by Angel Lawson
I bit down on his shoulder and groaned.
“Shhh…,” Jackson warned about my volume. I didn’t care, maybe since I had been faking slut for so long my body and mind went a little porn star on instinct. I tugged the zipper on my hoodie, shrugging it off my shoulders.
“Umm...” he mumbled, eyes glued to my chest. Tight, white ‘beater, black lace bra. He licked his lips. I licked mine. He licked my lips and ran his hands down my now-bare arms, skimming down my scars, toying with my fingers. Nope. Not enough.
“Put your hands on me.” The words flew from my mind to my mouth but it worked. Two massive boy hands were suddenly cupping my breasts in the most pleasurable way. His thumbs rubbed across the material like he’d done this a million times before, like he’d planned this out. But they hadn’t been here before, and I felt like my boobs were connected to the spot between my legs and that moment I’d been dying to recreate since being in the car with Oliver was close, so close. He pulled the straps of my tank so they fell down my arms, but he didn’t go further. Just enough so the tops of my breasts threatened to spill over but they were held back by the magic of cotton and lace. And Jackson, holyshit Jackson, with his reddened cheeks and nimble fingers that were dragging over my nipples and stroking my skin, now looked at me with glazed-over eyes. With adoration, and dammit all, if I didn’t adore him back.
Abruptly, he changed tactics and his hands moved to my hips again, pushing and dragging. I watched as his eyes flicked from my heaving (yes--heaving) chest to my lips, to my eyes until I closed my own and just sank into the feelings. Who knew that rubbing and skin and jeans and seams, combined with the sound of his labored breathing, low, next to my ear, would cause my insides to wind and twist and wind and clench and wind and wind until everything became so tight there was no space left, nowhere to go but break into a million splintered pieces?
Not me. Holy-mother-of-All Things, that wire shattered, causing my body to experience the grandest of all things. And then apparently he did as well, because he froze and grunted twice, in a deep weird, cracking voice before dropping his sweaty head onto my shoulder and muttering, “Fuck,” next to my ear.
Fuck, indeed.
Chapter 20
I woke up feeling good.
Like, really good for the first time in a long while. I told Justin the truth about the Allendale Four and the world hadn’t imploded. I saw Spencer out in public and didn’t scratch his eyes out. I dry-humped Jackson on my front porch and damn, I wanted to do that again.
The dance was in a week. Like I told my mother, I had found a dress—online. It was two pieces; the top was a beaded halter—the bottom, black tulle. A thin strip of belly showed between the two. It was fun. Sexy. The guys were going to love it.
I did need shoes and I’d planned to ask my mom to take me shopping that afternoon. Playing it safe and putting on my best daughter expression, I dressed in jeans and a sweater before running down the stairs. I hoped to catch her before she got busy with her day.
I found her in the kitchen, still in her pajamas, which was odd for this time of morning. She sat at the table, her iPhone in her hand. She scrolled down the screen, a line of worry across her forehead. I passed by to get a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” I said. “Everything okay?
“No,” she said in a quiet voice. “I don’t think it is.”
“What’s wrong?” She’d come home late last night, after Jackson left and I’d locked up the house. “Did something happen at the banquet?”
She swallowed and glanced away from the phone. “I had a long talk with Justin last night—after he dropped you off. He said Jackson was here.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
I took a sip of coffee and calmed myself, prepping for damage control. “Yeah, he just came over to check on me. Make sure I got home safe.”
“I thought that’s what Justin was here for.”
“Mom.” I exhaled. “I wanted to spend a little time with my boyfriend. Not a big deal.”
She slid the phone across the table. “That’s what I said, until he showed me this.”
Dread pooled in my stomach, turning to a heavy cement. There was no doubt about what she was looking at. The Fakestagram page. My page. A Piece of Heaven.
“Did he tell you someone is messing with me? I didn’t post those photos.”
“He did say that and that he’d tried to get you to tell me about this weeks ago.”
“I was handling it and didn’t want to bother you. It’s just stupid high school stuff.”
Her eyes flicked to the screen. Which picture was she looking at? Garrett? Eric? Anderson? The list was long and I felt my mouth go dry.
“I need you to explain what I’m looking at, Heaven.”
I sat down at the table, feeling the disappointment rolling off my mother. I could argue all day that someone was setting me up, that I was being stalked, but the photos told another story. My clothing and change of behavior revealed a different, un-defendable position.
“I’m waiting,” she prompted.
“It started out as just a prank by me and Justin.” The rat bastard traitor, I didn’t add. “And people took it the wrong way. I got mad and decided to push some buttons.”
“I don’t know what that means,” she said. “I know you started with the more-revealing outfits. I tried not to judge. It’s your life, but I also didn’t want to set off another anxiety attack—not after the last one was so bad. But I had no idea you’d gotten so out of control.”
“I’m not out of control.”
She snatched the phone off the table and held up a photo. It’s the most recent one—one I hadn’t even seen. I stare at the photo, feeling the familiar twist of anxiety in my chest. It was of me and Jackson on the front step last night. There was only one way to describe Jax’s expression.
Orgasmic.
I dropped the phone, feeling sick to my stomach at the invasion of privacy.
“As much as I don’t want to see that, at least he’s your boyfriend. I’m not naïve, Heaven. It’s the other photos that are a problem. The other young men…men I trusted you were safe with.”
A fat tear ran down my cheek. I brushed it away. “I am safe with them.”
“No, honey…they’re not. They’re using you and taking advantage of a girl with a lot of problems who’s desperate for some affection and attention.”
“Stop. That’s not true. You don’t understand.”
“You’ve been lonely. I’m not around as much as I should have been—your dad is gone. It’s not unusual to want to find comfort with someone—anyone.”
“Mom,” I said, teeth grinding together. “Stop.”
“I blame myself…I saw all the signs that something was really wrong. I should have known when you had that major attack that you were spiraling. It’s not the first time and we’ll get through this.” She tried to reach for my hand across the table. I snatched it away. She sighed. “I know you’re mad, but one day you’ll see that I’m just trying to help you.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, knowing something big was coming. A punishment. Therapy. The spiral in my chest coiled, tighter and tighter.
“First, I’m reporting this bullying to the school and to Chief O’Neal. Whoever is doing it needs to be stopped. Then, things are changing around here. You’re my number one priority from here on out. I’m taking your phone, no more social media, no more attention-seeking.”
I couldn’t breathe. “What about my friends?”
“Heaven,” she said, her voice laced with pity. “You don’t have friends. You have abusers. Users. It’s unhealthy and it’s stopping today.”
Her words hit me like a wrecking ball, destroying everything in my life in one fell swoop. The walls closed in and the anxiety, which had been so much better lately, started to slip away.
“Can I at least tell them.” If I didn’t contact the Allendale Four, they would freak. Hell would rain down on the whole town while the
y tried to find me.
She looked at me skeptically. “One phone call. That’s all you get. Then I want the phone.”
She pushed the phone across the table. “Ten minutes. Then I’m disconnecting it.”
My hand shook as I picked up the phone and stood. The chair scraped against the kitchen tile and I left the room. One phone call. I could keep it together that long.
In my bedroom with my door shut, I pressed the first number I saw, Face-timing him. There was no way I couldn’t do this face to face.
“Hey,” Anderson said, answering on the first ring. My heart kick-started when I saw his gorgeous face. Unsurprisingly, the others crowded around, smiling and waving. They were all in Oliver’s apartment. Anderson’s smile vanished. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
How could I tell them?
“Heaven?” Jackson asked. “What’s going on.”
Four handsome faces, grave with concern, waited for me to speak. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“My mom saw the Fakestagram page. She’s going to the school and to the police.”
Concern shifted to surprise.
“Okay, we can deal with that. You’re being bullied. We can tell Principal Morrison that,” Oliver said.
“Maybe the police can stop it once and for all,” Hayden added.
I nodded, knowing there was truth in their words, but I hadn’t told them the rest. My chest hurt. I’d never felt this level of heartbreak before. Not with Anderson in the library. Not when my dad left.
Jackson took the phone from Anderson. “What’s going on, Heaven? What aren’t you telling us?”
I inhaled, trying to steady myself. They’d made me strong and I needed to carry on for them right now. Until we could figure this out. I exhaled slowly and said, “My mom is putting me on lock-down. No phone. No social media.” I swallowed. “No friends. Including you.”
Jackson’s jaw dropped and Hayden shouted, “What the fuck?”
The four fell into a variety of emotions, each playing out on the screen. Sad. Angry. Furious. Shocked. It hurt so badly not to be able to comfort them. All I wanted was to touch them. Feel their arms around me. And all of that was gone.
“How long?” Anderson asked. “How long will this last.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen her so serious.”
“We’ll talk to her,” Oliver reasoned.
“No!” I shouted. “It will make it worse. Let her calm down. Maybe in a few weeks she’ll be ready to listen.”
“Will you be at school?” Hayden asked.
“Yeah but I still don’t think I can talk to you. I don’t know.”
There were so many unknowns. Would they wait for me? Or is this the end of the Allendale Five?
“One minute!” my mom shouted from the hallway. The weight of it all fell on my shoulders and it took everything I had not to burst into tears.
“I have to go,” I told them.
“We’ll figure this out,” Oliver said. Hayden nodded next to him.
I smiled weakly, knowing it was impossible. “I’ll see you at school, okay?”
“Love you, babe,” Jackson said. The other three said it too. My heart cracked, deeper and deeper.
“I love you, too,” I said, blowing them a kiss as footsteps sounded in the hall. I disconnected and threw my phone at the door, shattering the screen.
Pulling the pillow over my head, I cried. I cried for the loss of my boys. The loss of the life I’d recently built and for my freedom.
I cried because there was nothing else left to do.
Chapter 21
Things went from bad to worse on Monday. First, my mom drove me to school. Then, we went straight to the counselor’s office.
Stepping through the front doors, there was no doubt to my classmates this was a “walk of shame,” even though I was dressed in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt and not my more-recent sexy clothing. Every eye in the school followed me through the doors of the office.
For once, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything.
That was the irony in all this, my mother wanted me more involved. More engaged, and to do that she took everything I loved away from me. There was nothing left but for me to disconnect, so when the counselor and my mother started discussing my schedule and removing me from classes with any “unhealthy distractions,” I didn’t fight.
“Heaven, you’ll move to sixth period Chemistry,” Ms. Hemmingway pushed my new schedule across the table. “And Mrs. Rockingham, the librarian, said you can eat lunch in there. Less stress.”
I couldn’t be trusted to even eat lunch unsupervised.
“I’ve filed a report with the police,” my mother announced. “And the school district is aware of the bullying. The Fakestagram has been removed but it’s likely photos are still being passed around and a new account will be made.” Mom’s voice grew hard. “Whoever is behind the account goes to this school. I hope you’re doing what you can to resolve it.”
“I just wish Heaven had come to us sooner. We could have done something earlier.” She looked at me with such sympathy. “I’ve made your teachers aware of the students that have been bothering you the most. They won’t come near you.”
“Who are you talking about.”
“Heaven, you know who. The boys.”
I couldn’t form the words to tell her that I didn’t want or need them kept from me. It was the opposite. Keeping them away from me wouldn’t make anything better, it would leave me vulnerable to whoever was bullying me and make it worse.
The bell rang and I spoke while staring at my hands. “Can I go to class now?”
“Yes, sweetie,” my mom says, reaching to squeeze my hand. I moved aside before she could touch me and left the room for the start of my new, lonely, miserable life.
*
Ignore them.
Ignore them.
Ignore them.
That was what I told myself as I walked down the hall and sat through classes. It hurt treating them like this. None of this was their fault. They opened their circle to me. Let me in—added me as Number Five, and look what happened.
Twice that first morning I caught sight of one of the Allendale Four. Oliver near his locker after second period and Hayden headed to the art room before lunch. Both looked as shitty as I felt, with deep circles under their eyes. I had no doubt they were losing sleep over me—for now. But soon, they’d move on. No one wanted to wait for a damaged, imprisoned girl.
Oliver made a move toward me but I shook my head. He stared at me like he’d been slapped.
I’m sorry, I wanted to tell him. But I had no doubt he was on the list of “undesirables” given to the school by my mom. Any communication and he’d be punished.
Hayden didn’t stop when I brushed him off. He pushed me around the corner toward the gym and said, “Heaven, what the hell is going on?”
“I can’t—we can’t…you’ll get in trouble.”
“For what?” His gray eyes clouded.
“Talking to me.” I peered over his shoulder and Mrs. Glass, the Art teacher, glanced our way. “I’m serious, Hayden.”
“I don’t give a fuck what these people want. I want you. You’re one of us and we take care of our own.”
I clung to his words like a life-preserver, but Mrs. Glass was on her way over. “Stay away from me, okay? It’s not worth it.”
His jaw clenched, revealing the sharp line my hands loved to caress. “Never say that again. You hear me?”
“Hayden?” Our teacher said. “Move along.”
He didn’t acknowledge the teacher and simply said, “We take care of our own, Heaven. Don’t forget that.”
*
Nerves frayed, I ducked into the bathroom before I went to the library for my solitary lunch. It was empty, other than Amber Wasserman. She stood over the sink, with a streak of blue in her hair, reapplying lipstick. Her T-shirt had a silk screen of Rosie the Riveter.
“Hey,” she s
aid, screwing the cap on the lipstick.
“Hi.” I stood over the sink, refusing to look at myself in the mirror.
“You look different.” She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that all about?”
I shrugged. Amber wasn’t awful to me. She’d been pissed when she thought I wanted Benjamin but cooled pretty quickly. I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know how to even go into how much shit has hit the fan in my life over the last three days.”
“I saw the Fakestagram was pulled.”
“Yeah.”
“Another one went up this morning.”
I shook my head. “Of course it did.”
She took out her phone and before I could tell her I didn’t want to see she shoved it in my face. Photos of me and the boys, each in a compromised situation, had a large X through the photo. So my stalker knew my mom wasn’t letting me see them anymore. How?
I didn’t have the energy to care.
Amber put away her phone and slung her bag over her shoulder. She paused before walking away. “For the record, I don’t care how you dress or who you date, you know, as long as it’s not my boyfriend. And to be honest, I apologize for that. It was hypocritical and I’m not a fan of slut-shaming.”
“Thanks,” I said, a little stunned.
“There’s too much scrutiny in this school, as far as I’m concerned. They preach feminism and equal rights but there’s a million dress code rules that basically turn us into sexualized objects instead of teenagers wanting an education. If I hear one more time that a boy can’t focus on his studies because I’m wearing a spaghetti strap tank, I’m going to punch someone. Are they that weak? Do they have no self-control?” Her hands balled into fists and the tips of her ears turned pink. I was surprised to see how fired up she was about the subject. “You should be able to wear what you want. Date who you want. Who said you have to be monogamous at eighteen? What about poly relationships? What if a woman wants more than the traditional rules of a patriarchal society?”
