“No, open your eyes and breathe,” the dead girl’s voice whispered over my thoughts. “You don’t get to take the easy way out.”
My lips flew open as I engulfed a large breath of air and sat up. I held completely still, paying attention to my body, to the blood pumping through my veins, and not to the dead girl.
Did the bugs go away? Is the clawing gone?
For a brief instant, I felt numb. Then, a second later, I felt it again. The crawling, the feeding. It was eating me away from the inside out.
Then the dead girl laughed at me. “You’re never going to escape this. At least, not easily.”
My lips parted to agree with her, to tell her she’s right, but then Sage walked into my room, asking me if I was okay.
Okay. Okay. Okay. The word echoed in my mind, bouncing around endlessly, along with the dead girl’s laugh.
Something snapped inside of me, the internal pain growing. I swore my skin cracked against the pressure, unable to hold it in any longer. I wanted it out. I wanted the pain to go away. That was when my attention zeroed in on the pipe in his hand.
Every time I have seen Sage high, he always seemed so content. I’d seen other people high before, too, and they looked the same way. I wanted to feel what it was like not to feel anything.
After a little persuasion, Sage agreed to let me take a hit. I thought he was going to hand me the pipe, but instead, he sucked in a hit and leaned forward with the smoke trapped in his lungs. I knew what he wanted to do; had seen people do it before. The idea scared me, but I found myself remaining frozen by either terror or curiosity—maybe a bit of both. My heart was sprinting in my chest, my palms sweating, my body shaking. For a brief second, he looked panicked, too. Then he relaxed and passed the hit into my mouth.
Slowly, I felt the bugs fading into a dull crawl. I felt the dead girl, my memories, myself, fading.
Everything.
And I never want to let them live again.
After I take another hit, I lie down on the bed and Sage lies down beside me. We stare at each other.
I’m not as frightened as I normally am. It’s a strange and unfamiliar feeling, and I don’t know what to do with it.
“You okay?” Sage asks, his eyes a little bloodshot.
I bob my head up and down, staring at his lips. “Yeah … I feel really good actually.” I eyeball his pipe that’s on the bed between us. “You should let me have another hit.”
Sage frowns. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
I jut out my lip. “Why not?”
He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, seeming torn, his gaze flicking back and forth between my eyes and my jutted lip. “Sadie … I …” When I frown, he sighs. “Just one more, okay? And then I have to cut you off.” He sits up, raking his fingers through his hair. “I need you to pinkie promise me you won’t ask for another hit. Because if you do, I’m probably just going to keep giving them to you.”
My mind swims with confusion. “Why?”
His lips pull into a sad, lopsided smile. “Because you’re really hard to say no to, especially when you pout.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure I entirely comprehend his words, but I guess it doesn’t really matter—nothing really matters at the moment. I sit up, nodding. “Okay, I can do that.” I lift my hand up with my pinkie hitched, feeling a tad bit nervous. In order to do a pinkie promise, Sage is going to have to touch me. Touch. Oh, my God, I’m going to let him touch me.
It seems like I should be panicking and, somewhere deep inside me, I do feel a flash of fear, but the potency is smothered by the lazy feeling clouding my mind.
Releasing a breath, Sage hitches his pinkie with mine and a spark of static nips at my skin. I jump, wondering if he felt it, too.
A smile pulls at his lips. “Talk about a spark between us. Literally,” he jokes, divulging that he did feel it, too. Then he chuckles, shaking his head. “That was a pretty lame line, right?”
I nod, a smile tugging at my lips. “It really was.”
He stares at me for a beat of silence, as if something about my expression is deeply perplexing him. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
I nod. “Yes. Absolutely.”
He chews on his bottom lip. “I’m just wondering if maybe you’re good to go already. You might not need another hit.”
I shake my head. I don’t even know why. It’s not like I know anything about getting high. What I do know is that the hit I took made me feel light when all I’ve ever felt is heavy. I want to feel lighter.
“You told me I could have one more.” I pout, which is strange. I can’t recall the last time I pouted.
He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to my jutted lip. “You’re seriously going to be the death of me.”
“I’m sorry,” I find the need to apologize, though I don’t really know what he’s talking about.
“You’re fine.” Putting the pipe to his lips, he flicks the lighter and sucks in a deep hit. Then he lowers the pipe from his lips and leans forward with his gaze locked on mine.
My heart sprints in my chest as he gets closer. Part of me wants to run, but I remind myself I did this once already, so I can do it again. I want to do it again. The dead girl hasn’t bothered me since I took the first hit.
This time when he passes me the hit, his lips actually brush against mine, and like when we touched pinkies, a spark of static nips my lips. I suck in a startled breath right as he shudders and transfers the smoke into my mouth. The smoke slithers down my throat, burning my lungs, but I hardly feel it, too focused on what happened only seconds ago.
Sage’s lips touched mine for the very first time. A guy’s lips touched mine for the very first time. That revelation sinks deeper into my brain as Sage slants back and I exhale the smoke.
It’s crazy to think about, but even with everything that’s happened to me—all the darkness … the touching … the wrongness—no one ever kissed me. That’s one thing they never took from me.
My gaze zeroes in on Sage’s lips, wondering what it’d feel like to really kiss him, tongue and all. Would my hazy mind actually let me go through with it? Would Sage let me go through with it? Would I feel that spark again?
“How are you feeling?” Sage’s worried tone slices through my thoughts.
I tear my eyes off his mouth and meet his gaze. “Um, good.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m fine. I swear.”
He seems unconvinced, but gets distracted by an incoming text. After he reads the message, his demeanor shifts as he wraps his fingers tightly around the phone.
I study him closely. “Are you okay?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Fine is such a placate word, often used to avoid telling someone the truth. I know because I frequently use it.
Feeling way braver than I know I should, I scoot closer to him. “Want to talk about it?”
His gaze flicks to mine, confliction flashing in his eyes. “I’m not so sure if that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because I really don’t think you’d be asking me that if you weren’t stoned.”
“Maybe,” I admit, staring down at my hands. “But I’d probably still want to. I’d just be too afraid to.” Wow, apparently, I become Miss Honesty when I’m high.
When I dare a glance up at him, I find him assessing me with a pucker at his brow.
“Why?” he asks. “Why would you be afraid of me?”
I shrug. “It’s not really you I’d be afraid of so much as talking to you. Don’t take it personally. I’m afraid to talk to most people, except for the very few people I’m close to.” And I sometimes shut down with those people, too.
He sets the phone aside and twists to face me. “We should change that.”
“I think the only way that’d be possible is if I am high or drunk all the time, and I’m not so sure that’s a good alternative.”
“No, I know … That’s not w
hat I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Chewing on his bottom lip, he hesitantly reaches for me and places his hand over mine. My heart begins to pound furiously in my chest, my cloudy mind struggling to go into overdrive.
His hand is on my hand.
His hand is so warm.
So full of static warmth.
Little nips prickling my skin.
“By you getting to know me.” He slowly laces our fingers together, his gaze locked on our fastened hands.
“Holding hands is how we get to know each other?” I joke nervously. Then, to make the situation even worse, I actually laugh.
I’d probably be more embarrassed, except I can’t seem to find the will to be embarrassed at the moment.
Sage’s lips quirk as his gaze collides with mine. “Nah, that’s just an added bonus.”
“Why?”
“Because you never let anyone hold your hand.”
True. “You noticed that?”
“I notice a lot about you.” He gives me a look that makes my heart flutter.
Whoa. I’ve never felt that before. It makes me feel dizzy.
But then I think of the woman I just caught him kissing and wonder if I shouldn’t be feeling dizzy over him. At the moment, though, all I can feel is dizziness.
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say.
My nervousness seems to amuse him, a trace of a smile gracing his lips.
“So, what do you say?” he asks. “Can we get to know each other?”
“Now? Aren’t we supposed to be leaving soon?” I glance at the clock and surprise courses through me.
Only a few minutes have passed since Sage walked into my room. What the hell? Did time somehow slow down?
“No, not now,” Sage says, drawing my attention back to him. “I don’t want to do this while we’re both like this.”
“You mean, high?”
“Yeah. It won’t be genuine if we do. And I want this to be genuine.”
“Why?” And there goes my honesty again. Man, it’s like my brain can’t keep up with my mouth.
“Because I want you to want to get to know me.” Hesitantly, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear with his free hand. “And I want you to know what you’re getting into.”
“I feel like I want to right now,” I admit, my voice slightly trembling from his touch.
“I know, but that’s not really real.” He sighs heavily. “Just promise me that tomorrow, you’ll try to remember this conversation and how at ease you felt around me. I want you to try to hold on to the feeling, okay?”
I bob my head up and down, agreeing that I will. But, by the time I’m done nodding, I can barely remember what I was nodding about. Still, I try to latch on to the feeling for as long as I possibly can, wishing upon wishing that somehow, when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll feel as content as I do now. That I’ll still be able to talk to Sage. That I’ll be able to let him touch me.
Most of all, I wish that the dead girl will remain gone.
10
Sage
I’m feeling very conflicted over whether or not I’m an asshole. Sadie appears content, and she never appears content. On the other hand, I keep sneaking little touches, tucking her hair behind her ear, brushing my lips across hers, holding her hand. She never would’ve let this happen if she wasn’t stoned.
Does that mean I’m taking advantage of her?
Fuck. I’m such a fucking asshole, just like everyone thinks I am. Just like my father does. The worst part is that I like what I’m doing. Not the part of maybe taking advantage of her, but the touching her part.
Her lips felt so soft when I stole a taste. Her skin is soft, as well. I wish I could touch more of her, but that’d definitely be wrong. Not to mention, Ayden and Lyric would kick my ass.
I sigh internally. If only I could get Sadie to loosen up like this around me while both of us had clear minds. Then again, she might be better off staying away from me. For example, take the whole kissing incident on the porch with the redhead. Shit like that always seems to happen to me. The problem is, staying away from Sadie is getting more complicated, especially now that she lives with Ayden and Lyric. Especially now that I’ve had a tiny taste of what she would feel like.
I let out an audible sigh. Fuck, I’m so screwed. The last thing this girl needs is a guy who will probably add more pain to her sad eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Sadie asks, blinking her eyes several times, as if trying to see through the haziness.
I shake my head, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, stealing a touch again.
Fuck, I have no self-control. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not normally like this. Usually I go for girls who are all over me. Not on the verge of being afraid of me.
“It’s nothing,” I lie. “I was just thinking about some stuff …” I trail off as my phone buzzes with another incoming message. I grit my teeth, knowing it’s probably from the same person who just texted me.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, I swipe my finger across the screen, and then grind my teeth harder. Yep, I was right. Another message from my asshole of a father, pretty much repeating the same message from earlier.
Dad: I’m serious, Sage. I’m doing it first thing in the morning. If you want to be present, you better have your lazy ass down there first thing in the morning. And don’t plan on showing up just to talk me out of it. I’ve made up my mind this time. It’s over. You need to come say goodbye. You owe your mother that much for not being there that night.
I hate the bastard so damn much I can barely stand it.
Anger simmers underneath my skin and my muscles constrict.
“Sage?” Sadie’s hand twitches in mine, and I realize I’m gripping the shit out of her hand.
“Sorry,” I apologize, loosening my hold.
“It’s fine.” She eyes me over with her brows furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem … tense.”
I swallow hard and force a fake smile. “I swear I’m fine. I always am.”
What a fucking lie. I’m not fine at all. I haven’t been fine for a very long time. Since I found my mom dead. Since I was in the car crash and forgot months of my life. Since my nightmares started …
But no one knows any of that. I’m just the guy who’s fine. The guy who’s fun. The guy who never takes anything seriously.
Except, I’m not to my father. Then I’m the guy who can do nothing right. The loser. His mistake. The guy who only makes mistakes and never does anything right. And maybe I don’t. I mean, I wasn’t there the night my mom died. And I was supposed to be. Instead, I was out partying. If I wasn’t, maybe she wouldn’t be about to die.
But I keep smiling, pretending everything’s okay, when I really want to pour my heart out to Sadie. Tell the truth for once. Break open and let everything out.
11
Sadie
He’s smiling at me like everything’s okay, but his smile is plastic. Fake. I’m the queen of fake smiles, and I usually use them when I’m struggling to keep my internal pain hidden. Sage is in pain, and whether I’m high or not, I want to find out why.
“You said you wanted us to get to know each other,” I remind him, a bold move for me. “But you’re not telling me the truth.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re right.” He rakes his free hand through his hair then parts his lips. “It’s about my mom …” He stops, pulling his hand away from mine as someone lightly knocks on my bedroom door.
“Sadie, are you ready to go?” Ayden’s voice floats through the door.
“Shit,” Sage mutters, jumping to his feet. His gaze darts around my room and settles on my window. Hurrying over, he opens it and sticks his head outside.
“What’re you doing?” I whisper, mostly because Sage whispered.
Sage glances over his shoulder at me with panic flooding his eyes. “Ayden’s going to kick my ass if he finds out I’m in here.”
My brows rise. “You’re
afraid of Ayden kicking your ass?”
“No, but I’m going to have to let him beat me up based on principle.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re his sister.”
“So? We weren’t doing anything.” When he gives me a pressing look, I sigh. “Well, okay. But it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve drank in front of Ayden before, and I’m sure he won’t care that I got high.”
“He may not care that you got high,” Sage says, slowly turning toward me, “but he’s going to care that I helped you get high. He’ll think I’m trying to corrupt you or something.” He yanks his fingers through his hair, making the strands go askew. “Hell, he’ll probably think I was getting you high so I could take advantage of you.”
A flush spreads across my cheeks at his words. “Why would he think that?”
“Because that’s what everyone thinks about me.” His voice is tight. “That I’m nothing but a manwhore.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. I want to defend his honor, but didn’t I catch him kissing that redhead on the porch only a handful of minutes ago? And I don’t really know him very well, at least on a personal level. Still, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would take advantage of someone. In fact, he told me he didn’t want to have a personal conversation while we were high because he wants me to get to know him.
“Well, I don’t think you are,” I tell him truthfully.
He fleetingly searches my eyes. “Really?”
I nod. “Yeah, really.”
He gives me a doubtful look. “I think that might be the weed talking.”
“No, it’s not,” I insist. “I think that even when I’m not high.”
His brow crooks. “Then why do you always seem so afraid of me?”
I lift my shoulders, shrugging, my heart knocking in my chest. There’s no way I can tell him the truth. Tell him the horrible details about my past. “I don’t think I can tell you that right now.”
“Okay,” he replies easily, making me feel the slightest bit at ease. “I still don’t think Ayden should catch me in here with you.”
Fated by Darkness Page 8
