Chapter 16 #2
“It’s getting dark, so be careful,” he murmured against my lips. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Promise to leave me alone?”
“I promise. Call if you need me though,” he answered as he let me go, taking my empty coffee cup.
I headed up to my bedroom to grab a hoodie and my keys before walking outside to the Corvette.
It was a really nice evening for a drive, so I put my music on and rolled the window down a fraction. I didn’t have much of a plan on where I was going, other than the Heights, but I found myself parking at Hawthorne Heights High.
The fire escape stairs never locked properly, and the alarm hadn’t worked in years, so I let myself inside and made my way through the familiar corridors and up to the flat roof.
I’d spent many nights sitting up here lost in thought, and I sat on the edge like I always did, looking out across the school yard.
It felt like forever since I’d been here, but in reality, it had only been a little over four months since I’d walked these halls as a Junior while trying to blend in with the other students.
I fucking hated this place and always wished someone would burn it down.
I lit a cigarette and sighed, blowing the smoke into the night air. My head was a mess, my feelings about Slash conflicted, and my emotions tied to my mom suffocating me slightly.
What if I was wrong and she was suffering somewhere while I was cozy at the Holloways’?
I went in circles with my silent questions, knowing I’d been too distracted when someone sat beside me and I hadn’t even heard them walk out onto the roof.
“You’re lucky I was keeping an eye out. Anyone could’ve snuck up on you,” Hunter warned, a seriousness to his tone.
“What do you want? Are you stalking me now?” I scoffed as I shuffled over slightly to put more distance between us, earning a smirk.
“I’ve been stalking you for a while, don’t you think? I heard it was your birthday yesterday. Where was my invitation?”
“Don’t play games with me. I’m not in the mood. What do you want?” I repeated, and he took out a cigarette of his own to light before replying, his gaze running over the school yard.
“Why the long face? Eighteen not what you thought it would be?”
“I’m too hungover for your bullshit, dude,” I muttered, side-eyeing him. “How did you find me?”
“Saw you driving alone and followed you.”
“You don’t live around here, do you? What were you doing here?”
“You doing your research on me?” he teased, not looking at me. “I had business at Wet Dreams.”
“The Reapers’ strip club in Ashburn?” I asked dryly, and he turned to me with amusement.
“My friend works there. She’s been having problems and I wanted to talk to her about it while the boss wasn’t around. He doesn’t like me much.”
“A rival crew doesn’t like you? Shocker,” I deadpanned, making him laugh.
“I think it has more to do with the fact that she’s his girl, and I fuck her occasionally.”
My nose scrunched, and I gave him a dirty look. “If she has a boyfriend, why is she screwing you?”
“Take me for a ride and find out,” he said with a wink.
“Pass.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.
But Lex and Archer are always breaking up then getting back together.
So when she’s lonely, I’m only doing my best friend duties by keeping her entertained,” he shrugged, eyeing me for a second before continuing.
“You’d probably like her. She doesn’t take anyone’s shit either. ”
“She obviously tolerates your bullshit.”
“The amount of orgasms she gets from me, I don’t blame her,” he joked, flicking ash over the side of the building.
“I came here to be alone, you know? I don’t care about you or your friend. Why are you telling me this?” I grumbled, swinging my legs slightly. “Don’t you have crew stuff to do?”
“Nah. We don’t host fights as often as the Psychos, and Marco doesn’t need me to hold his hand like Skeet does for Slash,” he chuckled, tilting his head. “Why are you out here alone, anyway?”
I ignored the comment about Skeet, pulling out another cigarette with annoyance.
“I wanted to be alone for five seconds. That’s why.”
“No one should suffer alone. Whatever’s on your mind will drown you if you don’t share the burden,” he said quietly.
When I didn’t reply, he spoke again. “I was assaulted by my father when I was younger. If the stuff with your dad is what’s on your mind, you can talk to me. I’d understand how you feel.”
I looked at him, finding him already watching me.
“You were assaulted?” I repeated, and he nodded.
“Yep. Dad was a real piece of work. I kept it a secret for a long time, so if you’re feeling some kind of shame or—”
“I’m not,” I snapped, and he put a hand up.
“I’m not accusing you. I just know the jumbled feelings that can take over your brain from it. No judgment on how you feel. If that’s not why you’re out here alone, then I’m sorry for bringing it up. I just know what it’s like,” he stated, his phone ringing. He ignored it, and I frowned.
“What if that’s important?”
“If you want to share trauma stories, then nothing’s more important than that,” he shrugged. “Skeet doesn’t drop everything to talk about it?”
“I don’t want to talk to him about it,” I grumbled, pausing before asking, “Is it normal to have conflicting feelings about it?”
I realized that sounded weird when he only knew about Tristan, and I shut my mouth quickly as if it would take back what I’d said.
“What do you mean? Did he get you off and you’re embarrassed about it?” he asked, thankfully not looking at me.
“It just wasn’t all bad. What’s wrong with me?” I muttered, and he scoffed.
“Nothing’s wrong with you. Your body reacted like it thought it was supposed to.
That doesn’t mean you enjoyed it. It took me a long time to learn that, so I’m telling you right now that you don’t need to think about it any longer.
If you came, that just means science did its thing, and that’s the end of it.
Did you trauma bond to the guy or something? ”
“Did you ever— Well, finish?” I asked carefully, avoiding his question.
He knew I was dodging him, but he humored me anyway. “Yes. I did.”
“How old were you?” My question was so quiet I barely heard it, but he did.
“Honestly? I don’t really remember when it started. It was just a part of my life until I got older and I killed him. If it makes you feel better, I was riddled with guilt over my feelings for a long time until I really processed them. You’ll find peace with it when you’re ready.”
“What happened between you and Skeet? He really fucking hates you,” I said to change the subject, a little surprised when he replied honestly.
“I chose my crew like I was supposed to. He would’ve done the same if things were the other way around. Hasn’t he told you anything?”
“I know you shot him, but that’s it. We don’t really talk about personal things or crew stuff,” I replied, making him frown.
“What do you talk about then?”
“We’re either fucking or fighting, there’s no room for anything else,” I joked, his frown only deepening. “What? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend.”
“He used to be nice, you know?”
“You mean before his best friends turned on him and left him for dead?” I offered bluntly, making him snort.
“Yeah. We were as thick as thieves as kids. You need someone who’s there for you. Skeet is emotionally unavailable.”
“What I need is for people to butt out of my business and let me have alone time like I asked for,” I threw back, intending on getting up to leave, but pausing as he pulled a joint out and offered it to me.
“You want to sit here in silence and smoke weed? I don’t want to leave you here alone. The Heights is dangerous at night, but I’ll shut up so you can pretend I’m not here if it helps,” he said seriously. “Or you can complain about your dad some more. We can plot his murder together.”
I snickered at that, taking the joint and inspecting it. “How do I know you didn't lace this with something?”
He plucked it from my fingers and put it between his lips, lighting it and taking a deep drag before offering it to me again.
“I didn’t say you weren’t sharing it with me,” he answered, motioning for me to have a drag.
He thankfully shut up like he promised, and we sat there in silence just passing the joint between us for a while, the aches in my muscles easing.
“Tell me something about you,” I randomly asked, his mouth kicking up into an amused smirk.
“I go to the theater alone sometimes. I like to sit in the back in the dark and watch random movies so I’m not alone but no one is bothering me. I started doing it when I was younger so I could cry without anyone knowing, but it became a comfort that I continued as I got older. You?”
“That’s why I come here. To just sit in the dark by myself with only my thoughts for company,” I replied, putting my hands behind my head to lean back and look up at the stars. “Why are you still following me around? You know I can’t help you about Max.”
“Maybe I like spending time with you.”
“I’d bet money on you doing it to piss off Skeet.”
“If that was the case, why doesn’t he know about it?” he asked and raised an eyebrow. “Why haven’t you told him about it?”
“And have him lock me up somewhere to keep me safe? Doubt it. If you and Marco are going to hurt me—”
“We’re not,” he said a little sharply, holding my gaze. “If you run into trouble, you can come to me. We’re not here to hurt you.”
The weed was relaxing me too damn much, and I found myself opening up a little more.
“Can I tell you a secret? You can’t tell anyone though.”
“Of course. Who am I going to tell? Skeet? He’d shoot me before I even opened my mouth,” he joked, and I swallowed before answering.
“The person who assaulted me that I have conflicting feelings about isn’t Tristan Holloway.”
I felt the shift in the air as he processed my words, and I kept my eyes on the sky to avoid looking at him.
“Someone else touched you? Who? I can handle them for you.”