Haunted

Liam let out an irritated sigh as he surveyed the state of his room. College life and acapella group had filled up his life so completely that cleanliness had fallen to the wayside. Clothes were everywhere, dust bunnies flitted around the corners, and the sheets were coming off the bed from endless fitful nights.

As he started taking his textbooks off his bed to fix the covers, he wondered how long it had been since he’d last picked up, even on a small scale, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He knew it had been at least a couple months.

Once his bed was fixed, he turned on his iPod and switched to an old playlist he’d created with all the classic rap songs that he’d loved in childhood. The beat invigorated him, and he got a bit of bounce in his step as he mouthed the words and started to pick up his dirty clothes.

He neared the dresser slowly, glancing up just to make sure he didn’t smash into it. And although it slipped his mind after a second, a new thought invaded his focus when the furniture entered his vision.

Depositing the clothes in the fabric hamper his mother had bought him, he walked over to the short bureau. “God,” he mumbled to himself. “Just imagine the dust behind that thing.”

He let out a feral grunt as he pulled the thing away from the wall, and dust exploded out of the new space like a bomb went off. Coughing so hard his face turned red, he grabbed the vacuum, pulled it over, and extended the hose behind the dresser, refusing to stick his face into the allergen trap.

The vacuum was accomplishing its task quite successfully for a few minutes, almost to the point where Liam felt safe to take a peek behind the wooden structure, until it made a pained groaning noise.

Liam sucked up his fear as he looked back at the cause. And there it was, stuck in the hose, making cleaning impossible. Nate’s shirt.

Their lips were tangled together as Liam shut the door behind them. He frantically tried to lead the beautiful woman in his arms over to his bed, but she tripped over a rogue trainer.

“For fuck’s sake, Liam,” she gasped. “You ought to be a little neater.”

“I’ll clean up later,” he promised before cupping her face in his hand to turn her attention back to him. “Because we’re probably just going to mess it up more, anyway.”

She laughed her big, boisterous laugh, only quieting when Liam connected their mouths again.

Soon, they found their destination, Liam lying on his back on the bottom, Nate straddling on top. Liam let out a soft moan as her hands, gentle yet lustful, roamed over his body without discretion.

She stopped moving for a second, just long enough for Liam to make a move to take off her shirt, slipping it over her torso and down her arms. Once it was off, he threw it across the room, not paying attention to see where it landed. Because he was too busy watching Nate work to unhook the back of her bra.

Liam swallowed back the emotion that welled up in his throat, a sadness so strong that he almost didn’t smile at the memory that flashed through his mind next.

“Seriously, Liam?!” Nate snapped, trying to be angry, but she was unable to keep the smile off her face completely. “Where is my shirt?”

“Dunno,” he responded smoothly. He was still lounging in the bed, watching his girlfriend run around frantically in her yoga pants and cheetah-printed bra. “Maybe it’s a sign that you shouldn’t leave.”

“Or maybe it’s a sign that I should walk around without a shirt.” She stopped and gave him a cheeky look before starting toward the door. “Maybe your roommate would like a little look-see.”

“No, he’ll probably have a heart attack,” I protested before getting up. “The guy’s never seen a girl in any state of undress before. I’ll get you a shirt.”

“Ah, compromise.”

Without thinking about the dusty scene behind his bureau, Liam lifted this shirt to his nose and inhaled a long breath. Somehow, some way, it still smelled like her. Not the floral perfume she always wore or the Hawaiian-scented deodorant. Just her.

For a second, he thought about calling her, since he knew that the shirt had been one of her favorites, the front graced with an old picture of Billy Joel with the caption Only the Good Die Young underneath it.

It had always been ironic to him. Almost humorous, really. Because Nate had been a very good girl before she met him. He’d worked hard to get her to trust him, to believe in him, to fall for him.

And then he’d just thrown it away, dumping her like she was nothing more important than a bit of rubbish.

He took in a deep breath, tempted to bury the thing behind the dresser once again, to keep it hidden from view, just like he wished to do with his memories. And he almost did it, too. But he knew, deep down, that he’d never be able to forget about the garment waiting there. The knowledge would plague his mind, invade his thoughts, until he finally gave in.

So instead, he pulled out the bottom drawer, the one that he never used, folded it neatly, and dropped it inside. Once it was gone, he was able to suppress the memories in his mind, and he pushed the bureau back against the wall to finish cleaning his bedroom.



Liam lounged on the couch, flipping through the channels, desperate to find something to watch on the telly. Talk show after news show played back at him, and he quickly was growing bored of the process.

And then, there was a sole interruption. The flash of a title Friday Night Lights stared back at him.

The mere mention of the words made his stomach pang, knowing that the high school football drama had been his and Nate’s favorite show to watch together. They’d spent so many nights in each other’s arms, watching the episodes on DVD, gasping, laughing, and crying over the various plotlines.

“Mmm…” Nate groaned against Liam’s chest, closing her eyes in content. “Riggins is such a beautiful man.”

“He’s, like, thirty,” Liam protested haughtily. “And he’s in desperate need of a haircut.”

“No, he’s not,” she chuckled, snuggling closer to him. “The long hair just adds to his charm. It makes him different than most other guys.”

Liam rolled his eyes, resisting the temptation he had to run his hand through his short dark hair, figuring that Nate wouldn’t pick up on it. But somehow, some way, she managed to. “Aw,” she cooed, sitting up a little straighter so he could feel her warm breath on his face. “Is someone a little jealous?”

“Of course not,” He replied coolly, his arm tightening around her. “Because he’s thirty, you’re nineteen, and I’m twenty. And I’m here, and he’s not. You’re mine.”

“You can’t own a person,” she replied snarkily, her nose scrunching up at her cheek. “Haven’t you ever heard of the women’s movement?”

He grinned and laid her down so he was hovering over her. “Wanna bet?” he mumbled in a low voice before leaning down to kiss her, his fingers already playing with the bottom hem of her sleeping tank top.

Liam shook the memory out of his head and took a deep breath. Why was it that he’d been able to keep thoughts of Nate out of his head for weeks, but something as simple as tidying up his room had brought back the thoughts that had haunted him in the days after the breakup?

He knew in his heart that he’d made a mess of her innocence, that he’d ruined her beyond all repair. He knew that he’d said cruel things to her when he was drunk, and while he always could have apologized, he didn’t. After all, apologizing wouldn’t erase what had happened. It didn’t matter how sorry he was. He’d still made sure he stuck that knife in her back and turned it slowly while she screamed for him to stop.

He blinked the tears out of his eyes as he changed the channel, cutting off the scene of Matt and Julie cuddling together, acting like an adorable couple, when he had no one.



Liam turned restlessly in his bed, just like many nights, when various thoughts plagued his mind without any signs of stopping. But this time, there was only one thing playing in his head on repeat, something that he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried.

“Seriously, mate,” Harry slurred, pointing to the bulge in Liam’s pocket. “Call her and tell her what you think about her.”

“But we broke up,” Liam responded slowly, not understanding what his curly-haired friend was trying to communicate.

“Not what you really think about her, you tosser.” Harry reached over and pulled the cell phone out of Liam’s pocket before putting it on the table in front of him. “Be mean to her. Rip her apart. It’ll make the breakup hurt less.”

“I don’t even know why I broke up with her,” Liam explained, feeling the tears started to bubble to the surface, his emotions intensified by the alcohol instead of being numbed. “I was just having a bad day, and we got into an argument, and one thing led to another.”

“But now you can get someone new.” Harry sighed and shook his head. “Stop wallowing and call her before I do it for you. Seriously, you’ll feel better after this.”

Liam, since he was completely out of his wits, believed his long-time friend. Without thinking a second longer, he picked up his phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

A couple rings later, Nate picked up. And he tore into her, telling her all the terrible things that Harry had teased him about during their relationship, that she had no curves, that her name was a man’s name, that she hadn’t been good in bed, and that the image of her naked was disgusting to him.

But they were all lies. He loved her more than anything, and he wanted her back. But he knew she would never take him back, no matter what he did or what he said. So he might as well have solidified it.

Nate was never the submissive type, and after her retort, she hung up on him. Liam, immediately disheartened, put his phone down on the table.

“Happy?” he hissed at his friend. “It’s over for good now.”

“Plenty,” Harry confirmed. “Now let’s get another round and get you a new bird. One that’s way hotter than Nastasia.”

So many times since that night, Liam had played with the idea of marching over to Nate’s house, begging for forgiveness, and kissing her once again, tasting her like he’d thought about a million times since he ended it in the heat of passion.

But it was too late. It was always too late.