by Coralee June
Pressing my ear against the door, I listened for the sounds of slobber and spit, tongues on skin, drool on dicks. Pulling zippers and forced moans. But it was hard to hear. My imagination was a jealous bitch, picturing her wrinkled lips and Botox face sliding up and down his curved dick with sloppy enthusiasm. I bet she had a coy look on her wannabe schoolgirl face.
I shifted on my feet, like a spring ready to recoil. Spit like acid collected in my salivating mouth. I heard the bed springs dip and knew my moment was soon. Would they be naked? Would she be shaved? Messy? Would the photo show her glistening skin? Would Young be relieved to have me interrupt, or would he get off on knowing I was listening?
Would all these fucked up questions stop swimming in my goddamn mind for a fucking second?
“Want a taste? I’ve missed your tongue,” Mrs. Robinson moaned. I grinned maniacally, knowing that this was the perfect opportunity. I’d get a photo of Young’s face buried between her thighs with her face tilted back in ecstasy.
I counted to thirty. I wished I could have been pacing the floors. I wanted to be the one Young was tasting in this shitty motel on the disgusting bed with his silver tongue. I then counted until her moans were right there, right where I knew I could catch her on the edge of a cliff. I wanted to leave her wanting.
“You coming or not?” Young asked, and I knew that the question was directed at me. I smiled, deciding to make him suffer a bit longer. I wanted him to have the taste of his mistakes on his lips for as long as my brother was six feet under.
“So close,” she whimpered like a fucking dying cat. Poor little pussy.
I opened the door in an instant and held his phone up to snap my picture, grinning like a madwoman as her eyes sprang open in shock. Young had his head buried where I’d expected it to be, and to add to the delinquency, his pert asshole was right there on display, a shadowed starfish looking depressing and wrong. Fucking perfection. Her breasts were plastic with large nipples the size and color of pepperoni. Her blond hair stuck to the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Outrage flashed like headlights across her face as she shoved Young away.
“You!” she screamed as I furiously sent the photo to myself. I didn’t put it past her to rip the phone from my fingers and crush it under her heel.
“Hey there, hot stuff. Sorry to interrupt, but this was just too good not to share,” I replied with a grin as she got off the bed and looked around the room. A discarded blanket was on the floor, and she quickly wrapped it around herself before giving Young an accusatory look.
“Oh no, he had nothing to do with this,” I promised. “I mean, he drove me here, told me about how fucked up you are, and lured you into a false sense of security with his dick, but this was all me. Don’t you fucking forget it.”
I tilted my palm side to side while gripping the phone. Flashing my eyes to Young, I watched in amusement as he put his clothes on, her slick gloss covering his lips. “Within the hour, I’ll have this sent to everyone at Blackwood University, by the way. I don’t think you deserve a heads up, but I figured you could use the extra time to come up with your excuses to your husband.”
“You bitch!” she wailed but wrapped her arms around herself and coiled over, holding her body with a pout perched upon her lips. She had perfected the art of the puppy dog look and was tossing the only weapon in her arsenal at Young. He flinched like she’d actually punched him. He wasn’t strong enough to stomach the disappointment and pain. That was fine, I was empty enough to suck up the deceit and turn it to venom. “How could you do this, Nathaniel?” she asked.
I surged forward. “Don’t look at him,” I spat before grabbing her upper arm and squeezing. “Don’t talk to him. You wanted some fun and blackmailed him into a relationship. Whatever. I’m not one to kink shame you, and by the looks of your husband, I bet he hasn’t even seen his dick since the eighties.”
Mrs. Robinson’s mouth dropped open in shock, and I grinned at her. “Who the hell are you?” she asked in a shrill voice.
“I’m the person that’s putting an end to this. Young doesn’t like disappointing people, and you don’t like your dried up cunt not getting the attention you think it deserves. You blackmailed him into fucking you, then manipulated him with your bullshit sob story to keep him there. You saw he was in love with someone else, and you didn’t care. Now it’s my turn not to care. About your marriage. Your reputation. Your orgasms.”
“Nathaniel,” she pleaded, ignoring me despite the grip I had on her arm and the fire in my words. “Tell me this isn’t true. I would have ended this amicably. The school year is over.”
“It’s never really over,” Young said, his teeth gritted as he looked apologetically back at her. Weak.
“It is now,” I interrupted before releasing her. “Good luck.”
I turned on my heels and shoulder-checked Young, heading towards the door. I didn’t check if he was following, because I knew in my heart that he would stay behind and give her some bullshit apology and blame it all on me. That’s why I was here, wasn’t it? To fight the battle he had no interest in fighting. To claim revenge for a small role in my brother’s death.
I got to his car and stood outside the passenger seat, my shaking frame annoying the fuck out of me as I stared at the handle. I was vibrating with energy, the bloodlust coursing through me like a hurricane. And yet it was hollow, too. Not enough or maybe too much.
Gratification was like graffiti, inking buildings with statements and art but easily covered up with neutral colors. My time at the hospital and the pills running through my veins were covering up the fact that I had one less person on my list of blame.
Young appeared outside after five minutes and unlocked the car before settling in the front seat. I got in after him and handed him his phone. “You okay?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“You can send it if you want.”
“Wouldn’t make me feel any better. I was happy just ending it on my terms, but you needed this,” he said, already trying to push it off on me.
“I needed this?” I asked incredulously. “You needed it too, asshole.”
Young held the key in the ignition but stared at his hands. “What I need can’t be given to me by fucking revenge or sex or anything else. I need William back. It might make you feel better to ruin that woman’s life, but it doesn’t help me. The only thing that helps is looking at you. So just let me do that, and don’t bring this up again.”
“Whatever you say, Nathaniel.” His real name was like a sinister purr. Push, push, push them away. Never ever let them stay.
Chapter 3
“So what’s the plan, Octavia?” Young asked with a sigh before wandering over to the modern couch in his living room and sitting down. I slowly made my way towards him, then sat down close enough to rest my head on his shoulder. I was feeling so worn down, so unlike myself. I just felt off. Tired. Weaning off the meds was harder than I remembered. I’d done it before, but something was off; I’d never been this numb before.
We’d spent the last couple of days lingering around his apartment. I never sent the photo of Mrs. Robinson. I told myself that it was because I wanted that woman to spend every fucking waking moment wondering when the punch was going to land. I was in it for the long haul.
It was not because Young didn’t want the photo getting out. Nope. Not at all.
“I need to find William’s drug dealer. His name is Renon. He’s pretty cute. He’s got that total don’t give a fuck attitude I love. We would have one hell of a threesome, if I’m honest.”
I looked up at Young as he gave me a sultry, possessive look before forcing a laugh. The movement made us both bounce. “I’m almost afraid to ask why you want to see him,” Young replied.
“You want proof that Samuel killed William? I’m going to give it to you. Renon supplied Samuel with the tainted drugs that killed William.”
“Even if he gave William the drugs, which would be devastatin
g, there’s no way Samuel knew, Octavia. Shit like this happens. Are you going to burn down the drug cartel while you’re at it?”
“I’ve seen enough James Bond movies to know how to blow up a drug lord’s home, Young,” I deadpanned while observing the chipped polish on my nails.
“I don’t doubt that one bit,” he replied honestly before letting out a sigh. “Okay, so even if Samuel knew about the tainted drugs, how do you plan on proving it?” he asked. I let out a shaky breath. The old me, the girl not pumped full of lingering prescriptions and sadness, would have had a plan. But things were far more straightforward now. So instead, I replied with a shrug.
“I’m going to ask him. After I find him, of course.”
“I’ve seen him around a few times on campus. I don’t have him on speed dial or anything, but I’m sure he’ll be easy to find.” Young gave me a once over as if trying to figure out if I was in one of my self-destructive moods. His sweeping eyes assessed me thoroughly, taking in the vast spirit glowing in my eyes and the distinct way I bit my lip. He must’ve decided that it was safe to continue, because he then replied, “I might have something that could help.” He stood, then headed over to his bedroom. Not waiting for an invitation to follow, I went after him.
Last time we were here, the sex chicken game had taken over my brain. I didn’t even have time to take in his room. But now, it’s all I could look at. He had clean, modern furniture, and a navy blue bedding the thickness of a cozy quilt covered his bed. Clothes were scattered around the wood floor, and when I looked at the nightstand, I wasn’t surprised to find a photo of Young and William. It was a cheesy snapshot, one of those Instagram worthy shots—a damn selfie where the couple looked adoringly into each other’s eyes with the sunset dipping into a beachy background.
“Where was that taken?” I asked, hating myself a little for how choked up I sounded.
“My parents’ vacation home at the Hamptons. We should go some time.” I must’ve made a vulgar expression because Young flinched.
“I’m not going to the Hamptons with you.” I still wasn’t myself enough to say what we were both thinking. I would never be William. I would never do William’s things. Dates at the beach would make me think of him, and I just wanted to think of Young.
When neither of us spoke for long enough to really make us both wildly uncomfortable, Young finally remembered that he came here for a reason. Going to his closet, he opened the door and reached up to pull a box from the top shelf. “I have William’s old cell phone. He left it here the night he caught me with Lucinda—I mean Mrs. Robinson.”
I felt that giddy sense of anticipation. I was like an addict for more information about my brother. He always had his cell phone on him; it would be the holy grail of information. I tried not to look too eager, knowing that Young was giving up a piece of his William for me.
“Have you ever looked through it?” I asked. I had to force myself to keep my fingers firmly at my side as he plugged the phone in and turned it on.
“No,” Young replied simply. “I wanted to remember him as he was. Looking into the past or looking into his privacy would have ruined that for me. There are just some things I don’t want to dig up.”
“Are you saying you think William had more secrets?” People only avoided answers when they knew there was something there they wouldn’t like. That’s why I always avoided asking my mother if she loved me.
“I’m saying we all have secrets, Octavia. But I’d rather not dig his up unless I have to. It was already devastating when I found out it was an overdose. I didn’t even know he was using.”
“He wasn’t using,” I snapped. “He had one weak moment, and Samuel took advantage of it to get him out of the way.” Once the phone was on, he set it on his dresser for a moment. We both stared at the technological key to William’s past, knowing that once we went down this rabbit hole, there was no going back. “You don’t have to look if you don’t want to. But I think you should.” Maybe I was selfish or a bad person. In fact, I knew I was a bad person. Because I wanted Young to learn about William’s secrets. I wanted him to have a reason to run to me.
I didn’t understand why I was competing for the attention of a boy I shouldn’t want. William was my soulmate; we shared a womb. But Young had an excellent chance of me tolerating him. And I wanted to explore that more.
“I’ll look.” Young’s response was resigned, he looked at the ground in defeat, and I knew that we would find things that hurt him.
I did the honors, reaching for William’s phone and smiling when I saw the background. It was a photo of us, taken the Christmas before he passed. We were wearing matching ugly Christmas sweaters, hugging each other in front of our stepfather, Liam’s, ostentatious Christmas tree which towered in our home. Tears started to fill my eyes as I stared lovingly at it.
“He kind of looks happy in this photo,” I whispered before swatting away the tears that threatened to fall. Young went to sit down on the bed, giving me the semblance of privacy. After staring at the photo for a bit longer, I then looked painstakingly through his contacts. There wasn’t anything obvious, like drug dealer or Renon. So I checked his voicemail, frowning when I realized that his last message was from Liam. I put it on speaker.
“William, call me back. I heard your grades are slipping. I refuse to let you embarrass me while you’re there,” he said before hanging up. My finger hovered over the screen, prepared to press it again and again and again until I knew every nuance of my shitty stepfather’s voice. Maybe Young was right for not wanting to know. This was what searching for answers did to people. Would the answers to William’s death ever feel clear?
“No wonder my brother was depressed. Liam was always on his case,” I said with a sigh, mentally adding it to the list of things I would have to address later. “Seems like every time a puzzle piece clicks into place, an entirely new puzzle appears.” Young was smart enough not to sound off with a quick I told you so, but I didn’t wait for him to tell me that I should quit while I was ahead, either. So instead, I clicked on the next voicemail, which was from Young. “William, please, we have to talk about this. I can’t lose—”
I turned the voicemail off, staring at Young and committing that desperate tone of his voice to memory. Part of me wanted to hear the proof of his pain, part of me wanted to wrap up in the sound of his desperate love and pretend it was meant for me.
Wait. What was I saying?
There were no more voicemails of worth on his phone, so I went to his photos. “I wonder if he has any pictures of Renon? It might help us find some of his hangout spots,” I offered with a shrug. I was starting to think that the cell phone was a dead end. All it did was lead me to more questions and confusion. When I got to the photos, I started mindlessly scrolling, looking for Renon’s familiar face. But I came across something else entirely. It made my fingers shake, and my eyes widened the moment I saw it.
It was Young.
The photo was taken in a dark room. Sweat was glistening down his washboard abs. He was leaning back against a white headboard, holding a massive, erect dick in his palm. The picture was snapped of him mid-stroke while biting his lip.
Hell. Yes. He looked delicious and oh, so tempting. For a moment, I pretended that this photo was sent to me—a treat intended for me to unwrap and savor. I suppose I could have acted like I never saw it. I could have kept scrolling like any normal person with a smidge of tact would have. But instead, I turned the phone around to show Young while walking towards him.
The moment Young saw the photo, he didn’t flinch. A blush didn’t fill his perfect tan cheeks, nor did he shy away from the blatant attention I was showing him. Instead, Young looked smug, like he knew how attractive he was and was pleased by the effect he had on anyone lucky enough to look at him.
No—that wasn’t it either. Young shied away from attention. He had the confidence of someone that knew the effect he had on a room, but he didn’t necessarily enjoy it. Young was pleased that
it was me looking at this rather racy photo once intended for my twin brother. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was picturing William standing here instead.
“Do you mind if I keep this? Those damn pills really made it hard for a girl to get off. But I think these photos could do the trick. You wouldn’t happen to have any more, would you?” I asked while lifting my eyebrows suggestively. Young gave a coy half-smile that looked a little too practiced for it to feel genuine.
“Doesn’t it gross you out that I sent that to your brother?” Young challenged.
I let out a sigh before dropping the phone in his lap and crossing my arms over my chest. “Is it supposed to?” I was tired, but this conversation had me feeling alive.
“Maybe.”
“Now, if William were in this photo, we would probably be having a different conversation,” I said while scrunching my face up in disgust. “But no, the only thing I’m feeling right now is interest. But we’re too fucked up to actually act on those impulses, aren’t we, Young?” I asked. We were just two people challenging one another, seeing who would be the first to break. It was undeniable, the attraction between us, but everything else kept getting in the way. His grief. My weird sense of loyalty to William.
Then, of course, there was the fact that I wasn’t quite myself. And maybe right now, that was a good thing. Because the girl I was took everything without question. She was selfish. She held the world in her fist and squeezed till it bled, then watered her plants with whatever flowed from it.
Me not feeling completely impulsive was probably saving the rocky friendship Young and I were just starting to establish. But of course, she still had sneaky ways of breaking through, like rubbing his hard cock on the airplane, for example.
“You’re beautiful, Young. You look like someone I could pretend to be normal for.”
I grabbed the phone from his lap and began scrolling through photos once more, but he reached out to grab my wrist, coughing a little before speaking. “I don’t want you to be normal, Octavia.” Yeah, that was right. I’d almost forgotten. Young just wanted to use me. And I was so desperate for him that I’d be willing to go against my nature and let him. At least we were both self-aware.
