by Dukey, Ker
“So, you want to tell me what this is about?”
“Nothing to tell. Not my blood.” He smirks, swiping my unfinished sandwich and scarfing it.
“You know I’d back you no matter what shit you get into right? You’re my brother before anything else,” I say, just putting it out there.
Dropping the towel, he slips a pair of jeans up his legs and runs a hand through his wet hair.
“Some prick didn’t like losing to me. He got mouthy, so I closed it for him.”
That sounds about right. God took shit from no one. People usually knew better than to even attempt it.
“How the fuck did you manage to get a party sorted without even coming to class today?” I ask, throwing myself back on his bed. I want to crash so bad. I’ve burned myself out.
“We want to make ourselves known, get people talking, establish ourselves amongst our peers.”
He’s right, like always. If I want my name spread amongst The Elite, I need to mingle with potential members. A party is perfect.
My eyes close briefly, but Robbie meets me there, causing a cold shiver to race up my spine.
“You want to take a nap?” God questions, but I’ve already opened my eyes and gotten to my feet.
“Nah. I’ll grab a shower, though.”
How the fuck God pulls off parties to this extreme on a whim is beyond me.
A live band plays from the lounge area, food and drinks are served by waitstaff, and the place is almost at capacity.
Wading through the bodies of our peers, I greet people with a head nod and make my way to the pool out back, knowing there’ll be kegs out there.
I’m spent and in need of sleep, but before I can give in to the exhaustion, I have to place a wall up in my mind, and each drink I consume adds a brick to that wall, blocking out the thoughts. Nightmares.
A beer gets handed to me as I step outside by a waitress carrying a tray of red cups. It’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever seen, but I accept the drink and reach for another.
Music filters through the open doors with well-placed speakers, extending the party to the open grounds. God’s house could host a music festival if he wanted. I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.
“I can’t escape you.” A huffed voice penetrates my ear from behind me.
Turning toward the sound, a grin tugs up my lips. There must be a hundred people out here, yet she stands out amongst them all.
“Or you’re stalking me. Don’t you have books to read?” I tease, chugging the contents of the first cup, then the second, trying my best not to look over Chastity’s figure that’s been squeezed into a tight, black, sparkly dress.
I fail.
Her hair is pulled up off her face, and she’s not wearing her glasses. The contacts make her eyes appear brighter, even under the dim light of the moon. I’m not sure which look I like best on her. I think she could wear a sack and make it appealing.
My eyes chase the creamy hollow of her elegant neck and rest on the plump mounds of her cleavage on display. A small freckle sits in the valley of her cleavage, and my mind traces the path with my tongue, wanting to strip away the fabric from her skin and see if she has more freckles elsewhere.
I know I’m failing at feigning disinterest in her body, but fuck, she’s all kinds of beautiful, and her attitude just makes me want to break her down and make her beg for my touch.
I raise my eyes to hers. There’s a silence cloaking us, despite the music and chatter around us. It’s like we’ve been sucked into a vacuum and no one else exists.
The moment doesn’t last when a redhead saddles up next to her, almost startling her from the hypnotic hold I held her in. The newcomer offers Chastity a glass of what I assume is wine by the color, but she declines with a subtle head shake. The girl shrugs a shoulder and studies me with an intrigue I’m used to receiving from the opposite sex—hell, even the same sex.
“You know my best friend, Maggie,” Chastity snaps, narrowing those blues on me. I bite my lip and count to ten in my head to stop myself from throwing her over my shoulder and fucking all that defiance out of her. Looking to her friend, I try to conjure up recognition, but nothing comes to me. She’s shorter than Chastity and carries more weight around her ass and hips, which she crammed into too-small jeans.
“No, we haven’t had the pleasure,” the girl answers for me with a seductive purr, pushing herself forward and offering me her hand.
“Rhett.” I take her hand and give it a kiss, just to enjoy the tsking I’m gifted from Chastity.
“This is Rhett Masters, Maggie. Remember?” Chastity grinds out my name like it’s an offensive slur.
A hand snakes around my shoulder, and God crowds into my space, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I need to take off for a bit. You good holding shit down here?”
“That’s Rhett Masters,” the redhead growls, pointing her pink painted nail at God.
God doesn’t even pay her any attention and just waits for me to nod my head in response to the question he asked. As soon as he has the confirmation he needs, he slips into the sea of people and out of sight.
“Huh. He didn’t even acknowledge me,” Maggie exhales.
“That’s not Rhett, Maggie,” Chastity informs her, annoyance in her tone.
There’s visible embarrassment coloring Chasity’s cheeks. Part of me wants to let her off the hook for hating on me today when in fact it was God her best friend hooked up with. But she brings out the pettiness in me, so instead, I fold my arms and shake my head at her. “Bet you feel pretty stupid right about now?”
The redhead looks between the two of us, then backs away. “I’m going to get us some drinks.” She slinks over to a bar set up on the other side of the pool area, leaving her friend and me in a stare off.
“You want to start your apology now, or do you need time to study how to?”
She turns to look at anything but me, folding her arms and prodding her inner cheek with her tongue.
“So, she made a mistake. It could have easily been you. You look alike,” she defends eventually.
Tutting my tongue, I purse my lips. “That’s a really shit apology and argument. You think that would hold up in court? He could have been the one to murder those people because he looks like the man who actually did it, so charge him anyway.”
Dropping her arms, she screws up her pretty features. “That got dark.”
“You’re dancing around the point.”
“That point is moot. You proved yourself to be a pig after the initial hook-up fiasco.”
Feigning hurt, I hold a hand over my heart. “Your words have the power to hurt, Chastity. Not me, because I think you’re a stuck-up bitch—but they could hurt someone, someday.”
A pain shoots up my shin, and it takes me a few seconds to realize she kicked me.
“Did you just kick me in the shin like a five-year-old?” I snort.
She balls her tiny hands into fists at her side. “Yep. Don’t call me a bitch. If I had a drink right now, you’d be wearing it.”
I open my mouth to accuse her of being a brat when arms encase my waist from behind and a warm, small body pushes against my back. Then a voice I recognize croons, “Romeo, Romeo where are thee.” Sunny Bishop slides around my torso and pins herself to my side.
“It’s where art thou,” Chastity scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Shakespeare.” Sunny laughs, loud and high-pitched “Who’s the textbook?” Sunny looks up at me, trying her best to offer me a seductive smile.
I haven’t seen her since school ended, and she’s all up on me like she’s my girl or some shit.
Turning on her heel to leave, Chastity smirks and mimes, “Bye, Romeo,” waggling her fingers.
Separating Sunny from my body, I push her away and reach for Chastity’s arm before she can flee completely. Her breath hitches as I swing her back to face me, our bodies almost touching. I can taste her scent infecting my senses and know it will refuse to l
eave long after she’s gone.
“You owe me something,” I remind her. Her eyes explore every inch of my face, then suddenly, she’s jolted from the side and falls. Wide eyes expand, and thick lips form a huge O as she tries to catch herself, but fails, pulling my arms down with her. It all happens too quick for me to react, to tighten my hold to save us both. In the next instant, cold water sloshes around us as we submerge, the liquid depths consuming us both and robbing me of breath.
I break the surface of the pool, gasping for air. My stupid hair sticks to my forehead and blinds me. Swiping a hand over my face to clear it, I search for her to surface. When she does, she lets out a shaky screech. “You pushed me.”
Sunny points down at us and cackles like a fucking witch. “Ooops, sorry,” she mocks, smirking.
“Pool party,” some drunk dickhead shouts, and bodies begin hitting the water.
I’m not drunk enough for this shit. “You want to come inside and get out of that?” I offer Chastity, but the heat I felt from her briefly is fucking ice cold now, and the hate grimace is back on her pretty face.
“Eat a bag of dicks,” she snaps, then attempts to blow hair from her face with no avail.
“Why a whole bag? That’s just wrong,” I counter.
“You’re just wrong. Stay away from me.” She shudders, goosebumps sprinkling over her flesh.
“Whatever, ice princess.”
Pulling myself from the pool, I strip down to my boxers to the catcalls of partygoers and leave my wet clothes where I stand.
Fuck it. Time to numb the senses.
My buzz is strong from a round of shots placed on the counter inside. I’m slightly unsteady on my feet and find myself moving to the beat of some chick playing through the speakers or a mic or whatever. I stuff another piece of meat in my face from one of the many plates lurking around. The crowd has thinned a little, but everyone is in high spirits drinking, dancing, and making out.
The pool is full of idiots. Far back in my mind I know I should tell them to get out, but fuck it.
“Why are you naked?” God asks, coming through the front door stone-cold sober. Where the fuck has he been all night? I look down at myself. I’m still wearing my boxers, which are now dry. “Sunny pushed me in the pool,” I hiccup.
“Okay,” is all he says, disappearing through to the rec room.
I want to go after him and ask where he’s been, but I need to piss.
Making it up the stairs, clicking of stilettos follow. Without looking, I know it’s Sunny. She’s had her eyes on me all night like a creeper waiting in the shadows for their prey to be drunk enough to seduce.
I bypass the main guest bathroom and make my way to God’s room, opening the door and leaving it ajar for her to follow.
“I thought you were going to leave me hanging all night.” She closes the door behind her and traces my steps over to the bed.
Raking my gaze over her, they drop to the bottle of Jim Beam, she’s carrying, waggling it in her hand at me like it’s a prize I’ve won.
Unscrewing the cap, she saunters the last few steps, trying to tempt me into more than the drink. She’s hot, always has been, but gets clingy, so I’ve never re-visited our one time together despite her best efforts.
“You want?” She licks her lips before taking a sip of the bottle. She then leans forward and dribbles the amber fire into my mouth.
That’s hot.
Pushing against my shoulders, she guides me to lay back on the bed, parts my knees, and slides between them.
I take the bottle from her and chug until every part of my throat and stomach fills with lava.
My thoughts are swimming in the high, making no sense of anything, and that’s good—that’s what I need.
Nimble fingers grasp and tug at my boxers, freeing my cock. A warm palm strokes firm and tight along my shaft. There’s a voice faint in the back of mind warning me this is a bad idea, but I try to wash it away with the hum of alcohol in my bloodstream.
My dick struggles to gain its usual hard appetite. My fucking brain won’t switch off despite Sunny’s administrations.
“You want my mouth, Romeo?” Her voice drips with lust, but I just can’t fucking focus on this or her. If I were sober, I wouldn’t go near her. She caught feelings for me in high school and using her will just make her think there’s something here that isn’t.
I don’t need to use chicks and their infatuations for sexual favors. I can get them from party girls who, like me, just want an escape and a good time.
Willing my groggy brain to focus, I sit up and guide her by the biceps to stand.
“Something wrong, baby?” She presses the pads of her fingers to her lips, and as much as I want to sort through the right words to say, I’m just too far fucking gone. The haze of drunkenness has me swimming in a black sea without searchlights.
“Romeo?” She chokes up now, and I get to my feet, swaying, and pull my shorts over my ass.
“Can you get out? I need to piss and sleep.”
Fuck, I need to sleep.
“What about…?”
“Summer, just go.”
Slap.
Motherfucker. Tiny pinpricks expand over my face from her palm hitting my cheek.
Before I even realize they’re closed, I’m opening my eyes and narrowing them on her.
“Ow.”
“You called me Summer. My name is Sunny. You’ve known me for six years!”
I walk past her and hold onto the door to steady myself. “It’s been fun.”
She’s pissed. Her arms are now folded under her tits and there’s a grimace on her face.
“You’re a pig, you know that?” she growls, storming past me.
“Apparently so,” I snort, slamming the door behind her ass.
I drag my feet to the bathroom. As soon as I hit the threshold, my heart leaps into my mouth. A figure greets me inside.
“Shit,” I breathe, grabbing my chest to make sure my heart didn’t just explode.
“I’m not stalking you.” Chastity frowns. She’s on the toilet, lid down and a towel wrapped around her body. Her black dress is hanging over the shower door.
“If I’d known you were waiting for me, I’d have come sooner.” I smirk, but don’t feel it. There’s a stirring in my gut.
“Maggie didn’t want to leave, so I snuck up here to wait for my dress to dry and for her to be ready. She drove us,” she defends.
My stomach contracts, and a groan leaves my lips.
“Are you going to be sick?” she gasps, jumping to her feet. Her hair is still damp, hanging in ringlets around her face.
All makeup has been removed by the water, or maybe some of God’s products. She’s bare, and her voice is oddly soothing.
“No.” I shake my head. “I need to lay down. Will you talk to me for a couple minutes?”
“What? Why?” she scoffs.
My brow furrows, and the liquor in my veins offers her truth in my words. “I’m just so tired, but scared to sleep.”
Dropping my eyes to my feet, I scratch at a non-existent itch on the back of my neck.
Her feet shuffle, then she speaks. “Can I borrow some clothes first?”
Treading back to the bed, I drop my weight onto it and point to God’s walk-in closet. “Knock yourself out. He won’t notice.”
A few minutes later, the bed dips, and she sits next to me, Buddha-style.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asks meekly.
“Tell me a story.”
Snorting, she pushes the sleeves of a sweater much too large for her frame up her arms.
“I’m going to tell you the story of Romeo and Juliet, because I’m not sure you or the hussy who pushed me in the pool realize Romeo wasn’t a womanizer.”
A chuckle tightens my abs. I place a hand there and one over my eyes to cover the light from stinging my retinas.
“Is that what you think I am, a womanizer?”
Her thigh shifts, touching the sid
e of my arm, and my heart jumps. That’s pathetic. It’s her clothed fucking thigh for fuck’s sake, and knowing her, done one hundred percent by accident.
“I think they should call you Casanova, not Romeo.”
“Okay, tell me the story of Romeo and Juliet.”
A blanket covers my lower half, and I smile when she forces my head to lift and stuffs a pillow beneath it.
“It all began with two feuding families…” she begins.
“This a party of two or can anyone join?” I start awake to the sound of God’s voice.
A rustling of covers and panic happening around me alerts me to Chastity jumping to her feet, hair fused like a bird’s nest and creases from the blankets indented in her soft cheek.
Her voice lulled me to sleep, her presence a kind of tranquillity, her body and pulse next to mine wading me into the shadows of my mind, a safety net from the darkness of my dreams.
“Crap. It’s four a.m.,” she croaks, her eyes darting between God and me.
“Good night?” God smirks.
“She called me Casanova.”
A pillow hits me across the head, and I chuckle. It may have only been four or five hours of sleep, but it’s the most rested I’ve felt in forever.
“I hate you,” she snaps, grabbing up her things.
“Not the usual response you receive.” God snorts, kicking off his shoes.
“I hate you too, ice queen.” I receive a one-finger salute before she flees the room.
My stomach protests when I go to sit up, my body hating my drinking habit and refusing to cooperate.
“God,” I groan into the pillow.
“Hmmm?”
“Can you make sure she gets a cab or something? Her friend was her ride here and I doubt she’s still here.”
I shouldn’t care how she gets home, but I do. I owe her for the dreamless sleep.
Twenty seconds is how long it’s been since I sat down opposite the school guidance counselor. Neither of us have spoken.
I blew a tire halfway here and had to jog the rest of the way, leaving my car on the side of the road.
“Chastity,” she finally says. “How has she been as a mentor for you?”
