by Nina Lincoln
“Hey,” Miranda says, sidling up to me with a subdued smile.
“Hey,” I mutter, glancing around grimly at all the people. I’m pretty sure we’re breaking laws about maximum capacity or some shit right now.
“Brutal game.” She leans against the wall next to me and waves at some dude across the way with a friendly smile.
“Oh?” I wouldn’t know beyond the score at the end, and it looks like they put up a good fight even though they lost, but I guess that’s not the point.
“Yeah…I think it’s eating at Griff,” she says softly.
I really want to point out that I am not the person to rehash Griffin’s mental state. We’re not fucking friends, me and her and he and I, so the conversation is decidedly awkward and unnecessary. Besides, it’s clearly eating at him because when he came home, he was cold, quiet, and inside himself, the place he retreats when he’s processing deep emotions.
I figured that out the hard way when his grandfather died. He pulled away so quickly and deeply I was startled and afraid, afraid I had lost my friend and how he might be hurting. It was only for a few days, but they were the worst few days of my life as I tried to reach him, and he refused to break the distance.
When he came back to me, all smiles and gentle touches once more, he laughed it away, and I didn’t think much of it, but now, it’s laughable because it was a precursor of things to come. I just wish I knew what the fuck I did to make him back away and stay there.
“Hm,” I say, noncommittal, freezing up when Griffin says beside me, “Are you two done? Or do you need more time gossiping like little bitches?”
Miranda stiffens beside me, her entire body like a live wire, and once more, I shrink as the two face off. Although I’d like to tell Griffin to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, I hold my breath instead as she raises a finger and pokes it in Griffin’s chest. “You’re being an asshole. I’m just concerned.”
Griffin grabs that finger and drops it away, sneering, “Don’t be. I don’t fucking need your concern, and I sure as fuck don’t need yours.”
He stalks away with a rude look in our direction in which, inexplicably, instead of looking at her, he looks at me as he grabs some bimbo with big tits and pushes her down the hall.
Miranda stands staring after him with wide eyes before snarling, “I don’t need this shit.”
And with that, she’s gone, and I’m left stunned. Oh, I’m not surprised by his hatred for me—that’s expected—but his rude behavior and downright nasty attitude toward Miranda makes me think there’s more going on below the surface than he’s letting on. But what? Is this about the game? Or something else entirely?
With a sigh, I turn away, right into a hard male chest as large hands pull me back and a husky voice says, “Whoa there. Hey, you’re hot.”
Lifting my eyes, I blink at the Adonis before me, his wide brown eyes friendly in a perfectly formed face with eyelashes a porn star would die for. He’s built tall and currently gazing at me with admiration.
This one could give Griffin a run for his money, and for the first time, well, besides Griffin, I feel a tingle of interest.
“Hi,” I say breathlessly as his mouth curls in a sexy grin.
“Hello there, darlin’,” he says, pulling me away from the crush. “What’s your name?”
“Um, Halsey,” I say, glancing at him through my lashes.
“I’m Chet.”
“Hey.” With a mental eye roll, I mourn my monosyllabic responses, but shit, it’s been so long since I had any interest in a guy, and as I’ve said, normal conversation eludes me anymore.
Still, you’d think I was an idiot with the way I can’t talk around him, and even though he’s hot, he doesn’t scramble my brains like Griffin. I’m starting to think no one can, but if anyone could try, it would be this guy with his pretty brown eyes and sparkly stare.
“So, you live here?”
“Um, yeah,” I say, “Max is my brother.”
“Max? Cool,” he says, holding up a cup. “You want a drink?”
“She can’t drink,” Griffin says behind me, and I turn back, surprised, because he sure fucked that chick quickly.
He doesn’t look rumpled, and if his expression is anything to go by, he’s not particularly relaxed. Huh.
Shooting him a warning glare, I shiver when his mouth pulls up cruelly because, yeah, Griff is in rare form tonight. But why?
“Huh?” Chet says, turning to Griffin with a confused stare.
My silent plea is lost on Griffin, who completely ignores it to say to Chet, “Halsey here has a problem with mixing her meds with alcohol. Right, Hals? What’s it do again? Make you cray-cray?”
I grit my teeth and glance at Chet desperately. “No.”
“Cray-cray?” Chet says slowly, glancing between us warily.
“Yeah, poor Hals—”
“Griffin,” I interrupt, but he talks right over me.
“—sey has a little issue with her emotions, you know?”
“Uh, no,” Chet says, backing up a step.
“Yeah, the last time she laid in her own stink for five days, but you’re feeling better now, right, babe?”
Refusing to meet Griffin’s stare, I nod halfheartedly when Chet says, “Oh, um, cool. I’m gonna get another drink.”
Blankly I watch him go, ignoring the pulse of anger in my chest because even if Griffin’s delivery is cruel, I can’t date someone who doesn’t understand my disorders. I’m sure to be on meds and fucking psycho for a long time to come.
Still, it doesn’t stop the frustration because maybe I wanted a night of fun. Perhaps I wanted to feel like a fucking normal human being for a single fucking night.
Exactly how much more of this shit am I supposed to take? The dick won’t just let me be, and I’m tired of the constant barrage.
Only the thought of my mother intervening in another misguided attempt to keep me safe inspires me to stay the course. But I’ve reached my limit, and something’s got to give. I’m a fucking adult, for fuck’s sake.
“Everything okay, sweetheart?”
“No, it’s not alright,” I hiss, shoving him and his mocking fucking smile away.
Stepping back with a laugh, he runs his eyes down my body, over my heaving chest, my tiny booty shorts, and bare legs before coming back to my eyes, but not before making a pit stop on my tits.
“Too bad,” he says, his eyes flickering as they look into mine.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, turning to the next nearest dude and tapping him on the shoulder.
Is this how he wants to play? Well, bully for him because there’s plenty of dick to go around.
“Halsey,” Griffin says in warning behind me, but I ignore him and the fucking giant pulsing pain in my chest as the guy with his back to me turns.
“Hey,” I say, to which he smiles.
“Hey there, baby.”
But I have no time to say anything because Griffin grabs my arm and leads me back to my room, shoving me inside before closing the door behind us.
“What?” I demand, hiding the thrill that I got a rise out of him. For that’s all it was, and I know better than to court danger, even if it is in my own home because evil comes in all shapes in sizes—even the most mundane.
“We had this conversation. No dick.” He crosses his arms over his chest with a smirk, but his eyes are hard as granite.
“Let me get this straight. You can fuck anyone you want, but I have to pass? Because why again?”
“Because I said so. My house, my rules,” he says succinctly.
“You’re fucking insane.” My throat hurts as I swallow the hate swelling on my tongue and I pace away so I don’t do something crazy, like hit the fucker.
I mean, the utter gall.
“I think we’ve established who the insane one is,” he says silkily. “Take your meds today, sweetheart?”
Clenching my hand in a fist, I swing toward him. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but
you don’t get to take it out on me. Get out.”
His eyes flicker, darkness passing behind them before he says quietly, “The only fucking problem I have is you, and I fucking regret promising your mother I’d look after you.”
Wide-eyed, I stare at him speechless as he looks me over with disgust and sneers, “You want to fuck Chet? Go for it. Or how about the whole fucking football team?”
What? My heart stops brutally in my chest as I stare at him slack-jawed.
He raises a mocking brow and turns away, exiting before I can respond, leaving me staring after him with a sinking sensation in my stomach.
Was it a coincidence? Or does he…do others know more than I considered possible?
Fuck me, but the panic, the ever-present panic surges up my esophagus, and clasping my hand over my mouth, I drop to my knees. I can’t breathe, but I have to because in this I’m not allowed to be broken, even if I don’t know what it means to be whole.
Chapter Eight
If the eyes are the window to the soul, there’s nothing but a fucked-up void in my chest.
Monday rolls around all too quickly, and I stop short to find Griffin waiting for me at the front door.
“Where’s Max?” I mutter, refusing to look at him.
I’m still smarting at his cruel words and scared to know what, if any, truth lies behind them. I thought in this, at least, I was covered, but the possibility that my shame is out there in the universe makes my stomach roll.
I already spent an entire fucking day trying to convince myself to get up and keep going. When all I really want to do is give in.
“He’s sick. I’m taking you.” Griffin’s tone is all too cool and I’m not up for the fucking attitude.
“I can walk.”
“Get in the fucking car,” he enunciates, and I stiffen.
“Fuck off. I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snarl.
He leans into my face so close I’m forced to make eye contact, and I suck in a breath at the icy-cold hate I see there. Dropping my gaze to his mouth because my heart is frozen in my chest, I stare dumbly as he speaks through clenched teeth.
“I’m not asking. I’ll drop you on the way to the gym, and I’ll see you afterward in class.”
“Why? Why are you doing this? It’s okay. I won’t tell my mom, and you’ll be off the hook.”
He laughs bitterly, and unable to resist, I look up to find a pained expression before it drops to his familiar disdain. “I’m not interested in more lies. Let’s go.”
“Lies?” I mutter, following him to the SUV. “What lies?”
“Please. You couldn’t tell the fucking truth if you tried.”
Sliding into the passenger side, I turn to him heatedly and say, “I’ve never lied.”
“Sweetheart,” he chuffs, starting up the car and pulling from the curb, “everything about you is a lie. You suck people in with your innocent blue eyes and then spit them out like a black fucking widow.”
“That’s what you think of me?” Slumping against the seat, I stare at him blankly.
“Hm, you know what I think, Hals? I think you went psycho because the stories you created caught up with you, and you couldn’t see past them to the fucking truth.”
“I think you’re delusional,” I mutter petulantly.
I have no idea where this is coming from, but I can’t help wondering if this somehow leads back to our past, where he dropped me and moved on.
“Whatever. The truth is going to bite you in the ass so hard, and I’m going to enjoy every brutal minute of it,” he bites out through gritted teeth.
“What truth would that be?” I ask through numb lips.
Stopping next to the clinic, he looks me over with a weird expression and says, “Maybe you didn’t spend two weeks in the loony bin over Jason. Maybe you couldn’t stand the thought of what you did, hm? Pretty, innocent little Halsey Moore wouldn’t fuck multiple guys at once. No way. Does your mom know you’re a whore, Hals?”
Blankly, I stare at him as memories assail me that are ugly and rotten and horrifying enough when they’re trapped in my memories. But this? Fuck me.
With a macabre smile, I open the door and step from the vehicle. “You’ve said all this time that you don’t care, but I think you’re jealous, Griff. How’s it feel to know I fucked half the Kingston Prep football team?”
His face falls before he shores it back up, his mouth pulled back in a sneer. “Pretty fucking good because I’m not interested in sloppy fucking seconds.”
“You’re not interested at all? Remember? But don’t worry, I had a good time, and after, when I was done, I forgot all about you and your disgusting behavior.”
The lies taste ashy on my tongue but hurt will do that to you—turn you into a version of yourself that you never thought possible. I should know because it’s been the catalyst to every fucking nightmare since.
His brows slam over his eyes as he stares at me with a dark expression. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Didn’t you know? Well, I guess it’s meaningless now, but you didn’t care who I fucked, so I fucked them all.”
I don’t wait around for his response, shuffling into the clinic with a tight chest and panic stealing my air. What the fuck did Jason and his friends tell people?
And what the fuck am I going to do now?
∞∞∞
Although I’m still faithfully attending my therapy sessions, some days are better than others.
This morning was particularly brutal as he walked me through the events of that night, pushing me further than I was willing to go with an avid intensity that made me uncomfortable. I know he’s trying to help, but I’m not ready to go there. I may never be, and certainly not now after Griffin’s cruelty and the knowledge that my horror is out in the world where I have no control over any of it.
As a result, I skipped my class today because I just couldn’t bear to look at Dr. Marks after revealing so much of my brutal truth, nor Griffin with the unwarranted disdain behind his eyes.
Instead, I escaped to my room and relived every painful truth until I couldn’t see anything but the horror.
Unfortunately, this earns me a stern lecture from Griffin about my meds and mental health when he storms into my room after class and approaches me lying on the bed with a snarl.
Looking him over wearily, I murmur, “Thanks for knocking. Do you have a fucking key?”
He stands before me with his hands on his hips, his brows over his eyes. “Did you even go to your damn appointment?”
“Yes, not that it’s any of your business,” I snap, rising to a seated position. “Do you have a fucking key?”
“It’s all our fucking business,” he bellows.
“That’s bullshit!”
“No, it fucking isn’t. You think I can look in your mother’s fucking eyes and say I didn’t do as she asked? And of course, I have a fucking key, this is my fucking house.”
“I didn’t ask for you to care,” I shout, rage boiling in my veins.
Raising his finger in the air, he bites out, “I don’t care!”
Another jab to the fucking heart. Maybe he can stomp on it when he’s done.
“Then why are you in here all up in my fucking grill!” I scream.
All at once, the anger bubbling below the surface since my session this morning boils over, and slipping off the bed, I slam my hands into Griffin’s chest, but he grabs them quickly and pulls me against him.
“Fuck you,” I mutter in frustration, annoyed that he can overpower me so quickly as he pulls me tighter.
“Get a hold of yourself. Stop fucking squirming,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, because if you don’t, I’m going to fuck you.” His guttural growl causes all the air to suck from the room.
Freezing, I glance into his glittering eyes and shiver as he ruthlessly smiles at me and wickedly rubs his erection against my stomach. I�
�m so fucked in the head that even though hate chokes my throat, tingles still rush down my spine at the contact, but at least I catch the moan low in my throat.
Why can’t I resist him?
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’ve been panting after this dick for years?” His eyes are dilated with need, and his words although needlessly cruel are whisper soft because he can’t catch his breath.
He’s hiding behind his asshole façade, which is the only thought I have before I whisper, “Fuck you.”
With a grimace that matches the frustration behind his eyes, he slams mouth against mine. Stunned, I collapse in his embrace and open my mouth on a protest that drops to a moan. His lips are soft and warm just like I remember, except this is no sweet kiss. This is need and obsession and maybe even hate.
He takes me with complete possession, his tongue sweeping in and dueling with mine heatedly, the erotic thrust of his tongue making my core tingle as I arch into him in invitation. This is what I’ve wanted since he kissed me all those years ago.
His lips pull back into a smirk against mine, as he picks me up and drops me on the bed. He wastes no time following me down and covering my mouth once again as he pushes his knee between my legs. The weight of his body on top of me makes me pause, my rapidly beating heart freezing in my chest as a thousand images rush through my head in quick succession, causing my skin to itch painfully.
“Halsey,” he groans, pulling back to lick my bottom lip as he grinds his knee against my core.
All thoughts flee in the wake of his actions as I moan and buck off the bed at the sweet sensation.
“No matter what I fucking do, I can’t resist,” he mutters so low, I can barely make out the words.
My heart thumps in my chest, as his lips pull back in a feral grin and I whimper below him, caught in his moody stare as he drills me with his eyes before he shakes his head.
