by MV Ellis
Even when he’s being an asshole, Tyce is still my best friend and I love him like a brother. The bottom line is that we’re tight no matter what, and a few tense words isn’t even a blip on the radar for us.
He’s just getting on my nerves right now, but that’s not exactly unusual. Like a sibling, he pisses me off a lot. I forcefully switch my brain off before it follows that train of thought to its logical conclusion.
I don’t know how much the guys saw of what happened in the hall, but no doubt they’re assuming it’s the cause of my dark mood. They’re kind of right, indirectly, though it’s the new message on my phone that’s really getting me down.
I’m coming for you.
“You can, and regularly do, have any girl,” Tyce continues. “Why are you so hung up on Bambi? Speaking of types, she’s really not yours, and I’m guessing, by the fact that she wasn’t begging to fall on your dick from the get-go, that you’re not hers. Besides which, she hardly even had anything to drink at your party. Can you imagine you of all people being with a girl who doesn’t drink?”
I meet his gaze. “So, you were watching her?”
The spotlight shines on Tyce now—all eyes are trained on him. “I didn’t say that.” He acts offended and immediately concentrates on his vape again, making more and more complex shapes with the smoke.
“You didn’t need to; it’s obvious. How else would you know how much she was drinking?”
He lets the question hang in the air, clearly not about to answer it, and for once I let him off the hook instead of pushing the issue. “And for the record, I’m not hung up on her, nor was there ever any thought of me being with her. You all know that my supposed “interest” in her is to do with one thing, and one thing only.” I swear I can feel the vein in my temple throbbing in anger.
“I mean, she’s definitely not ugly,” Lennon says, frowning in contemplation. He plays dumber than he is, and I know he’s only trying to defuse the situation between Tyce and me with his remarks. “I would tap that, no question.”
Thunder snorts. “You would fuck anything that moves, and quite a few things that don’t, so that’s not exactly a compliment.” He’s not wrong, but he’s hardly one to mock others when it comes to that shit. His quality-control function tends to go on vacay after a few drinks and a couple of lines, also.
Jagger chuckles. “Maybe we could tag team her. Who knows, she might be into the twin thing.”
“One from the front and one from behind? I could be down with that,” Lennon joins in with a gleam in his eyes.
“Shut up. She’s not going to fuck either one of you, especially not together.”
“Why not?” Jagger and Lennon exchange keen glances. “We’re double the fun.” They sound like the Heels Up Twins. Maybe the four of them should hook up—for real, instead of the random drunken fucks they’ve had a few times in the past. That way they can be double, double the fun. Or would that be quadruple the fun? I smile to myself at my own stupid joke.
“You’re idiots.” I shake my head and sigh, leaning back on the couch again.
“Or, we could take turns. You know, one of us fuck her one day, and the other the next,” Lennon suggests.
“I’m into sharing. She doesn’t even necessarily need to know,” Jagger declares.
“You already do that with girls all the time,” Thunder reminds them, standing up to grab a bottle of vodka from the refrigerator.
“It’s not a crime,” Jagger argues, “to use our identical-twin status to our advantage.”
Thunder is back at it on the guitar, playing some other lame shit. My nerves are fraying like a loose thread on an old blanket.
I stand up. “Alright, that’s enough of this bullshit whiny crap for tonight.” I rip the guitar from his hands.
It’s a dick move and I know it, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m feeding off my anger and letting it fuel me, rather than trying to temper it, like I mostly do.
“What the hell Zeph?” Thunder stands up and puffs his chest out in front of me, looking like he’s ready for a fight.
He’s probably going to punch me, and I probably deserve it. I’ll still also likely punch his lights out in return, though.
Tyce gets up and stands between us. “Let’s take it down a notch, ladies.”
“Eat a dick, asshole, I’m getting the hell out of here,” I grumble.
Thunder sneers. “That’s right, you better fuck off. If you touch my guitar again, I’m going to shove it so far up your ass, I’ll be able to play it through your mouth.” Funny, I’d had the same thought about him, earlier.
“I’d like to see you try,” I laugh.
Thunder lunges at me, but again Tyce intervenes, managing to hold him back. That’s Tyce—always running interference and smoothing shit over for me.
“Where are you going?” Lennon asks.
I look at him and the others over my shoulder. “Bed.”
“It’s only ten o’clock,” Lennon points out.
“Yeah, well. I’m tired.” I slam out of The Abyss without looking back.
At my dorm, I give the door the same treatment and make my way to the bed without turning on the light. I lie down on my back and stare up at the ceiling in the gloom, not even bothering to undress.
I can’t let Blake get to me. Despite what I said to Tyce and the rest of the guys, she’s working my nerves and getting under my skin, and it has to stop. Behind my closed eyelids, I see her slate-gray eyes, her flawless golden-brown skin, and her fucking epic lips. I don’t know if it’s because most of our kisses have been stolen, but for some reason her lips slay me like nobody else’s ever have. It’s crazy.
I stupidly let my mind run, reliving the feeling of her wrapped around my dick, and am hard instantly. Thinking about how off the hook good we were together in the laundry room at the party has me so fucking horny, I really want to jerk off, but I resist the urge. I’m just going to have to deal with the blue balls and rage.
I open my eyes to break my train of thought. I’ll lie awake all night if that’s what it takes to get her off my mind. Come to think of it, with the amount of coke I’ve had, I’ll be awake all week, regardless.
Trying to block Blake out of my mind seems to have the opposite effect, and thanks to the nose candy, my thoughts are running at one thousand miles a minute. It’s a bunch of shit—some clear, some jumbled, some sensible, some totally crazy—but at least eighty percent of it is about Blake.
Between my suspicions about her and the messages—which were weakened earlier tonight as we were together when I received one—and the fact that there’s something about her that I can’t resist, I can’t get her out of my head, no matter how hard I try.
It’s not just because she’s pretty much the first girl—except maybe her roommate Geneva—to make it clear that she’s not interested in me. Geneva is different, though. There’s not even a vague spark of interest between us, in either direction, and there never has been.
With Blake, it’s not a spark, it’s a flaming inferno that neither of us can ignore, though we’re both doing our best to. The wanting what I can’t have factor is there for me, for sure—not that I’ll ever admit it publicly. But that’s not the sole driving force that draws me toward her, when I know I should be staying the fuck away.
The other thing is the familiar flicker of sadness I see behind her eyes every time I look at her. I can kind of relate, because, although I know nothing about her, and have no idea what makes her look and feel that way, I know what makes me feel that way. If she’s been through anything like what I have, she’s a fighter, because, like me, she’s still standing, against the odds.
This new information from Thunder about a possible legal issue with her could be a clue to her situation, or it could be nothing. Who fucking knows?
I screw my eyes shut tighter, chasing the sleep my mind craves and my body needs, but I know in my heart that I have zero chance of getting. My last lucid thought just before dawn is of Blake.
/> I’ve never been able to resist a challenge, least of all one that looks good enough to eat and thinks she stands a chance against me.
Game on, Ms. Allen. Game. Fucking. On.
Chapter 22
Blake
* * *
When I walk into my dorm room, I find Geneva sitting on the window ledge. Her knees are tucked up to her chest. One arm is roped around her calves, and her free hand is holding a fat blunt. Smoke slowly billows from the end of it, curling into the room. She blows out a puff of air and a huge plume of gray smoke releases from her lips and disappears like fog out of the open window.
It’s a cool night and there’s a gentle breeze lightly fluttering against the curtains. It’s quiet, as she’s not listening to music, or watching a TV show on her laptop like she so often does.
“Hey.” She nods in my direction. Something about her seems off, like it has since the party last night. I need to be a better friend, and find out what.
Geneva is stunning. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a slick, effortless ponytail, revealing her outrageous bone structure. Cheekbones for days! She’s wearing large gold-hoop earrings and her nails are perfectly manicured with crimson color. She always looks so stylish, with her beautiful bracelets and funky clothes.
I can’t for the life of me figure out how we mesh so well together, because we are so different, but in any case, our friendship seems to work. Thank God. I can’t imagine how much more of a shit show my life would be if I’d been put with a girl like the twins or one of their cronies. Talk about hell on earth. It’s not like my life is all peaches and cream as it is.
I “hey” her back as I walk over to our mini refrigerator and pluck a bottle of water from the inside door. I twist off the cap and swallow down a few gulps, as much to stall having to talk, as the fact that I’m thirsty.
Geneva narrows her eyes suspiciously, seeing right through me. “What’s going on? What happened?”
I plop down on the edge of my bed, drop my armful of laundry, and sigh dramatically.
“You don’t even want to know.”
She leans up, showing her interest with a cheeky grin. “Oh, trust me, I do.”
“Why can’t I be more like you?” I throw my arms up in the air. “Nothing bothers you.”
“That’s not always true.” Geneva takes another long drag of her blunt, holds her breath and then slowly exhales. “But the weed helps.”
I laugh nervously. It was a stupid thing to even say, since I know something’s eating her right now. “I’m sure.”
“You should take a hit. It will relax you.”
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
Geneva chuckles. “You seem pretty stiff to me.”
I shrug, and wave the blunt away as she tries to hand it to me. “Looks like you’re high enough for both of us.” I’m not trying to be a bitch, but my words could be taken that way if Geneva and I weren’t as solid as we are. I know she understands what I mean, which is just another reason why she is the perfect friend.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s eating you, or should I guess?” When I don’t answer she leans forward, peering at me curiously. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, so I’m going to guess it’s got something to do with a certain ridiculously good-looking and arrogant member of The Fallen?” I nod, but remain silent.
“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” I want to throw her a “right back at ya,” but I keep quiet. In general Geneva is a talker, so I am one-hundred-percent sure that if she wants to tell me what’s been bugging her she will, no invitation or reminder is needed.
“Ugh. I ran into him in the hall, again. He’s just... too fucking much, you know? He’s pushing all my buttons, all the time, and generally being a total asshole.” I’m hesitant to let her in on the gory details.
“Well, that’s Zeph Cross for you. He has two settings—asshole, and supreme asshole. While the rest of us mostly get plain old asshole, he seems to reserve the Grand Supreme Asshole 2.0 version for you.
“Yeah, ‘lucky’ me. I really don’t know how much more of it I can take.”
“Did you tell him to go fuck himself?”
“Of course I did. Repeatedly. I’m never going to simply take his shit without saying anything, that’s not me. I just don’t know why he won’t leave me the fuck alone.”
Geneva frowns, pushing the window open more to allow the smoke to slip outside the confines of the room. I’m glad. The last thing I need right now is to get busted for triggering the smoke alarms.
I groan and put my head in my hands. “It’s like everywhere I go… he’s there, you know?”
“I think you’re wrong,” Geneva states.
I lift my head and look at her, confused. Is she insane? Whether I’ve told her the full details or not, she knows about most of my head-to-heads with Zeph. What’s to disagree about? He’s an asshole by anyone’s standards. “About what??”
“I’m not high enough for this story.”
“Oh, hahahaha! That shit’s crazy,” I admit, chuckling despite my anger and frustration. It’s true that you gotta laugh, or you’ll cry.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Geneva swats my knee. “Do tell. I want to know everything. Starting with how you ended up back in Zeph’s sights again.”
“I was lost in thought,” I explain. “Not paying attention to where I was going.”
“Classic Blake move,” Geneva cackles.
I throw one of my pillows at her. “Will you shut the fuck up and let me finish?”
Geneva grins. “Continue.”
“Anyway, I ended up in the boys common-room area.”
“Holy shit, Blake, that’s playing with fire at this time of night, for more reasons than one.”
“I know.”
“I can guess what happens next. Zeph is there and he sees you?”
I give her a thumbs up. “You guessed it.”
“Wow.” Geneva looks entertained. “You can’t catch a break.”
I scoff. “Tell me about it.”
“You’re not putting yourself in these situations on purpose… are you?”
She sounds like Zeph. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Of course not!” I exclaim. “You think I want…”
“Want what?” Geneva’s grin is massive. “Zeph’s huge cock? His ridiculously hot body? What about his enigmatic smile, deep olive skin, dark-blond hair, and piercing blue eyes? No, I don’t think you want any of that at all. I mean, nobody does.”
I sigh, flipping her the bird and leaning back against my headboard.
“He saw me because they didn’t even bother to close the door while they were partying. It’s like they want to get caught.”
Geneva chuckles sourly and rolls her eyes. “It’s not that, as such, but think about who you’re dealing with….It’s Zeph Cross. He can do no wrong in this place, even though pretty much everything he ever does is the definition of wrong. I mean, for example, haven’t you noticed how their floor doesn’t get patrolled by the teachers and security at night like every other floor in every other block?”
I hadn’t actually noticed it before, but as soon as Geneva mentions it, it is acutely obvious to me that she is right.
“And what about the fact that they are the only ones on their floor? They have the whole place to themselves, whereas the school normally tries to split friendship groups like that up, so that they will mingle with other people—it’s normally a few friends on each floor, max. Even the Heels Up Twins and their dizzy followers aren’t all together, and look who their dad is.” She continues while I think about it some more.
“Yeah, I hear ya.” I contemplate how unfairly weighted the system is, especially in favor of someone from an uber-loaded family like Zeph’s.
“Did you guys talk?” Geneva asks, cutting through my thoughts. She inhales another puff of her dwindling blunt.
“I mean, I don’t know if talking is the right word to describe it, but there were words in
volved, so I guess that it technically was talking. I’d say we fought. And some other stuff.”
I fill her in on the other stuff.
“Jesus, what an asshole. Fuck him. Seriously.” Geneva adjusts her position on the windowsill. “He’s just a pretty boy with a cold heart and an empty head, well… empty aside from whatever’s getting him high at any given time.”
One of the best things about Geneva is her ability to make me laugh and forget my problems. Well, some of them. For a little while, at least. Even if it’s only a temporary fix, she’s worth her weight in gold, for sure. “Thanks, I feel a little better.”
It’s true, I do, even if I don’t agree with everything she says. As much as Zeph gives off high himbo vibes, I am in enough of the same classes as him to know that he is smart as all get-out, even if he rarely seems to apply himself or use his smarts for good. Tyce is the same, though he’s slightly less of an asshole than Zeph, even if only marginally.
“Seriously, forget him. He’s an arrogant prick who thinks the sun rises and sets every day just for him.”
“Tell us how you really feel,” I tease with a lighthearted chuckle.
Geneva glances out the window. “He’s nothing but a glorified dealer.”
“He is a dealer. Nothing glorified about it.”
“Yeah.” She nods absentmindedly.
“Is that where you got that?” I joke. “From Zeph?”
Geneva’s eyes wander down to the blunt in her hand and then land back on me. “This? Hell. No. I have my own source.” She smiles proudly. “My sister.”
She holds it out to offer it to me one more time. “Are you sure you don’t want a hit? It will help you relax and sleep better—I promise. No one is going to judge you. Just one hit.”
I stare at it. Will it kill me to loosen up and live a little on the wild side, like pretty much every other kid in this place?
“Sure, what the hell… why not?” I desperately want the same carefree attitude as Geneva. Smoking a little weed won’t hurt.
