SHE DOESN’T GET over it.
I called. I texted. I even DM’d her Twitter. I almost crossed the tracks yesterday, but I didn’t care to have her slam the door in my face in front of her whole family.
I walk through school Monday morning, keeping my eyes peeled but already knowing she’s not here. She didn’t show up to work out, she wasn’t in the locker room, and if she didn’t want to talk to me all weekend, she definitely won’t come back to school like I want her to.
My mom had asked about the dress yesterday, finally realizing she hadn’t seen it in the house yet, but I’d forgotten about what Liv did to it. I told her they had to take it in a little more. I lost weight, I lied.
I slide my school jacket off, my arms heavy and my head detached. The past two days passed in a fog, and I’m going a little crazy. Even spending all afternoon with Mrs. Gates yesterday hadn’t helped.
And holding off Callum is starting to become a problem. I know he’s getting it somewhere else, and I couldn’t care less. I don’t love him, but what if that’s not the reason I don’t care. What if I don’t care, because he’s not my type.
What if no guy is my type?
I drift my eyes around me, stealing quick glances at the girls and boys loitering in the hall. Seeing his smile. Her eyes. The way he wears his clothes. Her legs. The way he fills out his shirt. What she looks like underneath hers.
And I stop, my gaze lingering on Ava Young. What she looks like when she moves.
Her hair down her back. The softness of her lips. The way she fits her clothes.
My stomach roils, and I feel the tears burn the backs of my eyes. I look away.
I shake my head, clearing my throat and stuffing my shit in my locker. No. It’s just something about Liv. I’m obsessed with her. I’m unhappy and latching on. That’s all she is. Someone to get off on who will keep her mouth shut in an arrangement where I call the shots.
I pull out my forensics book for class, my requirements for science fulfilled last year, but the elective sounded fun, and I knew Liv was taking it. Or had been.
But actually, I kind of like it. Maybe I want to study forensics in college.
Or maybe I thought it would be useful when helping Mrs. Gates. Some of the bodies that come in are pretty interesting.
I walk to class, entering the lab, but as soon as I enter, I see Liv immediately. I stop, my heart leaping.
She reaches up to the blinds on her tiptoes, her black Polo and skirt creeping up, and her shiny, black hair spills down her back in waves. I ache.
She closes the blinds, blocking out the sun, and turns around, red lipstick beautiful and lips looking like they were never swollen from my kisses. Her skin perfect, like it was never hot underneath me.
There’s no evidence of me on her at all anymore.
I stand there, waiting for her to look up, but she doesn’t.
Strolling up to her, I drop my book on the lab table next to hers and reach around her still body, taking one of the tests McCreedy put on our tables.
“This isn’t over,” I say in her ear.
She doesn’t turn around or respond. Her head bowed, she puts her name on the packet and slides a stool across the floor, sitting down.
Students mill around us, entering and finding their seats.
“You came back to school,” I point out, labeling my packet too.
She must want more if she came back. And looking her best today, too.
I look over my shoulder, her back still to me as she begins.
“Say something,” I growl in a low voice.
But she doesn’t. It’s like I’m not even here.
I mean, what did she think was going to happen? I was ambushed, and we’re not dating. That pizza was the first time we’d spent any time together amicably.
I grab my test and pencil and swing around to her table, taking the seat across from her. This isn’t my lab table, but oh well. “I don’t apologize,” I tell her. “So you may as well exhale, because it’s not happening. We’re both leaving, there’s no commitment, and you knew the score.”
She stares at her test, writing and checking boxes as if I’m not talking.
I narrow my eyes. What the hell does she want from me? Fight with me. Do something!
But I don’t know how to battle this Olivia. She won’t talk.
I stare at my test, the teacher starting the timer on the projector and flashing the screen on the whiteboard.
“I gave you my virginity,” I whisper.
Her pencil pauses.
“I’ve had opportunities, Liv.” I swallow, coming as close to an apology as I can manage. “I didn’t hesitate with you.”
I search for her eyes, but she still won’t look at me.
“I never wanted you to stop,” I tell her.
I want more. I want it again.
I want more right now.
My head spins with all the secluded spots we could find in this school, but I know she won’t forgive me that quickly.
Ronald Baxter takes the seat next to me, and Liv finally looks up, meeting my eyes. Her gaze falls to my mouth, and I think she might brush her foot over mine under the table or something, but she takes my test, turns on the Bunsen burner, and I watch wide-eyed as she lights the corner, the papers going up in smoke.
I see Ronald freeze out of the corner of my eye, watching.
“You left me in the rain,” she says quietly, the white papers turning black, curling and peeling. “You left me behind in the rain while you drove off with that prick.”
I stare wide-eyed as my test turns to ash.
“No commitment works for me, but you damn well better be where you say you’re going to be,” she bites out.
And before I can even worry about what Ronald is making of what she’s saying, she dumps my test into the sink, and walks away, taking her papers with her.
Shit.
I flex my jaw, watching as she says something to the teacher and then leaves the room. I flip on the faucet, putting out the fire, and snarl at Ronald to mind his own business.
Okay. So, she’s not going to forgive me quickly.
Fine.
But she will forgive me. She just really won’t like how far I’m willing to go to force it.
I swipe Ronald’s test, ignoring his look, and erase his name, writing my own. The first four questions are already done. Thanks, Ronny.
• • •
Callum stares into my eyes, swinging me around the dance floor and moving like water. He’s perfect. His dark blond hair is swept up, off his forehead, and hugs his ears. His flawless skin and bright smile. His hazel eyes and how he rises several inches above me—in control, dominant, my protector. Everything my family wants for me, but nothing about it feels right. If he were Liv, I’d be pulling him in close. Wrapping my arms around him like a steel band and reveling in the promise of his mouth.
I catch sight of us in the mirrors that cover three of the four walls, windows covering the last one. We’re both still in our uniforms, his white button-down untucked, and his tie loose, while my saddle shoes lie underneath the row of chairs against the wall of the studio, the heels on my feet required for our lesson.
“Bigger steps!” Ms. Broderick, the instructor, chants. “Keep your head up!”
She walks around as the couples move. We’ve practiced the waltz for the ball so much that there’s no way we can get it wrong now, and she should just let us leave. I hate how he’s looking at me. Not leering so much as challenging me. He knows something, and I’m waiting for the shoe to drop.
“I think you’d get tired of my shit,” I say as we spin.
“Keep your head left!” Broderick shouts for the millionth time.
I face left. “You can get from anyone what you’re hoping to get from me.”
“Getting it isn’t the challenge,” he replies. “Getting it from you will be so much sweeter.”
A spark lights up his eyes, the words coming off as more of a promise. Like it’s inevitable, because he always wins, and he’s not afraid of a little hard work.
Honestly, he is pretty perfect. Direct, and he doesn’t treat me like a delicate flower. I’ve always appreciated that. Most women would find him overwhelming. Brusque, even. They need to be seduced. They need to be romanced.
They need to be lied to.
He doesn’t do that.
“Why not tell me to take a hike?” he asks. “Anyone could escort you to the ball, and you couldn’t care less if it were me.”
No, but… It’s not like I have anyone else in mind either. I want to go to the ball. It’s a family tradition, and it’s my night. I want it.
I can’t walk out on that stage alone, can I?
“I’m worried there’s something in you that I don’t yet see,” I tell him plainly. “Maybe I’ll still see it.”
A smile grazes his lips. He appreciates my candor, too.
“Feel the music!” the teacher calls out, stopping Amy and her escort and straightening their shoulders.
The chandeliers sparkle above us, and I look away, facing left again as we twirl. The last of the sun glows against the orange wall, the light slowly moving down, down, down as the clouds roll in and thunder cracks.
But instead of staying at home as recommended tonight due to the storm coming, there’s a party at the lighthouse. I’m supposed to meet my mother as soon as dance class is over, but the lighthouse is across the tracks, and it’s been a long week, busy ignoring Liv as much as she’s been ignoring me.
And stupidly thinking she’d give up and come chasing me when she wanted more.
But she didn’t, and I’ve let her stew long enough. She’s going to look at me tonight.
“My father sleeps with his stepdaughter,” Callum says in a low voice.
I meet his eyes.
“What do you think of that?” he asks.
My pulse quickens. Macon had outed the Ames’ and my family at Night Tide, and while anyone who’d heard had apparently done us the service of not bringing that shit up again, Callum is clearly still thinking about it.
What do I think of that? Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. About any of it.
“I think we’re dogs,” I tell him. “And I think perfectly tailored suits and European cars hide it really well.”
St. Carmen looks good. I look good. And people judge you differently when your lawn is manicured. When you shop at the best stores. When you’re picked up in Town Cars.
“But we’re still dogs,” I murmur.
He moves his hand on my waist, circling his arm around me, and pulls me into him. I stop breathing. He holds me tight against his chest, his breath on my forehead. “That’s why I don’t get tired of your shit,” he whispers down on me. “Or of never getting any reciprocation from you.”
I grip his shoulders, about to push away as we stop dancing.
“You’re afraid of the dirt, but you know it’s there.” His mouth trails a line across my temple. “And when you get it all over you, Clay, I want to be there.”
I gaze into his eyes, finally seeing something in him I didn’t before. I haven’t been in as much control as I thought.
And I’m not completely unexcited by that prospect.
He picks me up, cocking his head and surveying me like a snake. “Who’s giving it to you?” he asks. “I know you’re not a virgin anymore, and I know it was recently.”
Instead of getting nervous, though, I smile. It’s nice not to have the hard discussions. I’m glad he knows.
“I won’t tell,” he whispers. “I just want to hear about it. Where does he do it to you at?”
She does it to me in secret.
“In a car?” he presses. “In a cheap motel? One of the Jaeger boys, maybe?”
I warm between my thighs, thinking about the Jaeger girl and how much more I want to touch her. He’s got the wrong details, but he’s on the right path.
“I’m not jealous,” he assures before a gleam hits his eyes. “I’m hard.”
I don’t feel it, but I take his word for it. I try to push out of his hold, not liking the weight of hanging from his arms. A reminder that he can always overpower me.
“I’ll keep your secrets,” he says. “You keep mine, and what a team we’ll be.”
I study him, kind of hating him for trying to make this so easy on me. Like my grandmother, he’s absolutely fine with me having everything I want as long I shut up about it.
Maybe this is my future. The one way I get to keep Liv. How many husbands will be as understanding?
“That’s enough, you two,” Broderick snaps.
Thunder rolls across the sky, and I swear I can feel it vibrate through the room as Callum drops me to my feet. He laughs, because everyone’s heads are twisting around, trying to see what the hell we’re doing.
“All right!” the dance teacher claps. “That’s enough for today! Practice at home this weekend. Chin up.” She tilts her chin up, demonstrating. “Watch your footwork and feel free to join my group class this Sunday afternoon for a little extra practice!”
Everyone heads for their gear and to change back into their shoes, and Callum pulls me back into him, hugging my back. “I want to see you really dance now.”
I shove his hands away, spinning around and walking backward for the chairs. “All you do is talk.”
His eyebrow arches up, and I catch a smile before I spin around and get my gear.
I don’t change my clothes, simply slipping on my shoes and taking my bag before we jet down the stairs and out the door. We step onto the deserted sidewalk, wind kicking up debris and the palms on the trees flapping. My hair flies around me, and he tosses me a look over the hood of his car. I should take my own ride, but… It doesn’t get old. Fucking with her head. Forcing her hand. I climb in, tossing my duffel onto the floor.
Amy and a couple other girls pile into the back, giggling as the wind whips under their skirts, and Callum fires up the engine as Amy passes me a flask from the back seat.
I hesitate, feeling Callum’s eyes on me. Alcohol has a way of making you do shit you wouldn’t normally do, and I should keep a clear head around him.
But my head has never been clear. Ever. Screw it. I close my eyes, tears I didn’t realize were there gathering at the corners as I tip the flask back and swallow a mouthful. Then another. And one more.
“Hey!” Amy laughs, tapping my shoulder. “Save some for me.”
“Let’s go!” Callum calls out, shifting the car into gear, and laughter fills the back seat as he speeds off.
Where the hell is Krisjen? Meet you at lighthouse? I text her. I should give her a verbal kick in the ass for doing my job and bringing Liv to the away game without speaking to her captain, but I can’t be mad about how that night turned out. Despite the fact that we still lost.
I reach over the seat, snatching the flask out of Amy’s hand as I take another drink, finishing off the last of it. Already, the warmth of it starts to coat my veins like a nice, thick syrup, and I relax a little.
I don’t give a shit that Krisjen went over my head, or that Callum wants to watch me roll around in the mud like a pig for his entertainment.
I don’t care that I had sex for the first time last week and it was with a girl, and I don’t care that it keeps hurting every moment I realize that some part of me isn’t touching some part of her.
I toss the flask back into Amy’s lap as we cruise across the tracks, “Cool Girl” playing on the stereo and the sky darkening to a steel gray. Clouds overlap clouds as the sea in the distance fills the air with its scent, nice and thick so that when you inhale, it’s almost like you’re eating.
I lie my head back, enjoying it while I can. I’ll miss this weather. I hate the cold, and while North Carolina isn’t the North, it’s north. Florida is south, but it’s not the South in the same way other states are.
It’s Miami and Cuban sandwiches. Music and history. Explorers and conquerors. Tacky-ass mailboxes and flip flops all year long.
It’s how we’re vampires who love the night, because the sun’s not beating down on us. It’s the swamps—the mangroves, the shade and the hidden spaces underneath the Spanish moss, the tall birds with their long legs quiet and still in the calm waters…
It’s the summer monsoons and the reptiles that keep you sweating and your heart jumping out of your chest. It’s laughing at the ‘Florida Man’ jokes right alongside the Yankees, knowing full well come retirement, they’ll be jetting down here to play golf, eat the seafood, and stay warm, because nothing beats the subtropics.
I know college isn’t forever. I can always come home. And until recently, I wasn’t really dreading leaving.
But now, I’m counting the days like an inmate on death row. Before I know it, a week has passed. Then a month. Soon, it’ll be summer, and I’ll be leaving a part of my heart behind. Everything feels wrong.
“Hell yeah!” Callum howls out the window to Milo as he swings into a spot on the side of the dirt road.
“Yay!” Amy squeals. Everyone in the back seat scrambles to get out, and I exit the car, pulling my Polo over my head and tossing it into the vehicle.
The lighthouse rises above us, a coral pink barely discernible against the black sky, and I dig my crossbody bag out of my duffel and slip it over my head before slamming the door. Everyone else runs ahead, while Callum falls in at my side, scanning down my tank top and taking my hand. “Let’s go do some stupid shit,” he says.
I close my eyes, inhaling the air charged with whatever’s brewing tonight, smelling more than just fucking rain. Storms carry promise. Something—anything—is about to happen, and people are always on the verge. Ready to run. Ready to be surprised.
“Fall” by The Bug spills out of the lighthouse, the steps leading up the foundation to the open door already filled with people standing around or coming and going. We walk into the structure, the sounds of the waves outside crashing onto the beach, but you can barely hear it as we enter a cave of darkness and smoke, the air thin with so many bodies crowded into such a small space. Speakers hang over the sides of the spiral staircase, and bodies I can’t identify loiter on the steps as far up as I can see.
“The Jaegers are here,” Amy shouts in my ear.
“Oh?”
I stop myself from looking to see which Jaegers she’s talking about, but when Callum slides an arm around my waist from behind and holds me like I’m his, I let him. Even going so far as to caress his hand over my stomach.
“Probably keeping an eye on their flag,” I tell her.
She shoots me a wicked look, and I think we’re both wondering how much trouble we’re in for tonight, especially since we’re on their turf.
I turn my head over my shoulder, inviting Callum closer and snuggling into his body. “I’m gonna dance.”
“I’m gonna watch.”
His mouth comes down, and I come in, but before he kisses me, I dive into his ear instead. “I hope you like it,” I say, talking loud over the music. “You’re gonna watch me a lot.”
And I pull away, biting my bottom lip and teasing him with my eyes all the way to the dance floor with Amy.
She’s here. Liv sees me. I know she does.
And if she won’t let me have her, then I want her pissed. She thinks she’s punishing me, but she’s going to learn the meaning of the word tonight.
The music pumps, rain hangs in the air, and I tip my head back as the energy rocks my body. Everyone jumps to the music, and I smile.
Letting my eyes drift around the room, I flash my gaze here and there—feeling her—but before I can find her, I spot Krisjen. I pause, watching her dance with Trace Jaeger, half-hidden behind the stairs with her back into his body.
He glides his hands all over her, and my first thought isn’t her boyfriend who’s here and about to catch them. It’s how lucky she is that she can let her Jaeger paw her in public, but she still won’t suffer half as much as I would if mine were doing that.
I roll my hips, moving my arms and bouncing on my feet, and as I twist my head side to side with the beat, I see her.
I think I see her.
I keep going, back and forth, blood rushing to my head as I take more of her in every time I turn right. It’s her. Sitting on a pile of crates and leaning against the wall, her head tipped back, one arm hanging over her bent knee, and the other leg dangling over the side.
Dressed in black jeans with holes in the knees and a white tank top, a flannel tied around her waist.
She watches me. Her eyes are shrouded, but under the cover of shadow, I know she’s watching me.
And immediately I know that I can’t even fool myself. I’m not in control.
She has my heart in her fist.
I dance for her, my hand grazing between my legs and across the sliver of visible bare skin between my shirt and my skirt. Reminding her of what I felt like. Of who loves her good.
Arms slide around me, lazy but invasive, his finger slipping under the waist of my skirt and touching my skin. Callum presses himself into my back, and I watch Liv, knowing she’s watching me. Watching us. Under the shadow of the speaker above her. Under her black lashes and dark eyes that could’ve been closed, but I know they’re open. I know she’s watching. Her hand hangs over her knee, her thumb calmly and steadily grinding back and forth in her fist.
And I don’t stop him.
Callum moves, bringing me with him as his hand creeps up my torso. His lips graze a line up my neck, and Liv still doesn’t move, digging her thumb into her fist back and forth, over and over, her gaze still hidden under the cover of darkness.
Krisjen spills out of the crowd, laughing with her drink sloshing and spilling over the rim of her cup. I reach out to grab her, Callum’s hands falling away, and I break into a smile as I steady her. She looks like she’s having fun. More fun than I’ve seen her have in a long time.
She shoves the drink in my hand and wraps her arms around me. “I love you!”
I shake with a laugh. “I’ll bet you even love Amy right now, don’t you?”
“Huh?” she shouts over the music.
Whatever. “Nothing!” I shout, drinking down a couple gulps of her beer as “Fuqboi” comes over the speakers.
Krisjen gasps, excited, and starts bouncing, because right now she loves this song, too. Belting out the lyrics, she takes my hand as I turn, tossing the cup into the trash, and she pulls me to the center of the room, everyone dancing around us. The chorus starts, Callum is forgotten, and Krisjen grabs hold of me, her arms hanging over my shoulders as she starts to dance. She rolls her hips, slow at first and then faster, and I only hesitate a moment, thankful that someone saved me from him. Even though I think it was working at making Liv jealous.
I join in, both of us swaying and dancing, smiling and laughing as the music belts out, filling up the room. We move into each other, and I can only imagine Callum is somewhere off to the side, enjoying the view. Krisjen puts her hands on my waist, the lyrics making us laugh, but she sings with it, almost shouting in anger.
She rocks her arms behind her, back and forth, and I don’t know if it’s intentional, but she brushes up on me. Again and again, her chest meets mine. I let my eyes fall, her breasts like half peaches, poking through her thin top. The dark outline of her small nipples shows through as her hair brushes my lips.
I dart my eyes to Liv.
Her thumb has stopped grinding.
She doesn’t move.
She sits there, and I grab onto Krisjen, our legs threaded as we dance. The heat of Liv’s eyes travels over the band of bare skin between my tank top and skirt, watching me move, and maybe she’s remembering exactly what I feel like under these clothes.
And that maybe Callum isn’t a threat. Another girl will eventually want me.
But when I look back, Liv is gone. Krisjen moves into me as sweat trickles down my back. I twist my neck left and right. Where is she?
Where did she go?
And then I tip my head up, seeing her climb the spiral staircase. A girl holds her hand, pulling Liv after her, but it’s not Martelle.
What the fuck? I stop. Who is that now?
They disappear around the curve of the stairs until I can’t see them anymore, and my stomach sinks.
“Whoo!” Krisjen squeals, oblivious.
But I fall away from her, stepping back and watching the stairs. How many girls did she have? She thinks she can just move on? She thinks I’m disposable? Replaceable?
Some cute brunette shakes her skirt at you, and you think you can have her? I clench my jaw.
I’m sick of chasing her. She said she wouldn’t put pressure on me. She said we could keep this quiet. I know what she must’ve felt, me leaving her on the street like that, but what was I supposed to do? What would she have done? Let’s not pretend that after years of me treating her like shit, she’s prepared to be seen with me either. How would that look?
We’re not a couple. That’s not what this is.
But we’re also not done. I charge after her. She doesn’t get the last word. I do.
I step up the stairs, the grates vibrating under my shoes, the whole staircase shaking a little with the weight of all the people standing on it. I push past bodies, looking up as I climb and squeeze through the crowd. Windows stack about five feet from each other, one on top of another, letting in what little moonlight seeps through the clouds.
The lantern at the top stopped functioning decades ago, Saber Point Lighthouse falling into ruin like so many lighthouses now obsolete with the invention of computers and radar. The last lightkeeper died the year my mother was born, some of his furniture still sitting in the living quarters that he had shared with a corgi named Archie. Rumor has it he also shared the living quarters with a woman about thirty years younger than him, but no one ever saw her, so I don’t know how the rumor started. Some say she was here illegally and hiding. Some say he rescued her as a girl and she refused to leave him when he tried to send her on her way. All versions of a truth no one would ever know because he died, and as far as I know, the place was empty when they found him.
Except for Archie.
Old places have a way of growing more alive the longer they stand. The stories they house, the memories they facilitate… We can’t meet Elvis, but thousands of people visit his home every year, because to be where he was is like seeing his ghost.
Saber Point erodes more every year, and eventually they’ll tear it down when it becomes a hazard, taking its century-long history with it like the lightkeeper and Archie (and the girl) were never here at all.
Like I was never here at all and about to kill Olivia Jaeger.
The crowd falls away as I climb and climb, and I hear a door slam above me. The service room and watch room are before the catwalk at the top, and I launch up the rest of the stairs, drops of rain pummeling the windows like darts as the music fades to a low beat below me. I jump up to the landing, grab the handle, but then I pause, my heart beating so hard it hurts my chest.
Pressing my other hand to the door, I lean my ear in, listening. But I Prevail’s rendition of “Blank Space” drowns out everything. Even the sound of my breathing.
I should leave. What will I accomplish by ripping both of their hair out? I’m better than that. I can have anyone. She should beg for me.
But my gut twists into knots, and I can’t ignore it. I’ve lost everything that’s important. I’m not losing the only other thing that matters anymore.
Twisting the handle, I inhale and hold it, bracing myself as I open the door and enter the room.
Moonlight casts a dim glow through the fifteen or so small, circular windows spread out around the room that lightkeepers used to watch the weather, the walls paneled with wood, unlike the brick of the rest of the structure.
A blackboard sits on the wall to my right, remnants of chalk still dusting its surface, and a square, wooden table fills the center of the small room alongside a large cannister. The old gears and axles inside the glass windows that once operated the lens are now still and quiet.
Another narrow, spiral staircase leads up through the ceiling, but the small hatch door to the lantern is closed.
No Liv.
I spin around, heading for the service room, but she’s there, stepping around the corner and into the doorway.
I halt. The other girl isn’t with her.
“You dance nice,” she says.
She leans into the doorframe, pulling her gum out of her mouth and sticking it in a piece of foil.
I steel my spine. “None of that was for you.”
“ All of that was for me.”
She finally looks up, cocking her head, and even though I can’t see her eyes, I feel the self-satisfaction rolling off of her.
Bitch.
“How much have you had to drink, Clay?”
Not nearly enough . The slight buzz in my head is probably from the hundred bodies downstairs, sucking up the oxygen, rather than the shots I did in the car.
“Where is she?” I demand.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
A flash of white and I know she’s smiling. I glance above me and then back to Liv, knowing her slut is waiting either in the service room, or up at the lantern. I wouldn’t have missed them if they’d come back down.
She sticks the foil back into her pocket and steps farther into the room. “About that dress, Clay,” she says. “You’re losing weight. I need to measure you again.”
The dress? She’s making it after all?
I don’t give a shit about the dress.
She closes the door behind her, and the music fades a little more, my hands shaking the closer she gets. I hear my breathing now.
“Hold out your arms,” she says in barely a whisper.
But I don’t. “How do you know I’m losing weight?”
She approaches, taking out her phone and opening an app. Her eyes meet mine, and while she doesn’t reply out loud, I read it in her eyes. She knows my body.
A thrill courses through me, and I dip my head a little, wanting her mouth only a few inches away. But I hold back.
I hadn’t been trying to lose weight. I’d just…forgotten to eat. I’d spent more time at the gym the past week. I was waking earlier and staying up later, my head preoccupied.
She forces my arms wide, ready to use her phone and some kind of measuring app, I guess, but I push her hand away. “Who is she?”
“A friend.”
“Someone you’ve been with before?”
“Yes.”
My chest caves, and my stomach knots. Tears burn my eyes. Fuck. I don’t know what’s worse—Martelle or someone she has a history with.
Definitely someone she has a history with. It’s a reminder that she had a life before me. That there are other people who can make her happy.
What the hell’s happening? I see Callum talking to girls. Girls looking at him. I don’t give a shit. In fact, it relieves me a little to see him preoccupied, his attention off of me.
With Liv, I could stab someone, because there’s nothing I can do to stop the past. That girl above us has kissed Liv. Touched her. Liv was alone with her, doing things and tasting and biting and not thinking about me at all. Ugh…
I grab her waist and yank her in. She shoves me off, growling, but I grab her again. “I’m sorry I drove past you last weekend,” I whisper over her lips.
I’m sorry, okay?
She stills, her hands paused, about to push me off, but she doesn’t.
“You didn’t deserve that,” I tell her. “I wanted you there more than anything.”
“Would you have done anything differently?” she asks.
I stare into her eyes, her nose an inch from mine. The lie sits on the tip of my tongue. Yes. I would’ve told them I’m tired, and I’m going home and to find their own rides. Then, I’d swing around the corner, risk being seen, and pick you up. How easy would that have been?
But I know I’d be scared. They were right there, watching me.
She takes my face in her hands, not blinking once. “You know what I want?” She hardens her voice. “For you to stop lying to me.”
She backs me into the table, and I reach back, gripping it with my hands to steady myself.
“I don’t need you to be soft,” she says. “And I don’t need to be seduced. You wanna fuck, because it feels good, right?”
No, I…
But she shakes me. “Right?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, it felt good.”
“Because I get you off.”
“N—”
“Right?” she grits out.
I nod. “Yes.”
She leans into me, pushing me onto the tabletop. The pulse in my clit thrums like a jackhammer as she positions herself between my thighs and sets her palms on the table at my sides, looking down at me.
“Liv…”
“Because I’m safe, right?” Her tone is an icy bite. “The dirty Catholic girl cliché you’ll tell your husband about someday?”
I can’t swallow. I touch her neck, holding it in both hands and caressing her jaw and throat with my thumbs.
“Right?” she asks.
Tears sting my eyes, and I hate this. I hate that I did this to her.
“Right,” I whisper, but the sob in my throat says the opposite, and I know she hears it. “Like I would ever love you.”
“You would never.”
I shake my head.
“I’m convenient and quiet,” she tells me, “because you’re not a slut or a whore if you’re doing it with a girl one night during a naughty sleepover, right?”
I want to tell her she means so much more to me, but she and I both know whatever happens between us won’t last.
So I play along. “No one will ever know I’ve been touched,” I tell her.
My future husband will never know what really turns me on.
But for now, I’m hers. “Open your camera,” I say.
She stares at me.
I take her phone out of her hand, still unlocked, and open her camera app. Turning it to selfie mode, I switch it to video and put it out to the side, fitting us both in the frame. She looks into the camera and I meet her eyes before hitting record. Slowly, I dip my head into her neck.
I leave little pecks at first. Soft kisses on her warm skin, my gaze flickering to the camera every once in a while. She watches me on the screen, and it only takes a moment before her chest starts rising and falling faster and harder and she tips her head back.
My kisses grow stronger—taking in more of her skin, using my teeth, sucking… I glide my tongue up the nape to her ear, seeing her watching the screen out of the corner of her eye.
I trail wet kisses up her neck, over her jaw, and then take her mouth in a few short nibbles. “I liked it when you fucked me,” I gasp loud enough for the video. “I want to do it again.”
She shudders, and I take her hand, sucking one of her fingers into my mouth.
She turns her head, forgetting the camera and watches me blow her. In and out, I suck, flicking and swirling my tongue and showing her what I want to do. “I want to bury my head between your legs under the sheets,” I tell her.
Her mouth falls open like she can’t breathe, and she reaches up, taking my face again, forehead to forehead as she stares at my mouth like it’s a meal.
I stop recording, smelling the spearmint on her breath from her gum. Reaching around, I slip the phone into her back pocket and hold her tight to me. “I’m in your hands now,” I whisper. “That’s how much I trust you.”
She can shatter my world any time she wants with that video. I will happily give her that power to prove that I’m willing to risk almost anything for a few more months with her.
I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her neck and holding her close. “We always think that if we can have the one thing we want, we’ll be happy, but the wanting never ends, does it?” I say, muffled in her neck. “There were things I wanted before all I wanted was my brother back.”
I’ve wanted her longer.
She clasps my chin in the crook between her thumb and index finger, nudging my eyes up to her. “What are you doing to me?” she murmurs.
But I get smart. “Nothing yet,” I whisper. “But I’d really like to do that bury-my-head-between-your-legs-under-the-sheets bit.”
And she loses it. She moans, slides her fingers underneath my tank top, and pulls it up and over my head. It falls off my body, but before I have time to feel the chill on my breasts, she yanks my body in, grips the back of my neck, and fuses her mouth to mine, kissing so hard a roller coaster does a barrel roll between my thighs. I suck in a breath between kisses, pressing my breasts into her, and squirming as my hands roam, because I can’t get close enough or feel enough to be satisfied.
Liv’s hands slide under my skirt, and I smile through the kisses, unable to contain my excitement. Christmas never felt this good.
She leans into me, and I fall back onto my hands, her standing over me as she runs her hand up and down my torso. She cups my breast and meets my eyes before she pinches my little, pink nipple. An electrical current shoots through me, and I clench my thighs, moaning.
Yes.
“Liv, did I see you come up here?” someone calls out.
I pop my eyes open, hearing the wooden door hinges creak, and I dart up, ducking into Liv’s chest before I can see who’s behind her.
“Liv?” a man’s voice says again.
“Get out,” she tells him.
One of her brothers?
There’s nothing for a moment, and then I hear him again, his tone amused this time. “Damn, who you got there?”
“Trace, seriously,” she barks over her shoulder. She holds my naked shoulders as I cover my breasts and huddle into her body. “Get out!”
But he doesn’t. He steps up behind her and meets my eyes.
“All right,” he says, smiling. “Way to go.”
“Fuck off,” she blurts out next.
“Okay, okay.” He shrugs and leaves, the door shutting after a moment.
“He won’t say anything,” she tells me. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I put my arms around her again. I don’t care about that right now .
I hop off the table, pushing her back until she falls into an old, wooden chair in the corner. Pushing my panties down my legs, I step out of them, climb on top and straddle her, and see her eyes fall to my breasts.
I love watching her watch me.
She slouches down a little in the chair, gripping my hips, and I don’t need instruction. I start to roll my hips, grinding on her through her jeans, rubbing my pussy up on her fly. Heat floods me, and I know I’m wet as the rough fabric of her clothes feels so good against my bare skin.
I glide my fingers over her hands and up her arms, but I feel the bracelet she always wears and trace the snake wrapped around the hourglass. I can almost make out its fangs as I hold her eyes.
“I like it when you bite me,” I tell her. “With your teeth…and your words.”
“I couldn’t stop myself anymore.”
“Why?”
She leans up and takes my face in one hand, nearly grazing my lips with hers. “Because sometimes two wrongs make a right, Clay.” She breathes hard. “Because venom works slowly but surely and I was so tired of not fighting for my life. And because one of the ingredients in anti-venom is venom, and sometimes you need poison to counteract the poison.”
“And if the anti-venom doesn’t work?” I tease.
She plays with my skirt. “Isn’t it?”
I smile. Oh, yes, it is. She pushed back, and I’m not at all unhappy about where she pushed me to.
She drops back again, her eyes zoning in on me bare and open as I dry fuck her, and I thrust my hips, still slow but deeper and deeper. Her hands trail over my ass and up my skirt to my stomach before steeling on the joint between my hip and thigh. Her thumb rubs circles on my clit as she bends her knees just slightly and stretches her legs behind me.
Can she feel it? Even with her clothes on? I want to get the hell out of here, but I don’t want to stop.
I roll and roll, battering my hips into her until her nails pierce my skin, and I wince at the pain but love it, too.
She grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in, growling in a whisper over my mouth, “It’s not over between us until I’m wearing something you can really ride.”
A shiver shoots down my spine, and she doesn’t have to elaborate.
“After that, you can go fuck a guy,” she taunts. “But you and I will know nothing is better than this.”
I kiss her, her confidence tasting possessive, and I like it.
Nothing is better than this .
I groan. “I… Oh, God, I… Liv—”
But a blaring sound hits my ears, and I startle. Liv sits up, hands still on my hips as tingles and heat rock through me.
What? I wince at the sound.
It’s a horn. Outside. It goes and goes. Blaring. Constant. What is that?
“Liv?” I ask.
But worry hits her eyes. “Shit.” She doesn’t look at me. “Baby, get dressed.”
