by L V Chase
"You think I could do something like that?" Hayden asks.
"Sure—"
I'm interrupted by the front door to the villa opening and closing. A tall figure walks into the common room, stopping by the doorway. His hair is too neat, his preppy clothes, too. He's got a pretty boy face with brown eyes. He lifts his chin as if he's surveying the place. Something about the way he just stands there rubs me the wrong way.
I stand and take a step towards the newcomer. "Who the fuck are you? You looking for someone?"
He smiles. "Not looking for. Looking at. Grayson Voss, right?"
I frown. He's acting like a big shot, but I don't recognize him. Eric leaps off his sofa and joins us.
"Yo," Eric says, "This here's Damian."
Damian tips his head slightly.
I ignore him. "You know him?" I ask Eric.
Eric shrugs. "He's the one that took Lyle's old room. He came by earlier with that girl."
"That girl?" I raise an eyebrow, but somehow, I already know what the answer will be.
"With Cin," Damian replies before Eric can. "Cinnamon Reeves. I think you know her. I'm Damian White. A pleasure to finally meet you." He holds out his hand.
I stare. Damian White? That Damian? The one that fucked Cin over so many years ago? The hell? I leave his hand hanging for a few seconds until it gets awkward. Eric clears his throat, looking away uncertainly. I take Damian's hand and squeeze it tightly.
"The pleasure's mine." I hold Damian's gaze as I crush his grip, but he doesn't wince.
He matches my grip until both our hands are turning white. Neither of us moves a muscle for five seconds. Then, we let go at the same time.
"What're you doing here?" I ask.
Damian nods towards Hayden in acknowledgement, who's watching everything wide-eyed, then returns his gaze to me. "I live here. Like Eric already said."
"No, I mean here. At Roman Academy. Last I heard you and the law weren't doing too well. We don't let that kind of people in here."
Damien laughs loudly. "Oh right. I have some history, but you know how it is. Nothing a generous donation can't take care of."
I frown. From what I could tell, he grew up in the same town as Cin. He should have nothing, be nothing. How the fuck did he waltz into my damn school? And Cin's hanging out with him? I don't like it.
"Stay away from Cin," I say. "She's trouble."
"She's a handful, that's true," Damian says with a slight chuckle. "Don't worry. She might be too much for you, but I take care of my girl."
I take a step closer to him. "Your girl? What the fuck are you talking about?"
Damian smiles. "She always was. Always will be."
I grab him by the front of his shirt. "She doesn't belong to anyone. Least of all you. You left her to rot with her bitch of a mother."
A flash of something, annoyance maybe, crosses Damian's face, but then he's smiling again. "Cin can decide, and she has."
I jerk him forward violently, and a button tears loose from his shirt. "You stay the fuck away from her."
"Or…?" Damian glances down at my hand. "This will make a fine headline. Heir of the Voss media empire assaults rival network owner. Sources say he was jealous for the attention of a girl that scorned him."
"The fuck you talking about?"
His words make no sense. Rival network? We have no rivals. Unless...Dad had mentioned something about another network moving in. But there's no way that has anything to do with this nobody from nowhere. And owner? Impossible.
Damian continues in his mock documentary tone. "It would seem that a pattern of violence runs among the Vosses, a family plagued by rumors of domestic abuse. Investigations of the younger Voss also uncovered signs of underage drinking and substance abuse, that when paired with an unstable temper, could have disastrous consequences." He pointedly looks at the joint in Eric's hand, then over to the table with the beer cans.
"In a disturbing development," he says, "the eighteen-year-old Grayson Voss has been linked to a student found dead at Roman Academy. Did Voss take a step too far? Is he a murderer? Find out more in the upcoming exclusive scoop, only from Writing on the Wall,"
"Oh shit," Hayden says softly from behind us.
"Shit!" Eric echoes.
No fucking way. Writing on the Wall is the company Dad mentioned. I stare at Damian. He’s going to sell a scoop to them or something? The fuck? Behind me, I hear Hayden rustling frantically like he's trying to hide something. But I have nothing to hide.
"That's right," I growl. "I'm a killer. Right? I'm a killer! You try that shit, and I will absolutely fucking kill you."
I let go of his shirt and shove him backward, but Damian just smiles that annoying smile of his, acting like he's won.
I pounce on him suddenly, aiming my right fist at his smarmy face. Damian cries out and ducks. I think Hayden screams too, but the voices mix, and all I can hear is the rage pounding in my head. I miss, and Damian shuffles backwards, half-crouched from dodging my punch.
"Gray, woah!" Eric hisses nervously, not acting like his usual self. "I heard some things—"
"It's fine. I was just playing." I look Damian in the eyes. He's not smiling now. "Pussy. Get the fuck out of my face."
Damian's eyes are dripping pure hate now, no longer hidden behind that condescending veneer of his. He says nothing as he turns and leaves.
"And you scream like girl!" Eric shouts after him, regaining his usual bluster.
I look in Damian's direction long after he's gone. The first thing I want to do is kick him out of this place. But the longer I think about it, the more I'm thinking that I should leave him alone. Let him try his shit. He's fucking nothing. I'm not scared of him.
"Uh, guys?" A small voice calls out. "What now?"
I turn back towards Hayden and force a smile. "Talent show, right? We get you a fucking dance."
I waste time with Hayden along with Eric for another hour, but I can't take it anymore. I head out to find Cin.
I'm annoyed with Damian, but the part that's really getting me mad is the fact that she's waltzing around with him again, taking him back like some kind of old reject rebound. I went through shit—no, I'm still going through shit because of her. I'd never let her have the satisfaction of knowing that, but it pisses me off that she won't see that for herself. She's not stupid. She could figure it out if she really wanted to.
That's not the only reason I want to see her, though. Part of me is also hungry. It's been too long since I've last fucked someone, because, fucking hell, there's no one else I want right now. No one else is going to satisfy me, because I want Cin, and what I want, I get.
I make my way to the dorm where they house the scholarship girls. It's on the other side of campus where it blends in with the surrounding school buildings. They have their place, and we have ours. But how many times have I gone over to her place now?
I arrive at the dorm and let myself inside. I head to Cin's room and knock, but no one answers. When there's no answer, I pound louder.
"I'm coming in!" I yell.
I take out my master key and unlock the door, but the lights are off and no one's around. When I shut the door and step back out, the door on the other end of the small hallway cracks open. The door widens, and a blonde in black leggings and a pink crop top steps out. It's one of the other scholarship girls. She licks her lips and smiles invitingly.
"Dahlia?" I ask.
She pouts for a brief second. "Demi."
I shrug. "Right, Demi. You see Cin around?" I nod towards her door.
She perks up again when I say her name, then frowns when I mention Cin, ping-ponging back and forth. Her mouth's half-open now, like the words got stuck in her throat.
"No," she finally says. "I don't really keep up with her anyways. Why? You looking for something? Maybe I can help." She leans against her doorframe, arching her back to rest her head and shoulders against it while sticking her tits in my direction.
I'm not impressed.
<
br /> "I doubt it." I turn to leave, but stop. "By the way. You girls are doing something for the talent show, right?"
It's obvious that they would. Homecoming contest, talent show—it's all an excuse to make these girls work for what we give them. Of course, they're required to participate.
Demi pulls her arms behind her, acting shy. "Yeah, the other girls and I are working on a dance piece. You'll love it. I can give you a sneak peek if—"
"Dancing?" Same as Hayden. What a coincidence. "Is Cin dancing, too?"
Knowing the rest of the scholarship girls, I can guess what kind of dance number they'd have chosen. I can't quite picture Cin agreeing to that, although the thought of making her dance for my amusement definitely sounds like fun.
"Well, yes, but...I don't know," Demi mumbles. "The rest of us are practicing, and she's off doing whatever—"
"I want all of you dancing, including Cin. Don't fuck it up."
Demi looks at the ground, then back to me. "It's just...she's a bitch, you know? No one's going to miss her. Then, there's the Diana thing. She's scares us—"
I take a step towards her, scowling. "Cin dances with the rest of you. Got it?"
Demi doesn't respond.
"You got it or not?" I bang the wall loudly.
"Okay," Demi says softly.
"I don't think you do. You girls play nice with her, and don't fuck up the show." I lean towards her and lower my voice. "Because she's not the one you should be scared of. Who else do they say could have killed Diana? Hm? That's right."
I step away. Demi's eyes grow wide. Let them think whatever they want. As long as they leave Cin alone, I don't care.
When I open the door to head outside, I find myself face to face with Cin. She's in dark jeans and a white tee, nothing fancy, but she’s still looking a thousand times more enticing than Demi just now. It's dark already, with the only light from the yellowish campus lamps posted every couple hundred feet, but Cin...Cin glows. Her face is alive, unlike all the other fuckers I have to deal with. Except her face is also glaring at me.
"Do you mind?" Cin says. She pockets her ID card with one hand. Her other arm is wrapped around her usual canvas.
I hold the door open and reach for the canvas. "I can take that for you."
"Don't. Touch." Cin brushes past me, pausing when she sees Demi still in the hallway.
Demi looks like she hasn't decided whether to stay or leave. I give her a cold stare, and she rushes to leave, looking more than a little disturbed by our conversation. When the door slams shut again, I turn to find Cin waiting outside her room, watching.
"Demi's next I take it," Cin says.
I tilt my head. "I'm not following."
"First, Diana. Now, you and Demi."
I shake my head. "I told you already. There was nothing between me and Diana, nothing like what you think."
"What I think? Yeah, I'm no genius, but I never thought she'd end up dead."
I'm not sure what to say to that. I didn't kill Diana. If Cin doesn't believe me, I'm not going to whine or waste words with her. I don’t know for certain, but I’m guessing that Dad took care of the problem. Which means there’s a real killer out there, somewhere.
"Look, you want to be smart?" I nod my head towards the front door. "It's pretty fucking stupid to walk alone in the dark with all the shit going on. Next time you call me."
Cin looks amused. "Call you? Why would I do that? I was in the art room just now. Jay walked me home."
I didn't see Jay, or I would have told him to watch himself. But, fuck. First, Damian. Now she's hanging with Jay? It's like she's trying her hardest to annoy me.
"You now, even after what everyone else said, I didn't take you as that type of girl," I say. "Not that I'm judging." I shrug.
Cin frowns. "Type of girl?"
"The kind that gets around. I heard you were with Damian earlier, too. I'm curious, though. When your boys are railing you, do you still pretend it's me, or have you learned to deal with settling for less?"
"You are a fucking asshole." Cin turns away and starts unlocking the door to her room.
"Yeah, and don't forget it." I walk closer to her, but she ignores me as she opens her door. "I know how you've brought everyone around you down. Your mother's accident. Damian's arrest. Not to mention what's happened between us. I could let it all out." But I haven't, and I wouldn't. I don't say that last part out loud, though.
Cin looks over at me, scowling. "So? Everyone already thinks I killed Diana. Can't get much worse." Her right hand goes under her shirt as she absently scratches her side.
"Fuck!" I rush over to her, snatching her right hand away. I lift up her shirt, exposing the stitches over the scabbed flesh on her side. "Jesus, Cin. Don't pick at your damn stitches."
Cin rips her hand out of mine. "I can pick who and whatever I fucking want."
She reaches down for the stitches again but I push her against her door, pinning her right wrist, then her left wrist against the wall.
"Cin!" I yell as she whips her head, her golden-brown hair flinging against my face.
I press her harder against the door so that her face is pointing to the side, then lean my face into hers. Cin starts saying something, but my mouth finds hers, and I smother her, tasting what I've been missing for so long. Her mouth fights against mine, then she's kissing me back, our tongues flicking back and forth. She bites me. I don't stop, and she bites harder, drawing blood.
Our mouths pull apart. A spot of my blood is on her lips.
"You mad?" I ask. "You out for blood?"
"Damn it. Grayson, just go."
I stare at her. No one tells me to go, not when I don't want to. And I definitely don't want to. I want to stay, break her down, ravish her, and put the pieces back together.
But fuck that. If she doesn't know what's good for her, that's her own fucking fault.
I step away slowly. "You'll be sorry. You'll see."
I leave.
5
Cin
Standing in the center of the dance studio with Demi, Dahlia, and Desiree, I’m certain I’ve entered some introspective Hell. All four walls of the studio are formed out of massive mirrors. Our reflections are repeated over and over. It’s strange to see so many replicas of myself, but with the DDD girls, it’s even stranger because they look like photocopy versions of each other anyway.
“Okay,” Desiree says. “So, after the twist, we’re going to sweep our hand down—just the tips should come close enough to the floor that it looks like they hit the floor, but you don’t want to make contact because, with the speed that we’re going at, it’s going to hurt. So, twist, sweep, bring it into a fist up to the chest. Then, we take three quick steps backward with our left hand outstretched toward the audience. Then, we fall to one knee.”
She’s demonstrating each move, but my body and my brain never cooperate. I’m a second behind everyone else. I stumble during the sweep, or I forget to bring the fist up to my chest, or when I fall to my knee, my whole body falls in the least graceful move since the dawn of civilization.
The DDD girls thought I was an alcoholic murderess whore before. Now, I’m something far worse: useless.
I clutch my side, my stab wounds stinging as I twist for the hundredth time. I sit down, streaks of heat flaring up through me.
“We’re not done, Cinnamon,” Desiree says, her face shiny with sweat.
“I just need a minute,” I say.
“If you want to quit, we’d be happy with that,” Demi says. “Just imagine if you were this much of a quitter when you killed Diana.”
“Besides,” Dahlia adds, stepping closer to the rest of us. “If you weren’t so jealous of Diana, we’d have one more member to help. Maybe any pain you’re feeling is just your guilt manifesting.”
“No, I’m absolutely fucking certain it’s the stitches.”
As she opens her mouth to retaliate, the dance studios door snaps open. Grayson, Eric, and this skinny pale boy from my Engl
ish class walk in. Grayson’s eyes scan the studio, but he doesn’t seem surprised to see us all there. I stand up slowly, biting my tongue to keep my face from exposing the pain burning inside me.
“Demi,” Grayson drawls. “I forgot that your little troupe would be here.”
For a split second, our eyes meet. Our kiss had felt like an exorcism, taking away all of the wickedness rotting inside me, but it shouldn’t have. I don’t fall over these rich boys like my mother or the DDD girls. Net worth doesn’t blind me to their spoiled sense of entitlement, and Grayson didn’t even earn that money. He’s an asshole that believes he was born to rule over all of us peasants. I should be getting in his face, tearing into him like the first time we met.
So, why does my tongue feel heavier than my heart?
“We can leave,” Demi says quickly, grabbing her purse. Her behavior has rippled between her average bitchiness and a strange new paranoia since I last saw the two of them back in the dorm.
“That’s not necessary,” he says. “We can all occupy the same space. The Academy didn’t put this much money into this room just to let four people use it. We’ll take the right side. Your group can keep the left side.”
“That’s fair,” she mumbles, setting her purse down and appearing slightly disappointed.
The dance studio changes from an introspective Hell to a personal Hell, complete with twerking demons and the devil standing far enough back that he can see every mistake I make. While Grayson watches Eric and the skinny kid mess around with some choreography, my dancing turns into a massacre of any sense of rhythm, fluidity, or dignity. I fall on my ass twice, I trip twice, and I bump into the other girls at least half a dozen times.
“Hey, Cinnamon!” Eric calls out after I accidentally smack the back of my hand against Demi’s arm. “If you fuck as bad as you dance, I understand why you’d stick to sucking dick.”
Grayson grabs him, pulling him towards the back right corner of the studio. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but as we get back into position, Grayson’s posture is tense while Eric’s mouth is pinched together.
