by Gemma Weir
I don’t speak. What is there to say?
“Is this it? You think you deserve her if this is how you are?” He yells, shaking me as he speaks.
I shrug, too annihilated to even respond.
Zeke’s fist plows into my face, snapping my head back and jolting me out of my grief filled stupor.
“What the fuck?” I cry.
“You gonna watch her get with some pussy ass little motherfucker who drives a Mercedes?”
I don’t speak. What the fuck does he want me to say? He’s the one who told me I couldn’t ever have her.
He punches me again and I feel my skin split, blood pooling on my lip before dripping down my chin. “You gonna let her leave us, ride off into the sunset with some asshole who can’t even open a fucking door for her? You gonna let that fucker in the tie and cardigan climb between her legs and take her virgin pussy?”
A growl comes from the back of my throat, bursting out in a warning that sounds feral even to my own ears.
“She’ll leave us. She thinks she wants something different, something other than the Sinners. She wants to be invisible, but we both know she’s all most people see.” Zeke hisses, baiting me.
Pressing my lips together, I fight the words that want to get free, the words that will claim her, tell the entire fucking world that she’s mine and that no one will ever take her from me.
Zeke smiles, an evil, chilling smile. “Maybe you’re not man enough to claim her. Maybe I should show her what her life would be like if she embraced her heritage instead of hiding from it. I could be the one to make her mine.”
Ripping myself from his grip, I tackle him to the ground, my fist meeting his face again and again. “You touch her, and I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll rip your fucking dick off and shove it down your throat if you even look at her as anything other than a sister. She’s mine, she has been our entire fucking lives. Mine.”
His laugh breaks through my anger, and my fist pauses midair as I look down at my best friend. Blood coats his teeth, his lip’s split, and his nose is bleeding. Pushing off him, I roll to the side and sit beside him, wiping at the blood on my own face with the back of my hand.
Zeke sits up and pulls at the hem of his t-shirt to dab at the blood running freely from his face. “You ready to admit you’re in love with her now?” He asks, turning to look at me.
“How did you know?”
He laughs. “You’re a fucking idiot. I’ve known how you felt about her since we were eleven years old. You’re not exactly discreet.”
I snap my head to the side, my eyes wide with horror. “She knows?”
He shakes his head, chuckling beneath his breath. “She hasn’t got a fucking clue.”
“I kissed her tonight,” I admit, not sure why I’m telling him.
“Finally.”
“She doesn’t want me,” I say, exhaling wearily.
“She tell you that?”
“No.”
“She kiss you back?”
I nod once, brisk and assertive.
Zeke smiles and the blood from his lip makes his teeth look pink. “So what you gonna do?”
“I have no fucking clue.”
I stare at my closed bedroom door long after he’s left.
Griff just kissed me.
Griffin just kissed me.
Griffin Elijah Bennett just fucking kissed me.
I wait for my brain to process it, for my mind to figure out what the hell just happened and tell me how to feel about it, but ten minutes later, my eyes are still fixated on the door he just left through and all I can hear and see and feel is static.
Logically, I know I should be horrified that he kissed me, because he’s my friend, my best friend, my family. Right?
Logic, yep, that’s the way I should be feeling, logical. Only right now, logic feels like something other people have. My mind feels… fuzzy, distorted, like the way your vision gets after a few too many drinks.
I know how I should be feeling, but instead I’m blurred and conflicted and dazed.
Launching myself off my bed, I stomp forward, intent on storming into his bedroom and insisting to know what the hell that was, what the hell he thought he was doing kissing me. Why he just pressed his mouth against mine, why he pushed his tongue between my lips, why he made my heart race, my breath pause. Why he just obliterated my clear logical world into a cascade of chaotic psychedelic mayhem.
When my fingers touch the door handle, the rest of my body freezes, refusing to move forward. I don’t know if it’s fear or hope or apprehension, but something prevents me from going any further.
Confronting him is a risk. Do I want to know? What if his answer’s good, or bad, or something that I just can’t handle right now? So instead of plowing forward I step back, my fingers sliding from the door and falling to my sides as I retreat.
The back of my knees hit the bed and as I sink down onto the comforter a blast of Griff’s familiar scent fills my nose. Rolling to my side, I curl into a ball and pull my knees up to my chin as tears fill my eyes, slowly rolling down my cheek until they fall onto my pillow. I don’t understand what happened tonight, my emotions are so tremulous I have no idea what I’m feeling.
Griff told me that he’d pull me back if I started to pull too far away. Was that kiss his way of reeling me back in? He said that was how a Sinner kissed. Was he just giving me a piece of home, reminding me of my roots as I spread my wings with a guy so far from a Sinner it’s ridiculous to even try to compare the two?
Pain stabs behind my ribs and I clutch at my chest over my heart. He wouldn’t play with my emotions like that, he wouldn’t manipulate me like that, would he? But if that kiss wasn’t his way of reminding me of my heritage, or my home, what was it?
Anger builds inside of me, but I push it away. What do I do if this is all just him manipulating me? Or worse, what do I do if he isn’t trying to manipulate me?
Another tear falls from me, adding to the growing damp patch beneath my cheek. I remember the first time I met him; he’d been sat on the porch steps outside his brother’s house. Duke had been living in a tiny little place that Nova and I had thought looked like a witch’s house, with flaking paint and sagging wooden shutters.
Phoenix had stayed with Mimi, but Mom had said that I needed to go with them because there was a kid the same age as me that they wanted me to meet. They told me he was really sad because his parents had gone to live with the angels. When we’d pulled up outside the house, Griffin was just sat there, staring straight ahead, looking lost.
I remember climbing out the car and just walking straight over to him and sitting down next to him. We didn’t speak. I just sat there, then I snuggled a little closer and rested my head against his shoulder, the way I did with my mom when I was sad.
I think I knew even back then that we’d end up being friends, but I had no idea that he’d become one of the most important people in my life. Closing my eyes tightly, a flurry of tears rolls down my face and I lick my lips, tasting the saltiness.
What do I do if this ruins everything? What happens if one kiss changes us all?
I wanted something different, something new, but I can’t live in a world where he isn’t my friend. The thought of losing him over a stupid kiss makes me want to run back home and hide from this stupid new life I so desperately wanted.
My mind spins from Griff, to Kent. From possessive Sinners kisses to chaste pecks, from bossy dominant men to sweet feminists and back again. How has my first date morphed into all this confusion?
Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling above me, blinking through gritty eyes. What do I do when I see Griff in the morning? Do I ignore him? Yell at him? Leap into his arms and kiss him again to see if it’s as hot as it was tonight? Or do I pretend nothing happened and hope this was all just a blip that neither of us will allow to affect our friendship?
Uncertainty barrels through me so fast I feel dizzy. What about Kent? I like him. He’s sweet and nice, real
ly nice and that’s good. Right?
I lay awake, just staring at the ceiling for hours. When I finally fall asleep, my dreams are full of conflicting thoughts. My home, my family and Griff; versus a new life, a new home, and maybe Kent. I was so sure that I wanted something new, so why does something so entwined with the life I’m running from feel so right?
Rolling out of bed the next morning, I make my way to the bathroom Nova and I share and quickly shower. I’m the only one of us who has an early class on a Thursday morning, so the house is quiet and still. Nova’s official bedroom is next to mine on the top floor of the house, but in reality, she’s only spent one night in it after her and Valentine argued back when we first moved in. The rest of the time she stays in Valentine’s room, even going as far as moving most of her clothes into his closet.
The pair are disgustingly in love and while I’m happy for them, I can’t help feeling a little bit of jealousy too. The way Valentine looks at her, like he worships the ground she walks on, is on the verge of throttling her and is desperate is rip her clothes off all at the same time, makes me a little wistful.
I don’t want Valentine, that’s not the issue, but I want a guy to want me with the intensity that Valentine wants Nova. Perhaps Kent could feel that way about me, although he doesn’t strike me as the type of guy to be bold and demanding and intense. Kent is shy and sweet and nice and falling in love with him would be easy. A relationship with him would be easy, or at least I think it would. But would it be satisfying? I’ve always been adamant that I didn’t want a guy who would boss me around or be jealous and possessive, but if that’s true why does growly caveman Griffin make me feel so confused?
God, I sound ridiculous. I’ve known Kent for a week; I don’t know him anywhere near well enough to be thinking about falling in love with him. I’ve never even kissed him, and a peck on the cheek definitely doesn’t count.
Then there’s Griff. He’s not nice, or sweet, and falling in love with him is impossible, isn’t it? ‘Like the world is ending and it might be our last chance. When a Sinner kisses his woman, he wants her to know whose lips were pressed against her, he wants her to feel that kiss for hours so when she climbs into bed no one else is on her mind or in her dreams’. That’s what he’d said to me after his lips had been on me, his tongue in my mouth.
Inhaling sharply, I try to banish the image from my head and the words from my mind and think about Kent instead. About how he didn’t insist on being the man, how he treated me like an equal. Deep down I know the men in my life don’t truly think women are lesser individuals, in fact I’m confident my dad knows my mom is superior to him in most ways. But actions speak louder than words and spending time with Kent made me feel independent and powerful in a way I haven’t ever experienced before.
To an outsider, being charmed by a guy who didn’t offer to pay, who didn’t open doors for me, or behave like a traditional gentleman would seem a bit dumb. But when over the top alpha male behavior has been shoved down your throat your entire life, the alternative is refreshing and charming. Others might long for what I’m so easily dismissing, but this is my life not theirs.
Shaking my head, I try to clear my mind and focus on the present. My cell beeps, signaling that I need to get ready for class, so I walk back into my bedroom and open my closet pulling out my favorite ripped skinny jeans, a white cami, and an oversized check shirt. I get dressed quickly, pausing in front of my dressing table to twist my hair into two braids and slick on some mascara and a little lipgloss, before heading downstairs to our quiet kitchen.
The coffee machine is prepped and ready to go, so I turn it on and eat a quick bowl of cereal while it whistles and glugs, filling the glass pot with rich dark caffeine infused goodness. Every creak and groan the silent house makes has my eyes snapping up to the kitchen doorway. I’m not entirely sure if I want Griffin to come downstairs or not. I’m not ready to talk about the kiss, but I don’t know if I can just pretend like nothing happened last night either.
I’d hoped the morning would bring me some clarity, but instead I feel more confused than ever. On one hand I’m starting to find the life I’ve craved and coveted. I’m here, meeting guys and making new friends, I’m even going to a sorority mixer tonight with Avery. But on the other hand, is the comfort of home, so achingly familiar that it’s easy and natural. I’m stuck in the middle, torn between two worlds, two lives, two versions of myself. I thought choosing the new would be easy. I want it, I’ve wanted it for years, so why am I starting to second guess everything?
How can one kiss be so impactful? The moment I allow my mind to think about Griffin’s lips against mine, visions fill my head and butterflies swarm to life in my stomach. I never thought I’d kiss him again, not after that day all those years ago when I gave him my first kiss. He’s my constant, my safety net, my roots and I can’t imagine any life without him in it.
Clenching my hands into fists, I force the thoughts away. I shouldn’t be thinking about Griff, our kiss, or how it might change things. That’s a slippery slope, a path that I can choose not to traverse, because changing our status quo could mean risking losing him and that’s too great a risk and one I’m just not prepared to take.
Filling my travel mug with coffee, I add creamer, then twist the lid firmly into place and hurry to leave. I’m not late, but the longer I stay in the house, the higher the chance the others might wake up. I can’t deal with them right now; I need to center myself just in case I blurt out everything that happened last night the moment I see them.
Pushing through the front door, I allow my smile to break free as I take a deep breath of the crisp cool air. Fall is on its way and I’m excited to experience the seasons in a brand-new place now that the stifling heat of summer is starting to fade.
I wish I had the time to hide in my room and lose myself in a book. It’s what I’d normally do when I’m feeling this conflicted. But I’m so busy living and studying and fighting off Griff’s constant attempts to stop me from reading that my Kindle has barely been turned on the last couple of weeks. Suddenly, immersing myself in someone else’s life feels like exactly what I need and I quickly download the audiobook of a new release I’ve been looking forward to reading. Sliding my earbuds into place, I close the door behind me and start the short walk to campus. When the first words flow into my ears, I feel some of the tension start to seep from my shoulders. Back home our high school was about five miles out of town and the novelty of actually walking each day hasn’t wore off yet. Pulling my backpack a little higher on my shoulders, I drink my coffee and listen to the story start to unfold as I enjoy the peaceful morning.
My cell beeps with an incoming text message, so I slide it from my pocket and click in to read it.
Kent – Good morning
