by Nora Cobb
Frowning, I shake my head. “I’m not sure about this, Luna.”
Luna sighs dramatically as if I burst her amazing super-bubble. “Vicki, you need more fun in your life. Maybe if you were less suspicious, life wouldn’t be so difficult.”
I almost freak, but I tamp it down. “These kids are seriously competitive. You can’t drop your guard around them or they will own you.”
Talia weighs in as the voice of reason. “I agree with both of you. But Vicki, this is it. Your last days of reckless freedom, unless your dad’s going to support you in style until you’re forty, which I doubt either of you want.”
I shake my head until it almost spins. “He’s done enough, and so have I.”
Talia continues. “Luna, you’re like a sweet angel, visiting us crappy mortals on Earth. You put out this brilliant energy, and bad people are waiting to take it away from you.”
Luna widens her eyes. “Well, that screwed my mood.”
Talia shrugs her shoulders. “You’re a cute bunny hopping around the foxes. Be who you are, but be alert. These assholes are not your friends. Now, if the two of you could balance each other out—”
The guy behind the counter calls out our number, and I get up quickly to get our pizza. I don’t want to hear anymore. Sometimes, I hate it when someone is right about my behavior, and they point it out. If I could be a little bit more like Luna, maybe the stress would ease up on me? I doubt it, but maybe I’ll try.
Talia gets extra napkins, and Luna carries the drinks to the table. For a moment, we sit with our own thoughts as we dig into the hot pizza. I close my eyes as the warm cheese fills my mouth. Pizza is almost better than sex. Almost. I still don’t have a project idea for the film festival, and my brain wanders a little more until Luna’s voice brings me back into the conversation.
“So, I found out that there’s a room in the basement of the film building. It has equipment and a studio. I might be able to shoot a demo down there.” Luna looks at me with excitement. “Vicki, do you know anything about it?”
My eyes widen, and I almost choke on the glutinous mass of cheese in my throat. I grab my water to keep from coughing food out onto the table. Luna glances at Talia then slaps my back. I never told either of them about Chase or that room. If I tell Luna anything about it now, she’ll think I’m crazy for spending any time with him.
“Don’t go down there,” I wheeze, catching my breath. “Don’t ever go into that fucking room.”
Their frozen expressions tell me that they think I’m overreacting. If I just say why, they’ll understand, but do I want to tell them that Chase is screwing Marcy? I glance around the room. No matter how low I whisper, the wrong person will hear me. They always do. The only way to keep a secret is to keep my mouth shut. If I tell on Chase, it won’t sound like a warning, just spiteful gossip. And if I tell Chase’s business, no matter the reason, I’m asking for trouble. I’m begging for payback. He’s into me now, but he could go back to bullying me later.
“I get a bad vibe in the basement,” I reply firmly. “I never go down there alone. It isn’t safe. Avoid it.”
I can tell by the subtle shift in their expressions that I’ve convinced no one. I’ll talk to Luna later, but only when we’re alone. I place my slice down on my plate. The smell is making my stomach woozy.
Talia shakes her head. “Didn’t think you’d be scared of the boogeyman, Saunders.”
“You’d be scared of him, too, if you met him,” I reply. The good mood was already dying, but that comment kills it.
Luna gives a short but unconvincing laugh as she tosses her crust on her plate. “Vicki, you’re too guarded. I’m not implying that you don’t have a legit reason, but…” She shakes her head, but it resembles a shudder. “Not every person has dark motives. You just ran into the wrong boys. Maybe let them go their merry way. Spend time with decent people for a change of pace.”
I scoff, looking toward the ceiling for invisible strength. “I don’t have that kind of life,” I reply. “I attract trouble. And if you saw nearly as much shit as I have…” I stare her down. “You’d be suspicious too.”
Talia watches me, and I know she understands. But Luna? Being pretty has been her shield. But that’s going to change in Hollywood when they slip her the first pill.
Talia’s gaze stays on mine. “So, what have you seen?” she asks me quietly.
I glance down at my hands, which are clenched into fists. I will them to open. “Did you know that I went to rehab?”
Talia nods. “I thought so. You have a hard edge about you. You have that look like you’ve lived ten lives during one lifetime.”
I look away and hug my sweater around me. It’s an old sweater of Dad’s—navy cashmere with a V-neck that fits him perfectly. It’s too long on me; it almost reaches my knees. I don’t wear it for fashion. I wear it for comfort. I can take home along with me whenever I put it on.
“The place I went to was one of the better ones,” I reply in a monotone. “But rehab isn’t the type of place that brings out the best in people. It’s a building filled with addicts with mental and emotional issues that haven’t been treated.” I scoff. “You’d be searching a long time for light and love in there. If you behaved, the staff left you alone, but if you acted out…” A shudder travels through my body, raising goose bumps across my skin. “We’re all human, but when you’re with the same people, you depend on them every day. And they’re tired, but they have to take care of you, and you’re tired and you just want to go home.”
I cover my face with my hands. There’s a light touch on my shoulder, and I leap away from Luna’s hand. “Sorry.” My voice sounds raspy.
Talia looks at the pizza in the box. It’s barely touched, but no one wants anymore. Great, I just ruined another good time. Like a beacon of gloom, I keep people from having a good time. I stop my negative thoughts. I control them and wipe a stray tear away from my eye.
“Luna,” I chuckle, “can you give me fun lessons?”
Luna smiles with relief. “You need a good laugh, Vicki. Let’s get in the car and drive as far as we can go from this place.” She closes the pizza box and collects the dirty plates. “No wonder everyone runs home on Sundays.”
“They’re probably having fun without us right now,” Talia smiles. “I’m no genius of fun, but we can figure out something better to do than this.”
Luna giggles. “Let’s go to Tarjay and buy everything we can find that’s pink.”
Talia laughs. “No, wait. I vote for the purple.” She looks at me. “No black today, Empress of Doom.”
I laugh. “If doom and gloom were a country, I’d rule it.”
I force a laugh. I don’t quite feel it, but I’ve got to shake off this sour mood. We grab our stuff, and like a majorette, Luna leads the way toward the main exit. Smiling and laughing, I skip behind her, twirling the cuffs of my too-big sweater in the air. Slowly, the good mood is taking hold of me as we walk one by one out the front door. I’m smiling until I see Dom sitting on a bench by the walkway, staring at me.
Chapter Twelve
It takes serious effort to be happy. It’s fucking hard work. But I work at it just as hard as I work at getting even. Maybe not getting even, but definitely staying one step ahead. Quietly, I keep tabs on the boys, and they seem to back off while plotting for the upper hand. They watch me watching them as a fragile truce stays in place.
November in Redwood is nothing like November back home. The campus is surrounded by evergreen trees, so if I want to see crimson leaves fall to the ground, I have to travel north. Regardless, Redwood is a creative place, and the school designs a New England autumn for our next big school gathering. Fall-fest is a picnic for the students to relax before the angst of final exams and the horror of family holidays.
I didn’t intend to go with Chase, and he didn’t ask me, but somehow we end up walking together along a path decorated with artisan pumpkins. I flip the fuck out when I see spice lattes on sale at one of the st
ands. I sip mine hot while Chase chugs one down cold. I sneak glances in his direction, checking out his built-up muscles in his navy Henley. His jeans fit him tight, and he’s wearing flip-flops in November. He’s perfectly comfortable with himself.
He stares at me with his stormy gaze and catches my eye.
“What?” I laugh as he pulls me against his side, and we stumble a few steps before he lets me go.
“You keep checking me out,” he says. “I thought I should stand still and give you a better look.”
I try to laugh it off, but my laughter sounds forced.
Maybe because the festival was outdoors, I decided to go with the gypsy witchy look. I added extensions to my hair and pulled off a cacophony of blonde shades in a shaggy style. Chase likes that alternative look. He really means it when he says I don’t look like the other girls. He’s deep into alternative and seeks out new bands, off the beaten path. Spending time with him, I realize how brilliant he really is musically. Not only does he play guitar, but he also plays keyboards and the violin too.
“Yeah, when I was young, my mother went through an upscale phase,” he explains. “She wanted us to be classy, so instead of drums, I ended up playing the violin.”
I listen closely and keep my mouth shut. Do I want information, or am I curious about him? Sometimes, Chase talks about his parents. I glance over. His wavy bangs tumble into his gray eyes, which reflect the sunlight. The color is so intense, it challenges the overcast sky. My fingers accidentally brush his. He catches my hand and holds it. A thrill rushes through me as I look up toward him. This is the boy that saved me. I can’t wrap my mind around him hurting me. My guard is slipping dangerously low.
“Am I crashing the lovefest?” Dom stands in front of us on the path leading to the picnic tables.
Automatically, I pull my hand out of Chase’s. He glares down at me while I look sheepishly up at him. He’s frowning. I glance over at Dom. They’re both frowning. Fuck. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to play it off. I take a step toward Dom but stop. Why should I try to be nice to him after what happened in the woods? Am I afraid? Why am I trying to appease him? Is it to keep him from hurting me again?
“See any good ideas for our film project?” I ask lightly.
Dom slips a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. I don’t dare look at Chase. “Are you out doing research?” He smirks. “Or still playing with matches?”
I yank my shoulder out of his grasp. Why do I feel bad for this asshole? Dom’s gaze narrows as I take a step back toward Chase. His hard look could shatter me, but I won’t fall apart. Not again. I can’t. They don’t have rehab for wimps. I have to win. Let that be my mantra.
Chase stands behind me. “Dom, why don’t you go into the woods and jerk off?”
Dom smirks, shaking his head. “I’d rather use my hand than whatever I can find.”
WTF? Is he referring to me? I’m about to tell him off, but Chase hears a different meaning. He snarls at Dom, “You’re not pulling your weight. How long am I supposed to cover that up for you? You’re fucking up again.”
Dom holds up his hands defensively. “I’m taking care of my share.” He glances over at me. “Sex isn’t the only weapon.” My body stiffens, and it makes him laugh. “Now, that’s an idea for our film project.” Dom gives me another dirty look. Then instantly, it’s replaced with a smile before he walks off.
I turn to face Chase and jump. He’s glaring at me, no doubt for being fickle. Fuck. I feel small with him towering over me. The damsel is no longer in distress as the villain stalks away. Slowly, I back away, but Chase reaches out and grips my arm, pulling me against his body. Christ. I feel another type of shudder as my body heats up against his strength. I glance up into his eyes, and my mind wanders back to the rehearsal space. I think about how he would feel deep inside me if I ever said yes.
Chase smiles at the expression on my face. “That looks like lust,” he whispers.
“Don’t make me blush.” I try to pull away, but he pulls me tighter against his strong legs. He’s pressed firmly against me.
Chase leans in closer as my eyes widen. People are watching us as Chase stakes his claim. His lips take mine as his grip tightens on my arm. It’s not a loving kiss. It’s all fierce passion as his mouth covers mine. His tongue swipes against the part of my lips. I lean my head back, surrendering to him. Gasping, my lips part while his other hand holds the back of my head. Chase holds me tighter. My body heats up as I melt into lean muscle. He makes it clear that he owns me.
Someone whistles while another person claps. Chase lets me go, and staring at him, I take a wobbly step back. His handsome face is as hard as stone. Chase has claimed me. The passion I felt in his tense muscles and urgent mouth had nothing to do with love or lust. He dominated me with power. I look down, and his hand is still tight around my upper arm. I tug at it, but he won’t let go. I look up at him with a pleading look that makes him smile.
I haven’t been in control of them. They were just waiting to see who would take control of me.
“You’re hurting my arm,” I whisper.
Immediately, he lets it go. I rub it carefully, avoiding eye contact with anyone. I should walk away. No, run away. But I won’t. I can’t. Chase won the battle, and now I have to rescue myself.
Chase places his hand on the small of my back as we cross the grass toward the pumpkin carving stand. The sign above reads, Vote for the Funniest. The grimacing and laughing jack-o’-lanterns terrify me.
“Make a donation and vote,” the freshman behind the counter says. She has the nerve to give Chase the eye while I’m standing right there. She looks his lean body up and down, then up again. I glance at him, and the mofo is grinning at her.
I step in between them and smile at her sweetly. “Can I vote for you?”
The girl scowls, then nonchalantly points to a pumpkin on the top shelf with the kitty-cat face and a “meow” carved below it. Figures.
“That’s mine,” she curls her lip, “but you have to make a donation to vote.”
Chase hands her a twenty. “We vote for yours then.” It only costs a dollar.
She slips the bill out of his outstretched hand. “Thanks.” She giggles at him and frowns at me. Chase starts laughing before we walk off.
“Repeat after me,” he says, “the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.”
“Fuck you,” I snap. “I can’t believe you almost sucked my tongue out of my head and then you flirted with that girl. Are you some kind of man-ho?”
He frowns. I went too far, and I bite my lip. “Excuse me,” I speak quickly, “while I yank my foot out of my mouth.”
Chase smiles again, and it reaches his eyes. He places his large hand again on my back, and this time, it feels less claiming and more protective.
“Vicki, I have so much to teach you. Too bad it’s senior year.”
“Let’s buy something to drink first,” I reply, “and then you can wow me with your knowledge.”
Alcohol isn’t allowed on campus though the recyclable bin is filled with beer cans and wine bottles on Monday mornings. So, the faux beer garden is serving faux alcohol, which is okay since Oktoberfest was last month. The aroma of warm doughnuts makes my stomach growl, and I can’t decide between cider apple or pumpkin spice. Chase buys one of each to share, and I treat us to cider, carrying it to a little round picnic table with a white canvas umbrella. I try the pumpkin doughnut first and almost don’t share the rest.
“It’s so good,” I review it. “Not too sweet, with a lot of spice.”
I lift my eyes to Chase’s face, and his look isn’t about lust. It’s need. Chase touches his hand to my cheek gently. His thumb swipes my lower lip slowly. His firm touch brushes against my lips, and I replay that forceful kiss in my mind. Chase moves his hand away to his mouth and places his thumb against his lips. His gaze locks on mine and doesn’t look away. He licks his thumb, and that sends electricity from my tailbone, flying up my spine.
&nbs
p; “You had a crumb on your lip.” Chase smiles. “By the way, is this how you taste?”
If words could make you cum, I just did. I clear my throat. “Thanks,” I mutter. Vicki, he’s playing you. Step it the fuck up.
I swat his arm playfully. “Stop teasing me with your sex appeal.”
“I’m not the tease.” His voice is low and husky, and gives me a crazy chill.
“So, are we practicing, teasing, or flirting?” I ask coyly.
Chase moves closer, his thigh pressed against mine. “You ready for the real thing?”
His hand brushes my thigh under the table. I should pull away. I’ve crossed the line, but I can still step back over it.
