Free Shattered Chances: A Breaking Black Companion Novel by Addison Kline

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    Eat your heart out, Trent.
    Cheyenne’s long dark hair was permed and styled in tight ringlets that fell down her back. She wore a fitted black Metallica t-shirt and a pair of tight denim jeans, which I clasped onto with my right hand resting just above her ass. With my left hand, I tugged at one of her curls, just to annoy her. Playing my game, Cheyenne laughed as she flicked my baseball cap off my head revealing a full head of shaggy blond hair that needed to be cut. I loved to torture her. I think it turns her on.
    My sister Averi and her friend Shelly sat on the bleachers about thirty feet away, watching us make out with disgusted looks upon their faces.
    “God, Randy! Get a room!” Shelly yelled at us.
    Cheyenne laughed as I continued to kiss her. Behind her back, I gave Shelly the finger. Shelly Carmichael loved to torture me. Secretly, I loved torture her because I knew she was in love with my brother Tim.
    “Cocky jackass!” Shelly yelled, but I didn’t respond. Instead, I held onto Chey’s waist and laughed as I led her to the parking lot.
     
    ***
    “Baby, what are you doing?!” exclaimed Cheyenne as I moved my hands further up her shirt. Although I promised myself that I wouldn’t take it further until we were ready, I wouldn’t deprive myself of exploring her body until I knew every curve by heart.
    We sat in my truck in a parking lot just off Rt. 1. Up to absolutely no good, I smiled broadly resting my hands on Cheyenne’s bare hips. She straddled my lap, moving in rhythm with the radio that currently played Limp Bizkit’s version of “Faith.” I don’t know why, but I fucking love this song. It’s probably because it annoys Averi. Therefore, I turn up the speakers whenever it comes on.
    “Whatever the hell I want…” I replied as I bit my lip, my hands traveling up her belly, over her breasts and down her back. I unsnapped her bra and let her breasts fall free. Just as I brought my tongue to her nipple, Cheyenne seemed to remember something.
    “Hey, are we going to that party tonight?”
    “Fuck no. What party?”
    “The one Shelly’s throwing. Word is Ricky Carmichael’s getting a keg.”
    “Could be fun. I’d rather grab some grub and go off-roadin’.”
    “C’mon Randy… It’s the same shit every Friday night. Let’s do something adventurous.”
    “Adventurous… I’ll give you adventurous,” I said as he tickled Cheyenne, pulling her in for another lengthy make-out session.
    ***
    “Shit!” Cheyenne said as she saw the time. The time on the digital clock in my truck said 6:02. “Shit… shit….shit!”
    “What?! What’s wrong?! Friggin mellow out!”
    “I was supposed to be home to make his dinner at six!”
    “God! He treats you like a goddamn servant!”
    “He’s my step-father. I have to do it or he’ll kick me out.”
    “Let him. You can come live with me.”
    “Your grandfather will love that.”
    “He’ll get over it.”
    “Yeah, right. Look, just get me there. I just need to put something on the table before he gets home so he don’t go postal when I return later tonight.”
    Rolling my eyes, I put the truck in gear and hit the gas pedal, heading back towards Oakeley.
    “Let me tell you Cheyenne, if he puts his hands on you again, I’m moving you out.”
    “I wish it was that simple…”
    “It is. If he hits you again, you can have my room at my grandparents. I’ll sleep on the damn couch.”
    Cheyenne gave me an appreciative glance. I really did love her. More than anyone knew.
    I noticed how nervous Cheyenne appeared to be as she stared pensively out the window. Her right leg tapped anxiously against the floor of the truck. Cheyenne’s face was blanched and the happiness that I found there earlier was gone. She was nervous to go home and that pissed me off more than anything.
    “Calm down, Chey…”
    “I can’t.”
    “Sure you can. I’m with you. Everything will be okay.”
    “I’m nervous. I need to get the hell out of