BLUE
The moment Detective Roby’s interview ends, Scar gets a call and leaves me for more interesting conversation, I guess. Her bedroom door slams shut and it’s just me since my phone is off limits until further notice.
Or maybe not? I mean, as long as there’s no pertinent information being passed, a vague ‘I miss you’ text wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
Don’t be stupid. Be patient. You’ll see West tomorrow, and he’ll tell you everything then. Stop worrying.
With that, I pretend to be content not hearing his voice before bed, then turn off the lights.
But after taking maybe three steps, there’s a knock at the door that has my heart racing and my palms sweating. I stare through the darkness and dread the very thought of looking outside to see who’s there.
Because there’s a chance it’s someone I don’t want to let in.
I’ve been startled before, and this isn’t that. This is real fear, it’s me being scared shitless at the thought of whoever’s at the door with malice in their heart.
I’m quiet when slipping between the end table and window to peek through the blinds, but when I see West’s face, I’m not so careful anymore, bumping the lamp on my way to the door. I snatch it open and can hardly get the lock disengaged to get to him. Then, the second I do manage to get it right, my arms are around his neck.
“Shit,” he says with a laugh after practically having the wind knocked out of him.
He holds me tight, having no idea how glad I am to see it’s him at the door, and not someone else. If I’m being honest, the idea of it just being me and Scar here alone at night scares the hell out of me.
After maybe half a minute, I come to my senses, realizing I’ve kept him out in the cold all this time. At which point, I loosen my grip and back off. There’s a dark bag in his hand I hadn’t noticed until now. He sets it down a moment while shrugging out of his jacket, but my eyes are on it as I lock up.
“I know it’s late and I could’ve waited to see you tomorrow, but… we both know I’m fucking impatient.”
Nothing more than a perfect silhouette in this dark space, West grabs me and I let a laugh slip. Mostly because he isn’t wrong.
“And we both know I’m glad you came,” I admit. “Let’s talk in my room.”
He flashes a smile I can see even without much light. “Talk—is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
I kiss him once and then tow the perv behind me the entire length of the hallway, where I lock us inside my room.
“You brought me a gift?” I tease, pointing at the bag he’s still clutching. He follows my gaze to it, but instead of explaining, dumps the contents on my comforter.
“Sort of,” he says with somewhat of a solemn sigh. “We’ve all got new phones. Apparently, Dane ‘knows a guy’.”
I meet his gaze when he says that, wondering how we even got here. By the look on his face and that thick vein throbbing, I can tell he’s wondering the same thing.
“We’ll go over how the security system works in a bit, but I already added the app to both our new phones. That way, we can arm and disarm it remotely, double-check that the system’s engaged from wherever,” he explains.
Watching him, listening as he openly admits having granted himself access to my home, one corner of my mouth tugs up with a grin.
“You know, some might say you’ve got just the right amount of stalker in you to get away with it. You’re somewhere on the border between devotion and psychopathy,” I tease.
“Overprotective, possessive, psycho—call me what the fuck you want, but I’m just protecting what’s mine,” he adds, flashing a faint smile.
A sweeping look passes over me then, and even stressed the hell out, he’s still sexy. His hair’s a bit damp from the snow that’s melted in it, and the sleeves of a white thermal squeeze his biceps. Similar to how those perfectly-fitting gray sweats are hugging the muscles in his thighs and… the one between them.
Dude, you can’t seriously be thinking about fucking him right now…
Pretending to have been focused this whole time, my brow gathers when I count three devices instead of two. But before I can ask about the third, West explains.
“One for you, one for Scar, and… one for Ricky,” he adds with a sigh.
As usual, you could cut the animosity between them with a knife—despite Ricky being miles away—but the fact that West put their differences aside for a bit speaks volumes.
A fleeting thought enters my head—that I should mention Detective Roby to West—but no sooner than I think it, I change my mind. Yeah, he seems like he’s trustworthy, but what if I’m wrong? What if telling him somehow only leads to more trouble? It’s very likely that Vin could find out I’ve talked, which could push him to hurt Scar. There are just so many unknowns, which is why, for now, I’m keeping my thoughts to myself.
Instead, I pick up the phone closest to the edge of the bed and study it, trying to figure out how in the world I’ll explain this to Scar in the morning, on top of all the other shit she’s suspicious about. But her misgivings are the least of our worries, I guess.
“I’d say thanks, but that feels kind of weird for some reason.”
A quiet laugh leaves West when he takes me around my waist, pulling me down on top of him.
“Maybe it feels weird because how fucked up are our lives that we have to do weird shit like buy new phones?” he reasons.
Straddling him now, my body collapses on top of his when he leans into the mattress. “Yeah. That’s it in a nutshell.”
He kisses the top of my hair, then I focus on his stare, feeling torn between not wanting to pry into the conversation he had with Vin, and also not wanting him to think I don’t care.
“You want to know how it went, don’t you?” he asks, grinning so big I’m not even sure why I was ever worried about bringing it up.
“Very much so,” I admit with a nod. “But first, tell me if it went better or worse than expected.”
A moment passes while he thinks.
“It was pretty much what I thought it’d be,” he answers. “I approached him, he tried feeding me more bullshit about the two of you being a thing, I got to say about ten percent of the shit I wanted to say to his lying ass, then I left.”
There are details missing, but there’s no need to draw them out, no need to make him relive it. What matters is that he didn’t let Vin get under his skin, didn’t fall for his B.S. Had this been even a month ago, that conversation might’ve gone a very different way. Just goes to show he’s grown leaps and bounds since then.
“I was scared for you, but… I’m glad you did it,” I confess. “You were right. He needed to know you’re not his bitch.”
My phrasing makes him laugh and it rumbles through his chest and mine where I’m resting on top of him.
“You’ve got a way with words. You know that?” He rasps, lifting my chin until our lips touch once, then a second time. “And if I’m being honest… it makes me fucking want you.”
I breathe him in as both my palms sink into the mattress beside him. He’s locked between my legs, where I feel the truth in what he just said—he does fucking want me.
Heat from his fingers streaks up my torso where they disappear beneath my tank. Our impatience has us pulling at each other’s clothes—him tugging the straps of my bra down before finally unclasping it, me only bothering to shove his boxers and sweats down to his knees before pausing just long enough for him to slip on a condom. Then, I lower down onto him and it’s so obvious that we need this, need each other.
The green centers of West’s eyes leave me when they roll back in his head half a second before his lids close. We were too hasty to take precautions like turning on the radio to avoid Scar hearing us, which means I’ll have to keep my voice down—easier said than done when it comes to him.
“Slow down,” he warns in a breathy whisper. “Or I swear, you’re gonna be real fucking disappointed in about thirty seconds.”
Smiling, I ignore him, deciding to take my chances and ride him harder and faster than before.
“Fuck,” he groans, sinking his fingers deeper into my hips. “I mean it, Southside. Slow down.”
Like before, I pay his warning no attention.
The rhythmic creaking of my ancient box-spring is probably loud enough to be heard down the hall, but I’m almost there, too close to care. And I’m only taken closer when heat from West’s hands warms my tits. He grips them rough, making my nipples harden against his palms.
“Shit.”
That one whispered word seems to send him a message, lets him know I only need to be pushed a little. So, that’s what he does—pushes the right buttons, says the right things, until I swear he’s inside my head.
“I fucking love you,” he groans, sending my heartrate soaring when he adds, “And I love it when you come for me.”
Air breezes over my lips now that I’m panting, letting those words carry me over the edge. One of his hands leaves my chest to cover my mouth half a second before his name is on my lips. Then, without warning, he succumbs to the moment, too.
That vein in his forehead throbs so hard it looks like it’ll explode this time. Then, as his eyes slam shut and perfect white teeth sink into his bottom lip, I finally give him the slow ride he begged for. I don’t have his eyes again until I stop, gently resting on top of him while my breathing syncs with his.
It’s in this moment, when he locks his powerful arms around me, reminding me that I’m his and no one else’s, that my thoughts are confirmed.
I need him. In every way, I need him.
This boy who used to drive me insane is now somehow my sanity.
I place a kiss in the center of his chest and I’m trying not to let it all get to me, but I feel more fucking tears coming and it only makes me angry. Why can’t life just give me a break for once? All I want is to have a chance at something real with him, without all the drama and bullshit. We made it so far, and I hate not knowing what’s ahead for us.
It’s right when I feel myself losing the battle with the water pooling in my eyes that a hard knock at my bedroom door has both West and I scrambling for our clothes.
“Shit.”
“Blue! OMG! Have you not seen your phone?”
Scar’s question has my heart racing again. Because, historically speaking, surprises that come through on social media send my life into a spiral.
“Where the fuck is it?” West whispers from somewhere behind me. “I don’t know where the condom wrapper went.”
I’m zero help, because I’ve just tripped over my own feet, trying to dive onto the bed for my bra. We’re both near hysterics, fumbling around like half-drunk idiots, and Scar’s banging her fist against the door nonstop now.
“Coming!” I call out, hopping back into the stretch pants West tossed to my desk.
I glance back at him quickly just to make sure he’s dressed and ready, then whip the door open.
Scar gives me a once over as I push a shaky hand through my hair, trying to straighten it. Next, her gaze shifts to West as he sits a bit too staged in the chair at my desk. She eyes me again when her cheeks turn bright red, and I know she knows.
Shit. Of course, she does.
“Anyway,” she says with a dramatic eye roll. “Look!”
Her phone screen is shoved right in my face and I’m not immediately sure what I’m looking at. All I see is Pandora’s icon, but it isn’t until I start to scan the update that I realize what Scar’s so worked up about.
“She’s been hacked!” Scar screeches with excitement.
West goes for his phone and I know he’s devouring the same info that I am and, for the first time probably ever, Pandora’s getting a dose of her own medicine.
This war of words just got so much deeper, and if I know Pandora, she’ll only strike back harder next time.
@QweenPandora: Looks like your operation isn’t as airtight as you thought, bitch. A few clicks of the mouse and your ass is getting exposed.
Poking around in your DMs was quite eye-opening. With all the shit you expose, people would never guess the gems you hold onto. Which begs the question—why lay some of Cypress Pointe’s population’s shit bare and keep your mouth closed for others?
Could it be that the truth behind your identity is buried somewhere in this long list of unshared tips and photos?
Well, just in case that’s true, allow me to give the people what they really want—Pandora uncensored.
Tonight, I’ll be posting all the shit Pandora’s hidden for her own selfish reasons, and give all of you—her mindless followers—the chance to see the real Cypress Pointe. Not the filtered shit she spoon-feeds you.
Want to know who your friends and neighbors really are? Stay tuned.
Later, assholes.
—X
