Darkly Sweet

by Juliann Whicker

  After limping across fields until we got to the bleachers, we sat among other students who had their homework out, enjoying the sunshine after being crammed inside all day. I pulled out my linguistics sheet and Zach helped me fill it out. He was extremely good at languages. Apparently.

  “You’re in the same class as Zach? Are you that good?”

  I blinked at Viney. “No. I’m not. I have no idea why I’m in any of the classes that I’m in, although they’re all really fun!”

  Zach smiled at me. “You’re not terrible at Spanish.”

  I sucked on my lollipop and tried to look seductive. It was probably ruined by the growing bruise on my knee. And my legs had looked so nice. “Thanks. I’m sure Miz was impressed. What would happen if you had a French accent and a German accent at the same time?”

  He said, “Merci borscht est gutt!” and I tittered attractively.

  That’s when Viney hit my shoulder and nodded out to the field where the polo players were emerging on their prancing steeds. Drake. He looked even better on a huge black horse in real life than he’d looked in his picture. There were two teams although both were from our school. Zach explained the rules generally, but I stopped paying attention once he started talking about points.

  I kind of missed whatever else he said when Drake took that stick and whacked a ball, shooting it across the field with some serious velocity. I would hate to get in the way of that ball, or that stick. I’d been watching the practice for fifteen minutes, fascinated at these boys who somehow moved as one with their horses until the thing happened.

  Drake was running down the field and Jackson came along to block him and then Drake and Jackson’s horses got tangled up. Drake launched himself off his horse and into Jackson, tackling him off his horse. It happened so fast, if I hadn’t been watching so closely, I wouldn’t have seen the horrible angle of Jackson’s arm or heard the crack as Drake broke it.

  Viney gasped and looked pale yet excited and Zach looked away from the field, kind of sick and disgusted. I expected to feel the opposite of sick and disgusted since my hand still hurt from Jackson, but watching him writhe on the field in pain only reminded me of the way I’d felt after Poppy… I grabbed my papers, shoved them into my bag and left the bleachers without meeting Zach or Viney’s eyes.

  I walked quickly back to my room, ignoring Zach calling after me, instead twirling my lollipop on my tongue over and over and over.

  Chapter 8

  It was a horrible enough day, I should have stayed in my room, but at five-thirty I was hungry, six starving, and by six forty-five desperate to the point of breaking people’s skulls open and eating their brains. Just kidding. I wasn’t that hungry.

  I made it to the dining room, had almond chicken and steamed vegetables with an enormous salad that I’d have to somehow eat in fifteen minutes. It was pretty close, but my plate was almost clean when the bell rang and the navy suits started walking down the tables to chase out late eaters.

  I headed back to my room and was in the middle of a large hall with a lovely inlaid marble floor and marble pillars holding up the arched ceiling when a girl stepped in front of me. She said, “Didn’t you want some dessert?” before sending an ice cold slushy into my face, shirt, neck, and shoulders.

  Macaroons. Petit fours. Lady fingers. Bon-bons. I wiped my eyes and when I opened them for some reason I really, really, really wanted to ruin that perfect smile permanently. Drake stood behind her, an impassive expression on his face. The girl glanced over at him like a good puppy who had fetched his slippers.

  “You think you’re good enough for Drake,” another girl hissed before she pushed me, in his direction ironically enough.

  I licked my fingers and studied the guy who stood there with that annoying smirk on his mouth. They didn’t like me talking to him, falling on him, anything involving him.

  Was that what all the annoying things had been about? Did they think I was competing for Drake? Fury made things sparkly and bright as I smoothed more shake off my face and licked my fingers, sucking on them hard while I studied him, the boy that all the girls would do anything for, would hurt anyone for.

  His eyes widened slightly, just enough to make me realize that I was looking sexy.

  Right. I’d seen that on a music video somewhere, people licking fingers like that wasn’t disgusting. I walked over to him, anger fueling my seductive walk, until I was close. I held out my fingers, dripping with melted ice cream shake.

  “Do you want to taste?”

  His eyebrow flickered before he bent his head and took my fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking like I was his ice cream. Oh no. The scent of black cherry swirled around my head the way his tongue swirled over my fingers. I gasped and tried to think about macaroons.

  After he’d licked off all the shake he smiled lazily and leaned forward. “It would be a pity to waste it.”

  I nodded because, yeah, that made sense and then he took my shoulders and leaned down before licking my throat from my scalloped Peter Pan collar to my chin. I gasped and clung to his shoulders as my legs gave out.

  He seemed to take that as encouragement because he kept licking my neck and face, holding me against his body until I’d moved past hyperventilating to completely not breathing. Finally, he pulled back and waited until I could stand up on my legs before he let me go.

  He smiled, brushed my jaw with his fingers and licked them. His smile was dangerous and amused. I didn’t like either of those. “Thank you so much for sharing, Penny Lane.

  You’d better get back to your room before I gobble up the rest of you.”

  I should have said something cool and clever, or at least bubbly and ridiculous, but all I did was spin around and get out of there as fast as my trembling legs could take me. So that was what it was like to be licked like a lollipop. Lollipops were so much more dangerous than I’d thought they were.

  Lollipops. I unwrapped one as I went until I got to Lilac Stories and came up suddenly against Viney who glared at me like I’d just murdered her mother. I didn’t have enough lollipops for this.

  “Hi Viney! How’s it going? I’d love to chat, but I have so much homework to do, so…”

  She stepped closer to me, eyes narrowing wickedly. “You really are a piece of bubblegum, the kind without any flavor, just sugar and when he’s tired of you he’ll spit you out and people will walk all over you.”

  I blinked at her then at the video on her phone she held up for me so I could watch me being consumed by Drake like an ice cream cone. I didn’t look like I minded. My eyes were droopy, lips parted while I let him do whatever he wanted to me without the slightest protestation. I should have done something, anything, but I’d lost my temper with stupid, insecure girls. I knew better. I’d been taught my whole life to control the anger, the frustration, been poked and prodded until I could recite any poem by Longfellow with the proper intonation. Revere liked Longfellow. My mother liked poking and prodding.

  I shook my head and forced myself to focus. My mother’s lessons must have been too long ago. I took a deep breath and focused on Viney instead of my vacuous face and Drake’s bent head above me.

  “There wasn’t really any chewing and people already walk over me. Besides, gum sticks to people’s feet, so there’s vengeance in the seemingly pathetic gum ball. Viney, if you don’t move I will lick you.”

  She stepped back with this grossed out face as I went straight to my room and my bathroom beyond. Being sticky wasn’t fun. I showered, only washing the bits of my hair

  that were sticky, and made it fast because I somehow had to get my laundry done before lights out. I needed a lot more clothes if I was going to go through five outfits a day.

  I grabbed all the dirty laundry in my room, including the bloody handkerchief Drake had given me. I held my head away from the pile in my arms as the aroma of horse feces filled the air.

  The laundry room was abandoned besides one guy who stood at the sink, the stretch of his shoulders impre
ssive beneath his t-shirt. I stopped and tried to edge backwards before he saw me.

  Drake turned and glanced at me over his shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. He smiled at me showing sharp teeth. “I’m not going to ask what you’re doing here. I got malt all over my suit. I can’t imagine what shape yours is in.”

  I hesitated before I gave him a small smile and kind of edged over to the nearest machine. I opened the door and closed it before looking around for instructions.

  “Usually you wash clothes before you dry them.”

  I spun around and fought the stupid blush on my face. “Yeah, thanks. I’ve never really washed clothes before.”

  He smirked like I was so funny and idiotic. “You’re a spoiled rich brat, right?”

  I nodded soberly. “Absolutely. This whole thing is really strange.”

  “Laundry?” I tried not to notice that he’d taken three steps towards me, all while working suds through a white shirt. His hands as he kneaded the fabric were hard not to stare at.

  “And horse manure, pink leotards, conversational Chinese…” I exhaled and almost scowled at the machine that apparently dried instead of washed. Instead I smiled at him blindingly. “It’s been a little overwhelming.”

  “You didn’t mention being hit by potatoes, knocked into people, having your horse sabotaged…”

  I laughed a little bit. “Oh, I expected that, it’s the fact that I can’t walk after doing ballet that is by far the biggest shock. I seriously can’t walk. Ballet is supposed to be easy and effortless.”

  He raised his eyebrows from where he now stood only five steps from me. “It didn’t bother you when Maureen dumped her malt on you?”

  I winced because I did not want to think about that, not when my reaction had been so weak and pathetic. I licked my lips before I gave him a slight smile. “I need to apologize for that.”

  He smiled, showing his canines and reminding me how it felt to have that mouth around my fingers.

  I quickly put said fingers behind my back. “It’s not like me to ask some guy to suck on my fingers. I think I wanted revenge. I think that most of the girls have been sad because they like you and don’t like you talking to me. I guess I got tired of it. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sure it only made them feel worse.” Was that it?

  Was it really the girls that bothered me, or was it something else, something darker, something to do with me wanting them to know that Drake Huntsman belonged to me?

  I inhaled sharply and shook my head. It wasn’t possible for me to be that sick and twisted about some jerk guy that quickly. How long had it taken my mother to fall for my self-absorbed father, Poppy to fall…

  I flinched away from him and gripped the nearest machine, my knuckles pale while I tried to erase those last words from my brain.

  He whispered, close enough I could feel his breath on the side of my neck. “It’s not how they feel that interests me.”

  I shivered and stepped sideways, away from him. I swallowed and was pleased when my voice came out firm. “I apologize for using you to act out my infantile aggression. I’ll have to apologize to them, explain that I’m not interested in their crush.”

  He was quiet for a long time. Finally, I turned my head to see him where he stood, staring at me, his eyes penetrating while I stared back, forgetting to smile and feeling my breath catch while my fingers tingled as I once again felt his tongue and teeth…

  “I don’t think you need to apologize to anyone. I personally would reject your apology considering how much I got out of it.” He turned and stalked back to the sink to drop the shirt into a basin with a splash. “Pissing off those females was most of why I did what I did. Not that you aren’t extremely delicious, but I don’t usually lick girls in public.” The way he said that, ‘not that you aren’t extremely delicious,’ was that no, I really wasn’t delicious, and how could I be stupid enough to think that he liked licking me, that he liked anything about the idiotic gumball head that was Penny Lane?

  I exhaled and lifted my chin. “Really? What a relief. I thought that maybe you thought… Anyway, is this a washing machine?” I finished with my most sweet and idiotic smile.

  He glanced at me and nodded. I proceeded to stuff all my clothes inside of it and then closed the door and stared at the knob for a little while before I started twisting it around and around.

  “First of all, you don’t wash suits.” He put a hand on my shoulder and I flinched away from him, startled and unnerved. He was supposed to be holding me in contempt from

  the other side of the room. He sighed loudly. “Can I help you? Apparently, I have compassion for wool that’s about to be torturously mangled.”

  I glared and scowled at the washing machine, fighting the urge to scream and eviscerate this pretender good Samaritan, but instead I took a deep breath and forced a smile. It wasn’t very bright, but it was all I had left.

  I slid over to the next machine, gestured to the door and crossed my arms over my chest.

  He opened the door and started sorting my stacks into different piles. “Silk, cotton, and here’s the horse manure you were talking about, which is leather and drill, so dry-cleaning, but first you’ll want to brush all the excess off.” He did so, going to this special machine that he hooked my pants to and then these motorized brushes went up and down my pants, knocking off everything vile, before he then took it to another machine, opening this door thing and hanging them inside, before closing it, twisting a knob, and pushing a button.

  The machine whirred satisfyingly while he came back to the pile and took out my beige suit, studying it closely. “It’s not terribly soiled, so I’d just give it a good steam.” He took it to another machine, and then he picked up the bloody handkerchief. He glanced at me. “It’s best to soak blood out immediately. That reminds me, I have your tablecloth.”

  I nodded, still smiling. Of course. I did not want to think about the ruined tea party, the fact that I spent more time with this horribly tempting creature than the nice boy I was going to marry. I couldn’t help it, I really loved blood and black cherry. Focus, Penny. “Is your handkerchief ruined? Sorry.”

  He shrugged. “I can get blood out of anything. It’s one of my most useful skills.” His smile was that thing that showed teeth and reminded me of the big bad wolf. It also made my stomach tighten and my fingers crave his tongue. “Do you need me to wash blood out of anything else?” He glanced at me in a way that made me blush.

  I should not blush around him. I should save blushing and cuteness for Zach. Maybe Zach didn’t like blushing girls. He hung out with Viney. I should have kept my rodent skulls in my hair and simply dragged him away with me to live in my attic. At the same time, he wasn’t her boyfriend however much she led him around.

  “No, thanks. So, how do you wash it out?” I sidled closer to him, keeping my hands behind my back against the counter. I watched the process of soaking and scrubbing, and found myself at his shoulder, smelling black cherries and vanilla. When he turned his head, I couldn’t breathe, my heart pounded so hard. I couldn’t look away for a moment as he leaned closer to me until I turned, wrapping my arms around my body.

  “I hate chemistry.”

  That’s what it was, right? He had so much chemistry, the right combination of hormones and pheromones that mixed up my head until I was doing things I knew were completely stupid, but couldn’t help. Also, the way he looked and who he was didn’t mesh with him handling my laundry. His hands were so comfortable doing laundry, brisk and efficient with none of that sultry seduction that made me want to stick something pointy into his soft bits.

  He gave me a questioning glance. “Do you need help with your homework?”

  I shook my head rapidly and eased away from him. “No, thanks. I’d just better get back to it. I brought my books, so I’ll do that while the machines do what they do.”

  He smiled slightly and I took my books to the white desk on one wall where there weren’t machines.

  I s
at down and stared at the chapter that I had to summarize when it was all so basic and simplistic, it seemed a complete waste of time. I hastily wrote my paragraph and turned to English, the poem we were studying that was supposed to drip with meaning and wisdom. Macaroons, bon-bons, truffles… I wrote the most upbeat and unrealistic interpretation of the poem possible and then had the pleasure of my history class which was a video I had to watch on my laptop, easily enough. I was nodding over my math when someone shook my shoulder.

  “Revere, I’m going to sic Señor on you.”

  Revere laughed, but he didn’t laugh like that. I sat bolt upright and stared at Drake whose lips were curled in the most fascinating way. I very nearly put my fingers on those lips, but instead I stumbled to my feet and then nearly fell when my legs gave out, muscles screaming. His hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest close enough that I could see the specks of green in his eyes. I broke eye contact and backed away, clinging to the edge of the desk.

  “You really can’t walk?”

  I gave him an eighty-watt smile. “Ballet really beat me up today. I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow, if I don’t feel worse. Are there rules about staying in bed all day?”

  He smiled sharply, cocking his head while his glance dropped from my eyes to my lips. “There are all sorts of rules. It all depends on how much you like breaking them.”

  I shook my head and turned towards the washing machine that had my laundry in it, but instead of me needing to change it he must have dried then folded it neatly in a basket I hadn’t brought. He folded my laundry? My heart pounded and my stomach knotted. He must have done something to my clothes. I’d have to throw it all away or check every item for poisonous substances. That would take all night.

  I gave him a sick smile. “It’s really hard to believe that I fell asleep. You should have woken me up. You don’t need to worry about my laundry.”

  He shrugged. “You shouldn’t sleep places where anyone can do what they want to you.”

  No kidding. I choked out a laugh. “Yeah, so, did anyone mess with me while I was sleeping?”