Faster We Burn

often tinged with truth. More so than niceness.
    “I shouldn’t have done this. I should have done what they said and taken some time alone instead of fucking you a bunch of times. I always do this and it never ends up working out.”
    “It’s fine, Katie. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”
    She looked up from adjusting the buttons on her pink shirt. I’d become immune to the amount of pink she surrounded herself with. Somehow.
    “It doesn’t matter?”
    “No. This was never anything special. Just two people having sex.” I zipped my pants and did my belt. Getting caught had totally killed my buzz, at least for a moment.
    “Then what was all that about your music and singing me that song? What the hell was that?”
    I shrugged. We hadn’t had any more late night conversations, and I regretted that one. I’d let her get too close. I should have just come over and fucked her like she wanted and then she wouldn’t be looking at me like this. All sweet and hurt. “A verbal distraction, like you said. You said you needed something to distract you. I provided it. You’re welcome.”
    She stood up, hands on hips. “Are you fucking serious?”
    “Why, what did you think this was?”
    “I don’t know,” she snapped. “Just go. I can deal with this by myself.”
    “I told you that you don’t always get what you want, but you asked for this. You said sex with no strings. Don’t get mad at me for giving you what you asked for. If you want more, you have to tell me. I’m not a fucking mind reader.” I wasn’t sure if she even wanted more. I probably was just a distraction for her until someone better came along. That hurt more than I thought it would.
    She opened and closed her mouth, and I could tell she wanted to scream at me and probably slap me in the face.
    “Go ahead. Let me have it,” I said, holding my arms out so she could get a good shot.
    She swallowed and I swore I saw some moisture in her eyes. She was hurt, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “Just get out of my room, Stryker.”
    A few weeks ago, I would have left, but I couldn’t. I’d left her crying once and I was going to do it again. This damn girl had actually gotten to me.
    “You don’t always get what you want. So no, I’m not going to leave. Not until we sort this out.”
    “What do you want from me, Stryker?” She tried to push me aside, as if she was going to storm out of her own room.
    “I don’t want anything from you. I’m not Zack.” Just saying his name made me want to hit something.
    She inhaled sharply, as if I’d punched her. That shock was replaced with anger in a blink.
    “Screw you.” Tears dripped down her cheeks and onto her chin. I reached up to wipe them away and she didn’t stop me.
    “Hey. I just wanted you to know that I’m not him. And I will never be like him.”
    She tried to pull away, but held her chin so she couldn’t.
    “I. Am. Not. Zack. Got it?” Her eyes finally met mine. She sniffed and nodded.
    “I know you’re not him. You’re…you’re nothing like him.” She gripped my wrists, but didn’t pull them away from her face. “Who are you Stryker Grant?”
    I said the first thing that came to my mind. “I’m a guy who wants to toss you back in bed and finish what we started.”
    So we did.
    It was a little slower this time, a little sweeter. She let me kiss her stomach and she kissed mine. Afterward, I didn’t get up right away to put my clothes on and she didn’t either.
    “Do you want me to stay?” She was on her stomach and I was on my back, one of her blankets covering us.
    She folded her arms under her chin and turned her head toward me. “You don’t have to.”
    “I’m not asking if I have to. I’m asking if you want me to.”
    She smiled. “As long as you don’t mind sleeping in a pink bed.”
    “I’m confident enough in my manhood to sleep in a pink bed, thank you very much. You are talking to a guy who used to paint his fingernails.” I held up my now-unpainted hands. They almost always had grease under them from working on one car project or another, and my fingers were all covered in callouses from playing various instruments.
    “You did?”
    “Yeah, in high school. Got pretty good at it.” I also had spiked hair and wore a lot of chains, but I didn’t tell her that. I wasn’t proud of that phase of my life. There was no way that Katie would have fucked that guy. Plus, that guy wouldn’t have been caught dead with a girl who