“We don’t get along,” I inform.
“He’s got a proposition for you.”
“If it involves my neck and an artery, he can forget it.”
“It involves the charges you trumped up to save your own ass.”
Payback’s a bitch.
I give a brief smile as I take off to find Gage.
Brielle flags me down in the yard. The entire squad is seated in a circle on the lawn, including Nat. I’m almost afraid to be near her.
“We’re making plans!” Brielle shouts as I head over.
“To what, kill me?” I say, sitting down in between Brielle and Kate. I think at the end of the day the only person I should be friends with here is Kate, and I happen to know her the least.
“Oh, you’re so funny.” Brielle scoots into me. “Ski week is upon us and we always pull off the best pranks. So, we need original great ideas that will really mess with the guys heads.”
“Like decapitating them and reattaching them to other bodies?” That would really mess with their heads. It’s not such a stretch for me to think outside the mortal box anymore.
Chloe gives me the finger with my own hand. She’s wearing peep-toe FMs that showcase a sickly yellow nail polish. When is yellow nail polish ever a good idea? It screams I’m a hundred and live in a nursing home, or I’m jaundice because I smoke ten packs a day, and hey, by the way, check out these freaky FMs.
“I bet you’d like to do that. Twist someone’s head off for pleasure.” Chloe eyes me like a predator.
“Just yours,” I shoot back. “And for your information, I was talking about switching heads. Sometimes the things you get are better than the things that get taken away.” For instance, her sees-through-walls eyeball.
“Like you and Dudley,” Chloe says it clear in the event the people eavesdropping behind us didn’t hear. “Gage came back to me and now you have Studley Dudley.” She cuts a look to Michelle.
Michelle Miller is pouring every ounce of her silent wrath upon me. You would think, I’ve stolen the sun from out of her world. She’s become a trapped bird locked in her hatred. Nothing good ever comes from a hatred that deep, especially not when someone believes you’ve pureed their heart for the simple reason you were able to.
“Well,” Kate stretches out her long legs into the circle before bouncing her Ugg boots on top of one another, “I like my head just where it is. I think we shouldn’t bother doing anything to the guys—just let them be on guard all week.”
“So, we need to choose roommates,” Chloe pats her hands down on the damp grass ignoring Kate’s wisdom.
“I choose Kate!” It bustles through my vocal cords so fast it sounds like one long word.
Kate pulls at a lock of her hair, staring at me curiously. We haven’t exchanged more than two words the entire time I’ve been on Paragon, and quite frankly, I’d like to keep it that way. The more I get to know these girls, the more I’m apprised to the fact they’re assholes.
“Four to a room,” Chloe looks around for other takers.
“Me,” Nat shoots a barb through me when she says it.
“Me,” Brielle raises her hand.
“I gotta go,” Emily says, rising to her feet. She bolts over to Holden so fast you’d think he just whistled for her.
“Isn’t that great Messenger? You’ve got yourself a new big brother.” Chloe laps up the irony.
“Oh, it’s great,” I give it all the necessary sarcasm, “but what I was really hoping for was another sister. Maybe Holden’s got one to spare?”
Her eyes narrow in on mine. Cut from me to Holden before widening with fright.
I love killing Chloe softly with revenge. It’s so much better than the quick merciful spear of the sword.
***
I find Gage over by the makeshift outdoor bar, which consists mainly of water and soda. I like parties at the Oliver house much better than Ellis’. The lack of alcohol always manages to keep things at a semi-normal behavior level with no one passed out in the bushes or spontaneously pulling down their pants to show you their bare ass. Plus, it’s nice to carry on a conversation and not expect barf as a reasonable response, or witness public urination as soon as you step outside.
“Off duty?” I spring a kiss off his cheek as I glance over at Chloe still converging with the bitch squad.
“She’s got other plans for the evening,” he says it grim.
“Oh,” I blink back surprise. “I don’t like the sound of that, like, at all.”
“Welcome to the club.” He leans in and swipes a quick kiss off my lips. “And here she is,” he whispers.
“Shit,” Chloe hisses. Her face contorts in humiliation. “Are you serious?” She belts out the words like a punishment.
Gage throws down his cup and dark liquid merges with the concrete.
He takes off in frustration towards the house.
“You are on thin ice,” Chloe seethes. “You have no business talking to Gage in public. You should be on your knees with gratitude that I let you hang onto him by your fingernails.” The moon seals over her complexion with a wash of blue.
“Did you renounce yourself as a Celestra?”
“You can’t register as a Count without it,” she sneers the fact into the wind.
“Then it looks like we’re enemies on all fronts.”
I watch as she heads into the house after Gage. The desperate measure she ensures with each step. She’s in love with him. And God knows there’s nothing more dangerous than a psychopathic killer in love.
I need some face time with Emerson, and fast.
Chapter Twenty
I Ain’t Missing You
I sit with my feet dangling in the freezing pool as the party rages all around me. Brielle and Drake are tangled in one another’s limbs over by a maple tree at the far end of the property. An ethereal fog lights up the yard like tissue paper settled on a lamp. The night presses over me with its full weight, caresses my shoulders with its camouflaged stars.
I miss Gage. We’re right here in the same vicinity and we can’t be together, can’t spend time around friends locked in an embrace, or it might cost me everything. In a way, I feel as though I’ve truly lost him to Chloe. It seems impossible for us to ever be together again. What could Emerson possibly know that could untangle me from this disaster?
I pluck myself out of the pool and spring to my feet. If I can’t be with Gage, at least, I can keep an eye on the two of them, fight back those insane thoughts I have of them cuddling in a corner. I push through throngs of bodies. I can’t help but notice the faces that drop their gaze to my stomach, can’t help hear the words, I think she’s showing, she’s having Dudley’s baby, repeated like the chorus of the best new song. Chloe’s been efficient with her rumor-mongering, I’ll give her that.
Carly Foster and Carson Armistead, two miserable girls from East, block my path into the house.
“I heard what happened,” Carly sprouts up concern with the voice of a three-year-old. Her long flat-ironed hair smells like it’s burning—complete with crispy-singed edges thick as potato chips.
“Nothing happened. I’m not having a baby.” I badly want to say that Brielle is and turn the attention to where it belongs. Something tells me that would be a little less sensational than Chloe’s perverse lies.
“Carly pulled that crap for months,” Carson’s sharp almond eyes light up like sparks. “So you think of names yet? Like Dudley Junior?” She snorts into her drink. “You know, I was telling my mom about you and she said there’s always one infamous girl who gets knocked up by a teacher—every generation has one.”
“Tag, you’re it!” Carly laughs so hard it pierces my ears with its intensity. I’m sure every dog in a three-mile vicinity is barking its head off.
I push past them into the vast dark space. I hardly recognize the landscape of the Oliver house with the lights turned off. Even the fundamentals look foreign to me in this shadow-covered world.
I search the entire
downstairs.
Shit. She’s probably dragged him off to his room for a little one on one time.
I take the first step, and a hand snatches me back by the elbow.
“We need to talk.”
It’s Ellis. His glossy red eyes glow like candles.
“Not now, I’m busy.”
“Can I catch you later?”
“Maybe,” I say, racing up the stairs. There’s only one thing Ellis ever wants from me, and to be honest, I’m sick of supporting his bad habit. A thought comes to me as I watch him sink back into the crowd. That’s right—he went back with Chloe to get his stash refilled, he must have a supervising spirit holding open that treble for him.
I open my mouth to shout over to him, but he’s already disintegrated into the darkness. I’ll have to catch Ellis later, for sure.
Taking the stairs two by two, I jet into the hall. My ears try to process the stale silence. The flickering candlelight of the wall scones lead a path to Gage’s room. An eerie quiet comes from the other side of the door—no light, no nothing. I peer inside. The moon exposes a well-made bed, not a soul in sight.
Maybe they’re back in the yard? I head down the hall and pause at the stairwell just before Logan’s. A thin seam of light calls out from beneath his door.
I don’t hesitate in going over.
***
I give a gentle knock before cracking the door an inch. I don’t know what I would do if I found Logan in a compromising position with someone. I’d probably freak out—twist both their heads off. I’m rather committed to doing that to him eventually anyway.
He gives a brief smile from the small round table in front of his bed and motions me over with a flick of the finger. He wears thin-framed glasses which make him look older, and oddly, trustworthy—as shallow as that seems. Books surround him like a garrison with large sheets of paper spread out, the fragile markings of a pen strewn all over.
“What’s up?” I ask, taking a seat across from him.
“Just going over facts and figures that I’ve managed to amass,” he pauses to look me over before glancing back down, “regarding the faction war. You remember, that little war we’ve embedded ourselves in? The one we hung our love on?” He doesn’t look up, jots down a note without missing a beat.
It doesn’t even sound like Logan. I study him a moment. So cuttingly handsome just looking at him sends a spiral of heat through me.
“Do you fake being a teenager?” I try and break up the uncomfortable air between us. Everything used to be so natural and now it’s like we’re something less than strangers.
He looks up and smiles before snatching off his glasses.
“What brings you here?” God, he almost sounds more like Dr. Oliver than himself.
“Looking for Gage.” I cast a solemn glance down at his work, inspiring him to quickly flip over his notebook. “So much for trust.”
“It’s nothing that concerns you.”
“It usually does.”
“Not this time,” he politely corrects.
“What happened to all that faction war we hung our love on bullshit?” I say it soft, almost on a dare.
“It’s not bullshit. It’s just…I’d rather not share my notes with you. I still love you Skyla, that will never change.” He manages to profess his love for me with a cold look on his face that suggests the opposite is true.
“Have I done something to offend you? Did I drag you to a stone altar and try to sacrifice you in front of dozens of psychopaths? Oh, wait, you did that to me.” Really, I don’t know where Logan gets off treating me like I’m some idiotic child.
He blinks into his frustration.
“I need to know that you forgive me, Skyla. That you understand I was trying to help you that night, not hurt you.”
“Or what?”
“Or I can’t live with myself.”
“Why do you care what I think? No one else seems to think you’re an asshole.”
“The court of public opinion means nothing. I only care what you think.”
“And if I tell you I love you, what would you do?”
“I’d sleep again for the first time in weeks. I take that back, I wouldn’t be able to sleep because I’d be too damn excited.” He lacks conviction when he says it. It’s like he knows there’s no possibility of it happening.
“I hope you sleep well.” I want to say something more, something profound, but I’m not entirely sure he wouldn’t interpret it the wrong way.
“Heard you spent the night with Gage.” His eyes widen with expectation.
“I did.” There it is—the root of his melancholy.
“Heard he closed the deal.” Logan’s face bleeds out all expression, leaving the trace of something just this side of hurt.
“Is that what he said?” I catch my breath. Logan’s cologne swirls around me, strangles me with his grief.
He gives a brief nod as a spark of moisture glints in his eyes.
Heat explodes all over my body, ignites my cheeks into balls of raging fire.
“That’s not what happened,” I stammer out the words.
He twists his lips as though he doubts my version of the story.
“You think I’m lying?” I can hardly catch my breath at the thought.
“I don’t think you’re lying.” He rests his elbows onto the table and compresses his lips. “I just happen to believe Gage.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Cuts Like a Knife
I wait for Gage in my bedroom. He drives Chloe home and drops off his car before teleporting over. Poor Gage thinks this is business as usual—hang out with me in the event the Counts outside my door decide to storm in and hack me to pieces. But I’m so angry I can’t see straight.
“Hi beautiful.” He makes his way over. It’s the first time he’s appeared directly in front of me. It caught me off guard, and managed to disintegrate all of the caustic feelings percolating inside me for the past few hours. “Got something for you.” He swings his arm around, revealing a yellow bottle of chocolate milk.
Great. I can never be mad at Gage. It’s pointless even trying.
“I love this stuff,” I say, as he hands it to me.
“I know,” he crawls up next to me, circling his arms around my waist. “She had me take her to the convenience store, then we hit Narrows.”
“You left the party,” I whisper. Makes sense why I couldn’t find them.
“Thank God it’s over. We can get back to reality.” There’s a darkness in his tone as though the situation were more sinister than he’d like to share.
“What’s going on?”
“Let’s not go there.” He rests his lips on my head.
I sit down the drink and snuggle into him.
“OK, let’s change the subject,” I say. “I talked to Logan tonight.”
His eyes expand to the size of silver dollars.
“So, did something happen between you and me while I was sleeping the other night?” I coil a lock of his hair around my finger as I ask the question, give a little tug at the end because there can only be one answer.
He bites down on his lower lip and lets a strangled silence envelop us.
“Sorry,” he presses it out in a hoarse whisper, but his guilty smile lingers long after the apology.
“Why? Why would you lie about something like that?”
He shakes his head.
“There’s got to be a reason,” I sigh. “Is it because you wanted it and I disappointed you?”
“No.” He presses his hands into the small of my back. “Nothing like that, I promise. You were perfect.”
“Then? Please explain. Because if this is nothing but closing a deal to you…” I shake my head with a heart full of sorrow.
“No, you’re everything,” he says, brushing his fingers across my face, examining me in a pale vat of moonlight. “I love you so much. I would never think of hurting you.”
“Then tell me what made you say something so ridiculou
s.”
“He was just giving me a hard time,” he shrugs, “says if it were him you couldn’t have stopped yourself. There would be no wait, no perfect moment because every moment would be perfect even the backseat of a car.”
My heart stops. I can’t breathe. If Logan so much as whispered to Gage about the dream I had about us in the backseat of his Mustang, I’m going to hang him by his intestines at the next Count roundtable. He can be my sacrifice.
“What else?”
“That’s it, I swear.” He holds up a hand.
I bury my face inside his neck and take in his scent as his body warms me.
I’ll deal with Logan later.
“He’s wrong.” It comes out muffled when I say it. The words vibrate over his skin. “I only want you, and I want it to be perfect.”
He pulls me back so I can see him, breaks out his intoxicating dimples for the occasion and whispers, “I know.”
“So how are things going with you guys? You were like brothers and now you’re…” I shake my head. I can’t find the words to fill the void I’ve caused in their relationship.
“We’re still like brothers. He’s a little punk that needs to be put in his place once in a while.”
I give a little laugh. Gage is teasing I can tell but I know deep inside there’s animosity between them.
“So, what’s going to happen,” Gage tilts into me, “when he finally figures out he can’t have you and brings home someone else.”
“What do you mean?” I swallow hard. It feels as though Gage just reached down my throat and yanked my heart out—is holding it out for me to examine it.
“What I mean is, are you going to be OK?” He pulls me in as though he doesn’t want me to see the hurt on his face.
“Yes,” I say without thinking. “Why would I care?” God—I hate this conversation.
“You were close, and I know feelings don’t just disappear overnight.”
I settle into him, bury my face in his chest. This time it’s me who wants to hide the hurt. I hate that my heart won’t let go of Logan.
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