Bully (Angel & Demons Trilogy Book 1)

by Ashley Love

  Charlie doesn't waste any time before starting up the questions. "Where the hell have you been?" she demands, sucking on a candy cane that Mason informed us was half-price since Christmas has already passed.

  I shrug guiltily. "I've just been distracted lately," I admit. "I'm sorry I haven't hung out with you guys."

  "It's cool, I've been holed up playing video games for a week straight," Kira admits, and then grins when the car crash sound echoes through the walls of the house and the heat kicks back on. "Hey! Look at that! It hasn't broken again yet!"

  I smile. "I'm impressed with your handy work this time around," I compliment, and Kira pops her eyebrows cockily before grabbing something called a Kazoozle that looks like a licorice stick filled with blue paste. She chews on it thoughtfully, leaning back so she can feel the heat coming out of the vent over the TV.

  "Why have you been distracted?" Charlie asks. "It's winter break. It's supposed to be fun."

  I huff a little laugh and lean back, sucking on a Jolly Rancher. "My parents are getting a divorce," I say, and then I freeze for a moment. I just up and said that out loud. Wow. I'm usually not so open about my problems, but having Mason, Charlie, and Kira here is like talking to family. I feel like I can tell them anything, and that feels amazing.

  "Aww, I'm sorry!" Charlie says. "What happened?"

  I snort. "My mom had an affair," I reply simply. I don't want to get into this too much, because then I'll start freaking out again like I did on Christmas, thinking about all the normalcy I'm never going to have in my family. So I just shrug. "I'm okay with it," I add, trying to sound nonchalant. "I'm just worried about Sophia."

  Mason hums in acknowledgement. "Hey, you know, maybe it's not such a bad thing that your parents are getting divorce," he says.

  Kira wrinkles her forehead. "How is that not a bad thing? My parents got a divorce when I was three and I literally haven't seen my dad since."

  Charlie slaps her leg. "You're not helping!" she scolds. "Ariel, don't worry, your dad's not gonna ditch."

  I raise an eyebrow and chuckle a little. "I honestly don't think it would make a difference either way. I hardly see my dad anyway," I point out.

  Charlie purses her lips at that, but doesn't say anything, because she knows I don't like people's pity, and she would no doubt say something about how she's sorry that me and Sophia have mostly-absent parents. I look away and quickly grabs a Kazoozle, just to try it out.

  "I'm just saying," Mason continues, "I mean, maybe since your parents are getting a divorce, one of them will decide to just keep this house here. And then you won't move away from Windsor Falls."

  Charlie's face lights up. "Yeah! See? Maybe there's hope that we'll get to keep you!"

  I consider that for a moment, smiling a little. "That would be really nice," I agree, but I don't allow myself to get my hopes up yet. Hope is dangerous. I've very recently come to realize that.

  We chatter on for the next couple hours, just eating candy and gossiping about whatever we can think of. I decide not to tell my friends about kissing Zane at Hartley's Bend. Not yet. I don't want to make a big deal out of it if it turns out that Zane is just playing with my head. I don't want my friends to see my disappointment, and say I told you so if me and Zane don't end up being what I really want deep down.

  We pop in a really cheesy horror movie called 2001 Maniacs about some hick town filled with cannibals. It's nasty, and over-sexualized, and gory, but I enjoy it mostly because of Mason's ongoing commentary throughout the whole thing. We all end up just laughing until tears stream down our faces during the whole film. The next movie we put in is The Abandoned, about a lady who inherits a haunted house in Russia from her estranged parents. It messes with my head, and I'm actually really hooked on it, which is unusual. I don't really watch movies very much.

  But the best part about the whole night, as we watch movie after movie, and laugh until we cry over and over again, is that I hardly have any time at all to obsess over Zane in my head. The distraction is a welcome relief.

  49

  Zane is surfacing groggily. It's like being at the deep end of a swimming pool, floating at the bottom, and someone is standing at the edge of the pool shouting at you, but their voice is muffled by the water.

  This is a familiar feeling, waking up while he's still a little drunk. But it doesn't make it any less unpleasant.

  Zane hears muffled voices, and then someone is calling his name.

  "Zane?" the voice says, "Wake up sunshine." Something about that voice sends needles shooting down Zane's spine, and he has the urge to vomit. He drank too much scotch. He's probably going to puke at some point. Ugh.

  He blinks his eyes open when the nasty voice keeps calling his name is a slick, too-sweet tone, as if Zane is a little kid they're trying to wake up. Everything is a little blurry at first, and the first thing he notices is that it's dark outside. He's still in the train car, but he fell asleep in here around midday. He wonders how long he's been asleep. He hears several voice talking and laughing, muffled as he resurfaces, and when he finally blinks his vision clear, the first person he sees is Slate.

  It's just his face, floating above him, and Zane nearly swallows his own tongue in surprise, choking on his own throat. He thinks for a second that this is just a lingering figment of a dream, or a nightmare, but then he blinks a few more times and things come into better focus. Slate is right there, kneeling next to him, his face close, breath rancid, and Zane just reacts without thinking.

  He comes fully awake in an instant, his fist flying up and connecting hard with Slate's jaw, sending him sprawling onto his back. Zane feels immense satisfaction sink in with how hard the punch was as he shouts, "Get the fuck away from me!"

  "Whoa! Zane! Chill out, it's just Slate!" he hears Gordon's voice say, and Zane sits up quickly, his eyes darting around, suddenly very confused. His vision is swimming, but he still manages to pick out Ryker, Gordon, and Noah all standing there, while Slate is still sprawled on the floor nursing his freshly-injured face.

  "What the fuck?" Zane demands, looking up at Noah. He sways a little, still drunk, but he can feel a headache coming on as his impending hang over starts to creep in.

  Noah holds his hands up. "You fell asleep. I got bored, so I called them," he explains, and Zane lets that sink in before he rolls his eyes.

  He wants to snap at Noah that he shouldn't have done that, but he really has no right to be angry. Noah doesn't know about what happened to Zane the last time he was here in this train car. He doesn't know that Zane can't look at Slate anymore without nearly panicking or vomiting.

  When Slate shifts a little, starting to sit up from where he fell on the floor, Zane actually flinches, and eyes him with a hard glare. Slate just laughs that hissing, nasty laugh of his, wiping a little blood off the corner of his mouth as he stands. He offers a hand down to Zane to help him up.

  "Great right hook you have there, Peterson," he compliments dryly.

  Zane looks at his proffered hand in front of him, and his eyes fall upon his too-long fingernails. His side flares up in pain again, and very abruptly, he leans to the side and pukes up all the scotch he drank earlier.

  Gordon and Ryker burst out laughing, and Noah jumps up to avoid getting vomit on his shoes. Slate stays right where he is, because he fucking knows exactly why Zane's throwing up right now, and it isn't just because of the alcohol. Zane wipes his mouth at the same time as he swings his free arm back, smacking Slate's hand away from his face and climbing to his feet, snatching his leather jacket up from the floor and storming out of the train car before he throws up again.

  "Zane! Where the hell are you going!" Noah calls after him, and Zane would feel bad for ditching him if he wasn't shaking so hard right now. He stumbles through the woods as fast as he can without falling, hoping to God that Slate doesn't decide to follow him. This feel eerily similar to that night Thanksgiving Break. Only this time, Zane isn't tripping on acid—he's dr
unk instead, and disoriented as hell trying to make his way home.

  It must take him two hours before he finally finds his way through the woods. He breaks free onto a neighborhood street and sways as he walks. He doesn't even realize where he's going until suddenly, he's on Ariel's front lawn.

  What the hell?

  How did he get here?

  Somewhere deep down, he knows the person he wants to see the most right now is Ariel. But that's wrong, and he can't. Just because they kissed once, doesn't mean she wants to see him. Zane blinks a few times, trying to sober up a bit in the chill of the night. He squints at the house, and sees movement in the front window.

  His stomach flutters a bit in the best of ways when he spots Ariel inside the window. She's not alone. Zane recognizes Charlie Cooper with her, and that Asian girl from the stairwell. There's a shorter guy with them too that Zane's seen her with in theater. As Zane watches, Ariel throws her head back and laughs at something one of her friends says.

  Zane smiles a little when he sees her laugh, because it's adorable and he doesn't really see it all that often. But the smile quickly fades from his face, because he wishes he was in there with them. He wishes he was in a group of his friends laughing and eating what looks like candy. He wants that.

  And he realizes, as he looks in at Ariel, that she doesn't need him. If Zane disappeared from her life, it would make absolutely no difference to her whatsoever. She has her friends, and theater, and she's a good student. If anything, him disappearing from her life would be a good thing. She wouldn't have had to spend the night out in the woods half-dead. She wouldn't have been abused as much. She might be happier.

  Zane grits his teeth to stave off the urge to cry as he watches them. He knows the only reason he wants to cry right now is because he's drunk and still shaky from waking up to Slate'ss face staring back at him. He has to tear his eyes away from the window, because he's breathing too hard all of the sudden and he wishes he could just sink into the frozen ground and disappear.

  He quickly digs out his cigarettes from his pocket and lights one up with shaking hands. And he can't help it. He has to do it. Because it's the only thing that's going to help him calm down right now.

  He takes once glance back up at the window, and sees Ariel and her friends burst out into another round of laughter that's so loud he can hear it all the way outside where he's standing at the edge of the frozen lawn.

  He takes a drag on his cigarette, and fumbles with his sleeve, trying to pull it up. But he's too drunk right now, and he keeps missing, but he needs to do it now. Groaning in frustration, he just snatches the cigarette out of his mouth and presses it to his open palm instead, since he can't get his sleeve up fast enough for his racing heart.

  He presses down hard, grinding the burning tip into his skin as he grits his teeth. It hurts more on his palm than it does on his forearm but that's good right now. He feels it eating his skin away, and he grinds it in so hard that the body of the cigarette collapses just as it goes out.

  Zane stands there shaking, and he waits for the flood of endorphins. When it comes, it washes over him like diving into a cold lake in the desert. He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and allows himself a few minutes to just calm down.

  When his heart finally slows down just a hair, and he doesn't feel like his bones are going to shatter, Zane opens his eyes and looks down at his hand. The burn is uneven and has bits of ash in it. He flicks as much of the loose ash as he can off of his palm, and then opens and closes his hand a few times, testing the way the burned skin pulls and scrunches with the movement. That's going to be a bitch while it's healing, but Zane is too drunk to care right now.

  Swallowing hard, grimacing at the taste of vomit in his mouth, he takes one last glance up at the window where Ariel and her friends are. They're chattering amongst themselves, oblivious to his presence outside and the turmoil in his head. Zane shakes his head, clenching his jaw, and he turns away, heading home.

  When he gets there, all the lights are off. Mike's door is closed, and he hears loud snoring coming from inside. Usually loud snoring means that Mike went to bed drunk, which is a good thing because that means he's a heavy sleeper tonight. Zane runs into a few things and curses in his drunkenness, but makes it to his room and strips down. He pulls on a fresh long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants, and then goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth really quick before he walks down to Liam's room.

  When he tries the door, it's locked from the inside. Mike must have been a piece of work tonight for Liam to lock his door. Zane swallows back his guilt for not being here to protect his brother, and goes back to his own room, climbing out the window. He crawls through the dead garden of weeds over to Liam's window, and eases it open quietly, not wanting to wake his brother. He hoists himself up and ends up falling inside a lot more loudly than he intended. But Liam doesn't stir—he's a deep sleeper.

  Zane winches as he uses his burned hand to catch himself, and closes the window, pushing Liam gently over so there's room for him to crawl into the bed. Liam groans and turns over, but doesn't wake up, and Zane lays down next to him, stuffing a pillow between them again. He came in here to make himself feel better, because at least someone in the world needs him, right? Liam needs him. Maybe Ariel doesn't, but Liam does.

  He just lays there for a while, wishing he could fall asleep. But his mind is racing with the image of Slate's face floating above him. He's afraid that if he closes his eyes, he's going to open them and Slate will be there again, grinning with his bad breath and his long, dirty fingernails.

  Zane shivers and swallows a few times, and turns over so he's facing Liam. He wants to reach over and hold his wrist for some measure of comfort, but Liam has both his hands tucked against his chest and he's facing the wall, so Zane would have to wake him up to hold his wrist, and he doesn't want Liam to see him drunk.

  So Zane thinks about Ariel. It makes him sad right now, to think about her, but he focuses his thoughts on how it felt to kiss her. How she tastes like cinnamon apples, and how, in that moment, it felt like time was moving too fast, yet had stopped altogether in the same instant. It was like being launched into the sun and exploding into a million pieces. It was like diving from an airplane. It was everything good wrapped up in the feeling of her lips against his.

  For a little while, until he can fall asleep, Zane just pretends that it's possible to live inside a single moment for the rest of his life. If he had to choose a moment to exist solely within, it would be that kiss. It was that good.