by Rachel Jonas
“Damn, Southside! You always such a bitch?”
“Only in the presence of other bitches,” I shoot back.
He’s still laughing, which nearly makes me smile. Only a freak would laugh at being called out of their name.
Something’s happening inside me. There’s this buzzing, some kind of energy that goes haywire when West is around. As much as I’d like to think it’s all bad, that would be a lie. The part of me that’s twisted like my mother sort of enjoys the raw, unbridled interaction, neither of us the least bit concerned with niceties or holding our tongues.
Whatever comes to mind, we just say it—sharp edges and all.
“You know what I think?” West asks, cutting into my thoughts as I watch Lexi from a distance. Her hands just shot up into the air, which means she’s still on a winning streak.
“What’s that?”
“I think you hate that your sister actually likes me,” he shares. “You hate that I got inside her head, but most of all, you hate that she missed it.”
My gaze leaves Lexi now, landing solely on West as the dim light of the lantern beside us outlines his pecs.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, already feeling heat seep beneath my skin.
He smirks again but takes a swig from his drink before answering. “She missed that I’m not one of the good guys.”
A surge of air fills my lungs and I’m looking at him, but not seeing him. Instead, my mind goes back to that night, the block party. I envision how Scar lit up at the sight of him, and even more so when he dropped a hundred-dollar bill into her jar.
“And what you hate even more,” West adds, “…is that you missed it.”
I feel sick to my stomach. Because … he’s right.
I did let him slip under the radar. My first impression—even my second impression—was all wrong. He’s nothing like that scorching hot exterior suggests. Inside, he’s nothing but emptiness, haunted corridors, and darkness.
Just like me.
“When are you gonna just admit it?” he asks with a humorless laugh.
My brow gathers. “You care an awful lot about what I think, while what you should be worried about is your girlfriend staring us down like she wants to set us both on fire,” I shoot back.
At those words, West’s gaze wanders across the graveyard to where Parker’s glaring with the heat of a thousand suns burning in her eyes. I don’t hate that it gets under her skin seeing West standing so close. Bitch deserves it.
“Fuck Parker,” he says with immeasurable disgust.
Caught off guard by how boldly he’s just spoken, I snap a look in his direction.
“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he continues with a widening grin, “you ready to admit it?”
Frustrated for too many reasons to name, I roll my eyes. “Admit what, West?”
“That you want me,” he answers quickly. “That you made a mistake turning me down a few weeks ago.”
He’s so focused on this conversation that he’s turned to face me full-on now. I also notice he hasn’t blinked even once since I peered up at him.
My heart does this weird thing I can’t explain, but I give nothing away, keeping my expression even.
“Well, I suppose I’ll admit all that around the same time you admit you’re an ass and have secretly wanted me, since day one. So, I guess that would be, mmm … never?”
Laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, I take a step away, thinking this would be the perfect time to make my escape. Only, I feel a firm grip at the bend of my elbow, and it causes me to stumble back in place. My back slams firmly against West’s chest and I feel his racing heart. When he leans down to speak into my ear, I stare out across the sea of headstones to Parker, our audience of one.
“How about I call your bluff,” he says, loosening his grip as both his hands move to my waist.
I’m holding my breath, and the only thought in my head is a memory of his delicious mouth. Even now, I remember its heat, imagining it moving over my skin.
“I’m an ass,” he admits with an air of honesty I don’t miss. “And I’ve wanted you since day one.” He’s challenging me, throwing my dare right back in my face.
“West, I…”
“Don’t feed me that bull about all the shit I’ve done,” he groans against my ear, “because the things I’ve done would only hurt someone normal. And own it, Southside. We’re both pretty fucking far from normal.”
I have serious concerns that my heart might actually beat out of my chest. The music seems louder, echoing inside my bones as he holds me against him.
“Sticks and stones can’t break us. Because, you and me … we’re already broken.”
My eyes fall shut when he summarizes the entire script of my life with that one statement. It leaves me feeling bare, like he and I are one in the same. Only, we can’t be.
I mean … right?
He’s insane and I’m …
Damn, maybe I’m insane, too. I must be to let him get inside my head like this. To let him touch me like this.
At this very moment, something clicks. I get what it is about him, why I get revved up whenever he steps foot in my direction. He draws out the numbness, the mental Novocain that’s helped me get through all the pain and bullshit. He makes me face it all. Makes me feel it all. He doesn’t let me hide behind the crumbling wall made up of the half-cocked ‘everything will be okay’ and ‘it’ll get better’ rhetoric the rest of the world feeds me. West forces me to see the truth, that life really is a shitshow, and he’s the one person not afraid to admit that. Not afraid to live that.
If he weren’t so sick in the head, I might consider this an honorable trait. But instead, I see him becoming my crutch. The thing I lean on to feel real.
Even if all he makes me feel is his darkness.
His touch has become familiar. My skin knows it well. His palm splays flat across my stomach and I’m melting into him as it rises higher, until his thumb brushes the wire under my bra. I’m certain I’ll disappear if I give in to what I want.
“Come with me, Southside. This is my second and final offer. There won’t be a third,” he warns
I stumble before catching my balance when he backs away, leaving me to stand on my own. My eyes chase after him, following as he disappears in the shadows of a mausoleum that looks to be as old as this cemetery.
I glance at Lexi and consider shooting her a text, but my focus is on the dark space where West just disappeared, and … I can’t fight it.
I follow the devil right into the unknown.
Chapter 31
WEST
Her silhouette darkens the doorway and I’m actually shocked she came. If she were any other girl, I could’ve staked my life on her accepting that invitation, but not Southside.
This girl … I can’t pin her down.
Smiling, I call out to her when she hesitates. “Get your ass over here.”
She doesn’t move, but folds both arms across her chest instead. “Say please,” she teases, but I’ve had about all I can stand and take large strides forward, drawing her right into a kiss.
She leans to the side when I push my hand along the smooth skin of her neck. The throb of her pulse hammering against my fingertips causes mine to race, too.
What is it about her? I’ve never met anyone who makes me break my own rules, makes me forget all the things I should hate about her. Even if only temporarily.
I’m pulled from thought when her soft hands push up my back, then latch onto my shoulder blades. I hate clingy chicks, but for some reason, this isn’t so bad. Not even with her holding me so tight that I can feel she needs someone. I guess, for tonight, I’m that someone.
There’s this frustrating sense of being too close and not being close enough, but I know which of those conflicting sentiments is controlling me, taking over my soul more with every second.
A sharp breath surges into her nostrils when I lift her onto a raised, cement slab. I’ll tel
l her later it’s some dead bastard’s tomb, but for now, I settle between the softness of her thighs and drag the straps of her dress and bra down her arm. Goosebumps texture her skin where I kiss a trail down her neck to her shoulder. I want her so bad I can fucking taste it. No way she doesn’t feel that.
I draw her to the edge by her waist and she snatches off the headpiece to my costume. Throwing it aside, her fingers push through my hair, gripping it tight.
Tugging the dress a little lower, I kiss the soft flesh of her tits until the material falls away and exposes more. First, my lips softly graze over her nipple, but when I tease it with my tongue, the bud of flesh tightens and I draw it into my mouth.
“Shit, West.”
Her breathy plea makes it even harder not to rush things forward. More so when that tight body of hers arches toward mine. I make myself release her, placing both hands on the edge of the slab instead. It’s the only way I won’t tear her apart in the next few seconds.
Only, the instant I regain control, she snatches it right from my grasp again. All it takes is her removing her hand from my back, to then wedge it between our bodies. We’re both damn-near vibrating with the most intense energy I’ve ever felt.
I sense where she’s going with this, and when my waistband is pulled away from where it rides low at the base of my stomach, an alarm sounds off inside my head. It’s the reason I decide now’s a good time to warn her who she’s dealing with.
“Easy, Southside,” I groan, lifting my head to speak the words against her neck. “You’re dangerously close to crossing the point of no return.”
She ignores the first warning and rests her full lips against my collarbone before sucking there, driving me absolutely insane.
“If you aren’t fucking sure,” I speak up again, “Stop while you still—"
She shuts me the hell up by pushing her soft hand down the front of my boxers, unapologetically gripping my cock like she owns the damn thing. My chest moves against hers as I breathe deep. Then, my eyes fall shut.
This damn girl has me right where she wants me.
At her mercy.
Her hand works up and down my length and all the back and forth between us has built up to this. I’m tired of tiptoeing around what we’re both really after, so I make up my mind to propel us to the next level. I reach beneath her skirt to grab her hip, and with one rough motion the seam of her panties starts to rip. Only, I don’t get very far, because out of nowhere, we’re engulfed in bright light.
Southside gasps and is quick to cover herself, pushing her straps back in place in record time. I, on the other hand, am not thinking about any of that shit. All I want to know is who the fuck just interrupted?
“Thought you’d like to know it’s time for the Monster Mix.”
I recognize Parker’s voice. Even if it isn’t all chipper like usual.
She doesn’t leave right away, instead keeping that light focused on me and Southside while we fix ourselves. If history is any indication, Parker’s going to cry herself to sleep about what she just walked in on, and I can expect a phone call about 3 a.m., when she’ll feel the need to tell me what a good catch she is and how I’ll miss her long before she’ll miss me.
Blah fucking blah …
All bullshit.
Southside hops down from the tomb, brushing dust off the back of her costume, and I can’t wrap my head around her leaving.
“We aren’t finished here. What’re you doing?”
She glances down to where I’ve just taken her wrist, then she passes a look toward Parker.
Before she even answers, I realize she’s about to use that as an excuse to bail. “Kind of feels like we’re done,” she reasons.
I don’t get another chance to plead my case, because she rushes off after that. I’m right behind her, grabbing my headpiece before pushing past Parker. She doesn’t miss the death-stare I shoot her. It’s the next best thing to actually being able to punch her, which I would’ve done without question if she were a dude.
Southside is moving slowly, and I can’t help but to wonder if it’s because she’s hoping I’ll catch up. Parker’s lingering somewhere behind us, probably sulking, but I find it all too easy to forget about her these days.
An uncertain glance flashes up at me before Southside speaks. “What’s the … Monster Mix, or whatever?” she asks.
We’re walking in step now and it feels a lot like I want to touch her, hold her hand or some weak shit like that.
I kill the urge because I’m not that guy. Never have been. Might castrate myself if I ever become that guy.
“… Uh, it’s sort of a Monster Bash tradition,” I finally answer. “It’s just a drink concoction Marcus makes up. He puts it in this big, gaudy chalice and we all take a sip, drinking to the occasion.”
And we’re probably drinking to cold sores and mono, too, which is why my brothers and I have a standing rule where we drink first.
She smooths her costume again and this is where it gets weird. All because we somehow fell into the first normal conversation we’ve ever held with one another. It’s jarring because that’s not us. We don’t do coffee dates or walks in the park with our twin puppies. We’re sharp points, rough edges, and nasty insults.
And, apparently, we’re a little bit of her touching my dick and me kissing her tits, too, but … I guess that fits.
Sort of.
Glancing her way, she looks at least as uncomfortable as I do, but it breaks up some of the tension when Parker shoves her way between us, charging toward the crowd.
“Move it, assholes,” she hisses.
I hold in a laugh, because I know I shouldn’t find humor in Parker’s frustration, and I guess I’ve gotten used to hiding what a sick fuck I am. But when I peer over at Southside again, she doesn’t even bother trying to pretend. She’s smiling big, maybe because she knows getting caught with me has just destroyed Parker on the inside.
Southside’s a little crazy, and I might be a little obsessed with that side of her.
The distance between us has grown as we draw closer to the others. I slow down and she speeds up, until it isn’t even obvious we came from the same place. Only we know the truth.
I unashamedly scan every face for hers when she disappears among the others, but I find her quickly. She’s laughing and chatting it up with Rodriguez and a small group near the beer pong table.
Watching her, I brush my thumb over my bottom lip and I’m aware of the missed opportunity. Aware I’m getting deeper in this by the second.
Pull back, Golden. You know who she really is.
“Where’d you disappear to?” Sterling asks, slamming his hand against my back.
“Probably putting Parker’s mouth to good use,” Dane adds. “Anything to shut her up for a few minutes.”
Meanwhile, barely listening to my brothers’ speak, my eyes are glued to Southside. She, on the other hand, is doing everything in her power to avoid looking this way.
“Nah, not this time,” I answer. “Found something … a little more interesting to keep me busy.”
“She got a name?”
Dane laughs at Sterling’s question before asking one of his own. “Better yet, do you remember her name?”
All I give them is a vague smile.
The music quiets and Marcus climbs up on a table, already drunk off his ass, but that’s not unusual when he parties. He’s got a crooked crown resting on his fro and he pushes his kingly robe behind him in dramatic fashion.
“Here ye, here ye,” he says into his scepter, using it like a microphone. Everyone laughs. “It is a time-honored tradition that all guests drink from the Chalice of Doom every Halloween. Should someone fail to complete the tradition, the curse of our most notable Cypress Pointe founding father—Sir Vladimir Bledsoe—will be upon thee,” he adds. “And nobody wants that because, as history tells us, the old man’s insides leaked out through his arse, on a dreadful night from thenceforth known as the darkest, shittiest night in
Cypress Pointe.”
Cheers erupt as he spouts this made up BS, and all I can do is laugh. Details of his story change a little every year. But what’s most important is that, aside from Bledsoe’s name, nothing else is true.
“Bar wench, hand forth my chalice,” he barks out, and Parker reluctantly approaches the center with said chalice in hand.
He accepts it and leans in when Parker pulls him close, whispering something so quickly I don’t know if anyone else catches it. She walks away and Marcus smiles, staring at the skimpy piece of fabric Parker is trying to pass off as a costume.
“Shall we begin?” Marcus announces, prompting Sterling to shove Dane and I closer. You know, to avoid the whole ‘mouth herpes’ situation.
We make our way to the front quickly. Helps a little that people know not to try us and back off when they see we’re coming through.
“This year, I’d like to bring a little order to our tradition,” Marcus announces. “We have a few new faces here, and being the thoughtful host that I am, what do you say we invite them to partake first?”
My steps halt and I scan the crowd again. There Southside is, trying to blend into the crowd in that short, stark-white dress and long black wig. She’s the hottest thing out here, which means no one’s going to mistake her for one of our regulars.
“No, really. It’s okay,” she insists when Marcus goes into the crowd to get her himself.
Rodriguez, half drunk and tripping over her own feet, is egging the whole thing on. Southside politely declines several more times before the chanting starts.
Now, she’s not protesting so much, and as she looks around, I see her getting ready to cave.
Peer pressure’s a bitch any day of the week, but it’s inescapable when you’ve got a couple hundred kids all calling you out at once.
Everyone goes silent when Marcus raises his hand to let Southside speak. She looks like a deer caught in headlights. Turning to Rodriguez, she gets zero support.
“…Fine, I guess,” she concedes.
More cheering and howling. Then, bottoms up.
