by Chloe Walsh
"Yeah, man, I know." Wouldn’t be happening. "Thanks."
He was quiet then, clearly trying to figure out how to get me to talk.
It wasn't going to happen.
I couldn’t talk if I wanted to.
Wren had too much power over me.
Over this whole damn town.
Dick.
"What's happening with you and Sissy?" I asked a little while later when we were walking to first period.
"I was gonna ask you the same thing."
"I ain't got a stepsister to fuck, Rourke – unless you're planning on sharing yours."
"Watch your fucking mouth," he barked.
"Well shit." I arched a brow. "Could that be real emotion you're emanating right now?"
"Maybe." He grinned. "Six is…special."
"Special," I repeated, mulling the word around in my head. "Is that why you're still calling her Six and not Mercedes? Because I've gotta tell you, man, referring to the girl as the 'sixth' stepsibling doesn’t exactly scream special to me."
"It's more of a pet name now," he explained with a shrug. "A term of endearment."
"Whatever," I replied, too lost in my own thoughts to try and talk sense into the stubborn fucker. "It's your relationship."
"What about you?"
"What about me?" I replied flatly.
"Don’t piss down my back and tell me it's raining," he shot back. "I know you snuck off with Molly during the party last week and you've been avoiding being alone with me ever since."
"I haven't been avoiding you."
"Did something happen with her?"
"Nope."
Rourke scoffed. "Like you would tell me if it had."
"Nothing happened, Rourke," I growled, defensively. "Nothing."
He smirked. "You sure about that?"
At that exact moment, I caught a glimpse of Molly at the other end of the hallway with Mercedes. The sunlight was shining through the glass floor to ceiling windows, illuminating her in what looked like an honest to god halo, and when she smiled, it took the air clean out of my lungs.
Fuck my life.
The world felt like it was moving in slow motion. Everything came to a standstill. I didn’t know what to do, how to react, how to feel. Everything had intensified to the point where breathing hurt.
"Fuck," I breathed, stopping short, eyes glued to her as she disappeared inside a classroom with Mercy in tow. "Fuck."
Was I broken?
Did my eyes not work right?
How in the hell had I not noticed her before last week?
"I'm guessing from that reaction to her that something definitely happened at the party," Rourke mused, rubbing his jaw. "Looks like I'm not the only one emanating emotions, dude." He winced before adding, "Sucks to be us, huh?"
"I don’t know what to do here, Rourke," I admitted, feeling completely fucking rattled now. I swung around to face him, tone urgent. "I don’t know what I'm supposed to do."
"You're eighteen," he replied slowly. "No one knows, D."
"No." I shook my head. "You don’t get it."
"Get what?"
"Her." I blew out a pained breath. "I don’t know what to do about her."
"Molly?"
I nodded frantically. "And feelings."
"Molly and feelings…" He cocked a brow. "Wow. You're just swell at expressing yourself."
"I don’t know what the fuck is happening to my head," I choked out. "But I can't get her out of it."
"Because y'all have a past," he explained calmly. "And history. Lots of it, D. It's normal to get a little caught up in that. Especially since it's so fresh for you."
I stared at him for a long moment before blurting out, "I was happy."
"Happy?"
I blew out a pained breath. "Yeah."
"With Molly?" he offered, filling in the blanks. "When you guys were kids –"
"And at the party." I cleared my throat. "Being with her."
"Being with a girl at the party where nothing happened made you happy?"
"Yeah." I shrugged my shoulders, at a complete fucking loss. Maybe it was because I'd been so fucking miserable and numb for the past god knows how long, and being with her was the first time I'd felt something productive in years. "A lot."
Rourke stared at me like I had grown an extra head right in front of him. "Are you high, D?" He stepped closer, inspecting my eyes. "Did you smoke something with Reebo before practice?"
"No. Jesus, I'm not high, Rourke, I'm having a goddamn episode," I snapped. "There's a difference!"
"Really? Because I've read that one can bring on the other –"
"Omigod!" A female voice crooned as the sound of high heels clonking on tiles filled the air. "There you are!"
We both turned in unison to see Ashley Thomas hurrying towards us.
"Hard pass," I muttered at the same time as Rourke did, causing us both to chuckle and whisper-hiss, "jinx."
"Just the boys I wanted to see," she said, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. "What's the plan for homecoming?"
We both stared blankly back at her, neither one of us responding.
"It's next month," she added, as if that clarified why she was asking us. "So…"
"So…" I drawled back, tone laced with sarcasm. I had zero patience when it came to Ashley and her queen bitch BFF.
"So, are you and Britt coordinating this year?"
I looked to Rourke who shifted around uncomfortably. "Does she think…" I threw my head back and laughed. Brittany Beckitt had screwed with Rourke's head a few too many times for my liking, which put her on top of my shit list for life. "Ashley, he's done being strung along by your puppet master. She cheated on him. Repeatedly. He's through with that girl. I think it's safe to say that Rourke wouldn’t touch Britt with Mason's dick. And Mason's dick has been in everything."
"What about –"
"And no," I quickly carried on. "Before you ask, I politely decline any offers or suggestions to take you or any members of the cheer squad to the dance."
"But you're homecoming king," she snapped, eyes narrowed. "It's a given. You have to take one of us. It's practically law."
I stared back blankly, unblinking. "Look at my face and tell me how many fucks you see me give."
A second pair of heels came clicking down the hallway and I groaned on the inside.
The bitch was here.
Ash was annoying but Britt was the dangerous one.
She had always held this sick hold over Rourke, and it drove me damn crazy that he still hadn't told her to go now that he was finally moving on from her skanky ass.
"First, Ocean Bay's wide receiver starts fucking his sister, and now the damn quarterback is panting after the poster girl for smoke alarms?" Britt arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Goddamn, the boys on the football team are going to hell in a hand basket." Sniffing as if something in the air repulsed her, she added, "Classy boys. Real classy."
"The fuck did you just say?" I demanded, fury filling me fast.
"Don’t think we didn't notice you sitting with her and fatty at lunch last week. Oh, and your trip to little Freddy's bedroom at the party didn’t go unnoticed either," Britt taunted. "You were seen, Daryl. By everyone." She laughed cruelly. "You must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel if you've resorted to fucking that walking scab."
"Don't!" Rourke commanded, stepping in front of me. "Let it go," he ordered, shaking his head. "She's not worth it."
Laughing cruelly, Britt held up the screen of her phone for us to see. "Wow, D, she's a keeper! Bet she feels real scaly underneath you…"
My eyes locked on the screen of her phone and my entire body started to quake.
"Delete it," I bit out, shaking violently when my eyes locked on a picture of Molly in the changing rooms at school. It had clearly been taken without her permission. "Now, dammit!"
"In your dreams," she sneered, taunting me with the image.
"Here’s a crazy thought, Britt," Rourke grow
led, snatching the phone out of her hand. "How about the next time you decide to take a picture of something you deem disgusting to post it online, why don’t you swing that camera around and take a fucking selfie instead!"
Her eyes narrowed and shot daggers at Rourke. "Excuse me? What the hell do you mean by that?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Britt," Rourke replied, tone laced with venom. "If you can take a selfie, look yourself straight in the eye, and see nothing but a picture-perfect human being who has never made a single mistake in her entire perfect life, then by all means, spread your nasty shit like syphilis. But, should you find yourself looking back at a person with a less than stellar record of perfect decision making, a person who has made many a mistake in life, or a human being in general, then perhaps you should pause and use something that's a little old fashioned – not to mention rarely used in the world nowadays."
"You’re going to say brain aren’t you?" Ashley said with a pout, sounding every inch of stupid as she looked.
"No – although she should definitely use that, too."
"Then –"
"Compassion," Rourke snarled, dropping her phone on the floor and stamping his foot down on it.
"You broke my phone!" Britt screamed, looking furiously at Rourke.
"And I'll break your goddamn reputation next if you don’t walk the fuck away from us."
She narrowed her eyes. "You think this is over?"
Rourke shrugged. "Unless you want the nudes you sent me posted on every social media site and forwarded to everyone's inbox, then yeah, I think this is over."
"You wouldn’t dare."
"Push me, princess," he hissed in a menacing tone. "I fucking dare you."
Britt paled, showing her fear for the first time. She couldn’t take Rourke on and win, and she was smart enough to realize it. "Fuck you both," she screeched before storming away with Ashley hot on her heels.
"And remember the mantra; selfies before spreading shit, princess," Rourke called out mockingly. "Fucking bitch."
Still reeling, I glared after the girls. "You should get your brain checked out because there must be something very fucking wrong in there to think that it was a good idea to ever stick your dick in that poisoned pussy."
"True that," Rourke agreed with a sigh. "Hey, maybe I should trademark that."
"Trade mark what?"
"Selfies before spreading shit." He shrugged. "Could make a good tagline."
"It could," I agreed. "Or selfies before screenshots."
"Dude." He grinned. "We're fucking geniuses."
Molly
Over the next few weeks, Daryl and I fell back into the same pattern of co-dependency that had almost ruined us when it was prematurely severed in childhood.
I had my friend back and, for the most part, it felt like no time had passed, but some things had definitely changed.
Sometimes, it felt like we were magnets, drawn to one another without thought or permission. I knew that didn’t make any sense, but just being near him soothed an ache inside of me that I didn’t have a name for.
Affection between us evoked more feelings than it used to. His innocent touches, playful winks, and friendly hugs wreaked freaking havoc on my body.
For some reason, our relationship felt more intense.
Deeper…
"Eat a bag of dicks, Rourke," Mercy growled, dragging me back to the present, as she tossed a potato chip at her boyfriend's head.
Yeah, in the past month Mercy and Rourke's relationship status had evolved from it's complicated, to enemies with benefits, to steps that sexed, to full blown boyfriend and girlfriend.
"If anyone here needs to put a dick in their mouth then it's you." Snatching up the rogue potato chip mid-air, Rourke popped it in his mouth and waggled his brows. "Practice makes perfect, Six."
"Are you insinuating that I don't give good head?" she demanded, spine stiffening.
"Criticizing your oral skills would require you actually getting on your knees to give bad head, Six, and we both know you're a Jon Snow in that department."
Her eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"
He winked. "Meaning Six doesn't bend the knee."
"Oh, but I would, guys," Mercy shot back in a mocking purr. "If Rourke actually had something worth getting on my knees for."
Now, Rourke was the one to narrow his eyes. "Meaning?"
She winked. "Use your imagination."
Equally enraged and intrigued with his girlfriend, Rourke rested his elbows on the lunch table, leaned forward, and grinned. "You're a crazy bitch to pick this battle with me, baby."
Smirking, Mercy leaned closer, mirroring his actions. "Better a crazy bitch than a basic one, pumpkin."
It was lunchtime on Friday and the four of us were sitting around our usual table in the school cafeteria. The happy couple were, once again, going at each other's throats, and I couldn’t decide if they were toxic for one another or if they got off on the fighting.
I suspected both and, apparently, so did Daryl.
"Sweet Jesus. Y'all go from bitching and fighting, to flirting and fucking in a damn nanosecond," Daryl groaned, speaking my thoughts aloud, as he tossed his half-eaten sandwich down on the plate and leaned back in his chair. "No offense, dude, but this relationship is giving me second-hand whiplash."
"Tell Rourke what you said, Molls," Mercy said then, throwing me right under the bus. "Go on. Maybe he'll realize how shitty he sounds."
I glanced across the table anxiously. "Wh-what did I say?"
"About his sharp tongue."
Oh god.
I dropped my head in my hands. "Ugh."
"Tell me," Rourke chuckled.
"Nothing," I muttered, red-faced. "Just…that I might have told Mercy that if words are knives then you're Edward Scissorhands." I blew out a breath and winced. "Sorry."
Rourke stared at me for a long moment before he threw his head back and laughed. "That's a good one, Molls."
My eyes widened. "It is?"
"Of course," he agreed. "I am a bastard."
"Hey –" Reaching across the table, Daryl traced his thumb over the back of my knuckles. "You okay, Molls?"
Repressing a delicious shiver from the contact, I forced a bright smile. "All good, D."
"Excuse me!" A high-pitched female voice boomed through the school intercom, causing everyone to look up that ceiling to where the speakers were hanging. "Sorry to interrupt your Friday, but we have the sweetest news ever!"
"Hold up!" Mercy tossed her fork down and turned to Rourke. "Is that…"
"Britt?" Rourke nodded grimly. "Sounds about right."
Daryl
"Now, I know y'all are waiting for an update on the details for next month's homecoming dance, but we've heard the sweetest news about your QB1, the one and only King Daryl!"
The room erupted in cheers, with countless people hollering and cheering my name. Meanwhile, I looked to Rourke, who was slowly shaking his head, eyes sparking with temper.
"What's happening here?" Mercy asked, looking confused.
"Nothing good, Six," Rourke bit out, hands balling into fists at his sides. "That fuckin –"
"Your QB1 has a special lady in his life now, girls. Word in the hallways is that he's off the market."
A chorus of boos filled the cafeteria.
Molly looked on, completely oblivious to what was about to happen.
I jerked out of my chair at the same time Rourke did.
"I know, I know, everyone wants to know the name of the lovely lady that's stolen the heart of our beloved QB1. Well, here's a big, fat, fiery clue!"
Moments later, Alicia Keys' Girl on Fire floated from the speakers in the cafeteria.
The moment the lyrics of the song registered to her, Molly turned to stone in her seat
"Jesus fucking Christ –" Running a hand through my hair in frustration, I looked to Rourke, who looked as infuriated as I felt. "Cut the fucking song."
"I'm on it," Rourke growled before bolting f
rom the cafeteria.
"Oh, you think it's funny, do you?" Mercy roared, throwing her chair back and stalking towards the cheer squad, who was laughing and pointing at our table.
At Molly.
She looked at me and my heart dropped.
I just fucking knew it right there in one glance that it was done.
Every single wall we had broken down up to this point was back. Any confidence she had regained was gone.
And maybe she blamed me for this? Would she think it’s my fault? It kind of felt like it.
"Did you…" Tears filled her eyes and she swallowed deeply. "Know about this?"
"No." I vehemently shook my head. "Molly, no – no!"
"Excuse me." With a grace only she was capable of, she stood up and walked out of the cafeteria, dutifully ignoring the snickering and laughter.
"Molly, wait!" I called out, racing after her. "I had nothing to do with this! You've gotta believe me –"
"I do," she called over her shoulder, as she powerwalked in the direction of the girls' bathroom. "I know."
"You do?"
"Yes, Daryl, I do."
"Then where are you –"
"I'm not doing this."
Panic roared to life inside of me. "No, no, just wait a sec…" Closing in on her, I grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. "Can we just talk about what happened back there?"
"What's to talk about?" she strangled out, spinning around to face me. I could see the makeup smeared across her face.
"Fuck." Letting out a pained sigh, I closed the space between us and pulled her into my arms. She buried her face in my chest, sobbing quietly into her hands. "I'm so fucking sorry." Unable to stop myself, I pressed a kiss to her hair and rested my chin on her head. "It's gonna be okay. I'll fix this. I'll make them stop."
"No." She shook her head and took a step back. "I don't need you to change or fight my battles for me."
I frowned. "I wasn't – Molly, that's not what I'm doing –"
“It’s okay.” She took another step back. “I’m used to them. To their words and their actions. And they’re your friends, too, I get that –”
“Ash and Britt are not my friends, Molly!”
“It’s fine. There’s no problem here, Daryl. Like I said, I’m used to it. Same shit, different day,” she continued to ramble, backing away. “I just…I just need some time to myself. To think…”
