Crowned with Guilt (Remember the Reaper Book 1)

by S. K. Rose

  As I eat, Dad comes down the stairs, but before taking a seat next to me, he kisses Mom on the neck, making her giggle and swat at him.

  “Hey, bud, you ready for tonight? Need a tie or anything?” He’s served a steaming plate of food that he begins to shovel into his mouth.

  “He forgot the dance was toniiiight.” Mom says in a sing-song voice.

  “No, not our perfect son. He would never!” Dad gasps with mock surprise.

  “We have utterly failed as parents, Clyde. What can we possibly do?” Mom looks believably distressed, and it’s no wonder Beth is always so theatric. She learned from the best.

  “Guess we better start from scratch and try again, my dear.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. I groan and push my mostly empty plate away.

  “That’s great, Dad, there goes my appetite.” I glare at him as he blows Mom a kiss, and she pretends to catch it. Mom comes over to take my plate and gives me a look I can’t read.

  “So, you and Tessa, huh?” she asks pointedly.

  “Yeah, I think so. I don’t know, Ma, she drives me crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I just, there’s something about her. . . she’s different.” I look away awkwardly, not sure what possessed me to say such embarrassing stuff.

  She nods. “You’re right. She’s a little rough around the edges, but I think it’s all a mask to protect herself. Underneath is a very sweet girl who just needs a little love. I know you’re good for her, and recently I’m starting to see she may be good for you, too. After what happened, your father and I worked hard to keep you in this safe bubble, but you deserve to live your life, to let loose and have a little fun.” Tears fill up her eyes.

  “Love you, Mom.” I give her a reassuring smile.

  She ruffles my hair and heads back to her cooking.

  “Keyword there, son, is little—a little fun. Maybe a little less than a half-naked-girl-in-your-bed fun.” Dad mutters under his breath and raises a knowing eyebrow at me.

  I check to make sure Mom didn’t hear, but she’s back to humming and in her own little world. When I turn back he’s trying to suppress a smile. “Just be careful, would you? Get that girl knocked up and your mama will tan your hide.” He turns back to his food with a chuckle and leaves me staring at the side of his head with horrified eyes.

  The afternoon speeds by and soon the girls are barging through the front door, Marybeth demanding that she does Tessa’s makeup, while Tess, in return, is screaming for her to stay away from her face. They fly by in a whirlwind and I’m suddenly grateful I already showered since the bathroom will be out of commission.

  Chase arrives early, making nervous small talk as we play a quick game on the Xbox. I notice he’s got a fading black eye, but decide to keep quiet unless he brings it up. Probably just got in another fight at school.

  I learned yesterday that the (very long and boring) story is Beth was asked by Scott to the dance, she said yes, and then the next day she caught him with his tongue down Belinda’s throat. Needless to say, Chase saw his opportunity and swooped in to be her shoulder to cry on—although she made it very clear they would be going as just friends.

  Looking at my watch for the second time in five minutes, I pace nervously around the living room. “Ladies, I am sure you’re lovely, but we’re going to be late,” I shout up from the bottom of the stairs. They respond with an equal amount of venom.

  “Shut up, Andrew! God!” is my sister, followed shortly by Tessa.

  “I’ve been waxed today! Waxed. Shove off!”

  I hear my sister cackle, followed by a loud thump which I assume was Tessa throwing something at her. I look to Mom for help, but she’s too busy setting up the camera on the tripod, determined to get a family picture of the “few times we actually look decent.”

  Dad has a solemn expression while he sits on the couch with a glass of whiskey, and for the third time today begins to lecture, including Chase this time.

  “Now, boys, it is your job as gentlemen to look after these girls tonight. It’s all over the news the clever ways girls can be administered Rohypnol without their knowledge. Now, I’m no fool, there will be drinking, but you make damn sure to keep your eyes on them. Be safe and—”

  “Dad, I promise we will look after them, now stop worrying.” I give him an assured smile, and he relaxes slightly. Chase’s whistle suddenly pierces the air and my father’s demeanor completely changes. He’s sprouts a goofy grin, his eyes are brimming with happiness.

  At first, all I can see is my sister. She’s dancing around and framing her face with her hands, strutting like a runway model in her cotton-candy pink dress that happens to be the exact same shade of her hair. Part of the dress looks like it was dipped in glitter, and the skirt of her dress flares out like a tutu. It’s pretty obnoxious, which suits her quite well. When Marybeth finally stops flailing her arms, my eyes finally find hers.

  All the breath in my body rushes out as my eyes drink her in. Tessa’s dark hair falls in big waves over her shoulders. Her bright eyes pop dramatically paired with the powder-blue dress that clings to her every curve. The dress is simple; there are no sequins or ruffles, just a flowy satin material that sweeps all the way to the ground. Some sort of shimmery makeup gives her skin a beautiful glow, and glittering against her chest is her favorite crown necklace.

  She’s been transformed to look like freaking royalty.

  Like a princess, Andrew, she’s your princess.

  I take an elbow to the ribs and hear laughter from all sides. “Son, she’s damn beautiful, but you might want to wipe off that drool.” I shove my dad away, but that just makes him laugh harder. Mom is holding my sister’s hand as she twirls her around, eyes twinkling with joy. Even embarrassed, my eyes are still drawn right back to Tessa. My gaze drops to her mouth and that infamous scowl.

  “Don’t I just look so precious.” Her voice is thick with sarcasm, flashing eyes dare anyone to agree with her. Damn if she’s not adorable, glowering and trying to look threatening in the sweetest dress she’s likely ever worn.

  It’s taking everything I’ve got to control this laughter.

  Chapter 44

  ─────

  Tessa

  “Wow, I just. . . I don’t think I’ve seen you dressed in any color besides black,” Andrew gets out between clenched teeth.

  If he starts laughing, I will stab him with a dull knife.

  Blossom stops twirling her dress around just enough to pipe in, “She looks hot! Nobody would mistake her for a zombie now!” She dances out of my reach as I take a swing at her.

  Mrs. Blackwell comes forward and takes my hand in hers. “Don’t listen to my devil spawn, you look radiant. Now, wipe off that scowl and have a little fun tonight. You might even enjoy yourself.” She gives me a wink and releases my hand with a squeeze.

  “You both look beautiful. Just be safe and don’t drink anything that leaves your hand for even one second.” Mr. Blackwell beams at us with pride and something in my heart shifts.

  This is what it’s like to have a family.

  After being forced to take half a billion pictures, we’re finally able to pile in Sparkles and head to the school. I clasp and unclasp my hands nervously in the backseat.

  Chase, who’s sitting next to me, looks over and smirks. “Nervous, sweet cheeks?”

  “Shhh! No, you dimwit. I’ve just never done this before.” I speak low, hoping my voice doesn't carry to the front seat.

  “Yeah, man, I can’t believe you’re wearing a dress. Try not to get blood on it during your nightly animal sacrifice, will you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “I fucking rock this girly shit,” I hiss back.

  He looks serious for a moment as a rare expression crosses his face. “All jokes aside, you look goddamn beautiful, Tessa. Have fun tonight, you deserve it.”

  I grab his hand and give it a little squeeze. “Don’t be going soft on me now,” I tease, and a grin blooms on his face.

  “There�
��s nothing soft about me, darlin’.” He winks and I groan, quickly retrieving my hand.

  We arrive at the school and it’s obvious a good chunk of change was put toward this event. An arched path snaked with twinkling lights leads the way to the gym’s double doors. I would bet money that the Crothers donated a fuckwad of dough considering that Lilah’s head of the dance committee.

  The four of us walk the lit path to the gym. Chase tries to link arms with Beth, but she swats him away with each attempt. The nerves start to kick in. I've always avoided this kind of shit for a reason, my classmates have always held the status of enemy—until now.

  At the club I’m surrounded by strangers, but I knew what to expect. I knew what they want and how to control them. At school, you never know what to expect. One minute it’s all smiles, and the next there’s a knife sticking out of your back. That’s why I always had my little set of rules. It may have been lonely, but I was safe from unnecessary pain.

  My rules were chucked out the window and now I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  As if Andrew senses my mental withdraw, his hand finds mine. His thumb traces circles on the sensitive spot between my thumb and pointer finger. Warmth from his touch travels up my arm straight to my spine, causing me to shudder.

  I keep my eyes forward, knowing that if I look over into his blazing green eyes that I’ll climb him like a tree to participate in some unladylike acts in front of my classmates.

  Once inside, the four of us find a table and then the boys run off to grab some snacks and drinks. The gym has gone under a huge transformation and I can’t help but admire the end result. Glittering stars dangle from the ceiling, and baby-blue tulle intertwined with LED lights are draped throughout the room, giving it a dreamlike feel.

  Up on the auditorium’s stage, the DJ is set up to overlook the dance floor. Soft purple lighting and a strategically placed fog machine gives the surreal effect of dancing in a cloud. Off to one side, elongated tables are covered with an assortment of snacks, and punch is served by smiling volunteers. A cotton candy machine spins colored sugar and is handed out by the bagful. There’s even a selfie corner with a backdrop and a tableful of props. The remainder of the room is full of round tables covered in silver and blue tablecloths where students can relax and socialize.

  Damn the bitch did a good job.

  Blossom is practically bursting at the seams with excitement, and it’s a tiny bit contagious. “Would you look at the place? Queen B is the worst, don’t get me wrong, but holy smokes it looks amazing in here.” She looks around with the same amazement I feel. “Do the dances always look this good here?”

  I shrug.

  “Oh, that’s right; school events are too fun and peppy for my gloomy little friend.” I flip her off but she’s too busy looking down as she shoves a hand into her bra. With an unladylike grunt, I see a flash of silver as she whips out a flask.

  “Did my tiny, rule-abiding best friend smuggle booze into the Spring Fling?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, Chase didn’t have a place to hide it.” Her face is a mask of innocence.

  “So, sticking it in your tits was the go-to, huh?”

  “I do what I want,” she scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

  “You need some Jesus in your life,” I snicker.

  “Actually, we chatted and agreed you need some liquid courage to get through this.”

  I nod slowly in agreement. “You and Jesus may have a point.” I grab for the flask, but it’s jerked up and away.

  “After you ask nicely—maybe.” Chase sits on the other side of Beth with a smug expression. Andrew takes the empty seat to my left, our table now full of snacks and beverages.

  “Let’s get this shit started, shall we?” He looks around quickly, and throws back a swig of booze from the flask and passes it to Beth. After taking a drink, her face squints up in disgust, making the rest of us laugh. When it’s my turn, I take a quick swig that I too immediately regret.

  “Jesus, Chase! Is that rubbing alcohol?” I grimace at the aftertaste.

  “Just a little one-fifty-one rum, baby.” He grabs a mini sandwich and takes a bite.

  Andrew is the last and grimaces as he hands it back to Chase. “That’s foul, man.” The rest is doled out into our punch glasses and it doesn’t take long to start feeling a warm buzz. After a few minutes of people-watching and chatting, Beth drags a none-too-pleased Chase to the selfie spot for pictures, leaving just me and Andrew at the table.

  At some point, he had removed his jacket and rolled up his white sleeves. His tie is slightly loosened around his neck, that, along with his tousled hair and crooked smile, makes him look as though he just walked right off the cover of a magazine.

  He looks damn fine, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. Girls sashaying by say hello and bat their eyelashes at him, always making a point to shoot me a dirty look, which I lovingly return with a blown kiss. Andrew catches a particular exchange between me and a busty redhead, his eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches me.

  “You’re something else you, know that?” I shrug and pretend to flick something off my dress. “Well, crazy, are you ready?” My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

  “Uh, for?” I question cautiously.

  “To dance,” he says without batting an eye.

  My response is a laugh followed by a snort. “That’s funny, Blackwell, I needed a good laugh.” I sigh happily and continue my people-watching.

  “It’s not a joke. This is a dance, Tess, where teenagers come to, you know, dance.” He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows at me.

  Ummmm, he can’t be serious. Right?

  I lean forward and stop when I’m just inches from his face. “Andrew, are you fucking high? I’m not dancing.” I hiss the words between clenched teeth.

  He grins at me and says nothing.

  “This is supposed to be the other way around, you know. The stereotypical teenage boy is dragged unhappily to the dance floor by the giggling sloppy cheerleader,” I inform as I sit back and glare like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum.

  “I’m not a stereotypical anything. Mom made me take dance classes with her, I’m quite good. And, well, you’re certainly no cheerleader. So you’re going to get your cute ass out of that chair and dance with me, Tessa Kinsley.” He stands up and holds out his hand.

  I peer up at his face and back down to his hand.

  With a tic of my jaw, and a look that could likely melt steel, I place my hand in his. As he starts to drag me toward the dance floor, I reach back to the table with my free hand and grab my rum-infused punch and polish it off, throwing the empty cup back at the table. With a laugh, he pulls me away.

  The music is upbeat, the lights pulse, and fog pours from the stage in a constant state of movement from the dancers.

  It’s as if we’ve stepped into heaven, except instead of sweet angels, it’s just horny teenagers grinding against each other. Andrew’s hand goes up in the air and he twirls his finger in a circular motion. The song playing fades out as Andrew grins up at the DJ.

  “Alrighty, laaadies and gents, we’re gonna change up the pace with a special live request!” The DJ’s voice booms over the crowd. A few girls groan and head to the refreshments, clearly unhappy that their ‘bump and grind’ music will be temporarily gone. Thankfully, there are still a few couples on the dance floor and the fog acts as a decent enough shroud.

  Taking a step closer, Andrew places one hand on the small of my back, the other he holds up and out to the side, waiting for to my hand to be placed in it.

  “Andrew, I don’t know how to dance.” My heart pounds in my chest, I feel silly and unbelievably nervous.

  Take away my shitty attitude and I’m just a scared girl who has no idea how to be a normal teenager.

  “It’s okay, just follow my lead.” He gives me a sweet smile and nods to his outstretched arm. I cautiously place my hand in his, as I tune in to the song he requested.

  It
’s familiar, but definitely a strange choice for a school dance. I hear the strumming of a guitar, and is that. . . cowbells?

  Wait, I know this song.

  Suddenly we’re moving with the music as his feet step back or to the side, easily guiding me through the motions, just as he said. He pulls me close and I feel his breath on my neck as we twirl around the dance floor.

  And then he begins to sing.

  He breathes the lyrics into my ear as he holds me tight, but my heart stutters when I hear that word. . . Reaper.

  He steps away and guides me into a half turn before guiding me back, my wide eyes never leave his.

  Doesn’t he know what they call me?

  Was this just a way to humiliate me?

  But his warm smile and smoldering eyes tell a different story. He shakes his head and I listen on.

  His words crash against the remaining barrier of my soul, like waves against a feeble sand castle. Each lyric embeds into my skin and tattoos a message across my soul.

  I understand that no matter what I’ve been through, he’s not afraid of the darkness that strangles my soul. As long as we are together, we can do whatever the fuck we want in this broken world.

  That our kind of love can withstand anything, even death.

  Then the song finally clicks into place as I hear the chorus; Don’t Fear the Reaper by the Blue Oyster Cult. Clever boy, the irony isn’t lost on me.

  His movements slow, but never stop, as his emerald gaze captures mine. My heart beats at a frantic pace as I see the adoration shinning in his eyes. I’ve never felt so alive.

  He sings one last line of the song into my ear, and with a chaste kiss to my lips, gives me that crooked smile I love. The room rushes past me as I’m spun out of his arms. Like an uncaged bird, I fly through the air, returning to his arms just to be twirled away. Grabbing his free hand, I force him to do a spin of his own, which he follows through with a laugh.