Ruin My Life (Mangled Masterpieces #1)

6. Remy

6

Remy

Six Years Ago

C lusters of students linger in the shade by the pick up line gossiping and laughing with their designated cliques as Win and I descend Kingsbury’s front steps after an incredibly boring day of classes.

Last year, I would’ve been flitting from group to group, lost and desperate for acceptance. But ever since Win showed up, I stopped caring. Aside from Andrea, he’s the only person I'm comfortable enough with to be myself. Unless I'm imagining things, the feeling is mutual.

Around everyone else, he’s quiet, content to observe rather than participate in a conversation. But when we’re alone, he won’t shut up. He does this ridiculous giggle-snort at my atrocious jokes. He rants about conspiracy theories ranging from government experiments to the pyramids in Egypt. Sometimes he even whips out V and plays covers of his favorite songs— I never expected to crave such mournful music. And even though I should feel guilty for ditching Andrea again to hang out with him, I don’t.

I like having Win all to myself.

The shadow of V’s case stretches and contracts like elastic across the pavement as we skirt a hoard of jocks. Something crackles obnoxiously in his free hand.

It's one of those rice crispy treats he’s always stealing from the lunchroom. The wrapper catches the afternoon sun, forcing me to squint.

“Your metabolism is gonna slow down someday, you know.”

His nose wrinkles with a frustrated little huff. “Gotta make the most of it until then.”

The wrapper slips.

“ Nonono. ” He fumbles, miraculously managing not to drop it.

I snicker.

He rolls his eyes and jams the corner of the packaging between his teeth. They’re nice teeth. Straight and white with slightly pointed canines that tend to catch his bottom lip whenever he’s lost in thought.

Elegant, pale fingers peel back the foil so he can take a small bite. His jaw flexes as he chews, sharp Adam’s apple rolling with a swallow. All of him is sharp, but not in a violent way. More like a meticulously carved marble sculpture.

“What?”

I’ve been staring like a freaking creep. Snapping out of the weird haze, I hook my thumbs through my backpack straps. “I happen to have two free hands. I could’ve opened it for you.”

Grey eyes twinkle with mischief.

A strange tingling sensation erupts through me.

Clutching the rice crispy to his chest, he bats his lashes. “Really? You’d do that for me, my knight in shining armor?”

This dick .

I shake my head, chuckling, “Idiot,” and bump his shoulder. He stumbles off the sidewalk with a curse.

“Not very chivalrous, Sir Remington.”

“ Ooor , here me out,” I drawl, circling his left side to lean into his ear. He sucks in a sharp breath. I whisper, “You’re being a brat , Prince Winston.”

Then I steal the rice crispy and take off.

“I'm revoking your title!” he howls. I spin around, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt as I jog backward.

“Aww is the Princeling upset I stole his snack?”

With a growl, he charges, violin case swinging. I catch it before it smacks my hip and push the rice crispy into his open snarl.

His eyes bulge.

Then the corners of his lips curve up.

He looks fucking ridiculous .

We crack at the same time, cackling and shoving and bickering the rest of the walk back to my house. Ditching our sneakers at the door, we raid the kitchen pantry before Ma gets back from work and hurry to my room with our haul to study for tomorrow’s chem test.

And at first, we do... but after the second round of practicing metric conversions and reviewing chemical compounds, we lose focus. I’m honestly surprised we got that much accomplished since one of Win’s favorite bands released a new EP today. Unfortunately, one of my favorite artists released one too. For some ungodly reason, I agreed to let him listen to his first.

“Just one more song,” he begs. It might’ve worked if it wasn't the third time.

“It’s my turn,” I whine, rolling over to snatch the phone from him. He extends his arm over the edge of the bed, grinning like an asshole. I pop up on an elbow, reaching across him, fingertips barely grazing his slim wrist.

“Will you fucking hand it over you music hog?”

His chest vibrates beneath me with a laugh.

Stretching my arm further, I grunt, “Give. It.”

“You promised!”

“That was three songs ago!”

He’s wheezing he’s laughing so hard.

“What if it was all one song?”

My fingers finally wrap around his wrist—

He jerks with a giggle.

The phone tumbles to the floor.

“Fuck!”

He’s useless, head thrown back on the bed howling.

“Your,” he pants, “Face,” rubbing his leaking eyes, “ Priceless .”

It takes me a second to realize I’m sprawled across his stomach and chest, muscle rippling beneath me. Wild black hair sticks up in all directions like he’s been electrocuted. A pink flush colors his pale cheeks, smudged eyeliner dripping from the corners of his laughing eyes.

He’s beautiful.

It's a mallet to the head.

I’ve never thought of a guy in that way before. But there’s no denying it.

His hysteria subsides, though his breathing is still heavy.

“What?” he rasps.

My lips part but nothing comes out. How do you tell your new best friend he’s completely captivated you?

Fingertips tentatively brush my waist. All nerve endings zero in on that feather-light point of contact. Grey eyes hold mine as his touch tentatively explores the wrinkled cotton of my tee.

Muffled music streams into the carpet from the forgotten phone, barely audible over the pound of my heart.

Suddenly, there's lava in my veins.

And it’s traveling south.

My mouth dries out. I should move. I need to move. I can't explain my body’s reaction to being on top of him. I shift—

Something hard digs into my thigh.

My eyes widen.

He holds his breath.

“Boys!” Ma hollers from the hall. “Dinner’s ready!”

Time starts again.

We fly apart.

Win darts into the bathroom.

I sit at the end of the bed, thinking of roadkill and old people.

We eat the fastest dinner we’ve ever shared without looking each other in the eye.

Win heads home.

That night, I toss and turn amidst his lingering scent on my sheets, mentally dissecting the evening over and over. His eyes. His hands. His body…

I'm hard again and more confused than ever.

What the fuck is wrong with me?