by Abigail Cole
“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Dax counters bitterly. Garret and Avery cheer loudly, holding their glasses in the centre to clink with mine and I sip my orange juice with pride.
“Never have I ever faked an orgasm,” Huxley takes his turn, looking across to Garrett expectantly. Avery alone downs her entire drink and we all stare at her, clearly thinking how much of a crying shame that is.
“Never have I ever...” Garrett begins looking up in thought. I can’t even imagine what’s churning in that mind of his and I’d be dreading it if I wasn’t finally enjoying myself. “Sent a naked photo to someone holding Huxley’s cowboy hat over my junk while he was asleep in the same room.” My eyes bulge and mouth drops wide open before curving into a smile and punching his arm.
“You asked for that photo, it was Valentine’s Day and you promised you’d never tell him!” I half shout jokingly, although Huxley doesn’t look very impressed.
“That’s my favourite hat,” he complains, running a hand through his hair as if he knows my balls were lying on the inner felt for that photo and he can scrub my sack germs from his scalp. The moment of feeling myself again soon ends, my meds beginning to wear off and abdomen starting to ache. Our empty plates are cleared, and I use the table to push myself upright.
“You can’t leave yet, you haven’t had dessert,” my mother instantly chastises me. The tightness of her lips and twitch in her left eye tells me just how annoyed she is with my behaviour, and I bathe in that small victory for one moment more. Her outer shell is tougher than ice but once it cracks, it shatters.
“It’s my house, I can do what I like.” My reply sends a further flare of anger through her brown eyes, her mouth opening and closing a few times like a fish out of water. Another fun clause of my father’s will, this mansion becomes mine the day I turn twenty-one and I won’t waste a second putting it up for sale. There’re too many memories in these walls that need to be forgotten. “Besides, I’ve got my dessert right here.” I stroke the length of Garrett’s throat with my finger, tipping his chin up to be captivated by his smile and dimples. Finishing his drink, he rises and links his fingers through mine. Turning towards the door, a sea of blue catches my attention and a wicked thought flares to mind. Offering my free hand out to Avery, she blinks a few times before accepting, a knowing smile lifting her lips as I gently tug her to her feet. “You’re coming too.”
Wyatt
Pacing around my room, I’m about a minute and a half from erupting. Weak. That’s what Ray called me. As if I’m not the only one who follows his requests without complaint and delivers actual results. And maybe the enigma that is Meg Connors did manage to breach my walls with her unshakable resolve, but I haven’t shown a shred of weakness in all the time Ray has known me. He should try guarding a girl that fills his dreams with sultry looks and impossible suggestions, only to have the reality match once awake with the bonus of her body warmth constantly too close. Well that ends now. Consider the walls re-erected and my outer armour impenetrable.
There’s a groove in the carpet from my black socks, spots of fluff scattered through the cream tread marks. I need to get out of here. Away from the guards and Ray’s expectations and the shadowed figure in the corner and my fucking dreams and her. Yanking a pair of black designer jeans from the wardrobe, I pull them over the boxers I donned after my recent shower and hunt for a shirt. Not black, I’m not going to a funeral – yet, or white because I’m not a domino, not in the mood for lilac or mint. I’ll go burgundy for a change. Slipping a gold Rolex onto my wrist, I slide my feet into my Nike’s with the matching gold tick and laces before giving myself a quick spray of cologne.
After a quick goodbye to my mom’s eerie shadow, I stride from the room with a roll of cash and Meg’s cell key in my pocket, so no one can gain access to her while I’m out and head in the direction of the garage. Rachel is wiping the TV stand in the living room as I pass through, dust collecting from lack of use no doubt. After a quick gush over my appearance, she runs a hand through my damp hair to push it back from my eyes and tells me to be safe. I kiss her cheek and promise not to get into any trouble with a wink, feeling more myself already.
I duck into the kitchen quickly to grab an apple for the time being and stroll through the connecting garage door. A skinny man in a black suit with matching flat cap nods to me in greeting, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he opens the back door of the limo. Word sure travels fast around here, but I can’t complain. This beats driving around in the sedan for hours without a destination in mind anyway. Dropping into the leather seat, the door is closed for me while I lean over to grab a bottle of whiskey from the mini bar.
“Where are you headed?” the driver asks from the front, eyeing me in the rear-view mirror.
“Surprise me,” I reply, pushing my finger onto the button that closes the glass partition between us and lean back with a sigh. Tonight, I’m going to drown myself in whiskey until the old Wyatt returns, the one who doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything except having a good time.
∞∞∞
Strolling down a busy street in central Chicago, the night life is buzzing even for a weekday. Skyscrapers all around stretch towards the full moon, their office lights switching off for the night as if there is a power cut sweeping from building to building. A sea of people bustles around me, half scraping their heels on the concrete, trying to delay the journey home whilst the other half shove past them eagerly in search for a good time. For once, I enjoy blending into the masses and take pleasure in simply being outside and carefree. No rushing to make a reservation, no deadlines to ignore, no family ties holding me back.
A pair of Lamborghinis races by on the highway, their passengers hollering as they dodge traffic to best the other. The traffic lights at the far end turn red and the sounds of their wheels shredding across the tarmac fill the air, stopping just in time to allow masses of people to scurry over the crossing. I continue wandering along this side of the street, surveying the unique range of nightclubs before selecting which one I’m most in the mood for.
Country music floods through the open doorway of a club on the smaller side, a jukebox sitting proudly beside a fully stocked bar and an indoor waterfall visible at the rear of the space. Next door is an establishment illuminated by red lighting, the dance floor already filled with headbangers as rock spills onto the street. Excited roars drag me a few bars down to halt in front of an enormous gaming bar, displays covering every free space of wall with a different console from several eras stationed at each. A crowd has gathered around a particular screen by the bar, two minimally dressed female fighters against a Japanese-style dojo background leaping towards each other with their front legs raised. Excited mutters escalate into cheers as the fighter on the left gains the upper hand.
I’m about to step inside for a closer look when a group of guys burst through the doors to my left. Laughing hysterically and huddled arm in arm, something about them has me pausing to watch. They are all dressed in shirts and jeans, the overpowering scent of their aftershave hitting me like a slap to the face but that’s not what catches my attention. Their smiles are wider than their cheeks can accommodate, clearly drunk and having the time of their lives. It’s when the blonde with glasses reaches over to pluck a hot dog from his comrades’ hand and stuffs it into his own mouth that realization dawns on me. It’s like seeing a memory float before my eyes, the resulting sidewalk scuffle of his actions exactly like my Shadowed Souls have done so many times.
My relaxed attitude sours immediately, an ache I’ve been able to avoid up to now taking root in my chest and expanding until I can’t breathe. A visceral desire consumes me as I remain rooted to the pavement, my eyes tracking their every movement. I’ve been able to prevent the thoughts of my former friends filtering through my mind whilst immersing myself in Ray’s orders, but now they flood back into me sharply. They’ll never forgive me for the things I’ve done, not that I’d ask them to, but then my thoughts drift ont
o Axel. He didn’t deserve the fate he received, and I can only hope my part in it enabled him not to suffer needlessly. It’s a small reprieve, but one I need to cling onto.
No longer in the mood, I turn away and stuff my hands in my pockets. Trying to decide where to head to now, my eyes halt on a red mini parked across the road, the female behind the wheel trying to slip out of sight even though our eyes have already connected. A hand lands on my arm, spinning me back around forcefully.
“Dude! We’re sole mates!” My eyebrows raise as the skinniest of the group stands before me, his appearance contradicting the firm clutch he still has on my bicep. His dark hair is swept across his forehead, invisible braces lining his teeth which aren’t living up to their name. Shrugging out of his grip, I’m about to tell him to fuck off when I see he’s pointing to our sneakers. Sure as shit, he’s wearing a matching pair of Nikes and I now understand his declaration.
Bracing myself on his shoulder, I twist my leg into the air which he mimics until the bases of our sneakers are pressed against each other. “Sole mates,” I agree. Howls of excitement sound as the rest of the group bundle into me, a beer is placed into my hand as I’m crushed in a bear hug. Barking out a laugh, the group drags me inside the bar they recently vacated without another word. This club is the type I expected to end up in tonight, complete with a sticky dance floor and brawl taking place in the back corner. The DJ in his elevated booth ignores them as he jumps in time to his music, fist raised, and a monsoon of people crammed beneath copy him.
Forced into a bar stool, my hand is grasped in multiple sweaty ones as introductions are passed around – not that I can hear anything over the techno racket thumping through the speakers. I’ve already made up my own nicknames for each of them anyway, shouting my own name back to Glasses, Braceface, Freckle Features, Bull ring and Elf Ears.
A barman walks over to us and points to a yellow badge pinned to his polo top, ‘ID Needed’ printed across it in black. My new friends pass nervous glances between themselves and I decide to spare them the embarrassment of leaving the town’s shabbiest establishment without being completely smashed. Standing on the stool’s lower bar, I lean across to speak into the barman’s ear.
“We’re all twenty-one and you’re going to keep the drinks flowing until we can’t stand,” I push the roll of cash into his hand and sit back with an eyebrow raised, the ball firmly in his court. After a stunned beat, he swallows thickly and pushes the money into his pocket, quickly retrieving us a tray full of shots. Hands clasp my back before we clink our tiny glasses together and throw them back, reaching for the next without pausing. The taste of oblivion skates over my tongue, leading a path through my body which I encourage to spread until it devours me.
“Hey, that’s you! You’re Wyatt Hughes!” Freckle Features shouts into my ear, drawing my attention to a small flatscreen above the bar. A female reporter is relaying a story I can’t hear with exaggerated hand gestures, the headline ‘Where is Nixon Hughes?’ scrolling across the bottom. In the top corner of the screen, my god-awful mugshot is on display for everyone to see. A cut on my temple is pissing blood down my face and onto my shirt, my blackened eyes barely recognisable but the sign I’m holding with my own name splayed in white lettering is undeniable. Shoving my two fingers into my mouth, I whistle sharply over to the bartender. His eyes swing to me instantly, abandoning his punter to rush over and switch off the TV at my instruction. I’ve only just forgotten about the shitshow that is my life, I’m not nearly drunk enough to deal with reality right now.
Several bottles of tequila and a fall off my stool later, I’m hoisted up and swaying in my companion’s arms. Fuck, I’ve missed this. Having people to lean on, emotionally and physically, and not being alone all the damn time. I’ve spilled every miserable secret and damaged thought to these five strangers, and the best part is they haven’t heard a word of it. Just nodded along and sensed when to hug me, which is exactly what I needed. Bull ring has his arm slumped around my shoulders as he drags me into the throng of people on the dancefloor, his central nose piercing glinting in the strobe lights.
An ass grinds up against my crotch in an instant, a blonde smirking over her shoulder at me. I remain still for a little while, praying her snaking hips and roaming hands can stir a response out of me but I already knew it was useless. She’s extremely pretty, slim yet busty and squeezed into a tiny pink dress, but everything about her is all wrong. Gripping her by the waist, I plant her in front of Elf Ears and shove my way to the door. With a glance back, I notice five sets of concerned eyes focused on me, my new friends staring longingly but I give them a simple salute goodbye, not wanting to be followed. My skin feels too tight and the room is beginning to spin, a rise of vomit threatening to explode from me if I don’t flee the overcrowded space.
Spilling onto the street, I lean over with my hands on my knees and gulp in the crisp air. Why did I think this would be a good idea? A pair of shiny loafers become visible beneath my face, a glance up showing me the full length of my limo driver. Stalker much? But I can’t deny that I’m done for the night and thankful to have a quick escape. Concentrating on following his exact footsteps, I misjudge my step into the limo and fly across the back seat in a slumped mess. My eyes flutter closed, consciousness drifting in and out as a pool of drilling collects beneath my cheek. Streetlamps blur past my closed eyelids, the door opening by my feet jolting me upright.
I stagger back to my room, my eyes unable to focus. I almost fall down the stairs, my hands slapping against the stone wall to stop myself. Pressing my back against it instead, I slide further down into the darkness below. This is fine, I’ll just sleep it off on my comfortable memory foam mattress. Back to normal tomorrow. I fumble in my pocket, withdrawing my bedroom key and twisting it in the shiny padlock. The clang of the chain hitting the floor makes me wince, my head throbbing as I bend to pick it up. Stumbling inside, I praise myself for remembering to hook the chain back onto the wall before flopping onto my bed.
My face connects with a hard floor and pain flares to life in my body. Fucking ow. I’ll have to tell Rachel my bed is broken when I wake up. I’m rolled onto my back, the hands of an angel gripping my pulsating cheek. Her face is hidden in shadow but there is an orange glow around her head, her halo firmly in place. “Hey you,” I grin stupidly, heat seeping into my chilled flesh. This is what the girl in the club couldn’t give me, this feels right. I lean into the gentle touch, reaching out to drag the angel down onto my body. Mmmmm, she smells all soapy. I wrap my arms around her tightly, never wanting to let go because she’ll have to go to heaven soon. But she can’t leave yet, I need her.
Her arms wind around my neck, her hug reaching a place in my heart I’m too embarrassed for her to know about. It’s not pure enough, not worthy of her. Sleep tries to drag me under, but I refuse, something telling me I need to savour this moment for as long as possible. Shifting onto my side, I pull her with me so I can memorize her face. Those thick eyelashes over icy blue eyes, that cute button nose and full lips. Enticingly soft lips that are every man’s desire. But no one else can have her, even if I know neither can I. Her eyes are staring into mine widely, too much clarity in their depths for me to handle.
“Stop seeing me,” my speech comes out slurred, but I know what I mean. She’s peering deeply into my soul and making me ashamed of it. Shutting my eyes, I lean my forehead against hers and take one last inhale of her scent, knowing everything will be back to normal in the morning.
Avery
Despite his obvious discomfort, Axel pulls Garret and I into a darkened room with an iron tight grip on our fingers. A familiarly sweet, yet musty smell of aged paper and ink washes over me, moonlight shining through an arched window to illuminate a personal library. I can make out the outline of a long sofa, its black leather catching the light, with two matching armchairs on the opposite side of the room. My bare feet step onto a circular rug, my toes flexing in the soft sheepskin texture. Axel flicks on a tall lamp, slowl
y lowering himself into one of the armchairs beside it whilst clutching his stomach.
“No offence Axel, but you don’t really seem to be ready for…this.” I point between myself and Garrett, knowing he couldn’t be gentle even if he tried. When Axel had offered me an early exit from the most awkward dinner party to have ever happened, I’d gladly taken it. Between Dax’s longing puppy-dog glances and Sharon’s narcissism, I could have had more fun walking across a sea of Lego.
“Oh, I’m not going to be joining in, physically.” The shadowed smile that takes root on his face would seem more appropriate for someone plotting a murder, his hands linking over his stomach as he casually slouches back to watch us. I throw a look to Garrett, who’s standing rigidly straight beside me with a determined clench to his jaw.
“No, not without you.”
“Well I’m right here, and I didn’t tell you the best bit. I command, you obey. Got it?” A tremor of surprise mixed with excitement ignites within me, although Garrett’s posture only tightens further. Flickers of confusion and uncertainty pass across his half-lit face.
“I don’t understand. You said you didn’t want me to be with other people.”
“I never said that; I just didn’t like you dragging me along like a third wheel, choosing where we went, who we fucked, how it happened. Tonight, I’m in control. Now, both of you, strip.”
I lick my lips, a concoction of anticipation and champagne fuelling my actions as I push the thin straps from my shoulders one by one. Keeping our eyes locked of Axel’s, Garrett pauses for a few seconds longer before pulling his tie over his head.
He yanks his jacket and shirt off, buttons ricocheting around us as my dress pools at my feet. Stepping out and kicking the material aside, I ease my thumbs beneath my lacey black thong and push it down while Garret hastily removes his slacks and pants. Standing gloriously and unashamedly naked before him, Axel’s amber eyes drag over the length of our bodies, desire clearly swirling in their depths despite the lack of light.
