by Abigail Cole
Pulling my phone out, I shoot a message to Garrett across the table asking him to help sate my anger by fucking with Avery. He seems to be the only one that hasn’t fallen for her baby blues and innocent act. Yet. Looking up at me after having read the message, he nods slowly and his mouth pulls up in a sinister grin, both dimples on full display.
Ordering another bottle of Jack with multiple glasses from a passing waitress, this one in a schoolgirl outfit, I round the girl’s table. Pulling up a chair, I spin it to face backwards and straddle it. A waitress in a skin-tight cat suit with the ears to match appears and places the bottle and glasses onto the table. I thank her with a smile that makes her blush as she scuttles away, giving me a view of her tail. Pouring out the amber liquid, I shove a glass into Avery’s face and order her to drink up. She instantly recoils, scrunching her nose up in disgust.
“Keep that away from her! She doesn’t like the smell.” Meg’s hand shoots out as she shouts at me, her words slurring. The amber liquid sploshes over the glass rim onto the table, causing Avery to recoil further into her seat. My interest piques, sensing I can fuck two birds with one stone or whatever the saying is. Reaching for the bottle, I proceed to tip the entire contents over Avery’s head. She squeals as the whiskey absorbs into her hair and darts for the bathroom, knocking her chair over in the process.
Dax slips out of the booth, throwing me an annoyed look before following her. I track him through the booths and watch him walk straight into the ladies restroom after her, which makes me frown. Meg stands to leave but I grip onto her arm, knocking her slightly off balance on her tall heels. I notice Gare’s interested stare and Axel has perked up, waiting for my next move. Wanting to put some distance between us and the guys watching, I lead her over to the edge of the balcony.
“Shame on you,” she wags a jittery finger at me, “I thought you were different.” I’m not sure what gave her that impression, I’ve barely spoken to Avery’s minion. Her powdered blue gaze searches my face with a tender look, briefly dropping to my lips before she remembers she is supposed to be playing angry. Without needing further encouragement, I grab the back of her soft brown hair and crush my lips against hers. Her shocked gasp gives me the opportunity to push my tongue into her hot mouth. At first she resists, keeping rigid until I bend her back slightly over the bannister. Needing to hold onto the back of my neck for support, Meg groans into my mouth which sends an arrow of lust straight to my dick. Her hands slide into my hair as she begins to return my kiss with a dash of anger. That’s fine baby, you can punish me like this all you like.
Forcing myself to break our kiss, much to my erection’s disappointment, I refocus on my mission. Starring into her pale eyes, I slide my hand down to grab her ass roughly. “So, tell me,” I whisper into her ear, “What other things doesn’t Avery like?”
Avery
Gagging at the stifling aroma filling my senses, I flick up the faucet and shove my head into the sink. The water is freezing but I don’t have time to mess about with the temperature. The alcohol in my system is merging reality with my memories, my vision fading in and out of past and present. A hand touches my back and I jolt with a high-pitched scream, my head knocking on the tap. Ignoring the water dripping from my ponytail, I turn to lash out with my nails desperately. Strong hands grip my wrists, stilling my attack.
“Please don’t touch me,” I beg as tears gather beneath my lids. My inebriated state flushes all of my self-defence training straight down the toilet.
“Avery, open your eyes,” a soft voice reaches my ears. But I can’t. I refuse to look upon the menacing grey eyes that will be on the other side of my eyelids. His thinning dark hair and whitening chest hair. A thin gold chain that wobbles as he pushes me down under his beer-gut. The hands release my wrists, leaving me free to blindly punch out. My knuckles connect with a jaw and I open my eyes in shock I was able to hit him. But the person nursing his jaw in front of me isn’t who I expected to see.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry Dax,” I rush forward to get a look. Rubbing a hand over his jawline, he eyes me curiously.
“It’s fine. I came to help you,” he gestures to my hair. I’d momentarily forgotten about the smell and the dripping of my hair, but both hit me tenfold now. Nodding, I move back to the basins and pull my ponytail free from its tie which I pull onto my wrist. Dax twists the nozzle and feels for the temperature before gently pressing down on my shoulder to lean me back. Pumping the hand soap several times, he begins to massage my hair into a lather and cup the water in his hands to wash it out.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I have to ask, staring up at his concentrated expression. Dax’s large afro blocks out the intense glare from the lights above, allowing me to assess his face at my leisure. From this angle, there’s a slight curve in his nose that speaks of a few breaks, which confuses me. Dax definitely doesn’t seem like the fighting type. A full minute passes so I give up on expecting an answer.
Dax pulls me up by my elbows and grabs two cotton hand towels from the counter. The entire bathroom is dripping in luxury, from the basket of perfumes by the sink to the golden taps. Moving behind me to dry my hair, I arch my back to keep his fingers from skimming my body by accident. Although, the gentleness which he is treating me with leads my mind to wonder what it would feel like to let Dax’s fingers trail my skin.
“I’ve known Wyatt for almost four years, and I’ve never seen him act the way he has been this past week.” I shake myself out of my vivid daydream, trying to recall our conversation. “I’ll always have his best interest in mind. However, I don’t think punishing you is going to get him what he actually wants.”
“And what is that?” I ask, eyeing Dax’s striking blue eyes in the mirror’s reflection.
“The same as the rest of us. He wants to be enough.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for Dax to continue but he doesn’t. Opening my mouth, the door bursts open and Meg runs into a cubicle. The sound of her vomit slapping against the water in the toilet bowl makes me wretch myself. Dax places the hand towel onto the counter and moves to leave. Reaching for his arm to stop him, he turns abruptly and we accidentally bump chests due to my heels.
My hands tighten on his bronzed biceps to steady myself, the muscles flexing beneath my fingers. Looking into his arctic blue eyes, our noses are millimetres from touching. Something passes between us, his warm breath skating over my face. His eyes dip to my lips which I lick on instinct. My hands slide down his arms into his palms, his fingers intertwining with mine and his thumbs drawing light circles on the back on my hands. Fluttering my eyes closed, I lean into him as Meg hurls loudly and the moment is broken.
“Thank you for your help.” I say, stepping back and moving into the cubicle without waiting for his reply. Using the tie on my wrist, I pull Meg’s brown locks back and fix them into a bun at the back of her head. Sliding down onto the tiled floor beside her, I stroke her back.
“I kissed Wyatt,” she hiccups into the toilet bowl. Tears begin to stream down her face and drip into the water below. “I’m so sorry.” Starting to cry, my best friend throws herself into me. I try to avoid the vomit from her chin but it smears into my top anyway, so I pull her in for the hug she needs. Meg has always been a sloppy drunk, which is probably due to her consuming alcohol three times faster than I do. She always seems to take home a guy that is no good for her too.
“It’s okay,” I promise through her sobbing into my shoulder. “I’ve almost kissed Axel and Dax now, so who’s counting anyway,” I chuckle. Kissing her on top of the head, I push her upright to face me. “Was it good at least?” I ask. A bashful smile slithers across her face, telling me the answer. One good thing has come out of all this, I suddenly no longer find Wyatt attractive. I should have set Meg on him a week ago.
After cleaning her up with tissues, I quickly order an Uber on my phone and pull Meg to her feet. Keeping my arm around her waist for support, we slip out of the bathroom and around the back of the booth, staying out o
f sight. Manoeuvring through the crowded club, we spill onto the street just as our ride pulls up. I breathe down gulps of crisp night air before sliding into the silver Honda after Meg.
“Looks like you two have had a messy night,” our driver comments from the front seat, his eyes twinkling with humour in the rear-view mirror.
“You could say that,” I giggle as Meg’s head crashes onto my shoulder and a snuffled snore leaves her mouth. Stroking the brown hair from her face, I make small talk for the short drive back to the mansion. Turns out Joe here is a dotting single dad whose daughter is in Meg’s sorority and is moonlighting as an Uber driver to help pay for her degree. By day, he is a gardener who has a secret passion for modern jive. After being granted entry by the guard, Joe drives the vehicle through our large iron gates with an appreciative whistle. I shake Meg to wake her once we pull to a stop and help her out of the door Joe has kindly opened for us.
“Thanks for the ride, I hope Danielle knows how lucky she is to have a father like you.” His eyes crinkle at the corner in response to his wide smile as he lifts his flat cap at us and gets back into the car. Pulling out my phone as he drives away, I accidentally on purpose tip him the remaining $4000 to pay off Danielle’s degree.
The burnt orange Nissan rolls in behind us as we push our way through the main door. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Garrett is sitting on Axel’s lap in the back, his legs stretched over the central divider onto a pissed-looking Wyatt. Dax jumps out of the passenger seat, striding towards us and collecting Meg up into his arms without saying a word. Axel is hot on his heels, the pair pushing past and climbing the staircase to hopefully put Meg in my bed. A firm hand clasping my shoulder stops me from following with a vicious flinch.
“Not so fast.” Garrett sneers, whirling me around to face Wyatt. His emerald green eyes are blazing with anger, leaving me searching my brain for what I’ve done now. Beyond his shoulder, I see Huxley leaning against the wall, crossing his ankles and examining his fingernails. I gesture ‘what?’ at Wyatt with my hands, growing tired, irritable and seriously not in the mood for these mind games.
“A little bird tells me you’ve got a new tattoo. But it’s what’s underneath that interests me.” Oh no. His lip peels back like a wolf advancing towards me. Stepping back on instinct, I bump into Garrett whose hands grip the neckline of my black top. Tearing it down the centre, I lunge sideways to escape his clutches, but he’s too fast. Spinning me while I kick and scream, his hands lock onto my arms, holding me roughly in place. I stare up into his hazel eyes, pleading for him to let me go.
The terror running through my bones and the cool air on my exposed back makes me tremble wildly. I thrash and screech, begging for someone to hear and come to my aid. Pulling me flush against his chest, Garrett traps me in the cage of his body and makes a repetitive ‘shh’ sound as if he’s tucking me in for a lullaby.
“Huxley,” I scream, looking over my shoulder at his bored expression as he watches. “Please help me!” He doesn’t move, his face remaining stoic and my heart plummets. Changing tactic, I yell for Axel instead. Surely he won’t let them do this to me when I suspect he knows exactly how it feels to have someone touch you without your permission. Wyatt’s shadow looms closer, the first light drag of his fingers over my raised skin slicing a raging fire into my soul. Clamping down onto Garrett’s collar bone with my teeth, I scream at Wyatt’s invasive touches and the fact not a single one of them is going to help me.
The pain may originate from my mind, but I physically feel the piercing agony that cripples my spine. He leisurely explores every lump and taut patch of scar tissue for what seems like hours. Running both palms smoothly down my back, he learns of every hideous protruding blemish that I’ve tried desperately to erase. Tears coat my face as I try to escape to a happy place like Elena taught me but putting her theory into practice doesn’t work. I feel every invasive touch as if Wyatt is reaching straight into my being and probing at the suffering I’d left behind in London.
I wake in a familiar bed panting, the room bathed in darkness. My head is spinning from a mix of the hangover seeping in and the trauma I’m not sure if I actually endured. Searching the space frantically, I find my phone on the bedside cabinet, the charging cable plugged in. Meg’s leg is tangled with mine under the duvet, her hand trying to drag me back down to snuggle with her. Was it all a horrific nightmare?
Running my hands through my loose hair, sweat slicking it back, I try to focus on calming my breathing. Patting my body, I find myself only in a bra and panties. The shadow of my top on the floor beside the bed catches my attention, the faint moonlight filtering in through the window highlighting the roughly torn fabric. My phone lights with a message, which I can see without opening contains a photo of me screaming with eyeliner dripping down my cheeks. No, that power move was very real but at least now there is nothing else they can do to affect me.
Wyatt
Taking a seat as directed by the owner, I stretch my legs out and cross my ankles. I woke up in such a good mood this morning and figured today was as good as any to get this over with. The echoes of Avery’s screams ricochet around my mind, a sinister smile pulling at my lips. I can’t believe she actually fainted from me simply touching her, but it was glorious. I’m not usually this type of guy. I play hard on the basketball court and work even harder to keep my A+ record up in all of my studies, having learnt a long time ago I can’t depend on my parents to help me through life.
Growing bored, I wander into the open glass doors to my left. Rows of empty benches fill most of the room, a spongy blue carpet lining the central aisle beneath my feet. Striding towards the front, I stop in front of a large wooden cross hanging above a small podium, fitted with a microphone. There’s an oak coffin lying on a stand to the right, its brass handles hanging limply on the side. A floral centrepiece sits on top, pastel pink roses forming the word ‘Mom’ amongst fully bloomed lilies.
“Ah, Master Hughes, there is a service due to begin in here shortly.” The funeral director informs me, remaining at the back of the room. His white hair has been combed to the side, a sharp black suit covering his frame. My eyebrows crease at the basic timber box in his hands.
“Is that her?” I question, to which he nods nervously. “I figured the urn would be little fancier.”
“This is the standard container we issue. The families can choose to either scatter the ashes or transfer them into another urn. Although, I believe the plans for your mother have already been decided.” His voice raised at the end of that sentence, as if it were a question which I clearly don’t have the answer to. Glancing back at the rosy floral display, a pang of guilt hits me at missing mom’s funeral, but I decided before I came back to Atlanta I would mourn in my own way and time. Grieving guests dressed in black begin to filter into the room, so I stroll to leave, prying the box from the undertaker’s sweaty hands without thanking him. He would have been paid a small fortune to cremate my mother, and he dares to put her into a plain fucking box.
Slamming the door of Hux’s Nissan shut, I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. My phone, which I’d left in the door’s side pocket, buzzes with constant incoming messages. It’s not often I leave without telling the guys where I’m going, but I knew one of them would have insisted on coming and I had wanted to do this alone. Although, that seems stupid now that I would kill for one of Axel’s hugs.
Grabbing the handset, I scroll through the reels of messages. My active status must have alerted them to my presence in the chat, as the screen lights up with another incoming video call. Sighing, I slide to accept and notice my features look drawn and my hair is a fucking mess. Combing it back with my fingers, the call connects and four faces struggle to fit into the camera’s view.
“Where have you been?” Garrett demands, making me smirk at his worried mother-hen tone. I quickly glance to the wooden box beside me, wondering why these boys care for me more than she did. All four of them are so different, they should have been ru
ling their own fraternities or social cliques, but instead they chose me.
“I just needed some time away from everything.” I say vaguely, hating the looks of hurt that pass through their features. We promised no secrets, but for some type of closure I need to have some time with her to figure out my thoughts. “I’ll be back soon,” I promise and disconnect the call.
Twisting to stare at the container in the passenger seat, I smirk at the thought that I can finally take my mother for a drive. She’d have loved that opportunity when she’d been alive, if only I had given it to her. Reaching over to buckle her in, I push the gearstick into drive and glide out of the car park. After ten minutes of driving around aimlessly and randomly choosing exits, I think of the perfect place to go. Heading towards the shaded serenity of Blue Ridge Mountains, I also decide to indulge my mom with a one-way conversation.
“My final is due next week if I can concentrate enough to finish it. I’ve been trying to create a platform that will be able to film our basketball practices and use an algorithm to suggest possible weak links and individual areas needing improvement using facial recognition. Like a virtual coach I suppose.” I don’t know what I’d expected looking over to the wooden box beside me, some sense of otherly being breathing down my neck or some shit but there’s nothing.
“We played a killer game against a rival college a few weeks back, you should have seen it. Hux was distracting the other team with his fancy footwork, making a proper show to distract the offence. At the last second, he bounce passed across to Dax who was wide open. He’s able to one-hand dribble down the court with his huge hands, but he was soon surrounded. Coach called time with only 9 seconds left and we were down by 3. After his usual shpeal, I was ready to take the victory. I ran across the court, cross picking the guy with the ball and stealing it straight from his hands. With a 35” vertical, I slam dunked into the net just as the buzzer sounded. It was fucking incredible. Garrett managed to get himself into a fight with a player from the other team though; we had to drag him off some lanky dude with a bowl cut while the cheered him on.”
