Malicious

by Alex Grayson

  I use that as my justification for the turn my thoughts have taken. It’s not that I want Oliver, I reason with myself. In fact, it has nothing to do with him. When you go this long without any relief, you’ll feast on the most rotten of carcasses to survive. And that’s what I’m doing. I’m using him. Using the thought of him to satisfy a need.

  The build comes on fast and strong, my body trembling under the warm water that continues to pelt my shoulders and back. I grip the side of the shower with my free hand, my entire body tensing as my orgasm rips through me.

  I bite my bottom lip to silence my cries of pleasure.

  This. This is what I needed.

  I slow the movement of my fingers as I slowly begin to come back down. And when the chase is over, when I’ve found the release I so desperately needed, my desire is replaced with disgust.

  Disgust over what I just did—or rather who I was thinking about while I did it. Ashamed that I let the thought of someone so cruel and vile bring me such pleasure. And angry with myself for being so weak.

  I imagine the look on his face if he knew. The smug, satisfied smirk on his lips, knowing that the mere thought of him nearly brought me to my knees, and my disgust only grows.

  The water is almost cold by the time I exit the shower a few minutes later. While my body feels sated and relaxed, I can’t seem to get my mind to shut off.

  What if Rylee was right? What if me hating Oliver is a cover for something else? Something that up until this moment I refused to even entertain.

  “No,” I mutter to myself as I wrap a towel around my hair and another around my body. I won’t let her get inside my head. I do not have a thing for Oliver Conley. I think I’d rather throw myself off a bridge than be with someone like him.

  But no matter how much I try to convince myself of this fact, I also can’t deny that the seed has been planted and try as I may, I can’t seem to stop it from taking root.

  But admitting you’re physically attracted to someone doesn’t really mean much. I’m attracted to tons of actors and musicians—it’s not like that means I want to date them or anything.

  I jump when a light knock sounds against the bathroom door.

  “Hey, V, you about done? Mom’s home,” Rylee calls through the door.

  “Yeah, let me get dressed, and I’ll be down.”

  “Okay.”

  Drying off, I dress quickly, pushing Oliver to the back of my mind. I’ve got enough going on right now without adding him into the mix. I had a temporary lapse in judgement and now it’s over. No reason to make something out of nothing.

  With that thought taking hold, I exit the bathroom and go in search of Rylee and Evelyn.

  5

  OLIVER

  “Wow!” I say, smiling down at the little girl in front of me. “It looks like you’ve grown six inches since the last time I saw you.” I look over at Zayden and wink. “Hey, Z. Are you sure this is really your sister? This girl looks too old.”

  Zayden chuckles as he plates a couple slices of pizza for Danielle. Once he finishes, he turns around, crosses his arms over his chest, and regards his sister. “You know, I was wondering the same thing when I walked in. There’s only one way to find out.”

  Danielle rolls her eyes, but a smile plays on her lips. “Do not even think about it,” she warns, casting Zayden and I both wary glances.

  I grin, and before she knows it, I’ve gently got her tossed over my shoulder. She squeals. I turn around, presenting her feet to Z. “Come check. The Danielle we know is extremely ticklish on her feet.”

  She laughs hysterically and bounces around on my shoulder, her fists half-heartedly beating on my back as Zayden attacks her feet. After a couple of moments, I give mercy to the poor girl and flip her back down so she’s standing.

  “Yep, you’re Danielle alright,” I say with a grin and ruffle her hair.

  She giggles and shakes her head. “You guys suck.” She fixes the mess I’ve made of her hair and plops down at the table in front of the plate of pizza Zayden put down.

  “You know you love us.”

  She takes a big bite then shrugs. “Maybe a little,” she says around her food.

  I chuckle as I make my way to the fridge and grab a bottle of water. Turning back to the room, I lean against the counter.

  Although it’s been months since Danielle had her lung transplant, and I’ve seen her several times since then, it’s still amazing to see the color in her cheeks, full of energy, and her expression relaxed and not filled with misery. It was hard watching her slowly wither away. I can only imagine how tough it was on Zayden and his dad. It was a close call for a while, but thankfully, the insurance company came through before it was too late.

  Allen, Zayden’s dad, walks into the kitchen. After dropping a kiss on top of Danielle’s head, he beelines it straight for the pizza. He takes a bite, then drops it back in the box before turning to Zayden.

  “You see that? He notices the pizza before his own son,” he says, giving his dad a one-arm hug.

  “It’s good to see you, son,” Allen states, slapping Zayden on the back.

  “Not as good as the pizza apparently.”

  “It’s Perogi’s. Need I say more?”

  Laughing quietly, Zayden nods. “Point made.”

  I clap hands with him. “How have you been, Oliver?”

  “Nothing to complain about.”

  He opens the cabinet in front of him and pulls out a glass. “How’s school?” he asks Zayden.

  Opening the fridge, Zayden hands him the pitcher of tea. “It’s good.”

  “You keeping your grades up?”

  “Yes, Dad,” he grunts.

  He looks to me next. “And you?”

  “Yes, sir,” I answer. “All A’s and B’s for me. I can show you my progress report if you’d like.” I finish with a grin.

  “Smartass,” he mutters, and we all laugh.

  Allen has never been much of a talker, but he’s a damn good father to Zayden and Danielle. Hell, he’s a better father to me than my own has ever been.

  “How’s your dad and Evelyn doing?”

  I shrug. “Last I heard, they were doing fine. I haven’t seen them since we got into town.”

  He eyes me for a moment. He may not know all of the details, but he knows there’s tension between my father and me.

  After he puts the tea back in the fridge, he dumps a couple slices on a plate and carries them to the table. “Grab a slice. Have a seat.” He gestures to the two empty seats.

  “We already ate. I just stopped by to drop off the pizza,” Zayden says.

  His brow raises. “You staying at the Conley’s?”

  “You know Paul would never let that happen. I’ll be back later, after I drop Oliver off.”

  He nods and shoves a bite of pizza in his mouth. “When are you going to bring Rylee by? It’s been too long since I’ve seen that pretty girl.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Allen points his pizza at Zayden. “Not too late. I’ve got a shift tomorrow evening.”

  “They still putting you on nights?”

  “Not often. Only here and there.”

  “Why don’t you give Mrs. Hogan the next few days off? Rylee and I’ll take Danielle while you’re at work.”

  “Really?” Danielle asks excitedly. “Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Hogan is great, but it gets kinda boring there.”

  “You sure?” Allen asks.

  “Yep. Danielle can hang out with me and Rylee.”

  Danielle fist pumps the air and hisses, “Yes!” She points her finger at him. “You’re the best brother ever!”

  He shoots her a wink. “You know it.” He turns back to his dad. “I’m going to drop Oliver off and say goodnight to my girl. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Do me a favor and stop and grab a gallon of milk while you’re out.”

  “You got it.”

  I grab the sides of Danielle’s head and force it forward to plant a kiss on the top. “
I’ll see you around, kid.”

  Zayden says his goodbyes and we leave.

  “It’s damn good to see her looking so healthy,” I remark once we’re on the road.

  “Hell yeah, it is. She missed out on so much of a normal childhood. Things she’ll never get back. I’ll be damned if she misses more.”

  “I’m glad it all worked out.”

  “Me too.”

  It’s quiet for a few minutes, just the low sound of the radio in the background. One of my favorite songs comes on, and right as I’m reaching to turn it up, Zayden starts speaking again.

  “Look, man, there’s something I gotta ask you.”

  I tense, not liking the hesitancy in his tone.

  “What?”

  His eyes move from the road to me, then back to the road.

  “Is there something going on between you and Savannah?”

  I jerk my head around, caught off guard by his ridiculous question.

  “What the hell kind of question is that? Does it look like there’s something going on between her and me? The girl can barely stand to be in the same room with me, let alone be close enough for me to touch her.”

  He nods. “That’s true. But fuck, Oliver, the tension between you two is intense. Way more than just dislike.”

  “Try hatred,” I mutter.

  “Do you really hate her?”

  I pause, because my first initial reaction is to say yes. But deep down, I know that’s not true. I get Savannah’s aversion to me, and to be honest, I don’t blame her. What has my hackles rising anytime she’s near is my body’s reaction to her. The woman hates me with every fiber of her being, while I have to fight tooth and nail to keep my hands off her. She drives me bat shit crazy.

  “No, I don’t hate her,” I admit reluctantly.

  “But you want to,” he observes.

  “Fuck yes, I do.”

  “If it means anything to you, Rylee and I don’t think Savannah really hates you either.”

  I bark out a laugh. “You’re both delusional.”

  He pulls to a stop at a stop sign. “People don’t react as strongly as she does without some hidden reason.”

  “They do when you fuck with their best friend the way I did Rylee.”

  His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel and his jaw ticks. Yeah, he’s not totally over what I did.

  “Rylee told Savannah that she’s forgiven you. Lingering animosity is one thing, but her reaction to you is strong. I think she wants to hate you on her friend’s behalf.” He shrugs. “Maybe she feels like she should hate you. And it pisses her off that she actually feels something different.”

  I scowl at him. He’s lost his damn mind. “Like what?”

  Zayden wiggles his eyebrows. “Lust.”

  I grunt. “Even if she did, I wouldn’t trust her around my dick.”

  He chuckles. “Come on, man. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about sleeping with Savannah.”

  “Oh, I have.” His brows shoot up at my easy admittance. “I’ve thought about it quite a bit. In detail. Then I remember she’d probably whack my junk off with a rusty knife.”

  He laughs, but I’m dead fucking serious. I can imagine her standing over my sleeping form, an evil smile in place and delighted anticipation in her eyes.

  I shudder at the thought.

  “Maybe you should try some of your infamous Oliver charm on her?” he suggests.

  “She’s immune. I’ve already tried,” I grumble.

  “When?” A horn goes off behind us and Zayden glares at the rearview mirror. “Hold your fucking horses,” he mutters and presses down on the gas.

  “The first day we met.”

  “Well, try again.”

  “What the fuck do you want, Z?” I demand. “For Savannah and me to miraculously get along, have sex, get married, and have two-point-five kids?”

  I glance at him, my jaw clenching when I find a contemplative look on his face. “It would sure make my and Rylee’s lives a whole lot less stressful.”

  “And screw both of your best friends and what they feel. You’re fucking crazy.”

  “You never know. You may find you actually like Savannah. Once you get to know her.”

  “You know what? I’m done with this pointless conversation. There’s no way Savannah would ever give me the time of day. And even if by some miracle she did, I’m not sure I’d give it to her.”

  I reach over and turn the volume up on the radio before he can say anything more. Thankfully, he keeps his trap shut the rest of the way home.

  The house is quiet when we walk inside. Zayden heads upstairs, no doubt to Rylee’s room, and I go for the kitchen for my father’s hidden stash of whiskey. All this talk of banging Savannah has my blood pressure rising. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s because the thought of fucking her revolts me like it should.

  Pushing open the kitchen door, I come to a stop when I find Evelyn at the counter drinking a glass of orange juice. Her eyes widen fractionally until she notices it’s me.

  “Hello, Oliver,” she says demurely.

  “Hey,” I call as I head to the cabinet above the fridge. I open it and reach behind a couple of containers and grab the bottle of expensive whiskey.

  She raises her brow when she sees the bottle but seems to decide not to make a comment on my underage choices. I grab a glass from the dishwasher and look over my shoulder at her. “Want a glass?”

  She bites her lip as she ponders my question. She surprises the shit out of me when she nods. “Sure.”

  I grab another glass and put them both on the counter, standing on the opposite side of the bar from her. After pouring a couple inches in each, I slide one across the smooth surface. She picks it up, eyes it for a moment, before bringing it to her lips.

  She sputters out a cough. “And now I remember why I don’t imbibe.”

  I smile as I lift my glass and take a healthy swallow. “This is the smooth stuff. You should have tasted the shit Zayden and I used to get when we were younger.”

  She flinches at the curse word but doesn’t reprimand me. Evelyn’s always been careful on how she acts around me. She’s a smart lady—she’s a damn neurosurgeon—so she must know of my wariness of her in my home.

  “You drank when you were younger?”

  I lean my elbows on the bar. “Don’t all teenagers?”

  “Rylee doesn’t,” she defends.

  “Okay,” I say and hide my smile behind my glass, not willing to be the one to alter her perception of her perfect daughter.

  She takes another tentative sip, then bristles. “I just can’t do it.”

  “Try pouring it in with your orange juice. It’ll help mask the flavor.”

  She does so and tries it again. “A little better,” she murmurs. She sets her glass back down. “I wanted to thank you for coming for the holiday.”

  This isn’t a subject I want to discuss with Rylee’s mom, so with a simple chin lift, I look down and pour more whiskey in my glass.

  “I know your father misses you.”

  I grunt as I drain the rest of my drink.

  “I know he doesn’t show it very well, but he really cares about you, Oliver.”

  “And you know this from being around less than a year?” I grind my molars when the words come out harsher than I’d intended.

  “I can’t begin to imagine everything you’ve been through or what your life was like before I came along. I may not know you that well, but I know Paul. Even before he and I got involved, I knew how deeply he cared about you.”

  I tense. My issues with my father marrying Evelyn may have cooled, but it’s still a sore topic. Especially considering I knew he was seeing her before my parents divorced. It was this subject that led to our falling out the day I left for college. I wanted the details of his and my mother’s divorce, and he refused to talk about it.

  “Maybe you should send him a memo, because it sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it to me.”

  S
he frowns and looks down at her glass as she spins it on the countertop. “I’m not excusing his behavior, but have you ever thought there may be a reason why he is the way he is?”

  “I know why.” She looks up. “My grandparents were rich assholes who never gave their kids the time of day. But it was my father’s choice to follow in their footsteps. He is the way he is because he chooses to be.”

  She opens her mouth to say more, but I turn my back on her and walk to the sink, rinsing out my glass. I avoid her eyes when I turn back and head toward the door.

  “I’m hitting the sack,” I call over my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I let out a breath when the door whooshes closed behind me. The stairs are silent as I ascend them. I come to a stop at one of the doors and stand there. Light filters through the inch of space at the bottom.

  I ball my hands into fists when I feel a sudden urge to knock. The last thing I need right now is to see the contempt on Savannah’s face. I’m still on edge from my conversation with Zayden and talking to Evelyn in the kitchen. There’s no fucking telling what my reaction would be if she antagonized me. It would probably lean more toward tossing her on the bed and feasting on her too tempting body.

  With a shake of my head, I turn away.

  6

  SAVANNAH

  “So, Zayden, how are you liking school? Classes going okay?” Paul asks as he slides a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

  Thanksgiving thus far has been pretty uneventful, though I will say that the tension between Oliver and his father is so thick that I feel like I could reach out and physically touch it. No wonder he chose to spend the morning at Zayden’s dad’s house instead of staying here to help us cook. At first, I thought he was wanting to get out of helping, but now I’m realizing there may be more to it.

  “It’s been really good.” Zayden nods, taking a drink of water. “I had to drop a class the first week because it wasn’t a good fit, but other than that, I’m really liking all my courses.”

  “And by good fit, he means it wasn’t what he thought it would be,” Oliver interjects with a smirk.