I hardly felt like a person anymore. It was like I was a robot, living and breathing, but not truly living as a person should. Ashley Bonds had died that day in the woods, down in that basement, when she…
Well, when she did something truly awful, really. Something only God could forgive, and even then, would he? God only forgave those who repented, and I had never repented, never apologized to anyone. I only pretended that day didn’t happen, pushed it as far from my mind as I could’ve.
That day, that man…broke me in ways no one else could.
Sawyer, making that Brooklyn chick dye her hair pink and then sleeping with her? Childish. Everything Sawyer had done and made other students do to Declan was childish. He had no idea what it was really like to question reality itself. Making someone depressed and antisocial because you blamed him for your sister’s suicide wasn’t the same as kidnapping and murder.
Sawyer was nothing. His antics were nothing. I might’ve gotten mad, but that’s all it was. Nothing deep.
Maybe it was because my mind was on him, but eventually I found myself skating out of campus, across the four-lane road that separated Hillcrest from the rental mansions, going to a certain white house I knew I shouldn’t.
What was Sawyer doing right now? Was he asleep? Was he balls-deep in yet another conquest? Didn’t he ever grow tired of the constant fucking? I mean, sure, it was fun, but when you did it all the time, didn’t it lose its special, shiny gusto?
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t let Sawyer flick across my mind for even the briefest, quickest moment, but I did care, and he did cross my mind. It was stupid. I was stupid, but then again, I never claimed to be the queen of rational, smart decision making. That crown belonged to someone else far, far away from me.
I slowed my skate once I saw his house, and as I bent to pick up the skateboard to hold it, I threw a look around. I’d done so many circles in campus, down so many random sidewalks that looked way different in the darkness, that I knew no one was following me. If Ray was out, I’d lost him.
But even monsters have to sleep at night.
No cars on the road either, not like I expected one to careen off the street, leap onto the sidewalk and hit me, but around these parts, you never knew.
Did Ray hit me, or was it someone else? That much remained to be seen, and honestly it was the last thing on my mind as my bare feet drew me up the walkway that led to Sawyer’s front door. Most of the lights were off inside; it wasn’t a party night since it was a school night. I did see a few lights on deeper in the house, and I stopped myself before his front door.
This was a mistake. Of course it was a mistake.
Remember how I said I wasn’t the queen of rational, intelligent decisions? Sawyer wasn’t the king, either. The prick made bad decision after bad decision. Honestly, there was nothing redeemable about him, at least nothing I’d seen yet. I didn’t even know why I liked him. He was an ass, through and through, a man-whore, using any girl he could however he wanted. His good looks were his only saving grace.
His good looks were not why I found myself at his door after running away from Declan, though.
Why was I here? Why did my hand reach for the knob to see if it was unlocked? What the fuck was I doing here, and what did I plan on doing if I was able to get inside?
I was a mess, and I craved another mess. Sawyer was perhaps the biggest mess of them all—that’s why I was here. It didn’t make much sense, but right now, me and sense were strangers. Sense and I weren’t getting along. My sense had long since flown out of the metaphorical window, not even waving as it went.
I tried the knob.
It was open.
Stupid, foolish rich boy.
I headed inside, throwing the lock behind me to make myself feel a bit safer. Ray could break in, I knew; he didn’t need an open door for an invitation. He’d make his presence known either way if he wanted to.
The light was on in the kitchen, and I went to see if he was there, making some kind of early-morning/late-night food. Sawyer wasn’t in the kitchen, and he wasn’t in the living room. I set my skateboard down at the base of the stairs, peering up. I knew heading up there might be a terrible decision, that I might see some things I never wanted to see again—namely, Sawyer with another girl—but did that possibility stop me?
No, no it didn’t.
I took the steps one at a time, tentative as I headed up. I came upon a dark hall, tiptoeing towards one of the many rooms upstairs. The house was huge; I never inspected all of it. The many rooms provided ample space for people to hook up during his parties. I passed his weight-lifting room, its door hanging wide open. That particular door was the only one that Sawyer kept closed during his parties. He took his working out seriously, more seriously than he did life.
I moved to his bedroom, finding the door half-open. The big light wasn’t on, but the lamp was. I quietly peered inside, finding only one set of feet hanging off the bed. Sawyer, the skank of all skanks, was alone.
Huh.
Didn’t know why, but seeing him alone made me…conflicted.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come here. I knew as much, and yet I did, willingly. What did that say about me? And what did my urge to go into his bedroom say? Sawyer wasn’t the only skank here. I was, too. What else was I, wanting to be with multiple different guys? Girls might’ve crushed on guys simultaneously, but my feelings for them went beyond that.
These guys made me weak, and I both hated and loved it, denied and craved it. That same weakness had started with Ray.
I was just as fucked up as the rest of them. I might’ve pretended I was better, strutted around campus like I was the bitch to beat, but in reality, I was just a girl, caught in a web she couldn’t free herself from. It was a web of my own doing, since I’d kept Ray a secret from everyone, even Mom.
The idiotic, stupid choices of my past self would have some new company after tonight, I think.
I walked into the room.
Sawyer was splayed out on his bed, his naked back visible. He wore nothing but boxers, I saw, and one of his muscled arms hung over the edge of the bed, near the nightstand with the lamp. His head still had pink hair, and I smiled to myself even though I knew I shouldn’t. Seeing this bastard shouldn’t make me feel anything, and yet here I was, star struck and grinning.
He didn’t look half bad with pink hair.
I moved to his side, staring at him all the while. Even passed out, even with thick blonde stubble on his jawline, he was one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. I wanted to touch him, and yet the longer I stared at him, the more his position didn’t look right. It sure as hell didn’t look comfortable. Was he drinking that much on a school night? I knew he was a drunk, but he had classes tomorrow to go to.
What…
My eyes moved to the nightstand, spotting a small bag that was about an inch wide. So small it would be near useless, unless… I grabbed the bag, lifting it up against the lamp’s light. I wasn’t a psychic. I didn’t know for sure what was in there before, but whatever it was, it was gone now, the tiny plastic bag the only evidence.
I found myself needing to sit, and I practically collapsed on the edge of the bed, near the arm hanging off. Holding the bag in one hand, I reached behind me to feel the pulse in his neck.
Still alive…but for how long? If the bag was what I thought it was, Sawyer was in worse straits than I knew. I was spiraling, but so was he. Whereas someone might kill me, Sawyer might end up killing himself.
I was slow to withdraw my hand from his neck, running a finger down the side of the bag. There were no other reasons I could think of why he would have a bag like this on his nightstand. Drugs. It had to be drugs, and if it was…
“Sawyer,” I whispered his name, looking down at him sadly, “what are you doing to yourself? Why don’t you leave it to me? I can make your life miserable without this.” I spoke of the bag, as if he could hear me.
He couldn’t. He was out cold.
Fuck.
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t make Sawyer’s life miserable without Ray thinking that I liked him. I did like him, but that was beside the point.
I should never have come here, never have left the room and Declan. What I should’ve done was get up and go to the bathroom to get away from Declan, not grab my skateboard and run. I should know by now there are things you can’t run from, no matter how badly you try.
A hushed sound escaped Sawyer’s lips, and he rolled onto his back. Or tried to, at least. Since I was on the edge of the bed, when he went to roll, his arm collided with my lap, which then caused his eyes to peek open. Their beautiful green hue was bloodshot, and the pupils dilated to the point where almost all I could see was black.
The fool.
He’d kill himself, and I wouldn’t be there to stop him.
“You’ve been bad, Sawyer,” I told him. “Very, very bad.” Would he even remember this in the morning? How high was his current high? He seemed out of it, and those pupils were like saucers. I wasn’t that knowledgeable on drugs, because I’d never tried them. My only vices were a bit of underage drinking and men who could kill you after fucking you. That’s it. No biggies there, right?
“Mmm,” Sawyer murmured, moving his arm to touch my leg. The arm became a nomad, wandering along me, never staying in a single position too long. He was lucky he was high and I was vulnerable, otherwise I would’ve put the bastard in his place. “Come here,” he whispered, his arm suddenly stronger than steel as he pulled me down to him, ramming my back against his chest.
I winced, my spine still sore from the whole hit-and-run thing, and I dropped the small plastic bag in the process. The bag landed somewhere on the floor while I was subjected to Sawyer and his high.
Not someplace I should be, and definitely not something I should be doing.
Had he been this out of it Saturday? I didn’t think so, but Sawyer was good at hiding the mess his pretty face wore. If he wasn’t this bad Saturday…I couldn’t help but wonder if it was my childish prank that did him in. After all, he’d woken up, alone, chained to his bed with pink hair. That had to put a damper on things.
If I made him like this, well, I felt bad. I knew there was no way everything Sawyer felt was my fault, though. A huge part of him had probably been shattered when he lost his sister, and he’d done his best to keep himself put together since then, putting all of his effort into making Declan’s life miserable.
This was a breakdown that was a long time coming. It was just unfortunate that his breakdown and my breakdown were happening simultaneously.
“Sawyer,” I spoke his name, squirming against him, trying to get out of his arms—which had a surprisingly good hold on me, considering he was so out of it. I could’ve fought harder, could’ve sent a fist where it would hurt, which wouldn’t be the first time his nutsack had been assaulted by one of my limbs, but I didn’t.
We were just two people, having a rough go at life. Two people breaking down because of things we could not control. We were cracked, battered, and broken. But sometimes things were more beautiful when they were broken.
Sawyer’s hands roamed along my thighs, bunching up my shirt as they found the sensitive skin just above my hip bone. I shivered against him, whispering, “You need to sleep your high off, buddy.” Sawyer wasn’t a buddy to me. What he was…was inexplicable. Unexplainable. He was something to me even though he shouldn’t be.
And I, I should definitely not be here, stuck in his arms, while he was out of his own head.
“Sleep with me,” he begged, his lips finding my shoulder, trailing kisses where his mouth should not be. The fingers dancing along my hip bones moved upwards, snaking along my flat stomach and toying with the fabric of my bra.
My body ached, both because of the accident and because of Sawyer’s touch. My body reacted to his in spite of myself, and even though I knew I should put my foot down and pull myself from him, I didn’t.
I didn’t, even though the logical part of me stood beside the bed, practically glaring. My conscience didn’t want me here, with Sawyer. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be here with him, and yet, when I turned my face to view his dilated eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if I did lose myself in him, just for tonight.
Odds were he wouldn’t remember. This would be just a dream to him.
Before I could make a choice, Sawyer made it for me. With one hand easing its way beneath my bra, cupping a breast with a fervent strength, his other grabbed hold of my chin, forcing his lips to mine. My neck was bent at a terrible angle, but I didn’t try to fix it. This, what was happening to us, there was no fixing it.
I could smell the booze on his breath as he kissed me, and I knew Sawyer was even more broken than I suspected. Losing himself like this when he had classes tomorrow didn’t bode well for the future Sawyer.
How far down the rabbit hole would Sawyer go? Would he destroy himself completely? I didn’t know, and I was too fed up with my own shit to be able to deal with his, too.
Sawyer’s fingers teased my nipple, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. I’d give anything to get lost in him, to lose myself in this moment, but…considering I ran from Declan—and all Declan did was comfort me during a panic attack—I’d feel too guilty. Not to mention the fact that he was high as a fucking kite, meaning he didn’t know what he was doing. Sawyer was a man-whore, but I wouldn’t take advantage of him like this.
He broke our kiss, helping me to turn to face him, about to drown me in the hot mess he was, and let’s face it, Sawyer was the hottest mess of all, but I used the motion to pull back from him, losing his body heat against me. My lips, my breast, every part of me could feel his loss, and as I stood there beside the bed, gazing down at him, I couldn’t help but feel my heart crack inside.
“Sleep, Sawyer,” I told him, oddly responsible for someone whose world was currently falling apart.
“But…” Sawyer’s reply faded on his tongue as I set a hand on his chest, his muscles rippling beneath my palm and pushed him down, flat. His head rested on his pillow, and he stared up at me through half-lidded slits.
“Sleep it off, and see if you still want to kiss me in the morning,” I advised, knowing he had to be upset about the pink hair. Not too upset with it that he went out and dyed over it or researched how to un-stain his hair follicles, but still.
Sawyer’s eyes closed, and I heaved a gentle, quiet sigh as I exited his bedroom. Being the bigger, better person sucked ass. Whatever self-righteous fuckup said doing the right thing felt good constantly fed a load of horse shit to everyone. Doing the right thing sucked—it was why I didn’t often do it, why I never went to the cops about Ray.
Hell. I’d do the right thing when it came to Sawyer, but when it came to Ray…that was a different story. I was still selfish when it came to Ray. I didn’t want everyone to know just how messed-up my past truly was.
I headed down the stairs, grabbing my skateboard as I made it to the front door, unlocking it before walking out. I’d go back to the dorm, apologize to Declan, and…
I froze the moment I emerged onto the sidewalk in front of the row of mansions. Two men stood fifteen feet away, not looking happy—at least, not until they saw me. Two guys who shouldn’t ever be together, not after what happened with Sabrina.
Travis and Declan.
Fuck.
Chapter Thirteen – Declan
“Nothing happened between me and Sawyer,” Ash spoke, not for the first time. It was all she’d said when we spotted her leaving his house, and it was all she could say as we walked back to the dorm. Our dorm, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go to Travis’s, not when I didn’t trust him.
Turned out, it was hard to trust someone who slept with your dead ex-girlfriend behind your back for months.
Ash was sitting on her bed, her skateboard laying on the carpet before her. Her legs were folded beneath her ass, and her hands rested on her knees. She looked, in spite of it all, innocent—wh
ich I knew she wasn’t.
I sat on my bed, my feet planted firmly on the floor as I stared at her. Travis sat on my desk chair, backwards, of course, with his legs wide open around the back of the chair. Like the cool kid or something. I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but I couldn’t—mostly because I was too wrapped up in staring at her.
At Ash, and the way she watched us both.
My heart couldn’t take another ping pong battle. I didn’t want to compete with Travis or Sawyer or Will, but I wasn’t about to stand back and step out of the race. I wasn’t going to give up on her. I meant it when I said I was going to fight for her.
“I don’t care what happened between you and Sawyer,” I said, earning me a suspicious stare from both Ash and Travis. And, okay, it might’ve been a lie, but it was one that was meant to make Ash feel better. She’d gone straight from my arms into his. Why the hell wouldn’t I be upset over that? “I don’t,” I said again, when it was clear neither of them believed me.
Ugh. Wasn’t it too early for this crap? I had classes today, not to mention a brother in the hospital and a roommate who’d just been hit by a car—which might’ve been on purpose. My life was crazy. And that wasn’t mentioning what happened to me… They could forgive me if I wasn’t at one hundred percent here.
“I’m just glad you’re here and you’re safe,” I said, meaning it. Really, if Ash wanted to be with Sawyer, fine. If she wanted to be with Travis…I suppose I would relent to that, as long as she was happy and safe. I still wasn’t sure if I believed Travis’s story about taking Sabrina’s journal simply as something to remember her by, but right now wasn’t the time to worry about that.
Right now was about Ash, as most often was these days.
“I’m sorry,” Ash whispered, tilting her head down. Her yellow and pink hair fell in her face, and she tucked the stray tendrils behind her ears. “I shouldn’t have run out like that.”
“No,” Travis said, sounding stern, almost like a parent speaking to his child, “you shouldn’t have. You worried us both sick, Ash.” His blue eyes were narrowed; it was the most emotion I’d ever seen him display so freely.
Skank: A Dark College Bully Romance (Hillcrest University Book 3) Page 10
