Kills every cell of flesh.
And leaves trails of invisible scars in its wake.
Then
I
Am
Dead.
“You can handle this,” I tell myself as I take a deep breath. “Just be doesn’t-give-a-shit-about-anything Alexis.”
I take another deep breath and feel the calmness, the numbness settling over me.
Just do what you do best and don’t let it mean anything. Because you need to do this. After crumbling in front of Masie and Blaine, you need to put your mask back on and let them see the wholeness of it again. Let them see that the cracks are gone. Or at least hidden.
Even with my mental pep talk, my pulse races as I think about lips, and West’s lips.
As a wave of emotions pour over me, I roll off my bed and storm toward the closet to grab a can of spray paint from the stash I keep in there. Maybe I’ll spray paint the neighbor’s house. Or a sign nearby. Something, anything to keep my mind off this.
Then I pause in the doorway as the sounds of my siblings’ music touch my ears.
What if I get caught? Then what? We just end up living in the foster system? Do I want to be responsible for that? Can I hurt them that much? Do I really not care about anything anymore?
“Oh my God, I don’t want this conscience anymore. I wish Loki never said anything to me. I wish I didn’t care.” Shaking my head and growling in frustration, I toss the spray paint back into the closet and yank my fingers through my hair.
This staying out of trouble thing is going to be complicated.
I’m somehow going to have to find a way to preoccupy my mind another way.
But what? I don’t care about anything anymore, my old life gone, so where does that leave me?
I have no idea, and all I can do is float around in this invisible sea of agony until I figure out a way to swim out of it.
But, what if I never figure it out? What if I keep floating around until I drown?
A couple of minutes later, I decide to take a break from my own head and go into the kitchen to get something to eat. Loki has apparently returned home. At least, the empty grocery bags on the counter suggest so. I still haven’t seen him, so I’m betting he’s up in his room.
Anna, however, is in the kitchen, and so is her friend, Luca.
They don’t notice me walk in, because they’re whispering to each other about God knows what.
“Just an FYI, you’re not alone anymore,” I announce as I cross the kitchen and wander over to the fridge.
They jerk back, looking guilty. About what? Who knows? And, while I’m kind of curious, it’s not enough to ask.
“Hey, Alexis,” Luca greets me with a smile.
Instead of answering, I just raise my brows then open the fridge and start digging around for something to eat.
“Hey, if you’re hungry, we’re heading out right now to get something to eat,” Anna tells me.
Just a little while ago, she would’ve barely registered I existed, partly to be a bitch and partly because she’d more than likely be high. She’s different now, but I’m not sure why.
“I’m good,” I reply, not bothering to mention that I can’t go anywhere because West is coming over to practice kissing for our fake relationship. Because, yeah, that’d go over really well.
Anna frowns but quickly recovers with a smile. “Okay. Do you want us to bring you anything?”
I shake my head, grabbing some stuff out of the fridge to make a sandwich. “I’m good.”
She nods. “All right. Well, if you change your mind, text me.”
I give her a thumbs-up, barely looking at her as I busy myself with making a sandwich, but I can feel her eyes on me, as if searching for something. A sign that the old Lex still exists, the one who didn’t reply with short responses, who laughed, who smiled.
She can look all she wants; she won’t find her.
Meanwhile, I pretend to be unbothered by her assessment. But a breath I didn’t realize I was holding slips past my lips after her and Luca leave.
I promptly focus on making myself something to eat, shoving down whatever emotions were trying to surface.
Ten minutes later, I’ve eaten and am cleaning up when I receive a text from West.
West: I’m just about there. Do you want me to knock on the door or do you wanna just meet me outside? Not sure if you’re allowed to have anyone over or not.
While I’m pretty sure Loki is up in bed, I don’t think having West come into the house is a good idea.
Me: Just text me when you get here, and I’ll come out there.
West: Cool. See you in a few.
He seems so casual about the situation. I wish I was—I try to be—but my heart speeds up as the reality of the situation crashes over me.
He’ll be here in a few.
To kiss.
And I’m pretty sure I have lunchmeat stuck in my teeth.
I cup my hand in front of my mouth to do a breath check then pull a face at the stench.
“Well, that smells lovely,” I mutter to myself, deliberating if I want to go brush my teeth or not. It would be kind of funny to kiss him with rancid lunchmeat breath. It’d be good revenge for all those times he teased me and annoyed the hell out of me.
But he was nice to me yesterday …
Nicer than anyone has been to me in a while. And despite me being so bitchy.
“Dammit,” I mumble as my conscience gets the better of me again and I drag my butt upstairs to brush my teeth. I don’t bother cleaning up or fixing my hair, though. I will not be that girl who gets all fussy about their looks just because a guy is coming over.
By the time I’ve brushed and rinsed my mouth with mouthwash, my phone is buzzing in my pocket. I fish it out, confused as to why someone is calling. And I become even more confused when I see that it’s West.
Maybe he’s calling to cancel.
Maybe it’s good that he is.
“What’s up?” I say, trying to sound more casual than I feel.
“Nothing. I’m just calling to let you know I’m parked out front.”
“Oh, okay.” That still doesn’t explain why he randomly called instead of texted.
“Why do you sound so confused right now?” he asks curiously.
I lean against the bathroom counter. “It’s just weird that you called. I mean, usually, we just text.”
“Yeah, I know.” He gives a short pause. “I just figured it might be a little more gentlemanly of me to call instead of text, considering we’re about to make out.”
“If you say so.” My voice sounds smooth, but I’m a mess on the inside.
Shit is getting real. And I don’t do real. I run from real.
Real is not in the new Alexis’s vocabulary.
“Wow, I thought you’d be impressed by that,” he teases.
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “Well, I’m not.”
He chuckles. “Damn, I guess I’m going to have to do something more impressive then.”
“Why’re you trying to impress me at all? This isn’t like a date or anything. Just you popping my cherry with this whole kissing thing.”
The line grows quiet.
“Hello?” I wonder if he hung up.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “So, are you gonna come out? Or just keep procrastinating?”
He’s acting weird, even for him. Twitchy. Like Zhara was earlier.
Maybe he has a secret, too. Maybe everyone does.
Just like you.
“You’re so fucking ugly.”
“Are you sure you still want to do this?” I check. “Because we don’t have to.” Because I’m not fully sure I can.
“Yeah, of course I want to.” He sounds uncertain, though, and I’m about to suggest that maybe we don’t do this when he says, “Come on; get your cute butt out here. We’ve got kissing to do.” Then he hangs up, giving me no time to back out, as if he knew that’s what I was going to do.
&
nbsp; And I want to. In fact, maybe I should. Maybe I’m not ready for this. I just found out about Masie and Blaine yesterday. Not to mention I almost got arrested yesterday, too. Maybe all of that is messing with my head and making me not see clearly, like the I-don’t-give-a-shit Alexis.
But see what clearly exactly? That my longtime crush and my BFF are together now, even though my BFF knew I had a crush on him? That my crush knows I like him? That I’ve now basically lost everything connected to the Before? That I’ve lost my mask.
No, I’m going to do this. I need to do this. Need to get that goddamn mask back up—get my control back.
So, sucking it the hell up, I leave the bathroom to go outside and kiss my frenemy.
Thirteen
Alexis
West is leaning against the car when I walk out, dressed in black jeans, a matching T-shirt, and black boots. With how dark it is outside, I can barely make most of him out, except for his blond hair that almost looks white against the moonlight. So, I can’t see his expression until I make my way across the front lawn and stop in front of him. Only then do I realize he looks nervous. He also looks a bit tired. Or, well, maybe hungover.
That realization brings a drop of relief—I’m not the only one who’s nervous.
But then I start to overanalyze the cause behind the nervousness.
Maybe he really doesn’t want to do this.
I mentally shake my head at myself. Stop overthinking this. Stop obsessing about a guy. You did that with Blaine and look where it got you.
Awkward silence stretches between us, filled up by the chirping of crickets and my next-door neighbor belting out the lyrics to a rock song from his front porch, something he does whenever he’s drunk.
“Hey,” he greets me with a small smile. Then his gaze briefly flicks to my house before landing back on me. “Can you take a walk with me? Or is that going to get you in trouble?” His lips quirk. “Or should I say more trouble?”
I roll my eyes but relax. I can handle a joking West. It’s when he gets nervous that throws me off balance.
“I’m good,” I say. “I think Loki’s asleep. Frankly, I don’t know if he’d even care. He’s in one of his moods where he’ll barely talk to me.”
He nods for me to follow him as he starts down the sidewalk, heading to who knows where. “I wish my parents would ignore me whenever they got pissed at me.”
I walk beside him with my arms wrapped around myself. Goosebumps sprout across my flesh and, while I want to play it off as the air being chilly, the spring air in Honeyton is warm and slightly damp.
“Do they yell at you a lot?” I ask as we reach the street corner. “Because your mom doesn’t seem like much of a yeller, but you told me once that they yell at each other, so …”
“She’s not much of a yeller.” He stares down the road so I can’t see his face, but I detect a slight shift in his voice. “She’s more of a… mental mind game punisher or a hand-the-problem-over-to-my-dad sort of person.”
I know West well enough to know he’s not a huge fan of his dad’s. Although, I’m not exactly sure why.
“You and your dad don’t get along very well, right?” I ask, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
He shakes his head and starts across the street with me following right beside him. “Not really … I know everyone in this town thinks he’s this great guy, and he is to almost everyone else except his family.”
“Yeah, I remember how you told me he treats your mom like shit, that he yells at her all the time.” I hop onto the curb as we reach the other side of the road.
He glances at me from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever told that to.”
“I think you told me because we were drunk. You get super chatty when you drink too much. Seriously, you’re worse than Masie.” I flash him a smirk.
His eyes widen in mock shock. “You so did not say that.”
I grin. “I totally did. And I’d totally say it again.”
He gives me a devious grin. “Yeah, well, at least whenever I see a spider, I don’t scream in a more high-pitched voice than Masie does when she’s whining. Seriously, it’s like you’re trying to be her doppelganger or something.”
I blast him with a nasty look. “My scream isn’t that high pitched. And spiders are freakin’ scary. With all those legs and those eyes and …” I shudder just thinking about it, and he totally laughs at me.
I pretend to glare at him then give him a haughty grin. “Yeah, well, at least I don’t freak out whenever I get a zit and almost start crying about it.”
“That happened one time,” he argues, holding up a finger and biting back a smile. “And I didn’t almost cry. I was just annoyed that I got a zit right before my date with Stasha Mellingferd.”
“Aw, yeah, the Stasha phase,” I remark musingly. “Dude, you were so obsessed with her back in the day.”
“Yeah, until I went on a date with her.”
“What happened with that anyway?” I cast him a sidelong glance. “I mean, she was all you talked about freshman year. Then you finally went on a date with her and never talked about her again. I don’t think you two even look at each other anymore.” I let a smirk tug at my lips. “It was the zit, wasn’t it? Did it, like, pop on her while you two were making out?”
He pulls a disgusted face. “Hell no! That is just …” His face contorts with disgust again. “You’re seriously so gross sometimes.”
I shrug. “Would you rather me act like Masie and be a lady? Because that’s not gonna happened.”
He shakes his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes. “God no. Don’t ever act like her.”
I arch a brow. “Even if it means you have to hear me say nasty things?”
He gently nudges my shoulder with his. “I’d rather hear you talk about zits popping than listen to Masie prattle on about her hair and makeup and who’s dating who. Whenever she opens her mouth, I feel like I lose some of my brain cells.”
If this were a couple days ago, I’d jump in and defend my best friend. But this isn’t a couple days ago. This isn’t the Before. The Before is gone, and now all I have is the Nothing. And in the Nothing, I don’t really know who I am anymore. What I do know is I don’t want to defend Masie any longer.
“You should hear her talk about shoes,” I say as we slow to a stop in front of the park located in the middle of the subdivision.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I’d rather not.”
“Yeah, me neither.” I waver, considering something. “I guess I won’t have to anymore.” I’m not sure how I feel about that statement, but I try not to feel anything.
As the air between us grows quiet, a bit of pity fills his eyes underneath the moonlight.
I don’t want him to look at me that way.
Don’t want to be pitied.
I change the subject as I start to squirm. “So, why’re we at the park?”
He studies me momentarily before turning his gaze toward the swing set and slide. “I just thought this might be the best place to have some privacy while we”—he chews on his lip, his gaze returning to me—“make out.”
It’s the first time he’s said it while I’m standing right in front of him. If I thought listening to him talk about it on the phone was uncomfortable, I was wrong.
This is so much more uncomfortable.
“We’re not making out,” I insist. “Just kissing.” That doesn’t sound any better. Making out or kissing, they both require us to press our lips together.
What even is the difference between kissing and making out? The fact that I don’t know makes me seem so lame. God, what I would give to go back in time and not center all my crush energy on a guy who didn’t want me. Maybe then I would’ve kissed someone already and wouldn’t be here, about to fake kiss a guy who I’ve always thought of as a frenemy.
“You’re so fucking ugly,” Jay whispers. “Do everyone a favor and off your fuck
ing ugly ass.”
Panic clutches my throat.
What am I doing here—
West suddenly presses his lips against mine.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
West is kissing me. His lips are touching mine.
Every single part of me starts to tremble.
I jerk back, my heart slamming so forcefully against my breast bone that I swear it’s going to jump out of my chest and run off. I don’t blame it. It’s exactly what I want to do.
Run, run, run back to being comfortably numb.
I want my fucking mask back on, but I can’t even find it right now.
“Why did you do that?” I breathe out, cringing at the shakiness of my tone. “You should’ve warned me before you did it.”
He lifts his eyelids and smashes his lips together, taking a beat before answering. “You looked like you were gonna run, and I thought, if I warned you that I was going to do it, you would.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” I lie, staring over at the swings and picnic tables to avoid looking at the intensity flowing off him.
My heart is still racing in my chest, all over the place, just like my mind and emotions.
His hands are all over me …
“You’re so fucking ugly.”
“Okay.” He sounds doubtful. “Well, at least we got it over with.”
I start to relax, turning my head toward him, when he steps toward me.
“I’m gonna kiss you,” he warns this time, lifting his palm to my cheek.
“Again?” I squeak then hurriedly clear my throat. What the hell was that? “But we already did it.”
His lips quirk, and I expect him to make fun of my squeaking, but all he does is wink at me and say, “That wasn’t a kiss, baby.”
I quirk a brow and hold up my hands in front of me. “Baby? Are you freakin’ kidding me?”
“What?” He gives an innocent shrug. “I’m just practicing for when we start fake dating.”
I roll my eyes. “Or you can just call me by my name?”
“Sounds good,” he says, though his smile lets me know that annoying trait’s going to manifest again during out little fake relationship.
He falls silent again, looking at me with a contemplative expression. “I’m going to kiss you again,” he says then starts to lean in. “Don’t jerk back this time or we’re never going to get anywhere.”
Signed with a Kiss: A Novel (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 1) Page 11
