by Angel Lawson
Rage rushes through me and I stand, my chair rolling back against the wall.
“Get the fuck out of here, Alice.”
“Gladly,” she says, lips twisted in a smirk. “I’ll have my assignments turned in by the end of the week.”
She opens the door and walks out, her shoulders back and confident. I’m not exactly sure what just happened, but Alice seems to have been paying more attention lately than I’d given her credit for.
4
Kenley
I park my car in Ozzy’s driveway. Finn’s dad’s truck is on the street, Ezra’s motorcycle next to it. I take the path around the side of the house that leads to the basement door.
Ozzy’s basement became our hangout over the last few weeks. His mom works a lot and his younger sisters ignore us. The guys like it because Ozzy has a gaming system they like to play. I like it because it’s a private place we can just hang out together and not worry about judgement. Sure, Ezra’s house is nicer, but I don’t like to be around his dad. He’s made it clear he doesn’t approve of me, and I don’t want to give him the opportunity for him to let me know.
Sometimes I think I don’t like to be around Mr. Baxter because I think he may be right.
Am I good enough for his son?
I haven’t been honest about everything. Like the flowers I received from BD and the disturbing fact someone from the SugarBabies app knows my name and where I live.
It wasn’t just Ezra I hadn’t told. I’d kept it a secret from everyone.
How do I confess to the guys that I’d been hiding secrets of my own? That I’d engaged on the SugarBabies platform, that I’d intentionally struck up conversation with a potentially dangerous person. Sure, after I slept with Ozzy I cut it off, but obviously that didn’t take.
My hope is that my lack of response is a signal to whoever sent those flowers that I’m not interested. I’m blessed with three boyfriends and no one is going to mess that up for me. Especially not some controlling, gross, old guy. We’ve got enough of those around here, anyway.
I walk up to the back door and peer in the window. All three boys are sprawled across the couches, eyes focused on the screen across the room. I get a warm feeling, seeing them all together. They’d been so close when we were kids, then we spent three years apart, caught up in our own lives, only to be brought back again by tragedy.
It makes my feelings about Rose’s disappearance complicated. If she was still here, I doubt this ever would have happened. No, I know for a fact it wouldn’t have.
I crack open the door and catch a snippet of their banter.
“Damn, son,” Ozzy says, “Ez, if I didn’t know better, I’d think this was the first time you played this game.”
“Seriously? You’d have better luck trying to score with your sister.”
“Burn,” Finn laughs.
“What are you laughing at?” Ozzy spits back, while grimacing at the screen. “Your ass is grass, and I’ve got the weed-whacker.”
Finn sits up and quickly moves his hands on the controller. “Fuck you, you little fucker.”
“You kiss Kenley with that mouth?” Ezra asks.
Finn smirks, “And other things.”
My cheeks warm despite the cold.
“Sounds like he’s got a boner to pick with you,” Ozzy adds.
“I have a serious question,” Ezra asks. “Is masturbating while smoking weed called masterblazing?’
Ozzy snorts. “Nope. It’s called highjacking.”
“What about weedwhacking?”
I step through the door and slam it. They all jolt up straight. “It’s called disappointing your mother, you perverts.”
They look at me with a mix of amusement and alarm. Only Ozzy looks slightly ashamed for getting busted talking trash. I take off my coat and toss it on the chair by the door. I walk over to the couches, stopping to place a kiss on Ezra’s temple, and another on Finn’s forehead, and drop to the couch next to Ozzy and kiss his jaw.
“So what are you guys doing, other than talking about getting high and your dicks?” Their penises, I’ve learned, are one of their favorite conversations. To be honest, I think about their cocks a lot, too.
“Not much,” Ezra says. “You?”
“Just counting down the days until Christmas break.”
I reach for the bag of chips on the table and pull out a few. The entire coffee table is covered with bags of snacks and half-empty soda bottles.
“Want to play?” Ozzy asks, handing me the controller.
“Sure.”
He throws his arm around me and I lean into him, starting up.
“Why do women wear panties with flowers on them?” I ask.
Finn glances over at me and I use it as a chance to advance. “I don’t know.”
“’Cause flowers are sexy?” Ezra asks.
“Why?” Ozzy asks, anticipating a punch line.
I wait a beat and then say, “In loving memory of all the faces buried there.”
Ozzy’s chest vibrates with laughter and the other two break into grins.
Ezra shakes his head and mutters, “If anyone ever wants to know why we love you…”
Moments like this are why I love them, too. The stupid, silly, do-nothing times where everything is easy.
Too bad those moments rarely last.
There’s a car in the driveway when I get home. A black Mercedes SUV. I park in the street and walk past it, curiosity piqued. It’s not normal for my parents to have company over at this time of day.
I walk through the front door and realize that’s not the only abnormal thing—I do a double take when I see Regina Waller standing in the kitchen holding a glass of red wine. Her hair is dark, like Rose’s, and hangs in gentle waves to her shoulders. Her skin is tan, like she spends a lot of time outside, but there isn’t the faintest sign of aging—not a single wrinkle. Perfection is what we’re supposed to see. The Waller Myth. It’s still intact.
“There you are,” Mom says giving me a smile. “I was wondering if you were going to show up before dinner.”
“I was, uh, at a friend’s house.” Movement through the French doors catches my attention. My dad is standing over the grill, a waft of smoke curling overhead. Brice Waller stands next to him, leaning against the railing.
“How are you, Kenley?” Regina asks, dragging my attention back to the kitchen.
“Good. Yeah, good.” I look at my mother, who is busy stirring something on the stove. “Um, Mom, can you help me with something?”
She and Regina exchange a look, Regina’s sympathetic. “I need to use the restroom,” she says, resting her glass on the counter. “Excuse me.”
I wait until I hear the bathroom door close before I say, “What are they doing here?”
“I’ve been trying to come up with a time to have them over for a while—you know, since everything happened—and tonight finally worked out. It was last minute. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.”
“Why would you want to have them here?” When Rose ditched me, her parents ditched mine as well.
“Because they’ve been through a lot, Ken, and sometimes it’s important to let trivial differences go.”
“Trivial?”
The back door opens, and my dad walks in holding a platter of grilled salmon. Brice follows him in. It only takes him a moment to realize I’m in the kitchen. Our last interaction had been tense. I’d basically accused him of hurting Jacqueline. I was wrong—obviously—but even so, I had a pretty good feeling he knew the truth the whole time. He, Chandler, and Mr. Baxter seem to work in tandem. I doubt there are many secrets between them.
“Kenley,” my dad says, smiling. “Glad you made it home in time for dinner.”
“Kenley,” Brice says, as though nothing transpired between us. Ever the politician. “It’s good to see you.”
I swallow, my voice caught behind the lump in my throat. I look at my mom. “I ate already. Pizza after school. I’m not hungry.”
“
Are you sure?” she asks, taking the pan off the stove.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m just going to go get a head start on my homework.”
“Can’t argue that,” Dad says, smiling. I love the man, but he’s so clueless sometimes.
I pick up my backpack and head down the hall to the stairs just as Regina walks out of the bathroom.
“Oh, are you not joining us for dinner?”
“No. I have homework.”
She gives me a tight smile. “Kenley, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for everything that happened with Monica. It was very shocking.”
“Was it?”
“We’ve been friends for so long and to think she kept what she did to that poor girl hidden for years.” Her chin wavers. “And Rose…well, I want to thank you for being so diligent in seeking the truth about what really happened to her. It was ugly and hard to hear that I didn’t know my daughter as well as I thought I did, but…” she exhales, “it’s good to put some questions to rest.”
My heart hammers in my chest. I want to ask her so many things. Push all the buttons, but as much as I think the men in this group are in cahoots, I don’t believe that Regina knew about Rose’s relationship with Chandler or her involvement on the SugarBabies dating app.
“I just wanted to know the truth,” I say.
“She should have been a better friend to you, and I should have been a better mother to her. Maybe none of this would have happened if I’d been paying closer attention.”
I feel a pang in my chest. “I don’t know if that would have made a difference,” I admit. “Rose was…well, Rose.”
“You’re right, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”
I start up the steps, but she grabs my arm.
“Be careful, Kenley. There’s a darkness in this town. I’ve known it my whole life. I thought I could protect my child from it, but I was wrong.”
It’s a chilling and disturbing comment, but I nod, and then rush up the stairs. It’s not until I get in my room that I wonder who, or what exactly, is the darkness that threatens all of us.
“You’ve got it, babe, thirty more seconds.”
My muscles quiver and I can barely catch my breath.
“I don’t think I can hold on,” I whine.
“Twenty-seconds.”
I’m face down on my elbows, stomach taut, body shaking. Finn is over me, sweaty and shirtless. I close my eyes and think about the hard planes of his chest, how he worked to get that magnificent body, that cut “V” that distracts me over and over, his strength, and how safe I feel in his arms—
“Time.”
I collapse in a heap on the mat. My entire body spent and aching. Using all remaining strength, I roll over and look up at him. My imagination doesn’t do his body justice. Seriously.
“That was the worst,” I say.
He eases down to the mat next to me. “You rocked it. You’re getting so strong.”
I struggle up to my elbows. “I have a ball-busting coach.”
He picks a sticky piece of hair off my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. Finn doesn’t care how sweaty, smelly, or disgusting I get in the gym. That same look of hunger is always in his eyes—one that’s harder and harder for me to resist. He knows it too, it’s obvious in the smug grin he gives me just before leaning over and giving me a kiss. My lips part and when our tongues meet, a shiver rolls down my overheated body. I pull him closer, deepening the kiss and he shifts, climbing over me. I run my hands over his chest, down his abs, feeling the soft hair under his bellybutton. My thumbs graze his hips, then move along to his back where his muscles tense beneath my touch.
This happens every time we’re out in Finn’s gym alone. A simple workout, designed to help me feel stronger—more confident—after Monica abducted me in the fall, turns into a hot and heavy makeout session.
It doesn’t help that we’re both half-dressed. Finn giving me a fantastic view of his body, me in a midriff revealing sports tank and leggings. What starts off as an innocent strength training evolves to the two of us blowing off a different kind of steam.
Not that I’m complaining.
It’s given me a whole new appreciation for exercise that I’d never had before.
“I never realized I was into athletic chicks,” he says, dragging his lips away from my mouth and planting slow kisses down my neck. He presses a hand on my stomach, that after a month of intense workouts, shows slight definition. “But damn, I like you like this. Strong and sexy.”
I like him like this, too. Finn Holloway, my life-long crush since he moved in next door when we were four years old. I like the way he kisses me, touches me, reacts to me. His length pressing against the thin fabric of his shorts, against my body, confirms his proclamation.
“Okay,” he says, rubbing his face and creating distance between us. “What’s next? Jump rope, maybe.”
“How is that supposed to help me if I’m in trouble? I can skip away?”
“Stamina, babe.” He walks across the room and lifts the rope off a hook on the wall. “It’s excellent cardio.”
I keep thinking there has to be a better way to increase my cardio—one more fun and a little more naked, but Finn’s a taskmaster in the gym, and I’m the one that asked him to do this. He holds his hand out and I grasp it, letting him pull me off the mat.
“One minute.” He hands me the rope. I get situated, holding the end of the rope in each hand. He looks down at his watch and says, “Annnnd go.”
I’m not the most athletic, but lifting weights doesn’t require many skills. The rope though, I can sense my timing is off. I’m either too fast or too slow, trying to keep my feet and arms at the same pace.
Finn watches me, eyes lingering below my neck. I catch him, and he smiles sheepishly. “Twenty seconds.”
My heart races, threatening to pound out of my chest, and I find myself distracted when he lifts an arm behind his neck—stretching. The move accentuates corded muscles across his body; down his side, his back, his abdomen. My mind wanders, my arms slow, my foot snags the rope, catapulting me forward.
“Oh!” I cry. Finn’s eyes widen, and he lunges toward me. I crash into him, and despite his efforts, we land hard, bodies slammed together.
“You okay?” he asks, holding me against his chest.
“I think so.”
“What the hell happened?”
I swallow, a different heat running to my chest. “I got distracted.”
My heart beats like hummingbird wings against his chest, and his green eyes bore into mine. “I know the feeling.”
That’s the moment we cave, mouths meeting. Adrenaline pumps through me from the exercise, from the fall, and spikes again when he deftly flips us over so that he’s hovering over me and my back is pressed against the mat.
“Can I kiss you?”
I touch his cheek. “Always.”
He kisses down my body, my shoulders, my arms, my stomach. He licks and sucks, laughing when I squirm from being ticklish, his hands holding me down so I can’t escape.
He looks up at me from my belly. “Can I kiss you?”
I laugh. “I already said yes.”
He kisses each hip, slowly, gently, seductively. Tension coils low in my pelvis.
He hooks his fingers in the edge of my tights.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly—intent in those emerald eyes. Realization dawns.
“I’m gross,” I say softly. “Sweaty.”
“I like you sweaty.”
This boy. We haven’t slept together yet, but his need to make me feel good is insatiable.
“Is the door locked?” I look over my shoulder at the door that leads outside. The shades are drawn.
“Yep.”
I blush at the thought of him planning ahead. At my need.
I nod and lift my hips and he doesn’t waste a heartbeat, pulling down my tights and spreading my legs. The cool air hits the warmth of my core, but that’s replaced by his breath.
; I curl my fingers into his hair.
The first kiss is sharp, shocking, warm, deliciously painful. My nerves spark and my breath catches. The second kiss is wet, more tongue than lips and my insides bubble with electric need. I moan and tug at his bronze locks and he laughs, smiling up at me, pleased.
Like everything else, Finn Holloway is very good at oral sex.
Something I didn’t know how much I liked until he showed me.
Something I didn’t know how good it would feel until he took the time to draw me out with his tongue and fingers and lips, until he made me see stars.
The room grows hazy around me now, my knee bends, and my eyes roll back. My body moves with the flick of Finn’s tongue and I close my eyes, waiting for the wave to come.
Waiting for the stars.
5
Finn
“You wanted to see me?” I ask, walking into Coach Chandler’s office. The season may be over, but my interactions aren’t. I’ve got a few months before signing day and he holds the keys to my future until then.
“I did, come in.” He gestures to the seat across from his. I take it, easing my backpack to the floor. “I’ve spoken to Tech and the University. Both want you to come up for an additional practice day.”
“Sure,” I say, feeling a tickle of excitement. I’ve worked hard for this and I’m close to seeing exactly how that pays off. “Anything I need to do.”
“Keep up with your training,” he says, leaning his elbows on his desk. “And stay out of trouble.”
“Both of those are pretty doable.”
“Seems like it, right?” He pins me with a look. “I was in the same spot thirty years ago. I had two colleges fighting over me. I could take my pick, which made me get cocky. Don’t get cocky, Finn.”
