Post by Porter Clarke on Jan 30, 2018 20:30:40 GMT -5
They say that you always remember your first love. Well, Caitlin made damn sure that would be true. She'd also screwed him up. Or, maybe she hadn't screwed him up, maybe she'd just revealed how screwed up he really was. Whatever the case was, he had a love and hate relationship with the memories of her. Too many memories of her, in fact.
He could remember first meeting her, because how could he not? Cate left a lasting impression on the people she met.
She'd just moved to the area and he was at a party with some friends. Drunk off his ass already because he'd been there too long, but he'd caught sight of her and known that he needed to talk to her. So, he made his way across the room where she was in the middle of telling off some girl that had bumped into her.
"I don't believe we've met, I'm Porter," he'd introduced himself with an easy grin, relaxed and at ease, as if she wasn't the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
Her dark eyes had sparkled as she looked him up and her white teeth flashed against her deep tan skin. "Well, Porter, I don't believe we've met either. I'm Caitlin and I could really use some showing around, if you'd be up for the job," she'd shot back, all smiles and confidence.
He'd grinned and teasingly offered to show her all the best sights of the party, to which she'd quickly ditched the girls that she'd been standing with and they walked off together. It was there in an instant, the mutual attraction that happens both far too often and not often enough. It explained how they'd ended up making out in a closet less than twenty minutes later and why, even after they'd finished making out, they ended up staying together for the rest of the party.
And that was probably also the night that he'd started falling for her, he figured, when he looked back later. It was the night that he'd first noticed her contagious laugh, the night he first realized how sexy she was, the night he'd learned how easily they sparked together like they were supposed to touch, the night they both laughed too hard and too long and it was the first night he did the first of many stupid things to try and impress her.
Of course, it should have been the night he noticed how rude she was to others, or the night that he saw how easily she flirted with anyone attractive or even just the night that he realized how bad it was to start a relationship based on alcohol consumption.
But they'd parted ways with her lipstick on his neck and her phone number written on his hand in ink.
The next time he'd seen her, he was sober and the whole thing could have stopped right there. It almost did stop right there. He was less forthcoming with things, more reserved, he smiled less and used more monosyllables. He was himself, basically and it was easy to see that she wasn't having a good time.
Cate though, she'd pushed. She's told him that she liked him, that she had fun with him, that she wanted to keep having fun with him again. And he liked her, enough that he'd confessed that emotions were never his thing and that he probably wasn't a very good boyfriend candidate.
"That's okay, I really don't mind," she'd promised and she'd flashed a smile to him, took his jacket from him and asked if he wanted to go out for a drink.
Stupidly, he'd believed her, that it wasn't a big deal. That she did not care about the fact that he could be closed up, and so he'd gone out for that drink with her.
A month later, she was his first. She'd said he was hers too, but again, looking back, he realized it was probably another lie in a long string of non-truths that she'd tell him over the course of their relationship.
There was a pattern to the times that they hung out, one that he didn't notice until later. Probably because the whole time he'd been blinded by her. How intelligent she was, how funny, how sexy, how perfect. Rose-colored lens clouded his vision more than he'd ever admit. They rarely hung out when he hadn't been drinking, when he was his truest self, the quieter reserved one that didn't laugh at her cruel jabs at girls she didn't like, the one that barely told her how much he liked her, the one that was more than content to sit quietly by or make out with her, but never jumping into conversation.
Instead, she much preferred his alcohol driven self. The one that was the center of attention next to her, who had stupid stories to tell and even stupider ideas as to what would be fun to do. She preferred the version of himself that frequently complimented her because words spilled out of him so easily when he was drunk and praise for her actions, for her looks, for everything about her was freely given.
The exception of the rule seemed to be when they were having sex, which even then she seemed to prefer after there was alcohol involved, but still would seek him out for in his sober state. Usually as part of their weekly date nights that he'd always thought that she'd enjoyed.
Maybe if he hadn't been so blind, he would have noticed the red flags. Georgie certainly had.
Three months in, his older sister had pulled him aside. Every memory of Georgie, of the ways he wronged her, still was fresh enough in his mind that it was no challenge to recall that conversation with perfectly clarity.
"That girl is no good for you," she said, distaste coloring her tone. Looking down on him with that superior attitude that had always bugged him so much when she was alive. Then again, Georgie was almost always right, so maybe she'd been deserving of having such an attitude.
"You're just jealous that I'm in a relationship and you couldn't get a guy to shag you if you paid him," he'd spat back, annoyed because she'd been dropping hints toward her feelings since the start of the relationship.
"God, Porter, why would I want a 'relationship' like that? Do you even see how messed up the two of you are? She only wants to be with you when you've been drinking and we both know you shouldn't be drinking! Do you want to end up like Dad?" He remembered how furious she'd been, how her face had flushed with color and how frustrated she'd seemed with him.
"Bugger off, Georgie. No one asked you. Go stick your nose in a book and leave me the fuck alone," he'd told her and put on his headphones.
No one could never say that his sister hadn't been determined though, and she'd gone ahead and pulled them off. "Porter Mason Clarke, you listen to me," she'd said with such determination and passion that he'd actually looked at her although he'd kept the unimpressed face. "Break up with her! She's going to hurt you. Take my word for it."
The words he'd spoken next were really a sign of how badly he'd been in. "I'm in love with her, she's not going to hurt me."
And that had ended that conversation. From that point on he'd just ignored Georgie and every comment she'd made about Cate and became even more determined that she was right for him.
He was with Cate the worst night of his life. The two of them had been drinking, they were at a party and making out when Georgie had come to get him. When she'd pulled him up with so much force that in his unbalanced state he'd actually gotten to his feet and dropped Cate on the ground in the process.
At the time, the words that his girlfriend had spoken about his sister were ones that he'd wholeheartedly agreed with and he almost let the two of them get into a physical altercation like they'd both been dying to do. Then Georgie had threatened to call the police and report the underage drinking going on. After that everyone had all but shoved him out the door with her, even Cate didn't put up an argument or try to go along with him.
A good thing too, since on the way home he'd fumed so silently that Georgie had gotten so angry with his lack of responses that she'd ran a red light and they'd gotten hit by a car.
It was Cate that was there when he woke up in the hospital. She was sitting by his bedside when he came to. Cate that broke the news that Georgie's mind was never going to come back. Cate that had seemed almost relieved for once at his lack of emotional displays. For the tears that he'd cried over the news, came an hour after she'd left.
Later, he'd realized that she'd never offered any apologies. That she never expressed a sadness toward the loss of his only sibling, toward a half of the family that he'd had left. But he was too distanced, too distraught to notice the way that she pushed away from him and made less time to spend with him when he needed her the most.
Cate's hand was the one that he held to at the funeral, the person who he'd asked not to leave at the end of the night because he couldn't stand being alone anymore. That was the first time he'd told her that he'd loved her without a drop of alcohol in his system.
She hadn't said it back.
After that things got worse. He was recovering, but he was also strictly sober. Going through withdrawals of drink and pain meds at the same time and he'd called her more than ever. He'd looked to her for support, although he never wanted to talk about how he was feeling. He'd just wanted distractions, wanted to feel somewhat normal.
Cate got upset with him, when she realized his sobriety was a new lifestyle choice. He remembered the argument that had followed. The pleading, the manipulative comments about how he wanted her to stop having fun just because his sister had died.
That was the first time he'd started to see her as she really was. But with the world falling apart around him, he'd refused to give up.
He thought that they could make it work, he'd been convinced of it even.
Until the day that he'd showed up to her place unannounced, having planned to go out to dinner with her and maybe catch a movie. Lame couple stuff that they joked about but always did anyway. He'd wanted to let her know that he forgave her about her Georgie comment, he wanted to believe that she hadn't meant it and it was the stress of dealing with a boyfriend who was suddenly even more withdrawn, very moody and somewhat clingy even.
When he'd walked in, he realized something was up. Yet, he'd ignored the feeling in his stomach and went to her room where she was half clothed sitting on his best mate. He remembered the feeling vividly, of what was left of his world shattering. The betrayal sharpened by the person she was cheating with and every other messed up thing happening in his life.
She hadn't apologized. In fact, she'd asked what he'd expected when he was going around like a zombie all the time, when he wasn't there or fun or anything good anymore. Though when we went to leave she asked where he was going, asked why they couldn't work this out. Pushed for him to just accept that sometimes things happened and they could move past this if he was better.
Luke had apologized, but in a way that wasn't better. He'd almost wished that his former friend would have taken Cate's way about things. The cruel truth was better than a prepared lie of false sympathy.
It was that quick, the moment that he really realized what choosing to love someone could do to a person. He realized how much power it gave them over you and how much people really couldn't be trusted with that sort of power.
No, there was no way he'd ever be able to forget the first girl that he'd fallen in love with and the first that had broken his heart.
Cate would always be impossible to forget.
He could remember first meeting her, because how could he not? Cate left a lasting impression on the people she met.
She'd just moved to the area and he was at a party with some friends. Drunk off his ass already because he'd been there too long, but he'd caught sight of her and known that he needed to talk to her. So, he made his way across the room where she was in the middle of telling off some girl that had bumped into her.
"I don't believe we've met, I'm Porter," he'd introduced himself with an easy grin, relaxed and at ease, as if she wasn't the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
Her dark eyes had sparkled as she looked him up and her white teeth flashed against her deep tan skin. "Well, Porter, I don't believe we've met either. I'm Caitlin and I could really use some showing around, if you'd be up for the job," she'd shot back, all smiles and confidence.
He'd grinned and teasingly offered to show her all the best sights of the party, to which she'd quickly ditched the girls that she'd been standing with and they walked off together. It was there in an instant, the mutual attraction that happens both far too often and not often enough. It explained how they'd ended up making out in a closet less than twenty minutes later and why, even after they'd finished making out, they ended up staying together for the rest of the party.
And that was probably also the night that he'd started falling for her, he figured, when he looked back later. It was the night that he'd first noticed her contagious laugh, the night he first realized how sexy she was, the night he'd learned how easily they sparked together like they were supposed to touch, the night they both laughed too hard and too long and it was the first night he did the first of many stupid things to try and impress her.
Of course, it should have been the night he noticed how rude she was to others, or the night that he saw how easily she flirted with anyone attractive or even just the night that he realized how bad it was to start a relationship based on alcohol consumption.
But they'd parted ways with her lipstick on his neck and her phone number written on his hand in ink.
The next time he'd seen her, he was sober and the whole thing could have stopped right there. It almost did stop right there. He was less forthcoming with things, more reserved, he smiled less and used more monosyllables. He was himself, basically and it was easy to see that she wasn't having a good time.
Cate though, she'd pushed. She's told him that she liked him, that she had fun with him, that she wanted to keep having fun with him again. And he liked her, enough that he'd confessed that emotions were never his thing and that he probably wasn't a very good boyfriend candidate.
"That's okay, I really don't mind," she'd promised and she'd flashed a smile to him, took his jacket from him and asked if he wanted to go out for a drink.
Stupidly, he'd believed her, that it wasn't a big deal. That she did not care about the fact that he could be closed up, and so he'd gone out for that drink with her.
A month later, she was his first. She'd said he was hers too, but again, looking back, he realized it was probably another lie in a long string of non-truths that she'd tell him over the course of their relationship.
There was a pattern to the times that they hung out, one that he didn't notice until later. Probably because the whole time he'd been blinded by her. How intelligent she was, how funny, how sexy, how perfect. Rose-colored lens clouded his vision more than he'd ever admit. They rarely hung out when he hadn't been drinking, when he was his truest self, the quieter reserved one that didn't laugh at her cruel jabs at girls she didn't like, the one that barely told her how much he liked her, the one that was more than content to sit quietly by or make out with her, but never jumping into conversation.
Instead, she much preferred his alcohol driven self. The one that was the center of attention next to her, who had stupid stories to tell and even stupider ideas as to what would be fun to do. She preferred the version of himself that frequently complimented her because words spilled out of him so easily when he was drunk and praise for her actions, for her looks, for everything about her was freely given.
The exception of the rule seemed to be when they were having sex, which even then she seemed to prefer after there was alcohol involved, but still would seek him out for in his sober state. Usually as part of their weekly date nights that he'd always thought that she'd enjoyed.
Maybe if he hadn't been so blind, he would have noticed the red flags. Georgie certainly had.
Three months in, his older sister had pulled him aside. Every memory of Georgie, of the ways he wronged her, still was fresh enough in his mind that it was no challenge to recall that conversation with perfectly clarity.
"That girl is no good for you," she said, distaste coloring her tone. Looking down on him with that superior attitude that had always bugged him so much when she was alive. Then again, Georgie was almost always right, so maybe she'd been deserving of having such an attitude.
"You're just jealous that I'm in a relationship and you couldn't get a guy to shag you if you paid him," he'd spat back, annoyed because she'd been dropping hints toward her feelings since the start of the relationship.
"God, Porter, why would I want a 'relationship' like that? Do you even see how messed up the two of you are? She only wants to be with you when you've been drinking and we both know you shouldn't be drinking! Do you want to end up like Dad?" He remembered how furious she'd been, how her face had flushed with color and how frustrated she'd seemed with him.
"Bugger off, Georgie. No one asked you. Go stick your nose in a book and leave me the fuck alone," he'd told her and put on his headphones.
No one could never say that his sister hadn't been determined though, and she'd gone ahead and pulled them off. "Porter Mason Clarke, you listen to me," she'd said with such determination and passion that he'd actually looked at her although he'd kept the unimpressed face. "Break up with her! She's going to hurt you. Take my word for it."
The words he'd spoken next were really a sign of how badly he'd been in. "I'm in love with her, she's not going to hurt me."
And that had ended that conversation. From that point on he'd just ignored Georgie and every comment she'd made about Cate and became even more determined that she was right for him.
He was with Cate the worst night of his life. The two of them had been drinking, they were at a party and making out when Georgie had come to get him. When she'd pulled him up with so much force that in his unbalanced state he'd actually gotten to his feet and dropped Cate on the ground in the process.
At the time, the words that his girlfriend had spoken about his sister were ones that he'd wholeheartedly agreed with and he almost let the two of them get into a physical altercation like they'd both been dying to do. Then Georgie had threatened to call the police and report the underage drinking going on. After that everyone had all but shoved him out the door with her, even Cate didn't put up an argument or try to go along with him.
A good thing too, since on the way home he'd fumed so silently that Georgie had gotten so angry with his lack of responses that she'd ran a red light and they'd gotten hit by a car.
It was Cate that was there when he woke up in the hospital. She was sitting by his bedside when he came to. Cate that broke the news that Georgie's mind was never going to come back. Cate that had seemed almost relieved for once at his lack of emotional displays. For the tears that he'd cried over the news, came an hour after she'd left.
Later, he'd realized that she'd never offered any apologies. That she never expressed a sadness toward the loss of his only sibling, toward a half of the family that he'd had left. But he was too distanced, too distraught to notice the way that she pushed away from him and made less time to spend with him when he needed her the most.
Cate's hand was the one that he held to at the funeral, the person who he'd asked not to leave at the end of the night because he couldn't stand being alone anymore. That was the first time he'd told her that he'd loved her without a drop of alcohol in his system.
She hadn't said it back.
After that things got worse. He was recovering, but he was also strictly sober. Going through withdrawals of drink and pain meds at the same time and he'd called her more than ever. He'd looked to her for support, although he never wanted to talk about how he was feeling. He'd just wanted distractions, wanted to feel somewhat normal.
Cate got upset with him, when she realized his sobriety was a new lifestyle choice. He remembered the argument that had followed. The pleading, the manipulative comments about how he wanted her to stop having fun just because his sister had died.
That was the first time he'd started to see her as she really was. But with the world falling apart around him, he'd refused to give up.
He thought that they could make it work, he'd been convinced of it even.
Until the day that he'd showed up to her place unannounced, having planned to go out to dinner with her and maybe catch a movie. Lame couple stuff that they joked about but always did anyway. He'd wanted to let her know that he forgave her about her Georgie comment, he wanted to believe that she hadn't meant it and it was the stress of dealing with a boyfriend who was suddenly even more withdrawn, very moody and somewhat clingy even.
When he'd walked in, he realized something was up. Yet, he'd ignored the feeling in his stomach and went to her room where she was half clothed sitting on his best mate. He remembered the feeling vividly, of what was left of his world shattering. The betrayal sharpened by the person she was cheating with and every other messed up thing happening in his life.
She hadn't apologized. In fact, she'd asked what he'd expected when he was going around like a zombie all the time, when he wasn't there or fun or anything good anymore. Though when we went to leave she asked where he was going, asked why they couldn't work this out. Pushed for him to just accept that sometimes things happened and they could move past this if he was better.
Luke had apologized, but in a way that wasn't better. He'd almost wished that his former friend would have taken Cate's way about things. The cruel truth was better than a prepared lie of false sympathy.
It was that quick, the moment that he really realized what choosing to love someone could do to a person. He realized how much power it gave them over you and how much people really couldn't be trusted with that sort of power.
No, there was no way he'd ever be able to forget the first girl that he'd fallen in love with and the first that had broken his heart.
Cate would always be impossible to forget.