand sliding underneath my back, and I find myself wishing he were Ethan so I wouldn’t feel so unsafe. He grabs at my butt, touches me, and just like that a switch flips off inside my head. Like always, I become numb, every emotion draining out of me. Suddenly, it feels like I’m watching the guy as he gropes my ass, feels my breast, kisses my neck, presses our bodies together. I can’t feel a single thing, don’t want to. I don’t deserve to. I’m worthless. A whore, like everyone always tells me.

He starts to lead me through the crowd, to the hallway, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to take me to a room and do whatever he wants to me, when my eyes roll into the back of my head and my legs start to give out as my stomach burns.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” I say and groan and the guy scoots back faster than the beat of the song with his hands out in front of him like he’s afraid to touch me.

I take off, shoving through the crowd, and run out the front door, leaving it open as I stumble outside, then hurry down the stairs. One of my shoes gets caught in the bottom step and I can’t get it out, so instead I wiggle my foot out of my shoe. Then I hunch over and fall to my knees in a bed of tulips and bushes. My shoulders jerk as I dry heave, feeling like I need to throw up, but nothing will come out of my mouth. My heart is beating rapidly, slamming against my ribs, and my skin is coated in sweat. I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open and I fall back into the bushes, landing in the moist dirt on my back. I see the stars. They’re gorgeous. I wish I could touch them. It feels like I can.

I lie there forever, feeling my heart beat faster as my stomach vines into painful knots. Then my butt starts ringing, or maybe it’s my head… no, it’s my phone. Yes, definitely my phone. Rolling to my side, I feel the back pocket in my dress and retrieve my phone. I let my thumb fall on the talk button and then put the phone to my ear.

“Hello.” The sound of my voice hurts my head.

“Seriously?” Ethan says, sounding more pissed off than he usually does. “Again?”

“Huh…” I clutch my pulsating head.

“What do you mean, huh?” he snaps. “I can tell you’re drunk again, which means you probably need me to come pick you up from some guy’s house.” He sounds venomously jealous, and in the pit of my stomach, I like it.

“No, not drunk,” I mutter. “I’m out of it.”

“I can tell.”

“I think… I think… I took too much… this time.” It’s becoming harder to breathe, my chest constricting and it’s bearing weight down on my body.

“Too much what?” he asks and I think I hear concern in his voice. Maybe, but I could be wrong.

“The stuff…” I try to snap my fingers, attempting to think of the word, but I can’t tell if I still have fingers. “Those pills I have.”

“What pills?” His voice sounds all high and abnormally off pitch.

“Nothing… never mind… I’m really tired… I’m going to go…” I start to let my arm fall to my side.

“Lila, don’t hang up!” he shouts through the phone and I can hear a lot of banging in the background. “Where are you? At your place?”

“No… I’m in some bushes… and tulips.” I swat my arm at this blurry spot forming above me. “Ethan, it’s really cold.”

“It’s not that cold.” His voice is harsh and makes me feel even colder inside. “Now just tell me where you are and keep your God damn eyes open.”

“Okay…” I blink fiercely, struggling to get my eyelids to stay open. “But I don’t know where I am.”

“What do you mean?” he asks and I hear the engine of his truck roar. “How the hell can you not know where you are?”

“Well… this guy took me somewhere… and I don’t remember where…”

“Can you recognize anything?”

“Stars… and…” I trail off, letting the sleepiness overtake me. He says something, but I’m too exhausted to answer.

“Lila!” he yells.

My eyes snap open. “Yeah…”

“Tell me what’s around you.”

“Bushes… and stars… and a building…”

“What does the building look like?”

“Like every other building out there…” My head flops to the side. “There’s this really weird flashing pink bird thingy at the entrance… That could be in my head though.”

“Thank fucking God.” He sounds a little relieved. “I know where you are.” He says a bunch of other stuff, but I can’t tell what he’s saying, so I just drop the phone because it’s too heavy anyway. Then I gaze up at the stars and let myself fall into the darkness and numbness that I’ve become so familiar with. In fact, it’s really starting to feel like home.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, sliding his hand up my thigh. “Your skin’s so soft, too.”

I force a smile, even though the way he’s touching me feels wrong. Everything about the situation feels wrong, but at the same time it feels right, because the way Sean’s looking at me right now makes me feel worshipped and loved. “Thank you,” I say, which makes him grin this adorable grin that makes him look younger than he is.

“You’re welcome,” he says and leans forward, giving me a soft peck on the nose. “You’re amazing,” he whispers against my skin, peppering kisses down to my jawline as his fingers drift up my plaid skirt. “I want to touch you everywhere… kiss you all over.”

I place my hand on his chest, holding him back just a little so that I can look him in the eyes. “Why don’t you ever touch me in public? Is it because you were lying about not being married?” I eye the ring on his finger.

His eyes turn cold, his mouth setting in a firm line as he leans away, leaving his hand on my upper thigh, but his fingers stiffen. “No, I told you I’m not married. It was a gift and you know why we can’t be seen in public. Age matters to people, Lila.”

I run my fingers through his soft hair, worried I’ve pushed him too far. “You’re not that much older than me and it doesn’t matter to me anyway.”

He stares at me like I’m incompetent. “Lila, don’t be stupid. They would rip us apart. Everyone would.” He starts to reach for the door handle of his car. “Maybe I should go.”

“No, don’t.” I grab a handful of his suit jacket and pull him back to me, terrified that he’s going to leave me. “I-I’m sorry I brought it up. Please, just go back to what you were doing.”

He narrows his eyes, looking like he’s deliberating whether he should stay or go, whether he’s too good for me or not. He is. I know that.

“You want me to do back to what I was doing?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he assesses me. There’s something in his eyes that is both thrilling and terrifying and makes my skin tingle in a way that it never has.

I nod, but with a lack of confidence. “Yes.”

He places his hand back on my thigh. He slowly starts to travel upward to the bottom of my skirt, briefly lingering at the hem before slipping his fingers underneath the fabric. I instinctively tense and he seems pleased by it. “Are you sure, Lila?” He reaches the fabric of my panties. “You really want me to go back to what I was doing?”

I open my mouth to say that I’m not sure and that he’s making me feel dirty, but then he forces his fingers inside me with a rough, almost violent movement. I’m not sure what to do because it hurts and feels wrong yet it also feels good.

He starts to move his fingers inside me, almost forcefully. I think about telling him to stop, but the wonderful and horrifying feelings of bliss and need silence my lips. Then he moves his free hand around to the back of my head and grabs violently at my hair.

“Ow, that hurts,” I mutter through a moan with my neck being forced to arch back.

“Good,” he says, his eyes darkening with pleasure. He pulls even harder on my hair and pain and pleasure flood my body.

My feeling become hard to decipher as I reach forward and clutch on to his arms as my body heats up and I can’t breathe. When he pulls his finger out of me, I’m not sure whether I enjoyed it, regretted it, or both. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel.

Ethan

At first I think she’s at some guy’s house and even though I don’t want to go to that jealous place inside me, I do. It pisses me off because only a week ago, I was touching her and all was great until she zoned out and it seemed like she didn’t want to do anything with me.

But then I notice the dazed sound of her voice and none of that matters. I’ve heard the distance and dazed sound in London’s voice many times and in my own, too, when I used to get smashed. An alarm goes off in my head and all I can seem to think about is walking away from London the last time, right after the needle entered her arm. Then Lila starts talking about pills and I remember the prescription bottle in the couch cushion. That’s when I really start to freak out. I’m trying not to panic as I try figure out where she is, but she seems to have no idea. Then she mentions the pink bird and a small amount of relief washes over me. I drive by that damn pink bird twice a day to and from work. It’s not too far from my house, only a few minutes away. I keep talking to her to make sure she stays awake, debating whether I should call an ambulance or something.

I can still hear her voice when I spot the pink bird in front of the apartment complex that’s tucked between a house and a gas station. But when I’m pulling in, there’s a thud on the line and then it goes silent. For a split second all I can think about is how I’m never going to see her again, that she’s gone, and I almost become paralyzed. I’ve never felt so much adrenaline rush through my body and my heart starts to slam against the inside of my chest.

“Shit.” I swing a hard left and slam on my brakes, stopping on the curb, the tire ramping up onto it. She said she was in the bushes, but there are bushes everywhere. I hop out of the truck and shout. “Lila!” No one answers. I run around the two-story brick buildings situated inside the fenced parking lot, shouting out her name as I unlock my cell phone screen to call 911. I spot a flashy high-heeled shoe near the bottom of one of the stairways and I pick it up, wondering if it could be Lila’s. It looks like something she probably wouldn’t wear and more like something a stripper would own and there are a lot of those around here.

When I turn around I see feet sticking out of the shrubbery and one of them is missing a shoe. I run over and drop to my knees beside Lila, sprawled out on the ground, taking in the paleness of her skin and the glossiness in her eyes. Suddenly a feeling rushes over me, rams me square in the chest, gut, legs—everywhere. Looking at her, like this, makes the possibility of losing her much more real.

“I feel sick, Ethan,” she murmurs and then rolls onto her side, tucking her hands under her head and closing her eyes.

I carefully slide my arm underneath her neck and slant her head up, patting her cheek so she’ll open her eyes. “Lila, what did you take? Can you remember the name?”

“What I always take,” she slurs, blinking her eyes open. “That stuff in my drawer.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. “And what’s that?”

“That stuff… you know… those pills that make you all awake… God, Ethan, I can’t… I can’t remember the name of them. It’s a really… really… big word.”

I glance at the dirt and the bushes around us. “Did you throw up?”

“No…” She slowly sighs, her chest rising and falling. “I feel like I need to, though. My stomach hurts really, really bad.”

I help her sit up, holding on to her arms, which have red welts on them that look like marks left from someone’s fingers digging into her skin. “Okay, I’m going to turn you around and I want you to throw up, even if you have to stick your finger down your throat.”

Her head bobs up and down as she nods. “Okay.”

I guide her to the side and help her turn so she’s hunched over on her hands and knees. I keep my arm underneath her stomach, supporting her weight. She stays still for a minute with her mouth open, and then she finally shoves her finger down her throat. I angle my head to the side, staring at the parking lot as she pukes in the bushes. By the time she’s finished, she’s shaking and her skin is sweaty and paler than it already was.

“All right, let’s get you to the hospital,” I say as she sits down and rests her head against my chest.

“No, no hospitals.” She shakes her head and peers up at me. In the glow of the streetlights, her eyes look black, or maybe it’s because her pupils are dilated.

“Yes, to the hospital.” I get to my feet and scoop her up in my arms, bearing her dead weight as she nuzzles her face against my chest.

She gripes about going to the hospital, but only until we make it to the truck. Once I get her in the passenger seat, she relaxes and I buckle her seat belt over her chest. I drive straight to the hospital, knowing that there is no room for mistakes in the state she’s in. It’s why I stopped doing drugs. Why I went back to overthinking everything, even though I didn’t want to. I learned firsthand what can happen. How one slipup can take you away forever, and thinking about the fact that Lila might be reaching that point terrified me more than I would have thought. It scares me to death, the thought that I might lose her. At that moment, I realize that Lila has become more than a friend. Much, much more.