by Katie May
And for a brief, brief moment, I feel as if our souls are merging. As if our music is screaming at us to stop this incessant fighting and be at peace. It’s stupid, I know, and entirely irrational, but I can’t help but feel that we’re perfect duet partners.
I’ll never find someone like this to play with again.
As if they have a life of their own, my eyes open and clash with Cassian’s dark, smoldering ones. I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels as if my soul is physically crawling out of my body and into his. I can’t tell you for certain where he ends and I begin. All I’m aware of is the music pulsing through my veins, stealing the air from my lungs and leaving me breathless. My heart pounds in my chest as my fingers move across the strings.
As the song tapers off, we both bow our heads, allowing the music to pulsate through our very bones. At least they do in mine. The moment is beautiful and perfect and slightly ethereal.
“You’re even better than you were before,” Cassian whispers, sounding awed.
“Thanks.” Heat enters both of my cheeks as I lower my head. “You sounded pretty good yourself.”
“I should be,” he states, his tone for once devoid of his usual teasing. “I’ve been playing for years.”
“I remember that.” Even at a young age, Cassian always found an excuse to play music. He lived and breathed it the same way I did. Honestly, if he wasn’t my enemy, we could’ve even been friends. There’s something about music that propels two individuals together, like a ponytail around your wrist being pulled tightly and then snapping back into place. “You still play in that one band?”
He chuckles softly, the low noise reverberating through me just as effectively as his music did. “The Rockets? Yeah, no. Ended that band my sophomore year. There’s a band I sometimes play with, but I’m not truly a member. Now, I just play for me.” He absently plucks at a few strings, his mind seemingly a thousand miles elsewhere.
“That’s the same for me,” I confess, the words tumbling from my mouth before I can think better of it. I shouldn’t be talking to Cassian like this. I’m supposed to hate him, destroy him. So why don’t I want to leave? “Music is… It’s an escape. A way to forget about everything wrong in life, you know?”
He nods seriously, those golden-brown eyes drilling a hole into my scalp with their intensity. “I do.” A wry smirk pulls up those thick lips of his. “I wanted to stop playing when my dad left, but you want to know what my mom told me?”
His dad left? I don’t remember the man well, but I do recall an older gentleman with similar chocolate skin and sparkling brown eyes.
My heart aches for Cassian, because absentee parents? That…that I can relate to.
“What did your mom say?” I query, even as the small niggle in the back of my mind becomes a large, battering ram against my subconscious. Every instinct shouts at me to leave, to remember what he did to me, but I can’t get my feet to move. I want to hear what he has to say. I want to hear everything.
He licks his lips, the movement almost reflexive. “That you don’t play music for others. Fans. Agents. Crowds. You don’t play for them. Sure, they hear it, and if you’re a good enough musician, they can understand why you play, but they’re not your target audience. You only truly play for yourself. That…” He swallows heavily. “That stuck with me. And it made me realize that my dad may have brought me into the music world, but I’m staying in it because I want to. I’m staying because I love playing. I don’t need a band or anything to do what I love. Maybe in a few years, I’ll be the next Santana.”
We exchange soft smiles that aren’t laden with years of pain and hurt. No animosity pings between us as we stare at one another, his brown eyes locked with my amber ones. For a brief moment, I allow myself to imagine a future where we don’t hate each other. Where we, dare I say, have a chance of being friends.
Until Cassian has to open up his big, stupid mouth and ruin everything.
“Anyway, I told you we’ll make beautiful music together, baby. I’m compatible with just about everyone.” He chuckles darkly, even as his eyes turn guarded. Cruel. It’s almost as if…
Almost as if he’s afraid of the moment we just had. As if he felt the electrical pulse between the two of us just as I had and now wants to run from it.
“Just ask Mrs. Town,” he finishes with a sideways smirk.
The warm fuzzies I felt earlier dissipate, only to be replaced by something much, much colder. I mimic his cruel smile, even as my heart twists into a pretzel. At the same time, I refuse to believe that our interaction only meant something to me. He stared at me tenderly. Those brown eyes, flecked with gold, sparkled with a light I’ve never seen before. He wouldn’t do that if he really hated me.
But a tidal wave of unbridled anger quickly brushes those thoughts away.
“Then maybe you should go to her,” I suggest, trying not to feel hurt by his words. There’s no fucking reason for me to be. I hate him, after all. Despise him.
Even if we do make beautiful music together.
“Maybe I will,” he responds gruffly.
“Goodbye, baby,” I snap.
With a mocking smirk, I give him my back, a slight I know will piss him off. It shows him that I’m no longer afraid of him, that his words don’t hurt me, that I don’t perceive him as a threat. Not anymore.
I hear the sound of the door opening and closing as he leaves, and my grin widens.
I meant what I said.
Their downfall will be their own doing, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun along the way.
Smirking at my sudden epiphany, I check to make sure I’m alone before reaching into my backpack and grabbing the voodoo doll with black, coarse hair wrapped around its neck.
Cassian apparently can’t keep his cock out of women.
Maybe I can help him with that…
Chapter 15
The rumors reach me at lunchtime.
Even before I sit down, whispers surround me, causing my grin to broaden even further.
“…so big.”
“You saw it, right?”
“I wonder what happened.”
I’m feeling pretty damn smug when I throw myself into the chair opposite Emmett, who’s currently bent over his textbook to prepare for a test later today.
“What’s the smile for?” he asks with an easygoing grin. “Did you commit a murder? Because I’ll have you know, I already hid one body this week. I don’t think I want to hide another one.”
“No murder. No body.” My smile turns fucking dopey as he leans across the table, his arm muscles bunching enticingly.
“What’s up?”
“Did you hear?” Mariabella hurries to our table like a whirlwind of sleet, pelting and destroying everything in her path. Karsyn stands behind her, resembling a grumpy, scowling bodyguard. His eyes dart to me as he moves to take the seat beside her. When I meet his gaze point-blank, he quickly glances down at his tray of noodles and his carton of milk.
“Hear what?” Emmett asks eagerly. I’m beginning to believe that Emmett enjoys gossiping more than most girls. And no, I’m not saying that to be sexist or anything—I know guys are big gossips too—but I swear Emmett’s going to have a profession as a paparazzi or something. He needs to know everything.
“About Cassian Jereome,” Mariabella says simply, and Karsyn’s head snaps up in surprise.
“What about him?” he queries.
And honestly, I sort of want to punch him in the face. There’s literally no reason except for the fact that his voice only makes me hate his guts more.
“Apparently,” she lowers her voice to a hushed murmur so as to not be overheard, “he’s been walking around with a raging boner since second period. Like, it’s so big that he literally looks like he’s in physical pain. He went home a little while ago.”
I bring my water bottle to my lips to hide the snort that threatens to escape.
Because that boner?
Yeah, I take cr
edit for it. It’s surprisingly easy to spell a voodoo doll to have resting cock face.
And the best part is that he’ll not even be able to relieve himself until I say so. I’m not a sadist or anything—I won’t make the man suffer for too long—but it’s only fitting that the manwhore spends a few hours with a painful boner, wouldn’t you say?
Hell, he might even seek out little miss teacher in a failed attempt to relieve…
I tighten my grip on the water bottle as the thought crosses my mind.
Why does that thought bother me so fucking much?
Maybe it’s because she’s a predator taking advantage of someone significantly younger than her and in a subordinate position. She’s supposed to be someone kids can rely on and talk to. Confide in. And what does she do? Exploit her position.
A memory creeps at the edges of my vision, threatening to consume me, but I shove it down with a vigorous internal shake of my head.
Now is not the time. I should be enjoying my victory, dammit, not reminiscing on the painful past.
“So you’re saying that Cassian went home,” Karsyn begins slowly, carefully, gauging our reactions, “because of a boner?”
“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Mariabella exclaims triumphantly.
I really, really need to tone down my smug grin. It might give people the impression that I’m the cause of the boner. Which I am, of course, but not for reasons they’ll assume.
“Enough about boners and penises,” Emmett drawls, and Karsyn wrinkles his nose like a fucking prude. Honestly, I remember him being the jokester of the group back in elementary and middle school. Always quick-witted and smart-tongued. There was constantly a sly retort dripping from his lips like honey, trapping us helpless flies in an unbreakable trap.
When did he become such a boring fuck?
“What’s up, Em?” Mariabella asks sweetly, placing her cheek on her open palm and twisting to face him. He smiles mischievously, those gorgeous dimples making an appearance, before he focuses his jungle-green eyes on me.
“So, the homecoming party is coming up…”
“The homecoming dance?” I query, and this time, it’s me who wrinkles her nose. Because yeah, dances and me? We don’t really go together. The only dance I went to was in middle school, and it was one of the worst days of my fucking life.
“You look beautiful,” Elias’s raspy voice curled around me as I gazed into his honey brown eyes tinted with purple. Some of the girls in the class gossiped that he wore colored contacts, but I believed them to be his natural eye color. The shade was so exotic, so Elias, that I refused to believe anything else.
“I-um…thanks,” I replied shyly as his hands landed on my waist and we began to sway. The dress I wore was azure in color, stopping just below my knees. Nana had driven to my house earlier in the day to curl my white-blonde hair so it fell around me in shiny waves.
I had to admit that Elias looked stunning in his khaki brown pants and his blue polo shirt. His brown hair was pushed away from his smooth-shaven, arresting face.
At the edge of the gymnasium, I could see numerous teachers milling about, watching the proceedings unfold. My eyes latched on Mr. Gurrel before I quickly looked away, shame threatening to consume me, filling me like water in an over-inflated balloon, mere seconds from bursting.
“You okay?” Elias asked gently, lifting his right hand from my waist to run his fingers through my hair. After they cut it off, it had taken months for it to grow to the length it was now—nearly to my shoulders. But it was okay. Elias apologized and told me that he was sorry.
Everything was going to be okay.
I pull myself out of my memory, shaking my head vehemently.
Younger me was such a fucking dumbass. How could she have seriously believed the Devils? Did she take too many hits to the head during dodgeball?
Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and shake my younger self. And zap the Devils to kingdom fucking come.
“…no!” Emmet’s saying now around his laughter. “The homecoming dance is fucking lame. I’m talking about the party Karsyn always throws. He invited you, right?”
Karsyn’s throwing a party?
I turn towards the football player in question, who’s glaring at me with vitriol in his eyes. He shakes his head subtly, a clear indicator that I should decline, but a wicked idea occurs to me.
I mean, I could tell them that I haven’t heard about the party, that Karsyn hadn’t invited me, that I’m just the poor new girl struggling to make friends.
But pity has never been a component of this game.
So instead, I smile brightly, ignoring Karsyn’s searing warning look. “Of course I was invited! After the football game, correct?” That’s just an educated guess, but when else would they have the party?
“It’s going to be so much fun!” Mariabella gushes. “You’re coming, right?”
Karsyn growls, the low noise erupting from his chest and causing goosebumps to pebble on my skin. There’s something decidedly carnal and primitive about it that calls to me. Something that screams of dark nights between the sheets and hunts in the woods where he chases me and I willingly give myself over to him.
“I’ll go.” I place a strawberry in my mouth and wrap my lips around it, my tongue darting out slightly. Karsyn’s eyes drop to the fruit, and his breath hitches as his hands grip the edge of the table. Maintaining eye contact, I slowly bite off the tip of the strawberry and lick the juices from my lips. “It’ll be fun.”
It’ll be very, very fun.
Chapter 16
Once class ends for the day, I make quick work of changing into my standard cheer attire. Unlike the movies and television shows depict, we don’t wear our uniforms to practice. Instead, most of the girls wear ratty T-shirts and shorts that don’t hinder their ability to move. I choose to wear my standard long-sleeved shirt, this one a bright blue, and a pair of spandex shorts that, in all honesty, make my ass look great. I quickly tie my white hair back into a high ponytail, making sure to secure all of the wayward strands, before heading out of the locker room.
Believe it or not, I’m actually excited for cheerleading practice. Though Helen is a hard-ass, she’s a damn good cheerleading coach. And I actually like the twelve other girls on the team. After I proved myself to them, they opened up to me and welcomed me into their fold. I’m not used to having female friends. To be completely honest, I’m not used to having any friends. People in middle school steered clear of me, especially when the Devils honed in on me and declared me public enemy number one. Back at the coven, I stayed mainly to myself, too afraid that every kind gesture would have a malicious intent behind it. How could I not be paranoid? My entire childhood was built on lies and deceit. When it wasn’t the charming Devils terrorizing me and making me afraid of my own shadow, it was my own fucking mother demanding more than I could ever give.
I don’t trust easily.
Come to think of it, I don’t trust at all.
Why would I willingly hand out trust when everyone in my life inevitably betrays me?
Shaking my head to clear the macabre thoughts, I exit the locker room and walk down the hallway. Unlike the guys’ locker room, the girls’ is on the opposite end of the hall and does not lead directly to the football field or even the gymnasium. Instead, we’re forced to walk past the cafeteria and to a second hallway that ends with a door to the fields.
I’ve just reached the end of the hall when I feel a pair of eyes on me. I don’t know how to describe it. Except it’s like someone is physically running the pad of their finger up and down the nape of my neck, and then that same finger travels the length of my bare spine in an icy caress. It’s the feeling you get when you’re in a crowded room and every eye fixates on you.
Someone is watching me.
Every hair on my body stands on end as I glance inconspicuously in both directions, ensuring the hallway is empty. But it’s when I turn around, towards the direction of the cafeteria, where on
ly a thin plate of glass separates me from the dozens of tables, that I see him.
Cassian has his arms crossed over his broad chest, a scowl etched firmly in place.
What…? How…?
How is he here?
I try to keep my shock off my face as I stare into his obsidian black eyes. I know that they’re actually a deep, mahogany brown, but from this distance, they appear to be endless abysses. Black holes you could become lost in, swept away in tidal wave after tidal wave.
His muscular forearms flex as he glares at me, and unwittingly, my gaze slides to his crotch.
And his limp dick.
What the ever-loving fuck?
There’s no way in hell he should’ve been able to break my spell. It’s unheard of.
Cassian Jereome is still supposed to have blue balls.
So where the fuck is his erection?
I could almost laugh at the direction of my thoughts. How has my life come to this? Staring intently at the penis of my bully as I wait to see if he has a boner? Not for the first time, I wonder if I’m taking this whole revenge thing too far, but a flood of incandescent anger sweeps away any hint of trepidation or remorse. They tortured me. Locked me in the middle school locker room over the weekend. Shoved me in a locker. Broke my heart.
What I’m doing is only cosmic justice.
Karma is a bitch, my friends, and she just so happens to go by the name of Peony Simone.
When he crooks his finger in a come-hither gesture, beckoning me towards him, I turn on my heel and promptly step away, pushing open the heavy doors to exit the building.
His attention leaves me feeling dirty and disheveled, almost as if I’d rolled around in a mud pit. I desperately scrub at both my arms, hoping to dispel the nauseating aroma permeating the air and clogging my nostrils, but it proves to be hopeless.
How can Cassian, even after all of these years, still affect me like this? Why does one tiny stare from him brand my skin as if he has taken a cattle prod, dipped it in molten lava, and then stuck it to my forehead?
