What's Left of Me Read online

  “Sure.” Discussion closed.

  He gets comfortable on the floor with his back against the couch. He pulls on my arm, bringing me closer to him. Sliding a leg around my body, he brings me flat against his chest, so I’m sitting between his legs. Reaching over to his right, he picks up the two beer bottles, handing me one. “Here you are, my lady.”

  “Why thank you, kind sir.”

  We clink the bottles together and I take a sip. I’m not a big beer fan, but I do like the taste every now and then. This is my third, and I’m already feeling it go to my head. My doctor says it’s okay to have a few drinks now and again during chemo, but with my low blood counts it may affect me differently. I mostly stay away from alcohol altogether, but being here with him makes it easy to forget about everything else going on.

  “Aundrea?”

  “Hmm?”

  “There really is nothing going on between Bryn and me. I just want you to know that.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good, because it’s only you I want.”

  I stiffen.

  He brings my hand to his lips, giving it a small kiss. “You don’t have to say anything, but I know you feel it too, as much as you try to fight it. But, just so you know, I will be right here waiting when you’re ready.”

  I can only give a slight nod. Any words that I want to form are lodged in the back of my throat. My heart is pounding. I know this would be a good time to tell him about my cancer, but I chicken out.

  Parker’s MP3 player is on, and I’m thankful when a loud song blasts through the speakers. It’s some rock song and I can’t make out anything the singer is saying. The words blend together and the loud guitar drowns out his voice.

  “Who is this?”

  “Who is this? It’s one of the best bands ever. Death Line.”

  “One of the best? They sound like some high school garage band.”

  “You’re joking.” He moves so that he can get a decent look at my face. His eyes are wide with shock.

  “No! I’m not. You can’t make out anything he’s saying—or, rather, screaming.” I laugh.

  “You can’t be serious. That’s what they do. They rock. They make actual music. They’re legends.”

  I take this as a good opportunity to bring up the concert tickets Jean got for this Saturday night. I haven’t asked Parker yet. I’ve been waiting for the right time.

  “As much as I find all this talk about Death Line fascinating, I have a question for you.”

  “Uh oh!” He sets his beer down. “Okay, I’m ready. What do you have for me?”

  “Well, my friend Jean got these tickets to see a local rock band on Saturday night. I’m not sure who they are, or if they’re any good. And maybe you already have plans because it’s short notice and all, but I thought … maybe, you know … if you wanted to, that maybe …”

  Since when did I start sounding like a loser fumbling her words?

  “Aundrea, are you trying to ask me on a date?” he asks teasingly.

  “No. Not a date. Just maybe, you know … a night out.”

  I stop talking. Who am I kidding? I am trembling with nerves. I don’t understand why he makes me so nervous, and all I’m doing is making this sound a lot worse than it needs to. How did I ever pick this man up in a bar? Or, better question: why did he let me?

  “Yes. I am asking you on a date.”

  “Then ask me.”

  “I did.”

  “No. You just mumbled and stumbled your way through it.”

  Taking in a deep breath, I start again, “Parker, I would very much like it if you would go to a rock show with me this Saturday with my friend Jean, and possibly have dinner prior. I know it’s short notice, but if you’re free, I’d like you to come with me.”

  “See. Was it that hard?”

  “Yes.”

  He gives me a grin, shaking his head slightly and holding a laugh back. “Thank you for the invite. I’m not sure what I have going on Saturday night, but I’ll let you know.” I watch as he takes a swig of his beer, as if the words he just said were no big deal. My mouth gapes open and I just stare at him in shock. Is he kidding me?

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “What?” he asks with a hint of amusement. I can see the smile forming, but he’s trying desperately to hide it.

  “You just made me ask you that so you could tell me you’ll have to let me know? Really?”

  “Yes.” His mouth falls back into a straight line.

  I shake my head in disbelief. I have a feeling he is kidding, but I’m not totally sure. I make my way to a standing position, but before I can stand all the way, Parker grabs my arm and pulls me back down so that I land on his lap. I fall right into his crossed legs, fitting perfectly in the small space.

  Laughing, I try to pull out of his hold. “What?”

  His head lowers to my neck, lingering for a few seconds, and I go still. Most women in this situation would be begging for him to kiss them, or to feel his lips brush their neck, but I’m not your typical woman. As much as I wish I were thinking about him touching his lips to my skin, I’m too concerned that he’ll notice my hair has a different texture than before. Or worse, that it’s longer on one side than the other from sliding down with the sudden pull into his lap.

  Closing my eyes, I take in his irresistible scent. He smells divine, and for just one minute I get lost in his scent, letting all other thoughts leave my head.

  He does exactly what I thought he would do. He brings his lips to the top of my shoulder and lightly brushes my skin. “So soft,” he whispers against my collarbone.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Your skin. It’s so soft. I love how soft you feel. How good you smell.” I hear him breathe in my scent, trailing his nose gently along my neck and up to the back of my ear. Goosebumps cover my body, and suddenly any thought or care I may have had about my hair is out the window for good. My arms go limp, and I relax into him.

  “Pears. It’s always the damn pears.” His tongue comes out, barely licking me, and I swear I just turned into a puddle.

  I sigh. I can’t respond. Not even if I tried.

  His hand traces the scar on the right side of my neck with a feather light touch. “What happened here?” he asks as his lips brush against it.

  “An unfortunate event when I was a teenager.”

  His lips reach out and touch the bottom of my ear lobe. “I’m sorry,” he breathes into my ear. He barely touches me with his mouth, and his voice sends tingles down my body. I can feel his warm breath down my neck. I know if I just turn my head slightly to the left, my lips will meet his and then it will be all over.

  “You know I would go anywhere you asked me to, right? I was just messing with you earlier.”

  “Huh?” I breathe out.

  “The show. Even if I had plans, I’d cancel them to be with you.”

  My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. Bringing my left arm up, I wrap it around the back of his neck to hold his head in place. I don’t want to ruin this moment.

  “Please come with me, Parker.”

  “You don’t need to ask twice, babe.” He shifts just enough so his head turns, bringing his lips to mine. The kiss starts out slow and gentle, but not being able to take any more, I pull on his neck tighter, bringing his lips harder onto mine. He obliges, opening his mouth to me. The second it’s open, I slip my tongue inside, meeting his. He tastes sweet from the fruit we ate with our dinner, and I can’t help but want more.

  Parker turns, shifting my legs over his. I like this position. Straddling him. It makes me feel in control, like I can determine what he does or doesn’t do to me. It’s unusual for me to have control in life and, with him, I get it. He’s the one thing I have control over, and I embrace it.

  His hands move up and down my back until they rest at the edge of my shirt. He doesn’t move the fabric further up, but instead draws small circles on the bit of skin that is exposed, sending me over the edge into pure bliss.<
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  I wiggle, bringing myself closer to him, and feel the hardness in his jeans press into me. He moans into my mouth and, with no control over my body, I begin to rock harder against him.

  Immediately, one hand goes to my hip, helping me rock against him, while the other moves up the bottom edge of my hairline. His hips begin to move with mine in a synchronized rhythm.

  “Aundrea.” Just the way he says my name can send me over the edge. It’s rough and raspy. He says it again between kisses while pulling me closer. I can feel the wetness and pressure between my thighs build and, no matter what, I don’t want to stop.

  I don’t think I can stop.

  Until I feel his hand move into my hair.

  He grips my wig, tugging slightly, causing my eyes to pop open.

  “Parker! Wait!” I shriek.

  I freeze, stopping all friction that was forming between us. I don’t recall bringing my hands to his chest, but they’re there, pushing back on him. “Please, we have to stop.”

  His hold loosens as I slump down. I can’t be sure if my heart is pounding from him, or the fact that he almost pulled my wig off.

  I watch as he throws his head back in frustration. Rubbing his face with both his hands, he mumbles, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

  Sliding off his lap, I scoot away from him, putting a good distance between us. With his hands still covering his face, I take the time to run my hands over my hair, making sure it’s not falling to one side.

  Just as I’m sure it’s where it should be, Parker looks at me with a sly grin. “You’re just too damn tempting, woman. You have no idea.”

  I blush. I never thought of myself as tempting, but it sounds good coming from him.

  “I think I should go. Can you drive me home?”

  “Sure.” He stands up, adjusting himself as he does. I can’t help but smile, knowing he’s still hard from me.

  “Hey, baby?”

  “Yes?” Since when did I start answering to the pet names?

  “About the date, to the show?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s only one condition.”

  He helps me to a standing position before continuing.

  “What’s that?”

  “You have to go on another date with me. My choice.”

  “When?”

  “When I ask. You can’t think or question it.”

  “I don’t know, Parker.” I can’t make commitments. With my treatments it’s hard to make any plans, let alone follow through on them.

  “Please?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I’ll take that.” He grabs my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to each of them.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he says, releasing my hand back into my lap.

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  “Life is full of surprises.” No shit.

  “Doesn’t mean I have to like them.”

  “How fun is it to go through life knowing what’s going to happen?”

  His words are true. The average person doesn’t want to go through life knowing everything that is going to happen to them. They like spontaneity. That’s hard for me, though. The last four years of my life have been nothing but surprises, and not welcome ones.

  Surprise, you have cancer! Surprise, you need surgery! Surprise, your chemo didn’t work! Surprise, your cancer came back! Surprise, you have to be admitted to the hospital … again. Surprise, second round failed. Surprise, you need a bone marrow transplant! Oh, wait, surprise! That means you need more chemo!

  Yeah, fucking surprises. They’re great.

  “I just hate not knowing. The waiting. The anticipation.” It’s always the waiting for that surprise! that kills me. Literally.

  “The anticipation is worth the wait, babe.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I tell Jean that Parker and I will be at her place around six, but she insists on meeting at the restaurant instead, saying something about her place looking more like a male strip club than your typical innocent sorority house. Without hesitation, I agree. I’m not a prude, but I don’t need to see women grinding on men in the living room as if it’s their personal stage.

  Two weeks after moving into her dorm, Jean got asked to move into her sorority house. She would have been silly to turn it down. The only problem, from what she’s told me, is that there are parties there every day, no matter the time. And not the kind of parties you’d invite your parents to.

  Just before Parker picks me up, she sends me a text reminding me to wear something sexy. In her eyes, this means as short a dress as possible. In my eyes, it means dark skinny jeans, a black tank top with a jeweled skull on the front that I borrowed from Genna, black ballerina flats, silver hoops, and a long, black, studded necklace.

  I offered to drive to the twin cities, but in true gentleman form, Parker wouldn’t have anything of the sort.

  Parker and I spend the evening prior talking on the phone. I feel like I’m sixteen again, having butterflies and the excitement of something new. I didn’t think I could be that girl again: the girl who lies on her stomach with her feet in the air, kicking back and forth while she giggles into the phone.

  He tells me a little bit about his family, and I tell him even less about mine. He knows just the questions to ask and the ones to stay away from. When he brings up my true passion, reading, he can’t get me to shut up, and he laughs at my enthusiasm. I can’t pick a favorite book, explaining that it’s not about what or who is the best, but rather the story itself. Each book is different and unique, bringing out the best emotions in me. I love getting pulled out of reality—away from the reminders of my pain.

  When I tell him I read at least three books a week, he’s astonished. The only thing I can say in response is my favorite quote by Madeleine L’Engle.

  “A book, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.”

  That sums it all up for me.

  Tapping my foot against the seat to the beat of the music, I can’t get Wednesday out of my head. My drugs are being changed to something stronger for my last two rounds. Dr. Olson explained that in order to get my body prepared for the blood cells to be transferred back, I will need two different rounds of drugs, with the last two being the strongest. All I took from that was the word strongest. That means intense symptoms—or, worse, new ones.

  I’ll get through. I always do. But I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my time with Parker.

  “What are you thinking about?” Parker asks, breaking my stare out the window. He’s wearing a blue and brown polo shirt and jeans, with his hair gelled just the way I like—messy, but sexy.

  “Nothing important.” Trying to figure out how to spend time with you while being sick. “You?”

  “This week. Do you have class Wednesday?”

  “Yeah. I won’t be in the rest of the week. Maybe not the following one either.”

  “Why not next week?”

  “I have a test and a project due that I need to spend some time on.” That’s kind of the truth. I do have a test and a project, but it’s not due for another three weeks, so I have plenty of time to procrastinate.

  “Hmm. Well, you might need a dinner or movie break. You know, to clear your head.”

  “Yeah, I think I might.” I give him a hopeful smile.

  Or maybe it’s for myself.

  Parker reaches over, taking my hand in his. We stay like that for the rest of the ride.

  The restaurant is a small Mexican place with a mariachi band moving from table to table. Jean and her date haven’t arrived yet, but we’re seated right away.

  “Are you coming to the Halloween benefit for The Love of Paws?”

  “I didn’t know anything about it?”

  “Really? I was sure Genna would have mentioned it to you.”

  “No, she didn’t.” She probably figu
res I’ll be at home, curled up with my Kindle and not feeling well. That’s one of the hard things I have to deal with. People going out, having parties, and attending fun events without me. I’ve become a forgotten soul. Someone who will likely be too sick to go, so they don’t even bother inviting me.

  “It’s two weeks before Halloween. Saturday. I can’t remember the date offhand. Nineteenth? Eighteenth, maybe?” He laughs at himself. “You’d think because it’s our benefit I would remember the damn date. Anyway, it’s at the Landon Hotel and costumes are required. We’ll have door prizes, silent auctions, a live band, drinks, and dinner. Bryn mentioned something about a contest for best male and female costumes, too. It should be a fun night! All proceeds go toward the practice.”

  “Bryn?” Yes, I had to go there. Why is she suggesting ideas for their benefit?

  “The benefit was all Bryn’s idea.”

  “That sounds like a lot of fun.” Of course a beautiful girl like her would have a great idea like that. She comes across as the type of girl who needs to be the center of attention in all that she does. It wouldn’t surprise me if she went in a bra and thong to channel her inner Lady Gaga.

  “What do you say?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  He laughs. “To going? With me?”

  Did he really ask me that? I must have been so caught up in my thoughts about Bryn that I wasn’t paying attention.

  “Oh. Um.” I count the dates in my head. That would be the weekend right after my last chemo treatment. No wonder Genna didn’t tell me about it. She knew I would be too sick to go. “Maybe. I’m not sure what my school schedule will be like. That’s right around mid-semester break, so I might have a big test or a project to do.”

  I’m disappointed. I really want to go to the benefit. Halloween is my favorite holiday. Costumes, parties, decorating; it’s all entertaining to me. I’ve never missed a year of dressing up. I even went as Uncle Fester one year. It was the only time I went out in public with no hair. No one looked at me as if I was sick or like I didn’t belong. My mom did my makeup to make it look as if I was wearing a bald cap. It was one of my favorite Halloweens.