Devils' Day Party: A High School Bully Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  “You're so … you, Karma. I fucking crave it.”

  “What?” I ask, blinking at him in shock. A couple comes out of their room and gives us a wide berth. Must be strange, to see a girl in baggy sweatpants with paint-spattered hands facing off against a boy who looks like a disheveled faerie prince.

  “I crave you,” Calix tells me, using one hand to rake fingers through his ebony hair. “I have for years. I try to talk myself out of it, tell myself that I don't care what you do or where you go, but I do. I'm obsessed with it.”

  My cheeks heat, and I run my tongue over my lower lip, trying to buy myself a moment to decide how to respond. Calix releases me, standing up straight and staring down at me with a face that could make angels cry. He's too pretty, too devilish, for his own good.

  “I'm obsessed with you,” he corrects, before I get a chance to add anything to the conversation.

  “Pretty sure the feeling's mutual,” I whisper back, my voice hoarse. “Couldn't you tell last year?”

  “I could tell,” he assures me, lush mouth turning down into a deep frown. “That's why I hate that you like me back. You shouldn't. You deserve better.”

  “What if I don't want better? What if you're just what I want?” I don't mention Raz or Barron. That part of the equation, I haven't figured out just yet. Three boys. Three shards of my heart. No easy answer. I mean, considering I can even break this time loop at all. I may not even have to worry about choosing between them if I can't escape this. I'll just spend each day spiraling deeper and deeper into hell until my mind shatters. A shiver overtakes me, and I shake my head to banish the awful thoughts.

  “What if?” Calix repeats, and then he reaches down for my hand, pulling me close. His eyes are droopy with fatigue, but as beautiful as a moonless sky, smudged makeup and all. “What if everything I said to you was true, and I've loved you even harder since I let you go?”

  “What if?” I choke out as he closes his eyes and presses his lips to my knuckles, reverently, longingly, desperately.

  “That was my first time, too,” he says softly, opening his gaze with a rawness that steals my breath away. There are endless emotions buried in there, but instead of hiding them behind a mask, he's revealing them all for me to see. “I haven't touched another girl since.”

  “You're kidding me,” I blurt, and his pretty eyes narrow, like two sharp blades of obsidian.

  “You think I'd joke about that shit?” he snaps back, clearly wounded. I ignore what's very obviously a defense mechanism and slide my arms around Calix's neck, hugging him. It takes a moment before he finally wraps his arms around me and hugs me back. “I didn't mean for Pearl to die,” he whispers next, and then he's squeezing me so hard that I can't breathe, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as I listen to the deep regret in his words.

  “I know you didn't,” I whisper back, hating the universe for this bullshit. Wishing I could just be here with Calix and have it all be real, that I could wake up tomorrow and start living.

  But I can't.

  So I'm going to enjoy every single fucking second that brings me happiness.

  “Let's go.” I pull back and grab Calix's hand, leading him to our room and then sucking in a sharp breath when he reaches around me to unlock the door with his key. His body is draped over mine, shadowing me, his warm breath feathering against the back of my neck. Calix turns the knob and the door creaks open.

  Our room is freshly made-up, the curtains parted to let in the sunshine.

  That's the first thing that Calix does, storm over to that window and banish the sunlight. It seems more appropriate for our illicit tryst, like we were made for nightmares and shadows.

  “Come in,” Calix tells me, speaking from the darkness.

  With another shiver—a much different sort of shiver this time—I step into the room and lock the door behind me.

  Calix is there in an instant, slamming his palms into the door on either side of me, his breathing suddenly ragged. He's clearly tired, upset, confused. But there's no doubt in my mind that what I'm seeing is real. This isn't some bullshit play he's putting on for the Knight Crew. No, it's no longer Devils' Day, and Calix Knight's mask is cracked and shattered to pieces.

  What I'm witnessing is him coming unraveled.

  “You've really only ever had sex with me?” I repeat, marveling at the novelty of it. As far as he's concerned, in this timeline, I've only ever had sex with him either. Barron and Raz, I think, desperately missing them and feeling guilty about how happy I am with Calix, all at the same time.

  “Does that bother you?” he asks, like he isn't sure. “Nobody else knows. Not Raz or Barron or Sonja.” He exhales and I turn slowly, staying in the space between his arms. When Calix lifts his face, his lips are within kissing distance. “Sometimes I play with girls, let them suck on my neck or kiss me, sit on my lap. But nothing else. I never want anything else. I barely want that.”

  “Stop it,” I tell him, suddenly uncomfortable with his shift in demeanor. The Calix at the café, who was biting and cruel but flecked with shimmering shards of humanity, I know how to handle him. This Calix is the exact opposite, and it's freaking me out. If I thought I liked him before, when he was little more than a taint-headed asshole, this is a whole new level.

  “Kiss me, Karma. And then ride me. I don't care if I see a ghost. He can watch if he wants, but we're not stopping until the goddamn ghost tour.”

  “Holy fuck,” I groan as he drags me back toward the bed, pulling me down on top of him. Calix tastes like first love and heartbreak both, and I find that I'm addicted to it, addicted to him. His mouth is lush and sweet, but venomous. I can feel the poison pumping through my veins, making me lightheaded and dizzy as he rolls us over and then pushes my shirt up, exposing the two pale mounds of my breasts.

  There's only a sliver of light peeking through the curtains on the right side of the room, but it's enough that I can see Calix run his tongue over his full lower lip. He leans down and takes my mouth, using his right hand to cup my breast and circle my nipple with this middle finger and thumb.

  Part of me wants to prolong this moment, encourage him to keep talking. The rest of me can't shove my sweats down my hips fast enough. Calix helps me wrestle the pants off and chuck them to the floor before he descends on me again, sucking my nipple into his hot mouth as I search desperately for a way to open the fly on his tight pants.

  He groans as my fingers tickle his lower belly, teasing open his button and shoving down his fly. My fingers slip inside the leather of his pants, freeing his cock and greedily wrapping around the base of it.

  “I haven't had sex for a year,” he murmurs against my ear. “An entire fucking year. Do you know how goddamn horny I am?”

  “And whose problem is that?” I whisper back, swallowing back my emotions as Calix trails his lips up to my collarbone then my throat, recapturing my lips with a pirate's frenzy, desperately searching for blood and treasure both.

  My hand pumps Calix's shaft, encouraging ragged moans to slip from his throat, unpracticed and raw but oh so sexy. He's so natural at this, so smooth, and I wonder if that's just because he's so damn good at controlling himself, of playing the modern aristocrat.

  “Get rough and messy with me,” I beg, squeezing him a little harder, remembering how, even with me bent over and propped up against the side of a train car, Calix was too practiced, too in control. “Let that tension out, so we can slow down. I want this day to last.”

  He lifts his head up, but all I can see is the shape of his face, limned in that tiny bit of sunlight. As I've asked, Calix slows down on trying to please me, letting me work him up to a climax. He spills himself across my belly and breasts and then collapses to the bed beside me, breathing hard.

  “I don't have any condoms,” he growls out as I roll toward him and reach out to unbutton his doublet. He not only looks like a fae prince, but he sounds like one, like a pissed-off royal with a grudge … and an insatiable desire for pleasures of the fl
esh.

  “We don't need any,” I whisper against his lips, and whatever he takes that to mean—that I'm on some sort of birth control, that I just don't care, that I'll get a morning-after pill later—I don't know and I don't care.

  “Good. Because I'm not sure I have the self-control to leave right now and find some.”

  “I wouldn't have let you if you'd tried,” I repeat, running my hands up his chest and marveling at how much his muscles have developed over the last year. A man, not a boy. Our lips work together like we were made for each other, and I find myself arching my hips against his, seeking more.

  Calix chuckles and pushes me back with a hand on my pelvis, tracing the bone beneath my flesh with the smooth whorls of his fingertips and making me shiver. “Take it slow, huh?”

  “Well, you know, I meant … give you time to recover …” I trail off, thinking of last year and how long it took Calix to recover. That is, not long at all. But every boy is different, every encounter is different. As if you're some sort of expert, Karma, having been with only three boys a handful of times.

  “Recover is a subjective term,” he purrs, taking my hand and placing it on the already rigid length of his shaft. “But don't worry: we'll take our time.” Calix drops his lips to my breasts, teasing my nipples with that hot slash of menace he calls a mouth and then trailing down to even hotter, wetter places.

  He tastes me like I'm something to be savored, working me up into a sweat, my naked flesh slick as he sits back up, chucking his doublet and pants.

  “Come here, Karma Sartain,” he tells me, leaning himself up against the headboard and pulling me onto his lap. “And kiss me like I matter.”

  My arms go around his neck, and our mouths meet in unbearable heat. This can't be happening; this is a dream. Only it's not. It's real, and yet … no more attainable than a perfect nightmare.

  “Can I call you Lix now?” I whisper against his mouth, wondering where this would go if we really had a tomorrow. I can feel him smile. A smile. A real goddamn smile.

  “You can call me whatever you want, so long as you scoot back a couple of inches.”

  I do as he asked, moving back just a bit and reaching between us to guide his cock to my opening, Sinking back with a groan, I take every inch of him into me, breathing hard as his warm hands find my breasts.

  My eyes are beginning to adjust to the dark now, and I can just make out his pale skin against the dark headboard and bedspread. My fingers trace his cheeks as I begin to move my hips, forward and back, nice and slow.

  It feels way too fucking good.

  “Marry me, Karma,” he says as we begin to pick up the pace, his hands on my hips encouraging me to go faster, plunge him deeper, rock harder. “Run away with me after school is out; I'll take you anywhere you want to go.”

  I pause, my body slowing its natural gyrating motions as the words he just said click into place.

  “What?”

  “Marry me. My parents have my older brothers. They honestly don't give a fuck about me. They'll give me money and tell me to get lost. I'm just asking you to get lost with me.” My heart breaks as my body stops moving completely. I end up falling forward, my palms slamming into the headboard on either side of his face. “What's wrong?” There's a sharpness in his voice now, torn halfway between empathy and fearful anger. He thinks I'm going to reject him; he's sure of it.

  “I like that idea,” I tell him, but I can't decide if I'm talking about the getting married part, the getting lost part, or … something else entirely. “Let's get lost together.”

  Calix seems to take that as a yes, bringing my face to his and destroying my mouth with those beautiful weapons he calls his lips. With some more encouragement from his hands on my hips, I begin to rock again, working my clit hard against his pelvis so that I'm actually the first to come. My body's natural motions of squeezing and tightening draw a climax from him, too, and he bites down on my lower lip as he comes, not enough to hurt, but just enough to mark me possessively.

  We stay where we are, his strong arms banded around my middle.

  “You were so mean this morning, like usual. I mean, you were an ass all the way through breakfast. What changed?” I lean back, soaked in sweat, my heart pounding as I see his lips curve into a smirk. Calix is bathed in shadows, but I couldn't miss that haughty expression if I tried. Please don't do this to me, I think, fear sweeping over me in a cold wave. Don't trick me again; I couldn't bear it.

  “I got sick of it,” he says, shaking his head, still smirking. “I got sick of playing pretend. You never do, no matter how hard or how long I play my parts, you just never show up to the act. Maybe I wanted to see what would happen if I didn't? Just for a minute.”

  “And?” I ask, even though I almost don't want to.

  “I loved it,” he says, and I hear that same tenderness in his voice now that I did when he first confessed to me. “I love you, Karma. Always have. Don't think I can ever stop.” When I reach up to touch the side of his face, his lids flutter closed against his cheeks. He's very clearly exhausted and running out of steam.

  But I can't sleep.

  I don't want to.

  I'm not ready to lose this yet.

  “Stay awake,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from sexual satisfaction and fatigue both. “Stay with me.”

  “I'll be here when you get up. We'll hunt for ghosts together. On Monday, we'll …” He trails off and then rolls me over, tucking me in against him and resting his chin on top of my head. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I want to get up and get in the bath, go find some coffee, try my hardest to stay awake. But now that I'm tucked up against Calix, loving this moment and terrified of it ending, what can I do?

  I wrap my arms around him, my eyes stinging.

  “Everything will be different tomorrow,” Calix promises, doing the very thing he said he couldn't do. Promise me a tomorrow. “In the morning, I’ll tell you about the ghost I saw as a kid …”

  “Sometimes tomorrow never comes,” I repeat for the last time as a stray tear leaks down my face, and my eyes close of their own accord. Big, stupid idiot, telling me he doesn’t believe in ghosts when he’s already seen one. Love blooms like a rose inside my chest, complete with thorns, cutting me to pieces and leaving me to bleed to death.

  “Je t'appartiendrai malgré tout. Toujours,” he murmurs as I drift to sleep, wrapped up in Calix's arms and feeling his breath in my hair. Regardless, I’ll still belong to you. Always.

  I have no choice but to spend the next three days crying at home.

  There's blood all over my steering wheel.

  I'm too stunned by the reset of my life to move the way I should, to push the lock down on my car door and drive off. And I'm punished for my inaction, on top of everything.

  Calix rips the door open and yanks me out, just days after promising that everything would be different. It’s an emotional blow, one that I’ve avoided for three fucking days. If I’d had to deal with his animosity just minutes after falling asleep in his arms, his cum still warm between my thighs, I’d have probably puked all over his shiny Crescent Prep shoes.

  I find myself thrown against the side of Little Bee anyway, Calix’s hands gripping my upper arms, his grasp dangerously tight. It’s a chore not to roll my eyes, to just stand there and pretend like this is any other day. Because it’s not. Each new day on this time loop hurts in a way that’s impossible to put to words.

  “Are you fucking insane?!” Calix snarls, and I decide I can't take it. Shoving him off with both hands, I turn and run toward the convenience store, bursting through the glass doors and looking around frantically.

  “Where is Raz?” I ask Barron, my eyes meeting his as I swallow back that moment in the chapel when he pulled my shoe off and began to massage my foot. Do not go there, not right now.

  Barron looks up from the aisle he's bent over, the hood of his white sweatshirt pulled up, a pink lollipop between his lips. He points back in the direction of the cold drinks, and I dart do
wn the aisle.

  Raz turns as I get close, eyes widening slightly as I barrel into him, throwing my arms around his neck and closing my own eyes against tears.

  I know what I have to do, but it's hard. It's fucking hard. I gave up a timeline I wanted to live for somebody I don't even like. And it hurts.

  “I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do it,” I whisper against his ear, knowing he has no idea what I'm talking about. “Raz, I like you. I always have. Can't you tell, the way we always shoot shit back and forth? You're a verbal curb-stomper.” I turn back to him and press our mouths together before he even gets a chance to react. My tongue slides along the seam between Raz's lips, and after a brief instant of hesitation, he kisses me back, hands gripping my ass. Heat spirals through me, followed closely by relief.

  A touch on my shoulder startles me, and I break away from Raz as Barron drops his hand to his side.

  “What the actual fuck?” he asks me. Barron, not Raz. His dual-colored eyes are bright with a frustration that it takes me a moment to untangle.

  “Nice Devils' Day trick,” Raz says with a sneer, pressing his advantage by squeezing my ass. “If you want to fuck me to prove a point, I accept. Tell me you love me, and I'll believe it.”

  “I love you,” I say, but without an ounce of mirth, just a gentle frown and drying tears. Raz's expression is priceless; I've shocked the shit out of him.

  Seconds later, Calix comes storming into the store, making his way over to me in the sharp creases of his Crescent Prep uniform with its clean, tailored lines. The logo—the moon on its side, the knife and rod crossed behind it—shimmers in silver stitching from the purple fabric.

  “This bitch just hit my fucking car,” he snaps, and I have to close my eyes against a feeling of nausea.

  “You did what, Trailer Park?” Raz asks, but he doesn't set me down. His fingers relax on my ass, but he's still holding me. I open my eyes and look him in the face.