Lost & Found: Contemporary Reverse Harem

by Serena Lindahl

  I take my time getting to the library, going the long way around even though my fuel allowance is almost out. I’m scared. Not in the same way I am when I get home and hear a man’s voice through the door or smell whiskey. I’m scared in a way that makes me wonder if what happens next is going to be good or bad. I’ve denied it for years, but I do miss them.

  Parking in the library lot, I grumble to myself. I have to remember we’re not kids anymore. We’ve all changed. We’re not the same people, and we won’t be the same as a group. I forget about my helmet’s vulnerability and the strap snaps when I yank it off.

  “Fuck.”

  “What happened?”

  I spin around, holding my hand to my pounding chest. “For fuck’s sake, Orion. Warn a girl, will ya?” I hadn’t heard anyone pull in, much less walk up behind me. Apollo is just behind his brother, but he’s not looking at me. I frown down at my helmet. Before I know it, it’s snatched from my hands.

  “That’s not safe,” Apollo grunts, leaning over his brother’s shoulder. For a big guy, he’s pretty quiet when he walks. He towers over me, more than six feet when I’m just barely clearing five. I miss the days when I shot up before them. Aric was always taller than me, but the brothers were shorter for a little bit. Manny too.

  “No shit,” I mutter. I pull the helmet back from Orion, frowning when he doesn’t release it immediately. Instead, his eyes meet mine. They’re a beautiful forest green with golden flecks that always catch the light. They don’t shine as much as they used to. His face is unreadable. He and Apollo were offered a modeling contract, their chiseled jaws and high cheekbones uncommon for someone as young as they are. Stubble lines their cheeks, just another reminder that we’re not kids anymore.

  I tug again. He releases the helmet to shove his hand through his dark brown, wavy hair. Orion wears it a little longer than Apollo, but otherwise, they look like twins. The stupid girls at school giggle that they can’t tell them apart, but they’re idiots. Apollo’s nose is crooked because it’s been broken before. Orion’s face and body are a little thinner, and he has the gold flecks in his eyes. Apollo’s are a solid dark green.

  Manny walks up behind them, his gaze curious as he surveys us. “What’s going on?”

  “Senya is riding around with a broken helmet.” Apollo rats me out without hesitation.

  I slam the helmet down on my seat and attach the cable to it as well as I can with the strap broken. “I’m not riding around with it broken,” I argue. “It broke just now.”

  Manny pushes past Apollo to look at my helmet and squints at me from behind his dark-framed glasses. I wanted to wear glasses like him when he got them in second grade. I always thought they made him look cool. Now, I’m happy I have perfect vision because there’s no way I can afford glasses or even eye exams. “You can’t ride around like that. It’s not safe.”

  I roll my eyes and stomp away from the three of them just as Aric pulls up next to me. I don’t know why he’s later than I am; right now I don’t even care. I just need to get away from their overprotective tendencies. Manny rats me out to Aric behind my back.

  “Maybe Aric has some duct tape,” I shoot over my shoulder. It’s half a joke, but I’m also hoping he does have some. It will keep the strap tight until I can buy a new one.

  “One of us will drive you home,” Manny says from just right behind me. I whirl so fast, he almost stumbles down the library stairs.

  “No, you won’t. We’re here to do our project, and then I’m leaving. I’m going home on my own.”

  “Senya, that’s not fair.” Orion jumps up several steps to stand next to me. “We’re just trying to watch out for you.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a little too late,” I mumble under my breath and turn away from them. My heart is pounding. I hope none of them heard me, but their silence tells me otherwise. We’re quiet as we commandeer a table in the front section of the library where we can be a little louder without getting shushed by the librarians. Homeless guys sleep in the comfy chairs, newspapers spread out on their laps like they’re actually reading. Considering it’s warmer than normal for a January, there aren’t as many in here as there usually are.

  I set down my bag with a clunk and realize I should have claimed the end seat when Apollo and Orion both pull out chairs on either side of me. I could move now, but it will look suspicious. I can handle being between them, I assure myself. Acting like I don’t care, I pull out my notebook and stick my bag under the table. When I sit down, the brothers move their chairs even closer to me. Aric smirks with amusement and Manny presses his lips together with irritation.

  They smell good. It’s not the scent of gross, overpowering cologne but something that smells vaguely of oranges – maybe their laundry detergent. I hope I don’t stink. I didn’t bother taking a shower this morning because I was so tired. They’re both big and built like football players. Sitting between them, I can’t decide if I feel safe or if it’s hard to breathe. A little of both.

  “Okay,” Manny says firmly. He has his notebook out in front of him, a red pen and a black pen lying primly on top. My chest clenches with familiarity. Some things never change. He always carried a red pen with him, said it makes things brighter than normal black or blue. He’s also taking charge which is another familiarity. “So, did we decide on print media instead of digital?” He looks at me, or maybe into me, as he speaks.

  The table feels too narrow with him directly across from me. If I extended my leg, I’d touch his. I keep my legs firmly under my chair and my arms close to my side, way too aware of the bodies invading my personal space.

  Everyone is looking at me. I tap my pen against my notebook with a shrug. “Why are y’all looking at me? I don’t care what we do. My specialty transfers well in either form.” I can’t deny that I’m excited about the project. I’ve always wanted to showcase my work, but the creative writing department at our school plays favorites. One of the teacher’s daughters is the favored one, and she convinces her mother that the only good writers are her friends. I haven’t even bothered to try and break into their clique. I’ve had poetry published in two anthologies, but no one, not even my mom, knows. It’s something that’s just for me.

  My words seem to break some kind of trance, though, and the boys start trading opinions back and forth. I sit back in my chair and watch them, but I try to keep my face neutral. I can’t let on how much I’m enjoying being around them, and I can’t get used to it. It won’t last.

  Chapter 8

  Orion

  I’m far too aware of Senya next to me. She smells like lavender and fresh air from her ride on the bike. It feels good to be so close to her; the smell is intoxicating. Hearing about her possibly abusive history didn’t have the same effect on me as it did Manny and Apollo. They immediately went into “Hulk, smash” mode. I went into solution mode. How can we make sure it never happens again? How can we help her heal from the past?

  She might act like she hates us, and maybe some part of her does, but I can tell that she’s enjoying this moment. I encourage the silly interaction. I even manage to get dour Manny and reluctant Apollo to laugh and joke with us as we try to figure out the best way to showcase everyone’s talent. She forgets she’s supposed to be all angsty at one point and the laugh that escapes her is something I want to hear over and over again. She doesn’t giggle like the girls at school, too afraid of being loud or smiling wide enough that their teeth are too visible or some stupid shit like that. No. She laughs with her whole spirit. Her shoulders shake, and she draws appreciative looks from every male in the vicinity.

  One guy in particular has been watching us, some preppy dude that has to be old enough for college. He's not even subtle about it, and I’m surprised Senya hasn’t noticed. When he starts walking over, I kick Aric’s leg under the table and raise a brow. He follows my gaze and shrugs.

  “Senya?” The voice makes her little body jump next to me. My first reaction is to touch her and ease her surprise, but I fo
rce my hands into my lap. She shuts down, adopting the resting bitch face she’s perfected since we started high school. The grin she gives him isn’t even close to genuine, and I can’t help but be pleased that it’s different from the one she’s thrown out twice in the last hour. Yeah, I’ve counted the number of times she’s smiled. It’s too beautiful not to.

  “Hi Chad,” she says stiffly. “What are you doing here?”

  His chest puffs out like he’s on display, and Apollo shifts in his chair. It’s the posture he gets when he’s deciding if he wants to kick someone’s ass. Manny has perfected the dismissive glare, and I’m surprised when neither fazes the preppy guy. “Just working on one of my college courses,” he offers, but I notice he’s not holding any books. Also, the university library is ten times better than the city one we’re sitting in. “Who are your friends?” He lets his gaze travel over us and then back to Senya as if he’s already graded us and found us lacking. Not that I give a shit what the rich daddy’s boy thinks about us.

  Senya shrugs and I wonder if she’s actually going to answer. If she doesn’t, we know he’s just another douche trying to get in her pants. “They’re friends from school. We’re working on a project.”

  “Right,” Chad says, but we can tell he doesn’t care anymore. His eyes are glued on Senya like she’s a double cheeseburger and he’s starving. “So about that movie…”

  Apollo and Manny both freeze and I run my hand through my hair to keep from jumping up and launching myself across the table at either of them. I don’t want to get banned from the library.

  Senya must sense their tension, though. She stands and puts her hand on Apollo’s shoulder. It’s the first touch she’s initiated with any of us since yesterday. Every eye zeroes in on that connection, Chad’s included. “I already told you, Chad. I’m busy. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, though.”

  Chad’s an idiot. “I’m sure I can rearrange your schedule if that’s a problem,” he continues. Does this dude not understand no? Her desire to pacify him makes more sense now that I know they work together. She has a responsibility to keep the peace.

  “She said no.” Manny stands and Chad reassesses our friend. His clothes are just as expensive as the preppy boy’s, and his lean swimmer’s build is emphasized under the button up and khakis that are his usual smart-kid uniform. “Maybe you can ask someone who isn’t jailbait.”

  The whole table freezes, including Senya, and I resist the urge to groan out loud. Aric doesn’t resist, but he hides the sound behind his hand. Manny and his big mouth. Our girl is not someone who appreciates being saved or talked for.

  Chad’s jaw twitches, but he just nods briefly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Senya.”

  She returns the nod stiffly and sits back down, but her back is rigid in the uncomfortable wooden chair. She’s removed her hand from Apollo’s shoulder. We all watch as Chad walks out of the door, and it’s like a countdown to an explosion.

  Sure enough, the moment the front door closes, Senya turns on Manny. “I can talk for myself, Manuel.” She puts extra emphasis on his full name.

  Manny considers her expression, sitting down like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I recognize the coiled tension in his body, though. He’s always struggled with anger issues; sometimes, Senya was the only one who could talk him down. Since she left us, he’s been a powder keg ready to blow. He hides it behind his brilliant grades and fancy titles in all the clubs and committees at school, but we’ve all seen him explode more than once.

  “How many times have you said no, Sen?” His voice is low and clear.

  Senya pulls at the paper in her notebook, nearly tearing the page in half. Her handwriting hasn’t gotten any better since we were kids. It’s still practically illegible. “He’s my boss,” she grumbles.

  Manny throws up his hands. “That’s even worse! Not only is he probably five years older than you, but he’s also in a position above you at your workplace. Badgering you is practically harassment, in or out of work.”

  Senya slams her book closed and stands up. My heart nearly busts out of my chest. I don’t want her to leave yet. I might even break my rule of pacifism and punch Manny if he scares her away. “Shit like that happens all the time.”

  Desperate that she’ll walk away if I don’t do something, I cover her hand with mine on the table. My skin is darker than hers because my mom is from Italy and she’s white like snow. Her fingers are cold. I wait until her eyes meet mine, the beautiful bright blue that reminds me of the summer sky and blueberry-frosted cupcakes. “Just because it happens doesn’t mean it should. Manny didn’t mean to speak for you, but that ass is taking advantage of his position.”

  Something sparks in her eyes, and I catch a glimpse of the pain that she hides behind the mask she wears all the time. My chest aches. She went through hell while Apollo and I were having fun at football camp. If we’d known… She looks away and sits back down again. I practically see the sigh of relief that escapes all of us. I’m not the only one that doesn’t want her to walk away right now.

  “I’ll take care of him,” she mutters sullenly. “I’ve been holding him off for like six months now. He’ll get tired of asking eventually. Anyway, our project should focus on our best strengths. Like I should write something about one of Apollo’s photos or one of Aric’s sketches.”

  As she changes the subject, the others follow her lead, but I catch Apollo’s eye behind her head. That douche isn’t giving up. Six months is too long for a passing interest. He might be waiting until she’s eighteen or until she falls apart and finally gives in, but he’s not giving up anytime soon. I don’t blame him. I’ve held a candle for her for over six years. But even though I understand, it doesn’t make it right. She’s a minor, and he’s her boss. That’s all kinds of wrong.

  We haven’t accomplished much by the time our stomachs are growling and Mom is pinging Apollo and me about dinner. Part of that is due to Aric and Apollo holding out about what they want to showcase. I know Apollo’s excuse. Nearly half of his pictures, his best ones, are of Senya. I wonder if Aric has a similar reason as to why he doesn’t show us any of his drawings.

  Senya sighs as she checks the clock over the circulation desk again. Unlike the rest of us, she hasn’t looked at her phone the whole time we’ve been here. Most teenagers have them glued to their hands, and we’re not any different. “We’ll have to finish this some other time,” she says as she stands up and starts putting her things into her bag.

  We reluctantly stand with her. Manny stretches and Senya’s eyes are drawn to the muscles flexing under his shirt. For some reason, this makes my inner self happy instead of jealous. A lot of girls love that he’s not as big as Apollo and me. His body is hidden like some kind of mystery they want to unwrap. We love to tease him about it, but he doesn’t date. I have a feeling that has to do with Senya. The blush in her cheeks is not because she’s still thinking about him as her big brother.

  “You need a ride,” Apollo reminds her. He hasn’t spoken much, and I’m looking forward to talking to him. Only I know how torn up he’s been over Senya’s rejection. I don’t blame him for not wanting to go through it again. I’ve always been more optimistic than him, though, and I’m not giving up.

  “I’ll be fine,” Senya mutters.

  Apollo rakes a hand through his hair. It’s a habit both he and I have always had. “Fuck, Pixie, can you be any more stubborn?” The old nickname spills out of him and freezes the air between us for like the fifth time that night. I need a hard run to shake off all this tension; usually, not much gets to me.

  Thankfully, Senya doesn’t call him on it, although it puts the shadows back in her eyes. She acts like it’s not a big deal. “I could be, but it doesn’t matter. How does my bike get home if I get a ride with one of you?”

  “We have a truck. We’ll just throw it in the bed,” I offer. I can tell Manny wants to object, but he can’t get her bike home like we can. I can see the gears moving in her mind. “Please,”
I add. “If you get hit by another driver, that helmet is going to fly right off. If you get pulled over, you’ll get a ticket.”

  Pushing the blame on anyone but herself seems to soften her resolve. Something clanks in her mouth and I lean closer to her. I don’t realize I’m right in her face until her eyes widen, revealing the darker blue starburst around her pupils.

  “What’s in your mouth?” I haven’t seen her eat anything, and I’m curious.

  “My tongue and my teeth,” she quips.

  “Last I checked, your teeth don’t sound like metal.”

  She eyes me a minute longer, long enough for both Apollo and Manny to crowd us. Aric stays back. I have a feeling he knows exactly what she’s hiding. She throws up her hands. “What does it matter?”

  “Do you have to fight everything, Sen? It’s not such a big deal.” Aric speaks up, and she shoots him a dirty look.

  “My tongue. See?” She pokes her tongue out and reveals the silver barbell that is pierced right through the center. The gesture goes straight to my cock, making me half-hard in seconds. She has a tongue ring.

  “You pierced your tongue?” Manny’s eyes are wide. Apollo turns away with a grunt, putting his back to her. I know why; I’m not the only one turned on. The thought of our sexy little pixie’s tongue ring will star in all our dreams from now on.

  Senya shrugs and slips past us, giving me a chance to adjust my pants while Aric knocks me in the shoulder with a knowing smirk. “You knew,” I hiss at him once she’s far enough away that I hope she can’t hear.

  “Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “Is it a big deal?” He’s taunting me because he knows just how it’s affecting me. His eyes flick down to my crotch. My tight jeans are having an issue hiding how big of a deal it is.

  I roll my eyes at him and think about puppies, garbage, and my grandma while I follow the rest of them out of the library. By the time I get to where my brother is lifting her bike into the bed of our truck like it weighs nothing more than a bag of sand, I have my body under control again.