Malicious

by Alex Grayson

  I move some turkey around with my fork, unsure if I should eat more. I’m trying to find a good middle ground, hoping that if I don’t eat too much my body won’t revolt and force it all back up.

  “I’ll admit, I should have read the class description a little better.” Zayden chuckles. “But I got it taken care of, so it wasn’t an issue.”

  “That’s good to hear. At least one of you boys actually takes school seriously.” Paul’s gaze slides to his son.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Oliver drops his fork onto his plate, the sound echoing through the formal dining room.

  “Maybe if you spent more time thinking about your studies and less time screwing off, your grades wouldn’t be slipping.”

  This isn’t the first time since we sat down where Paul has scolded Oliver about something. It seems to be a running theme in this household. If I didn’t dislike him so much, I actually might feel bad for the guy.

  “My grades?” He goes rigid in his seat. “I’ve got A’s and B’s.”

  “Exactly.” Paul lifts a wine glass to his lips and takes a small drink. “If you actually applied yourself, you could be at the top of your class instead of floating somewhere in the middle.”

  “Paul,” Evelyn cuts in, sliding her hand on top of his.

  “I’m just saying, he could be doing better. Especially if he managed to show up to class everyday like he’s supposed to. I’m not paying for him to be out gallivanting. I’m paying for him to get a good education.”

  “Maybe now isn’t the time,” Evelyn offers softly, her gaze sweeping around the table.

  I glance at Rylee next to me, noticing she seems about as uncomfortable as I do.

  “It’s fine, Evelyn,” Oliver cuts in. “Let him say what he wants to say. Go on, father, tell everyone what a fucking disappointment I am. You’ve never been one to hold back before.”

  “Do not use that kind of language at the table.”

  “Oh no!” Oliver covers his mouth dramatically. “Guess it’s just another thing you can add to the long list of the ways I’ve let you down. And how the hell do you know about my attendance and grades? It’s not like we’ve even talked about it.”

  “A friend of mine is a professor at the University. You know that.”

  “So, what, you’re using him to spy on me now?”

  “I’m not spying on you.”

  “No? Because it sure seems like that’s exactly what you’re doing. Looking into my grades, checking up on my attendance.”

  “I’m paying for your education, aren’t I? I have a right to know if you’re taking it seriously.”

  “I am taking it seriously,” Oliver fires back, anger lacing his voice.

  “Well, if you plan to attend law school in the future, you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better. Subpar grades won’t get you very far.”

  “I’m not going to law school.”

  “Come again?” Paul seems taken aback by this news.

  “Do you seriously think I plan on following in your footsteps?” He lets out an angry laugh. “Newsflash, Dad, I don’t want to be anything like you.”

  “Because that would be so awful?”

  “Actually, it would.”

  “Then what’s your plan? Certainly, you have one considering the amount of money I’m shelling out for you to go to college.”

  “I’ll figure something out. It’s early. I have time.”

  “No, you don’t. I swear, everything is a game to you. When are you going to grow up?”

  “When are you going to stop being a dick?” Oliver fires back.

  “Why can’t you be more like Rylee? At least she’s mature enough to have an actual goal. You, on the other hand, are doing the same thing you always do. Walking around like an entitled prick who thinks he can skate by. It’s been the same story your entire life.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s not fair for Paul to throw Rylee in the middle of this. And to do it in front of everyone in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner.

  “Well, I’m sorry we can’t all be fucking perfect like Rylee.” Oliver shoves his chair backward as he stands—the legs scraping against the hardwood floor.

  “Paul,” Evelyn cuts in again, silencing her husband. “Oliver, please sit back down and eat your dinner.”

  “Actually, I’m good.” Oliver tosses the napkin clenched in his hand onto the table. “I’ve lost my appetite.” With that, he spins around and quickly exits the room.

  “Why do you have to push him like that?” Evelyn scolds, clearly upset with her husband.

  “The boy needs to understand.”

  “Then wait and talk to him in private. Don’t embarrass him in front of his friends.”

  “Umm.” Rylee slides her chair away from the table and stands. “I’m finished, so I’m going to go start cleaning up the kitchen.”

  “I’ll help,” I immediately offer, desperate to get out of this room.

  “Me too,” Zayden interjects, following after Rylee and me.

  “Now see what you did,” Evelyn says right as we exit the room.

  I feel bad, because I know how much she was looking forward to having everyone together for her and Paul’s first official Thanksgiving, but you couldn’t pay me to continue to sit there. Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe how that felt.

  “Well, good to see Paul is still Paul.” Zayden snorts.

  “Is it always like that?” I ask, leaning my hip against the large island in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Believe it or not, that was mild.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s been like this since we were kids,” Zayden continues. “Paul has always pushed Oliver. And I do believe his heart is in the right place. It’s just, I don’t know. The two of them are like oil and water. Always have been.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “I should probably go find him, make sure he’s okay.”

  “Give him a few.” Rylee stops him. “You know how he gets.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he agrees.

  “Besides, you said you were going to help us clean up,” she reminds him.

  “Oh, I didn’t actually mean that. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there.” He chuckles when she shoves a dishrag into his hand.

  “For that, you get to wash.” She grins, her eyes coming to me. “V and I will start putting away the leftovers.”

  “But first, pie.” Zayden tosses the rag onto the island.

  “Pie? You ate at your dad’s and again here. How could you possibly still be hungry? You know what? Scratch that. I forgot I’m talking to a bottomless pit.”

  “You know me so well, baby.” He tugs her toward him, laying a kiss to her lips.

  “On that note, I’m going to run upstairs and change into something a little more comfortable.” I interrupt their sweet moment, drawing both of their eyes to me. “I feel like I’m about to explode out of this dress.”

  Lie. Lie. All lies. I feel like half the crap that comes out of my mouth anymore is a lie. The truth is, the instant Zayden mentioned pie, I about lost the contents of my stomach on the floor. I thought eating less would help me keep some food down, but even that doesn’t seem to be working.

  “I told you to wear your fat pants.” Rylee giggles.

  “And I told you that I wasn’t wearing sweatpants to dinner,” I fire back. “I’ll be back in a minute.” I turn and quickly exit the kitchen.

  I try to steady my breathing as I climb the stairs. Maybe being away from all that food will help.

  “Mother fucker,” I hear seconds before something thuds against the wall right as I reach the second floor.

  What the hell?

  “Piece of shit.” Another thud.

  Everything inside of me is telling me to keep walking, but for some reason I stop in front of Oliver’s bedroom door anyway.

  “I’ll show you a fucking disappointment,” he yells, followed by the sound of various items
hitting the floor.

  Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand is reaching for the knob. Giving it a twist, I carefully push the door open.

  “Oliver.” I stop mid-motion when I see him standing in the middle of his bedroom floor, surrounded by clothes, books, blankets, and what appears to be the contents of a desk. It looks like he literally started tearing things out and throwing them all over the place.

  His angry eyes snap to mine and his nostrils flare.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he growls, not at all happy to see me standing in his doorway. Not that I can blame him. We aren’t exactly friendly.

  “I just…. Are you okay?”

  I know we have our differences, but I’m not completely heartless.

  “Why the fuck do you care?” He laughs, the sound wild and unhinged. “Or did you just come to see the show?”

  “No, I just….”

  “You like this, don’t you?” He stalks toward me. “You like seeing me like this.” He grabs my forearm and tugs me inside the room, slamming the door shut so hard that I jump. “Go ahead, get a good fucking look.” He’s so close that I can feel his hot breath dance across my face.

  Seconds tick by as we stand here, staring at each other—our faces mere inches apart. The air is tight, making it impossible to pull in a real breath. I’m desperate to leave and yet too afraid to move.

  The tension mounts, causing the little hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

  “Oliver, I….” Before I can finish the thought, Oliver’s mouth slams down against mine, his tongue pushing its way past my lips before I have a chance to register the action. His hand tangles in the back of my hair, holding me in place.

  My mind is screaming for him to stop, yet my body seems to have the opposite reaction. My arms go around his neck, and I pull him closer, desire flooding my lower belly. He kisses me hard, demanding, without apology, and I kiss him back just as forcefully.

  I feel desperate. Crazed. Completely out of my fucking mind.

  Oliver’s body presses into mine, the heat of him wrapping me like a heavy blanket.

  I can’t think. Can’t breathe.

  All I want is to stop.

  All I want is more.

  My mind and body wage war on each other.

  “Hey, V.” We both go stiff at the sound of Rylee’s voice.

  As if this somehow snaps me back to reality, I push at Oliver’s chest, relieved when he drops his hold on me.

  I’m embarrassed.

  No, I’m mortified.

  And all I want to do is run away.

  “V,” I hear Rylee again and this time she sounds closer.

  I turn toward the door.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  What do I do? How do I get out of this room without her seeing me?

  I rack my brain for an excuse, for a plausible reason why I would be in Oliver’s room, but I can’t seem to come up with a single one.

  Oliver brushes past me seconds before he reaches for the doorknob.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper hiss, panic rising in my chest.

  “Giving you a way out.”

  Before he can elaborate, he tugs open the door and slips into the hall, pulling it closed behind him.

  I stand completely motionless, not sure what the hell is going on.

  “Hey, have you seen V?” Rylee asks him seconds later.

  “No. And I don’t care to either.”

  I immediately want to punch him in the face, though I’m not entirely sure why. For pulling me into his room. For kissing me. For saying he doesn’t care to see me.

  He’s covering for you—the realization comes on fast and leaves me feeling almost as off kilter as the kiss.

  “I wonder where she went,” she thinks aloud.

  “Well, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Maybe she stepped outside or something.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I hear her sigh. “Anyway, Zayden and I are getting ready to dig into my mom’s famous pumpkin pie. You want to come down for a slice?”

  “And have to deal with my father again? No thanks.”

  “It’s just me and Z. Come on. You won’t regret it. I promise.”

  “Fine,” he concedes. I can’t help but wonder if he actually wants pie or if he’s doing it to get her to go back downstairs.

  Moments later, I hear footsteps on the stairs and then silence.

  I wait a few seconds to make sure the coast is clear before quietly slipping into the hall. I make a beeline for my room, quickly ducking inside before closing the door behind me. Pressing my back to the hard wood, I do my best to regulate my breathing and calm my erratic heartbeat.

  I lift my hand and gently brush my fingertips across my lips, trying to wrap my head around what the hell just happened.

  My stomach twists—only this time I’m not sure if it’s because I’m going to be sick or because of the kiss I can still feel wreaking havoc over my entire body.

  7

  OLIVER

  The house is quiet when I leave my room and go downstairs. Evelyn is probably sitting on one of the comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace in the library reading a political thriller. I’ve noticed that’s where she likes to go when she has free time around the house.

  Zayden, Rylee, and Savannah left earlier to take Danielle to an indoor ice-skating rink. They invited me along, but I gave them a firm no. Who in the hell wants to slide on thin blades of steel across frozen water?

  It would have been a good excuse to get out of the house and away from my father but taking breaks for holidays never mattered to him. I’m sure he’s behind his desk at the office working on one case or another. I’m surprised he showed up on time for Thanksgiving dinner yesterday.

  As a kid, I remember going to bed the night before Christmas and my father still wasn’t home from work. He’d be present for birthdays, but only half-assed. His nose was always stuck in his computer with his phone pressed to his ear.

  Yesterday may have been Thanksgiving, but the house still smells fucking amazing. Like apple pie or some shit. I have to hand it to Evelyn. She’s a damn good cook. My mother never lifted a finger in the kitchen. Instead, we had a cook who came in each day and made our meals. One of the first things Evelyn did when she came to live here was let the cook go. I overheard her and my father talking one night that she refused to allow someone else to cook for her family.

  My stomach growls, so I head in the direction of the kitchen for a plate of leftovers. Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because of the plethora of food. What can I say, I love to eat. My dinner had been cut short yesterday because of the stunt my father pulled, so I didn’t get to enjoy it as much as I would’ve liked. I’d left the house last night and only came back a couple of hours ago after having slept at Zayden’s house. Now I can have a real dinner in peace.

  Thinking of yesterday brings up an entirely different memory. One a hell of a lot more pleasing than my father being his usual asshole self.

  My dick twitches when I think back to Savannah in my room. When she first appeared, all I wanted to do was take out my anger on her, and that’s what I did. But for the first time ever, she actually looked… concerned for me, which really boggled my fucking mind. I’ve seen the way Savannah cares for Rylee, and she seems to care for Zayden by extension of Rylee, but when it comes to me, there’s only ever been contempt. To see that look of worry in her eyes for me… I had no idea what to do with it.

  So, I did the only thing I could do. I kissed her. It was both heaven and hell. Fuck, but she tasted good. Better than anything I could ever remember sampling before. But it was a mistake. There’s no goddamn way I won’t be able to not think about that kiss every time I see her now. Or want more from her. I’ve already been teetering on the edge of reason when it comes to her, and I’m afraid that kiss tipped the scale.

  God help her if I ever get her alone again, because I seriously doubt my self-control will be strong enough to keep my hands off her.
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  My dick lengthens behind my zipper, and I shake my head to rid it of thoughts of Savannah. The woman is taking up too much space in my mind lately.

  I’m passing my father’s office when his voice surprises me, helping in my bid to forget Savannah.

  “Oliver!” he booms. “Come in here. We need to talk.”

  I tense and grind my molars together, tempted to ignore his summons. I’m in no mood to put up with his shit right now. Deciding to get it over with, I roll my head around, loosening the tight muscles in my shoulders, and push his door the rest of the way open.

  “I’m surprised you’re here,” I remark, striding across the room. I fold myself into the chair across from him.

  He grunts as he slides a couple of folders to the side and flips the lid of his laptop closed. He folds his hands together in front of him and looks at me.

  “I can’t do that with Evelyn. I know how important the holidays are to her, so I’m making my best effort to be here when I can. At least for this week.”

  “God forbid if you go against her,” I mutter.

  “I care deeply for Evelyn. The last thing I want to do is upset her.”

  “But you didn’t mind doing that to my mother and me?” I laugh bitterly. “No surprise there.”

  He pulls off his reading glasses and drops them on the desk. Using his pointer finger and thumb, he rubs his eyes.

  “There’s stuff between your mother and me that you don’t understand, Oliver,” he says tiredly.

  “No shit. We’ve had this song and dance before. You say there’s stuff I don’t understand, but you refuse to tell me. Can I leave? This conversation is a waste of time.”

  “First, watch your language in this house. I’m tired of the lack of respect.”

  “Respect is earned, not given. And you haven’t exactly earned mine.”

  “And you’ve lost all of mine,” he fires back.

  I laugh, but it’s far from humorous. He’s right. I’m sure I have lost his respect, but it’s by his own doing. And I personally don’t give a fuck.

  He closes his eyes and blows out an audible breath. After a moment, he opens them again and some of his anger is gone. Now he just looks weary.