DESTROY ME
CRYSTAL GULF BOOK 1
Shana Vanterpool
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Copyright © 2015 by Shana Vanterpool
DESTROY ME by Shana Vanterpool
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Swoon Romance. Swoon Romance and its related logo are registered trademarks of Georgia McBride Media Group, LLC.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Published by Swoon Romance
Cover design by Hunter Blue
Cover copyright © 2015 by Swoon Romance
For those who fear stepping beyond what they’ve been given and risking wanting more, and to those people who love us even when we’re lost.
To my Mom, because every word I write is better because of her.
And apple pie lovers, never be ashamed to want what makes you happy.
DESTROY ME
“In that moment, where Bach’s crying out my name and I’m coming apart in his arms, I fall completely, disastrously, in love.”
-Harley Evans
Chapter One
Bach
“Dude. You’re what?”
I kick the empty beer bottles off the coffee table to make room and prop my feet up on it, pausing to stare at him. Did I hear him right? My jaw drops in shock. It usually takes a lot to shock me. I’ve done, heard, and witnessed too many things in my life to be impressed by the little stuff. But I’m fucking shocked.
Dylan leans back on the couch, sighs heavily, and then moves to run a hand through his hair out of habit. Except his hair isn’t there anymore. He hacked it off a few weeks ago. I inquired about it then, but only out of curiosity. He skirted around the question, the same way he’s been skirting around me for the past year. And since I hadn’t cared anyway, I’d let his choice of haircut pass without further attention. What Dylan did with his hair wasn’t going to keep me up at night. There were enough things out there worth my attention that were far more interesting.
Women were the most interesting, and on most nights the only thing I spent my time focusing on. Alcohol was a close second. I took Justine home last night again. But it didn’t have to be Justine I took home with me at night, tonight, any night; we didn’t even have to make it home. It could be any woman. As long as they were willing so was I. I brought Justine back because the girl I wanted ended up drinking too many watermelon Jell-O shots and fell into some other asshole’s lap. We’re all assholes. I know it. So should everyone else. It makes doing the things we want to do a hell of a lot easier when you know you’re an asshole while you’re doing it. It’s the liars that can’t look themselves in the eye.
My eyes are gorgeous. It would be a shame if I couldn’t look in to them.
Dylan and I used to be assholes together. Had been ever since we were kids. Then last summer he got thrown in jail for a DUI, and now he’s a “changed man.” We went from destroying Crystal Gulf to Dylan cleaning it up. He volunteers to clean up the beach on the weekends when he’s not walking old ladies across the street and pretending his past never happened. That’s where he met his girlfriend. Another drastic “change.” I’ve seen Dylan do things to multiple girls at one time that even I wouldn’t do. Now he has one girl. One!
“Bullshit,” I say. “What the fuck do you mean you’re going to Afghanistan?”
“I enlisted last summer. After I got out of jail.” I stare dumbly at him. “Before I met Harley,” he added, probably hoping that would make more sense.
It doesn’t. “Does she know?” I ask, playing it cool. Does your perfect girlfriend know you’re not perfect after all?
He doesn’t answer. It’s as good as saying yes in my book. Having nothing to say is worse than saying something offensive. At least that’s what I tell myself when I have something messed up to say. I have to say it, or I might explode. The female population of Crystal Gulf wouldn’t know what to do with their selves if I, Bach Bachmen, exploded.
“Why didn’t you tell me you enlisted in the army? Don’t you think that’s something you should tell your best bro? We live together,” I continue. I hate being lied to. I lie all the time, so I know how much of a shithead you have to be to do it. “How long are you going to be gone? Who’s going to pay the other half of the rent? I can’t pay it all on my own. You’re a real dick sometimes. What gives you the right—?”
I knock his fist away before it can reach my face. Laughing, I throw my own jab, knowing Dylan’s not quick enough to escape it. No one is. I learned how to fight the hard way. The sound of my fist on his jaw gives me extreme satisfaction, and I need some damn satisfaction after hearing this news. I was expecting him to say he cheated on Harley and needed some advice. Who better to ask for advice than me? Or he had a strange rash on his balls he needed me to look at. We’ve all been there. Strange rashes come with the territory when your dates guzzle down watermelon Jell-O shots like water. In fact, I should check my own balls. Watermelon Jell-O shots have been happening a lot lately.
“I had to!” Dylan growls, rubbing his jaw. “What do you want me to do? Stay here with you forever? Screwing a different girl every night and drinking like a fish? Where are you going in life that I want to come, Bach?”
Ouch. I don’t want to sound like a chick, but I know I’m going to. I can feel it coming. “We used to be going there together!” I screech, channeling my ex. She has a thing for theatrics. Throwing shit, biting. I didn’t mind the biting part, but my walls still have holes. “You said you’d do anything if I asked. How could you lie to me?”
Dylan shakes his head. “Answer me, Bach. Stop screwing around. Where are you going in life? You’re going to end up in jail too if you keep this shit up. And it won’t be for a DUI. It’ll be for something messed up, like an underage girl messed up.”
I don’t entertain his underage girl fantasy. I screw women. If they can’t buy their own drink, I’m not buying them one. I’m not stupid. In fact, I’m highly aware of my intelligence. “I don’t know where I’m going. But I do know when I get there they better have a fucking bar.”
“Cut the shit, Bach. You’re so full of it I can’t take it anymore. Harley’s right, you’re not good for me. Look at this place. Is that weed in the fish tank? Weed! And what happened to my fish?”
I scratch my junk and yawn. “Ask Jona.” I knew his girlfriend was bad news. She’s probably been whispering spoilers in his ear like someone who’s already seen a movie you can’t wait to watch. I’ve only met her a couple times because Dylan keeps her away from me. He’s probably worried she’ll find out who he really is. Dylan used to make me look good. Now I make him look bad? The irony wasn’t lost on me.
“I’m leaving in a week. I’ll find you a new roommate. Seriously, Bach. Get your shit together. I know you’ve been dealt some pretty shitty hands, we both have, but it’s time to play with what we got.”
“You read that on your girlfriend’s bumper sticker?”
“Screw it!” He walks past me, knocking his shoulder into mine on his way by. “I’m going to Harley’s.”
“Let’s go out later when she leaves you. It’s been a while since we got shitfaced together.”
He pauses w
ith his hand on the door. When he turns around I don’t know who the hell this guy is anymore. “You don’t get it do you, Bach? This isn’t a game. The choices you make can either give you a future or take it. Right now your future’s fading away.”
“Is that a yes on going out? Let me know now. Jona’s having a party later and I promised I’d host it.”
I grin at the door when he slams it behind him. In the past year, he’s gone from pouring drinks down my throat to taking the bottle away. I want to know what happened. Either his girlfriend changed him, which I think is bullshit, or something else has crawled up his ass. Men don’t change. Women say it all the time. It’s their personal mantra. You’re never going to change, Bach.
“Bach?”
I turn around. Justine’s leaning against the wall wearing my black shirt. It barely covers her hips. “Go back to bed.”
“Is he really in the army?” she asks.
Of course she was listening. Girls like Justine always listen. “Apparently. And stop listening in on my conversations. If I wanted you to hear it I would’ve woken your ass up.”
She rolls her sexy brown eyes. Justine knows she’s hot, so I let her think her body can control me, because it’s fun as hell when she tries.
“Well is he?”
“I guess,” I answer. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” She shrugs. “It’s just that I know you two are like brothers. I figured you’d be upset. But I forgot. Bach Bachmen is an emotionless a-hole. Huh?” She beams at me, knowing she’s asking for it.
I don’t bite. Instead I go into the kitchen and yank open the fridge, sticking my head in. I need a drink. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“No,” she purrs, pressing against me from behind. “Let’s be emotionless, Bach. I need the personal contact.”
I smirk and rise, wrapping my arms around her, my desire for a drink momentarily forgotten. “You’re needy. Last night wasn’t enough?”
“Is it ever? It’s a good thing you’re so giving, huh?” She shakes her head at me. “Just kiss me, Bach. Just kiss me.”
Normally I wouldn’t need any more justification to yank my shirt over her head and lift her up on the counter. I’d slide between her legs and fade away. That’s what we do. But something Dylan said nags at me. “Where are you going in life, Justine?”
“What?” she asks, in the middle of puckering her lips.
Her hands leave my bare chest and hang at her sides. Her eyebrows furrow. I’m confusing her. I realize I said something that didn’t have to do with sex, shots, or some twisted yet enticing combination of both.
“What, um, do you want to do? You sing, right? I’ve heard you before. You want to sing for a living?”
Her confusion transforms into unease. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at me. Our relationship is about sex. That’s it. Sweat, lips, and moans. I’m cool with it. I don’t want more. Plus there’s a million more Justine’s out there. I don’t have time to know them all.
“Are you feeling okay?” She touches my face with her hand. “You’re not hot. We didn’t drink that much last night. What’s wrong?”
“Just answer the question,” I growl, moving away from her touch. “Do you know where you’re going?”
She bites her lip, her dark eyes widening at my outburst. “I know where I want to go.”
“Where?” I’m losing my patience. It was a simple question. All I want is a simple answer. I want to know that I’m not the only one completely stumped by this question.
“I want to go to Nashville and sing country music.” She slaps her hand over her mouth as if she can’t believe she actually said it out loud. “That’s my dream. But I don’t think it’s ever going to happen.”
“Why not?” I can see it. Justine’s got that country look even though a lot of people don’t in Crystal Gulf. We’re in the south, but the south has a hard time breaking through the beach haze of this city. It’s laid back when we’re by the water and fast paced when we’re not. Our beer has sand in it and the sweet tea isn’t ever sweet enough.
“I don’t know. Why don’t a lot of people do what they want? Shit happens. Things get in your way.” She shrugs casually, forcing a smile. “Does that answer your question?”
I nod, but it doesn’t answer my question. Even Justine knows what she wants. I thought I did too. I want this, hips, sand, and sweaty hands on my body. I don’t want to question this. It’s the only thing I have. If it’s somehow wrong then being right left me a long time ago along with everyone and everything else in my life.
I shrug my worries off and smile at Justine, returning my attention to what she really wants. What I really want. “I’m giving?” I slide my thumb across her bottom lip, tugging on it as I bring my body closer. I lean in for a kiss. “I’m really giving,” I whisper against her mouth as she moans deep and hard. Why did I bother trying to talk to her? This is all she wants. It’s all anyone of them want.
I pick her up and she wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to my bedroom. I remind myself that up until a year ago Dylan didn’t know shit. Each thrust into Justine proves he’s wrong. Her hands on my ass, urging me deeper, contradict his bullshit. Her lips on mine, my hands sliding across her sweaty skin, and our groans of pleasure make right now right again.
What does Dylan know?
I push myself inside of Justine as deep as I can, feeling her stretching and making room. Beneath me her eyes roll, her mouth opens. She’s falling apart. What more do I want?
What more could I possibly need?
Harley
Dylan: We need 2 talk
Dylan’s text hasn’t changed. I don’t know why I continue to read it. Maybe I’m hoping the letters will somehow rearrange themselves and make more sense. What could we possibly need to talk about? Everything was going so good between us. Better than good.
Everything was great.
We could’ve talked last night. Or this morning before he left to go back home. Or the moment I kissed him goodbye at his car. His rough kiss this morning makes me worry now. His lips were urgent, not in a hungry way, but in a goodbye kind of way. The way Mom used to kiss Dad when his leave from the army was over and she didn’t know if he’d ever come back.
Heartbreaking scenarios unfold in my thoughts. He’s cheating on me. He’s not happy anymore. He’s bored. I’m always afraid of that. Dylan and I are so different. I’m not the usual kind of girl he dates and he’s not the usual kind of guy I date. We are opposites. Opposites attract, but they also retract. The reasons that bring us together could be the same reasons that tear us apart. Our differences are starting to feel less and less, but I could be wrong.
What do we need to talk about?
I have class in an hour. Couldn’t he tell me this later? I have an important exam to take. Concentrating is out the window as I continue to dredge of horrible possibilities. Not failing is going to have to suffice. Before I drive myself completely crazy, I leave my bedroom and trade it for the living room. My roommate, Len, is watching vampires ravage humans on television. Not my idea of getting my mind off of Dylan, but it will have to do.
“Drool, lick, or kick?” Len asks.
I’m not in the mood for her games, but play along anyway. “I’d drool over the werewolf. Lick the vampire. And totally kick the human.”
She nods seriously. “I see where you’re coming from. The vamp is totally hot. Although look at the werewolf. He’s got that whole alpha thing going on. Don’t you ever want to be mounted like a she-wolf and howl at the moon?”
I gawk at her. “Mounted?”
“Mounted,” she repeats, getting on all fours on the couch. She wiggles her ass at me. “I.E. straddled or dominated from behind.”
I push her over. “I don’t need an example or a definition.”
She catches herself before falling over and sits back down, straightening her long black hair. “I’m a geek, remember? All I have are examples.”
“T
hen teach yourself.” I tap my fingers against the couch’s arm, thinking about Dylan. “Len?”
“Hmm?” she mumbles, not really listening anymore. She’s stuck on the screen, watching the vampire stalk his human lover who is undressing in front of her window while the creep licks his fangs.
“Dylan wants to talk.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“I think he wants to break up.”
“Aww, lucky.”
“I don’t want to lose him.”
“I want a boyfriend like that.”
“I’m into girls. Can I mount you?”
“Uh-huh.”
She’s no help. Len and I are roommates out of necessity. We’re not sisters. I sigh and get up. “I’m out of here. Don’t forget to eat.”
“Totally happy for you!”
I grab my purse and backpack and leave Len there with her fangs and claws. I have my own alpha and I’ll be damned if he leaves me. I drive to Dylan’s place with a twisted knot in my stomach. I can’t wait for another cryptic text. I have to know what he needs to talk about now. I channel Len, moving without thinking, thinking without moving. I don’t even stop to look around before knocking on Dylan’s door. I could feel a chill coming off the gulf. I wrapped my arms around myself and waited for him to answer.
Except Dylan doesn’t answer the door. His roommate does. The second he sees that it’s me a naughty, dark grin lifts his lips. I make a disgusted sound in the back of my throat and roll my eyes.
“Where’s Dylan?” I demand.
“What? No hello? No how are you? No how’ve you been? It’s been way too long, Harley.”
“Where is he, Bach?”
There is something about this guy that has always made me feel unsettled. I didn’t know if it was the dark look that constantly hovered on the edge of his gaze, or the things I’ve heard, regardless, I wasn’t a fan. I must be the only one, too. He’s aggravatingly popular in Crystal Gulf. I didn’t understand what for. Dylan is too, but that makes sense. Dylan is generous, trustworthy, and handsome. Bach is rude, pigheaded, and okay, sexy as hell, too, but still, I keep my distance. Dylan defends Bach until he’s blue in the face. It’s the only thing we can’t agree on. I think Dylan could leave his past behind if he didn’t have so many reminders, and Bach is a huge reminder.
Destroy Me (Crystal Gulf Book 1) Page 1
