by Nicole Fox
It’s faint, but enough to cast him in silhouette. I lean forward and see the light in Delanie’s room is on.
Not her night light, but her overhead light. The one she requests be turned on after she has bad dreams in the middle of the night.
To scare the monsters away.
Delanie’s talking about imaginary monsters, of course.
But I know better than she does there are real ones out there.
And unless I do what I’m asked, they could come after her.
No amount of light can keep them away.
In that moment, my decision is made. No matter how much I want to protect Noah, Delanie needs me more.
My only hope is that Noah will understand.
No matter how he may feel, she’s his little sister, too.
Noah glances up at the window and then back to me, eyebrows raised. “Are you waiting for a goodnight kiss or something? Because I think I more than handled that earlier.”
Maybe if it was love. Real, genuine love.
Maybe then I could risk my sister’s safety by bringing Noah into the fold.
Maybe then I could trust him to help me protect her, to figure this out together.
But this? This constant push and pull, give and take?
It isn’t worth the risk.
I can’t trust Noah.
And he sure as hell doesn’t trust me.
I open the door and step out, turning back to look at him before I close it. “Goodbye, Noah.”
Before I’ve even reached the porch, he’s driving away.
32
Noah
Fuck, she feels like a dream.
Silky smooth and warm over me.
And so fucking tight.
When she moans my name, I feel like I might explode.
Fuck it—that’d be a good way to die.
If this sex is poison, I want to drink a gallon of it.
I want to drown in it.
I want to drown in her.
“Noah!”
I’m jerked from my thoughts by the sound of J.C.’s voice.
Not the best way to emerge from a daydream. Especially not a daydream like that.
I glare at him. “What?”
“I’m trying to plan the biggest party of our lives, and you two are acting like you don’t even care,” J.C. complains.
I look at Caleb, who’s smiling at his phone, no doubt at a message from Haley. He waves J.C. off with a dismissive middle finger.
We’re in Finn’s house. A high schooler’s dream come true. It’s parentless and stocked with food and alcohol that Finn has delivered every two weeks.
What more could you ask for?
“Can you stop sexting for five minutes?” J.C. pleads. “There will be plenty of time for that this weekend. Unless, of course, Spring Fling doesn’t happen because I’m planning the entire thing by myself.”
Caleb shakes his head. “If you knew what she was saying to me right now, you’d understand.”
“Go ahead. Enlighten us. Lord knows I could use a little stress relief.”
That finally catches Caleb’s attention.
He glares at J.C., a warning etched in the lines of his face. “That’s your second warning, asshole. Stop trying to have sex with my girlfriend.”
J.C. rolls his eyes, obviously just kidding, and turns to me. “What’s your excuse, pendejo? You’re just staring out the window.”
“It’s a party. Cabin, alcohol, drugs. How much planning is really involved?”
“You’d know if you were paying any attention!”
J.C. begins to ramble off a list of things he is in charge of as “Master of Ceremonies” for Spring Fling.
Apparently, there are competitions and games to organize, cups and ice to buy, and food to procure.
He mentions other things too—none of which sound particularly complex.
But I can’t stay focused.
It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen Penny. Since we hooked up at our old spot.
What was I thinking taking her there?
Since we parted ways two years ago, I’ve been going back there regularly.
It’s the place where everything went wrong.
But it’s also the place where I was happiest.
I thought going back would return some of that happiness to me…
But it never did.
Not until I was there with Penny.
She told me she missed me and that she cared about me. She told me that her mom is abusive and she and my dad—now her stepfather—aren’t close.
Basically, Penny told me the opposite of everything I thought to be true.
For years, I’ve convinced myself that Penny was living the perfect life. She was popular with a mom and a dad at home who adored her and a cherub-like little sister who has my same caramel brown hair and Penny’s green eyes.
Now, I know the life I imagined for Penny was a lie.
It was a lie constructed from my own bitterness and jealousy and insecurity.
And even now that I realize it was a lie, it doesn’t change how angry I am.
It doesn’t change how bitter I am that my life is different. Shattered beyond repair.
It also doesn’t change how much I want her.
No matter what has happened, that yearning deep inside me has never gone away.
And now that I’ve tasted her again and felt her body clench around me, that yearning has only grown.
“For fuck’s sake!” J.C. shouts. “Is anyone listening to me?! I figured The Sacrifice would get your attention, but you two are hopeless.”
I get up from the couch and grab my leather jacket, slipping my arms into the well-worn sleeves.
“Do what you want, okay?”
“You don’t want to help make any decisions? I thought you wanted to be part of the interview process. I have pictures here, and we can decide together—”
“Nope,” I wave him away. “You do it. We trust you. Don’t we, Caleb?”
Caleb is grinning at his phone, his pupils dark and wide, clearly very into whatever Haley has just sent him. When he looks at me, he looks like a man half-possessed. “What? Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
J.C. curses under his breath. “You two suck.”
“Text me a list of what to bring, okay? Everything will be fine. And if it isn’t, everyone will be too drunk and having too much sex to care.”
As I leave, I hear J.C. mutter some more curses. “I fucking hope so. It will be your fault if this sucks. I’m not taking the blame.”
33
Noah
I drive around for a while, not sure where to go or what to do.
I want to see Penny.
Now.
Yesterday.
The day before.
I want to reverse these two years of wasted days and relive them one at a time—but with her.
I’ve wanted to see her for days now, but I’ve kept my distance.
It didn’t feel safe to see her.
Not until I know what to do.
The problem is, it has been a week, and I still don’t know what to do.
And she hasn’t reached out.
I stayed away, but I also assumed she’d come to me at some point. If she missed me the way she said she did and cared about me like she claimed, she’d reach out.
But she hasn’t. So now I’m frustrated in more ways than one.
Every morning, I’ve woken up with a raging hard-on between my legs.
I pump my frustration out, imagining it’s Penny around my cock instead of my hand.
But the second I’m finished, the frustration returns. It’s an itch I can’t scratch, a thirst I can’t quench.
Not without Penny.
And fuck, if that isn’t maddening.
The worst thing of all is I’ve done this to myself.
I thought if I got my revenge on Penny I’d be happy again.
If I could ruin her life, I’d finally be able to move on.
&n
bsp; Except, I haven’t ruined her life, and I’m more obsessed than ever.
I’m a block away from Penny’s house when I realize what I’ve done.
As though sleepwalking, I drove towards her house without realizing it.
Just before her house comes into view around the corner, I pull into a driveway, reverse, and speed away. I’m not this desperate.
My mom is working late, so she isn’t home when I get there. I go immediately down to the music room.
This room contains the only solace I’ve found from thoughts of Penny.
I haven’t been down here for a couple weeks, but when I grab my guitar and sit down, it feels like no time has passed at all.
A song pours out of me before I can even consider what to play, the music finding me rather than the other way around.
I’m halfway through the song when I realize the last time I played it.
When Penny came over.
She admitted listening through the door, so this is the song she heard. The song I played before we had sex on the floor, less than two feet from where I’m sitting.
Did she recognize the song?
Did she know what it meant?
No matter how hard I’ve tried, I haven’t been able to root out the part of me that cares about Penny.
She’s been under my skin like a tumor, growing all the while without my knowing until, one day, it’s debilitating.
I can’t eat, can’t sleep.
I can’t do anything without thinking about her.
And all I want is for it to end.
Now.
The song cuts off abruptly, and I rip the guitar from around my neck, tearing the strap my dad bought me.
It feels good, destroying it. Better than I thought.
I want more.
So, I grab the guitar like a bat and swing it against the chair.
It dents and splinters, shards of wood flying, but I don’t stop.
Another swing.
CRASH.
Another.
CRUNCH.
I don’t stop swinging until my chest is heaving and the guitar is a pile of rubble at my feet.
Destroyed—just like me.
I don’t feel better, but then again, I don’t know if I ever well.
Penny has infected me, body and soul.
I’m not sure there’s a cure.
34
Noah
The mistakes start Friday night.
That’s when I took my first shot.
I drink until I fell asleep, ignoring J.C.’s frustrated text messages, and then wake up with a raging headache and drink again to ease it.
J.C. gave up texting me around two in the morning, though he starts again at nine.
If you aren’t here to help me set up in an hour, I’m locking you out.
I’m not sure if I even care.
Spring Fling has been this distant, magical event we all talked about for so long that I almost can’t believe it’s actually here.
More than that, I can’t believe I’m not more excited.
I didn’t realize how unexcited I was until I slid my fingers into Penny’s pants in the bathroom and made her come in my hand.
That alone was better than anything I’d done in the two years prior.
Better than anything I’ll do in the next two years, too.
So, now, the thought of sleeping with any girl I want to at Spring Fling rings hollow.
Because I don’t want just any girl.
I want Penny.
And I don’t think I can have her. Not if I want to maintain my sanity.
She’s tearing me down, brick by brick. Soon enough, there won’t be anything left.
I have to protect myself—even if that means letting go of my crusade to ruin her life.
After J.C.’s second threatening text, I take a shower and slide into a worn pair of jeans, a heather gray sweatshirt, and my dark gray bomber jacket.
A bag I packed in my drunken stupor last night, complete with the list of essentials J.C. suggested I bring—condoms, a water bottle, more condoms, a change of clothes, and a few more condoms just in case—is sitting by the door. I grab it on my way out.
“Have fun on your camping trip,” my mom says, bent over the island with her hand on her head.
She was drinking last night, just like I was. The difference is, she’s so hungover she doesn’t even notice I don’t have a sleeping bag or hiking boots with me.
Fast forward a few hours and now, I’m lugging alcohol into a rented cabin in the middle of absolute nowhere.
“People are already showing up,” J.C. says, sounding miffed. “It’s not supposed to start until noon.”
“I don’t know if the attendees of this party would be considered rule followers under normal circumstances.”
“Still,” he huffs, “have some class.”
I help him cart a keg through the back door of the kitchen, where we stumble upon a couple making out in the kitchen, legs intertwined and hands exploring aggressively.
“Excuse me.” J.C. taps the guy standing up on the shoulder and waves him away.
The guy raises a bleached eyebrow. “It’s a bit too early in the weekend for a threesome.”
“It’s a bit too early in the weekend for you to even be here. Move!”
The couple walk away hand-in-hand, headed for the stairs, and J.C. continues setup.
By the time we have the beer unloaded and half of the alcohol rolling around in the back of J.C.’s truck, the cabin is full.
Cars are parked all over the grass in the front and around the sides, and people are stumbling in, half-dressed and drunk and looking for a good time.
“Where are the naked girls?!” one guy yells.
J.C. grimaces. “Does he think we just hired naked girls to walk around?” He leans through the kitchen door and shouts back. “You have to convince one of them to let you get them naked, idiot!”
The guy yells something back, but it’s lost in a chorus of cheers and toasts, and J.C. rolls his eyes.
I lay a hand on his shoulder. “Dude. Relax. It’s fine.”
“I didn’t realize this would be so stressful.”
“Have a drink.” I hand him my flask. It’s already half-empty, and my head is fuzzy.
He narrows his eyes at me as he tips back the flask. “Are you drunk?”
“Yep.”
“I figured,” he says. “You’re never this nice to me.”
35
Noah
After J.C. has a few drinks in him, he loosens up.
As Master of Ceremonies, he stands up with a blow horn every time a new event is starting, but they still seem to blend into one another.
The gist is the same no matter what: drink, get naked, drink some more.
Senior girls, including Penny’s Dreadfuls, stand on a long bar and dance as buckets are poured over their hands
J.C. joins them, and despite being surrounded by a crowd of very visible breasts, he gets the loudest cheer.
He beams, and I’m happy for him.
Then, I look for Penny.
It seems that’s all I’m capable of now.
Wet t-shirt contest? Look for Penny.
Strip poker? Look for Penny.
Body shots? Look for Penny.
I stand against the kitchen door and watch as my classmates have the time of their lives.
And all I can think about is why Penny isn’t here.
I want to text her, but I’m resisting the urge. Anyways, my thoughts are jumbled from the toxic combination of being drunk and fucking whipped.
When J.C. announces the next event—something to do with a slip and slide, alcohol, and, you guessed it, getting naked, the crowd starts to boo.
They’re ready for something bigger.
J.C. drops the blowhorn and runs over to me. His clothes are still damp from having a bucket of champagne poured on him, but he’s hit his stride now.
He’s earned the adoration of the crowd,
and he is not about to lose it by denying the people what they want.
“Your fans want you,” I say, tipping my head towards the large living room. The ceilings are vaulted, but the room still feels too small with so many aimless drunk people shoved inside. “What are you doing over here?”
“I think we’re going to introduce,” J.C. leans in, places a hand next to his mouth, and whispers, “The Sacrifice.”
“Great. Go for it.”
He seems nervous and vaguely surprised. “I know we already talked about it, but I just wanted to double check you were fine with this. You weren’t as much a part of the application process as I wanted, so—”
I clap J.C. on the shoulders and shake him. “Bro. It’s fine. Go master these ceremonies.”
J.C. visibly brightens, hitches up his damp jeans, which are sagging low on his hips, and jogs back into the middle of the room.
There’s a shuffle as he gets things ready, and I silently pray he hurries. This crowd will eat him alive if he doesn’t deliver.
But in the middle of all of it, my attention is drawn to the far corner of the room.
Penny.
I don’t know when she came in or how long she has been there, but she’s standing between Anika and Jennifer, a drink in her hand.
And she’s watching me. Has been for a while, it seems, because it takes her a second to realize I’m looking back at her and react.
She looks away for a second, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before she looks back and smiles, lifting two fingers in a wave.
She’s in a pair of tight jeans with an oversized cropped sweater that reveals a thin strip of her stomach. It’s understated compared to her normal attire. Especially since her hair is pulled back in a thick ponytail and, even from across the room, I can tell she doesn’t have much makeup on.
She looks different. Still radiantly beautiful, but different.
I’m cutting my way through the crowd, moving towards her before I consciously make the choice.
When she realizes I’m moving towards her, Penny says something to her friends and then tips her head towards the back door, gesturing for me to follow her.
