by A. J. Logan
“Back the fuck off before I ensure the only person touching your dick will be the doctor trying to stitch it back on.”
A low chuckle leaves his lips, but I don’t care because his hand drops, releasing me from his vile grip. “Have it your way, but I’m guessing you might come around eventually.”
The underlying meaning of his words feels sinister as I look at him, seeing a different person than I’ve known all these years. I know he’s not the best of friends with Asher and Elliot, but I’ve never glimpsed this vile, monstrous side of him.
Heading for the door, I throw it open, hurrying outside. After being cornered, I’ve never been so thankful for the feeling of freedom, at least until I step out of the doorway and Allison appears in front of me.
“I’ve been looking for you.” She glances back to Grant who is walking out of the door behind me. “Ah. Never mind.” Her smirk is an even clearer indicator of her lack of knowledge regarding anything about me. Not to mention that Allison is less than modest about her conquests, and Grant happened to be one of those on several occasions.
“It’s not like that.” My stomach turns at the thought of all of it. I really need a new friend, or just an actual friend in general, because I’m not sure I’ve ever had a true one.
Walking home would’ve been the smarter choice. But there’s no arguing with the exhaustion that weighs on me, and I just want to get away from the two idiots standing around me. Walking away without another word, I head to the back door. Hopefully I’ll be able to sneak back inside unseen and head to the room I’d originally planned to stay in because the only place that’s worse is back in the guesthouse alone—although I’m almost certain Grant and Allison slipped inside while I was doing my damnedest not to look. I didn’t want to think about Allison and Grant together again.
The party has wound down a bit, but there’s still plenty of people scattered throughout the house, making it easier to blend in and head upstairs. Finally, I slip into the guest room, glancing around to confirm my solitude. It’s quiet and serene—the opposite of my mind, which races from everything that’s happened. Swiftly, I lock the door, tugging on it to make sure it’s closed and secure. I move over to the bed, crawling under the covers. Even feeling safe within the familiarity, my eyes remain wide open, staring into the empty room as I wonder why I feel the same way inside. Empty.
2
Elliot
Every time I think I have a handle on myself, something grips ahold of me. This time I swear I can smell her enticing perfume lingering on me—which is bullshit. It’s not that strong on her, yet the smell of it overpowers my senses as I struggle to force her out of my head again. I thought pushing her off my lap was hard, and it was. Nearly as hard as my dick is just thinking about her straddling me on my bed. Shit.
It’s been at least a few hours since then and I haven’t seen her since she was in the hallway with Dipshit. Gripping the glass bottle, I lean back, taking a swig of whiskey. I don’t want to get plastered because I don’t think I’ll be able to resist crawling into bed next to her—if that’s where she is—because even though I shouldn’t, I’m still watching for her. Another wave of temptation floats through the air as I groan, wanting to bury my face in her red hair while my dick is buried inside her.
“What’s the matter?” Asher asks, snapping me out of my vivid fantasies.
Fantasy. That is all it will ever be. The face of my best friend is one of the many reminders why it has to stay that way.
“Nothing, man. I’m just done for the night.” Usually, I’d wait for all these peckerheads to leave or at least pass out wherever they land, but I’ve had enough for tonight. I need to go shower and change clothes. “Don’t have too much fun.”
Asher gives me a nod, though he probably isn’t going to since he seems just as over this party as I am. At first, I’d been concerned he’d gotten wind of me and Victoria. Between the foolish run in this morning at their house and the disaster that had taken place here tonight, I’m thankful he isn’t aware of either because I’m almost certain I’ll have a fist to the face—or at least a kick to the balls—when he finds out. If not worse. I could deal with either of those two physical outcomes, what I couldn’t deal with is losing my best friend. We’ve been inseparable since we were kids, helping each other with the shit that is our lives. It may look all pretty and shiny from the outside—fancy house, expensive cars—but all of it is a pretty mask for dark secrets that neither of us want to deal with.
I plaster on my bright party-host smile as I make my way through the house, heading for the staircase. When I see Grant, I automatically look past him for Victoria, then cuss at myself. She has me pussy whipped, and I haven’t even touched the damn thing.
Grant is scanning the room, and spotting me, he makes his way over. A menacing grin covers his face as he speaks, holding up his hand, a pair of sandals dangling. “Just who I was looking for. Victoria left these in the guesthouse.”
What. The. Fuck? It’s not like she can’t screw someone else—even if the thought makes me want to put my fist through Grant’s smiling face, but why would she be somewhere that is off-limits with this dumbass? He would only be searching me out to inform me of exactly where she’d left her shoes for one reason—he knows. Whether she told him or he put the details together for himself, he definitely knows. I just want the image of them together—or her with anyone else but me—out of my mind. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
His grin grows, even though I didn’t think it was possible, and he winks, dropping her shoes at my feet. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Instinctively, I lurch forward but he promptly steps back. Pointing at me with a callous smirk, he quickly makes his way to the door, stepping out and slamming it behind him.
Yep. He’d wanted a furious reaction and he got just that. What I’d gotten was confirmation that I can’t trust myself when it comes to her, which is reiterated as I snatch her shoes off the floor, hurrying upstairs. Stopping in front of the bedroom door that I hope she is and isn’t behind all in the same moment, my fist bangs on the surface in one swift rap before I reach for the doorknob. Turning it and finding it locked, I yell for her to open the door. I continue banging on the door until it swings open, revealing shocked emerald-green eyes. She registers me standing there and relaxes, looking to me with a blank stare. Unamused. Uninterested. Has she really flipped off her whatever the hell this is between us so easily?
“What do you want?” Her words aren’t laced with anger as they were earlier but rather exhaustion, and I don’t want to think why that is.
“Forget something out in the guesthouse?” Bitterness is evident as I hold up the stupid shoes that I couldn’t care less about returning to her. “Grant made sure to give them to me.”
There’s a look of concern or maybe shock as she eyes the sandals. “I … uh—”
Stumbling over her words pisses me off more than just outright saying it. “I knew you were desperate, but I didn’t think you were that far gone … but I guess you were pretty hard up after you tried to ride my dick.”
Narrowing her eyes, she glares at me with more contempt than normal, and that’s usually a shit ton. “Fuck you.” She moves to close the door but I step forward, forcing it open enough to slip inside the dark room, closing it behind me.
“How long did you wait? One minute, maybe five, tops?”
“Seriously?” she asks shaking her head as she rubs her fingers over her eyes before looking back to me. “You’re unbelievable. You tossed me away again. Told me to get away from you. Here you are now, assuming you know what happened when you don’t know shit about it. Not that it’s any of your concern, but I am a desperate bitch, so it shouldn’t be all that surprising right?”
The anger slips from her posture as she wretchedly makes her way back to the bed, crawling under the covers and turning her back to me. She’s completely dismissed me, though I stand there still raging on the inside. I want her to argue with
me. I want her to yell at me so I can yell back, inflict the rage on her rather than feel the demons raging inside me, begging to escape. Clearly, this is another reason to stay far away from her, but I fucking can’t. Slinging the shoes across the room, they crash into the wall, startling her as she flinches. All too quickly, she relaxes once again, not looking my way or saying a single word.
“Yep. That’s right.”
“Just get out.” Her defeated tone slices through my anger. Something is off.
Cussing under my breath I fall even deeper under her absurd spell. “Victoria, I—”
She sits up in the bed, speaking in an unusually low, calm tone. “Leave. I have nothing to say or explain to you.”
“I wish I could explain it,” I whisper.
Her eyes clench shut as she shakes her head. “You already have—right after you flung me to the floor.” She slowly lies back down, resuming her dismissive position of turning her back to me.
No, I haven’t. There’re no words that could explain or excuse, and I keep managing to make things worse. Why do I keep hurting the one person I want to crawl inside of and bury myself in? The few seconds I’ve let my guard down and felt how it could be, only made me crave her more, wanting to drown in the feeling of us, forgetting all the other bullshit in my life. But I can’t.
Leaving is the last thing I want to do, but I know it’s best for her and me. This is one of those moments that scares me most because I don’t want to crawl into bed beside her to fulfill my lustful fantasies, I want to comfort her, make her feel safe—or whatever it is that she needs from me—but I can’t and won’t because in the end it would be bad for both of us. Lethargically moving backwards to the door, I finally pry my eyes away from her. I hesitate for a moment before jerking it open, upset with myself for showing her how much she drives me crazy and for her not giving a shit as she does so. But it doesn’t matter. Eventually, she will leave me too.
The door clicks shut and my shoulder blades press into it. My head falls back as I stand in the hallway, wanting to be anywhere else and feeling any other way than I do in the moment. The lock clicks, the latch making a soft noise as I realize she’s locked the door. Again. She never locks the door. She’s stayed here as much as she has at her own house, always tagging along with her brother and I as kids and staying for parties as we got older. I can’t recall one time when she locked the door, and for some reason, I know without a doubt it isn’t me she’s wanting to keep out—even if she should. Hopefully I’m overthinking, but there’s an inkling that something happened, and it wasn’t what I’d originally thought. Her words ring in my head about me not knowing what happened tonight. It’s pointless to try and find out right now because she’s more than done with me, and I’m done with this hellish day that doesn’t seem to want to end.
Shoving off the door, I know her well enough to know I won’t be getting any answers, so I head straight for the shower. I know she’s crawled under my skin, embedded herself deep enough that there’s nothing I can do to remove her, but I have to try. In the same breath that I’d give to escape this desperate desire for her, I long to keep it deep-seated inside of me. Even if she doesn’t belong to me, that’s where I want her to remain—with me.
3
Victoria
First day of senior year. It’s thrilling because this is the last first day I’ll have to walk through the doors of Golden Olympus Academy. My excitement is short lived as I spot Elliot walking my way. I’d already decided to make a point of avoiding him and the entire group of my usual ‘friends,’ but I have a feeling that will be easier said than done.
Elliot glances around before looking to me. “We need to talk.”
“No. We don’t.” Stepping around him, I continue walking as he falls into step beside me, a bright smile on his face as he nods to his many admirers passing us by.
“Oh, but we do.” His customary smile remains in place, but his tone is stern.
I’d spent the majority of yesterday urging all the events of the weekend out of my mind, and of course he is hell-bent on constantly reminding me of it all, bring it to the forefront once again. Stopping, I turn to face him as people push past us, not giving us a second glance. Everyone knows I’m his best friend’s little sister, so they never think twice about seeing us together. That includes the skanky bitch Belinda who rubs her hand along his shoulder, greeting him with an overly friendly hello even though she’d just seen him at the party a day ago. The only consolation is he doesn’t acknowledge her but keeps his eyes intent on me, not that it will change anything. “What?”
He hesitates for a moment before speaking in a lower tone than usual. “I want to know what happened.”
Same. I don’t understand any of it which is why I wanted to push it as far from my mind as possible. “Nothing.”
“Then why did you keep the door locked?”
“To avoid assholes, but that didn’t work.”
“You never responded to my call or text.”
“For the same reason.”
He snickers, shaking his head. “Keep avoiding me all you want, but I know something is up. You never head out early, but you were gone before anyone was awake.”
“Okay.” This isn’t a conversation we can have even if I wanted to—and I don’t—because there’s nothing I want the people in the crowded hallway to hear.
“Speak.”
Now it’s my turn to snicker. “I’m not your freakin’ pet so try again, or rather just do me a favor and leave me alone until you can get your balls out of my brother’s vice grip.”
Shock flashes briefly across his face before it’s completely replaced with fury and almost as quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin as he leans forward, his voice low. “Don’t be jealous because I refused to be balls deep inside you.”
“And yet here you are, calling, messaging, seeking me out, but you’re the one refusing me? Makes perfect sense in Bassland but it confuses the rest of us.” Stepping away before he can respond, I continue down the hallway, thankful he doesn’t follow me as he detours into the office because I can only deal with him in short spurts. The longer he’s around, the deeper I’m pulled into Bassland, and once I’m too far into that territory, I stop caring that I shouldn’t be exploring the landscape.
Ugh. Enough of that. It’s time to refocus on anything else.
“Good morning, Vicki.” Grant’s smooth voice sends a chill down my spine. I turn to face him, and though he’s a different person than I’d witnessed Saturday night, I’m no less bothered. My perception of him is forever changed—I can still feel his unwanted touch on my skin.
“Victoria not Vicki, but neither name should be in your mouth.”
“Whoa, Victoria. Bad morning?” he asks, as if nothing in the world is of concern.
“Seriously? More like a bad Saturday night with an uninvited hand up my skirt and tongue trying to pry its way into my mouth.”
“Sounds like you had too much to drink.”
“That’s your pitiful excuse? That I had too much to drink?” His smirk concerns me more than his drunken actions because he sees absolutely nothing wrong with what happened. “Don’t ever come near me again.”
“I still think you’ll change your mind soon enough.” He actually believes he still has a shot, or at least he thinks he’ll get another one. It’s not like he cares whether it’s welcome or not. My arm clutches my stomach, gripping to relieve the nauseating feeling at the thought. I don’t know how far he would go without my consent, and I don’t want to find out.
Arriving at my first class, I find the classroom dark and, unsurprisingly, the door still locked since we have a good twenty minutes before the first bell rings. Leaning back, I prop against the locker as I keep my eyes on the passersby searching for their classes. Most of the faces I recognize. Some smile, waving hello, and I put on a smile, returning the greeting even though I feel like slamming my head into the locker would be more fun. No. Scratch that. Slamming Elliot’s or e
ven Grant’s head into the locker would make me feel better. Somehow, picturing it helps me feel better. Probably shouldn’t but it does. I chuckle to myself, making the choice to focus on getting through the first day of school and not letting either douchebag make me miserable all day. Hopefully, I don’t have any classes with either, but I doubt I could get that lucky. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.
“Good morning, Victoria,” Mr. Sutton greets as he walks up, unlocking the classroom door.
Returning his greeting, I’m relieved to have him for calculus since he was my math teacher last year also. Motioning for me to enter the classroom first, he says, “Early bird catches the worm, or at least gets a good seat, right?”
“Yep,” I agree instead of saying how I’d rather sit inside an empty classroom than engage with my usual group who gather in the courtyard overlooking the lake. Sliding behind the desk, I pull out my phone, scrolling mindlessly while monitoring each person entering the room. Relief courses through me when class begins without Elliot Bass in sight. Hopefully, it’s the start to scrubbing him even further out of my life. Wishful thinking maybe, but here goes nothing.
4
Elliot
“So, you gonna tell me what’s going on?” I ask, grabbing a water out of the fridge. As I sit at the island, Asher does an awkward shift before downing half a bottle of water.
“Nothing important.”
“Hope not since you’ve failed to clue in your very best friend.”
“That tells you it’s not important so drop it.”
“Or it’s so important that you don’t want to or can’t deal with it yet.”
