Chapter 10 Jessica
JESSICA
Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics
Ayawn slips past my lips as I make my way towards the mall entrance. Annoyed at the fact that I’m being thrown into a prom committee I simply want no part of. The mall smells like pretzels and cheap perfume. It’s also freezing here. I much prefer to be too hot than too cold.
There’s nothing fancy about this place, and the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering just enough to make my skin itch.
It’s like everything here is frozen in a permanent state of trying.
Mannequins wear outdated fashion with tacky colors and large shoulder pads.
Storefronts all blast the same kind of music, and then I see them.
The bitches… I’m up against.
I didn’t care about prom. Or being a prom queen, yet something about winning the crown over Stacey made me consider my attitude.
The girls continue to work on their posters, PROM NIGHT written in bold on every single one.
Stacey is the first one to look up, her emerald gaze landing on me and a smirk appears on her lips.
“Jessica,” Lacey chimes. “It’s nice of you to join us.”
Is it though? Her words are inviting, but something about the way she looks at me gives me uncanny vibes. Maybe it’s just me. “Hi,” I mutter as I pull out a blue plastic chair and take a seat. “I’m here, what now?”
“You work on posters, of course,” Stacey replies before turning her attention back to her pinked out poster. Seriously, it’s like she took every shade of the color and used it. That should be a crime on its own.
“We’re going dress shopping as soon as we finish these,” some girl who’s name I haven’t even bothered to learn says with a smile. She looks just like the rest of them—blue frosted eyeshadow, acrylic nails, teased hair. Copy and fucking paste.
“I picked mine out weeks ago,” Lacey says with a sigh of longing. “But I need Stacey to approve, of course.”
“You need Stacey to approve your dress?” I ask as I reach across the table to grab a marker. I opt for darker colors, the ones forgotten on the corner of the table. Stacey glares at me, pure venom swirling in her emerald eyes.
“What are you doing?” Lacey asks, her left brow arching with a silent gesture.
I look down at the black marker in my hand and flatly respond, “Grabbing a marker.”
She looks appalled, her eyes widening. “No, we have a color code. It has to be purple or blue.”
I squint my eyes at her. “Why?”
Stacey snickers besides her. “Because, it’s the theme. There’s no black goth shit under the sea.”
I don’t argue, and I don’t pick up another marker.
Ignoring the theme, I work on my own poster as they drone on about prom and dresses.
Who will hook up with who? Nothing that I care about listening to.
I try my best to tune them out and, by the looks of it, they are pretending that I’m no longer here.
“Baby blue or silver?” Lacey asks as she brings her poster up in the air. I look up and it looks exactly like the one Stacey is working on but in blue.
“Either,” I say with a shrug. “Or do both. I don’t care.”
Stacey slams her marker on the table, the sound startling me. Neither of them laugh as they look at me with disdain. “You should. Prom is important in this town.”
“I don’t care,” is all I respond before I shift my attention to my watch. We’ve been here for about an hour, and I’m already bored enough to commit a felony. My knee bounces under the table as I scan the mall, desperate for anything more interesting than this.
Then I see it.
An old arcade, tucked between a closed photo booth and a darkened shoe store.
For a place called Sunnyvale Mall, everything is so gloomy.
The game joint looks like it hasn’t been updated since Carter was in office.
Noticing that the metal gate is only half way down, I decide that I’ve found something more interesting and will explore while these sheep look at dresses.
“I think maybe just a tiny bit more glitter glue, and we should be good!” Lacey states. The girls all giggle like idiots.
She didn’t even say anything funny. I need to get the fuck out of here.
“I’ll meet you guys at the store. I need to pee,” I tell them as I stand and push away from the table to walk towards the handpainted sign that hangs crookedly in the window.
It’s like a beacon of light daring me to get close.
My heart picks up its pace, the anticipation of breaking in has my body harping with nerves and excitement bubbling in my belly. Now this is what I’m talking about.
I ignore the sign that tells me the place is closed for renovation.
Quickly, I make sure no one is watching before I duck down and step into the arcade.
My Chucks echo against the tile floor as I step inside.
It takes a second for my vision to adjust, it’s dark and quiet aside from the sounds that drift from the food court and nearby stores.
The machines are all full of dust and taped up with ‘Out of Order’ signs.
The deeper I get into the arcade, the quieter it becomes.
It’s a bummer that nothing seems to be in service.
Disappointment overpowers my curiosity. Just as I decide to cut my losses, and head back to the front of the arcade, the sound of the metal gate rattling, startles me. I spin on my heel.
“Hello?” I whisper, immediately feeling stupid until I notice movement from the corner of my eye. My pulse spikes, making the blood rush into my ears. For a moment, I remain frozen in place, kicking myself for being inside of a closed down arcade—with a killer on the loose.
Something crunches, and I jump. Adrenaline floods my system, making me move into action. But before I can even try, a hand clamps down on my wrist and yanks me backward hard, causing me to stumble on some wiring. My shoulder slams into a machine as a figure lunges out in the dark.
I scramble away, taking in the sight before me. A figure wearing a pig mask.
The pink latex mask is covered in what looks like soot and rust with hollow eyes and a snout that curls up in a grotesque grin. A scream rips from my throat. I wasn’t one to scream easily, but I wasn’t stupid either. I’m not ready to die. Especially not here.
The figure cocks their head to the side, then, using a finger, they motion to the entrance. The music and chatter outside is loud enough to drown out my screams. Fuck…. For a moment, we both stand in place, waiting to see who is going to make the next move.
They do.
My body bolts in the opposite direction, not noticing I’m going deeper into the arcade instead of past the masked figure and out the door.
I move between machines, my breath tearing out of my chest. Suddenly the arcade comes alive around me, lights flickering in a macabre dance of neon as I run past. Screens flashing ‘GAME OVER’ and ‘INSERT COIN’ as if mocking me.
Still, I continue to move until my feet slip on something sticky on the floor. I barely have time to catch myself on a ‘Galaga’ cabinet. My heart hammers so hard it hurts. Even my lungs burn with each expansion. Behind me, something snorts.
The hair on the nape of my neck rises from how close the sound is.
I take off running again, but the figure is fast and closing in on me.
I dart behind a row of pinball machines, ducking under a broken air hockey table.
My pulse roars in my ears, almost drowning out the sound of slow and deliberate footsteps.
A laugh bubbles up my throat, a mixture of adrenaline and hysteria, or maybe the irony of this is how I’m going to die. Deciding that I’d rather go down swinging than hiding, I emerge to face the figure, and with a grin I shout, “FUCK YOU!”.
He answers me by tackling me. We crash into a machine together, the impact knocking the breath out of me.
My back connects with the glass, and lights explode above my head as the cabinet jolts.
The screen flashes in a burst of neon. From this distance, I can tell whoever it is—it’s definitely a man.
I try to move, but he cages me with his body. At this point, I’m shaking like a leaf and laughing hysterically, so mad that this is really how I go down.
“Get the fuck off—” The words die in my throat, when the mask comes off. I’m stunned into silence as Sam grins down at me. His emerald gaze, wide and full of hunger. His hair is damp with sweat.
“Relax,” he says breathlessly. “Fuck, you can run.”
I blink away the tears gathering and instead punch him on his shoulder, causing him to say a playful, “Ouch.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath.”
That earns me a laugh, and the sound has warmth racing to my center.
And before I can say anything else, the asshole kisses me.
It’s soft at first until his tongue swipes along my lips demanding access.
Which I give into fucking easily. My hands fist his jacket, dragging him closer as I ride the wave of adrenaline and lust. The game behind us blares in an upbeat victory tune as we devour each other.
The kiss is sloppy, teeth and tongue fighting for dominance.
Sam lifts me without a warning, my legs wrapping around his waist as he sets me on the machine. The glass is cool beneath my thighs, and his hand slides up my leg with a groan that’s consumed by my mouth. He pulls away slightly, smiling against my lips. “Thought you’d scream louder.”
My brain is nothing but static and need. I can’t think straight let alone talk so I resort to my default phrase. “I hate you.”
He groans at my words, softly biting my bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it.
“Liar. You want me,” he teases as he kisses his way down my neck, my body arching into his.
I can feel the wetness pooling between my legs as I grind into him.
Desperate for him. He chuckles as he pulls away, watching me as he slowly drags down my leggings.
A predator taking his time with his prey.
There’s so many different emotions desperate to be felt, but I cling onto desire.
Not giving a fuck about his girlfiend who is sitting at the food court or his weird ass twin.
The moment he slips inside me, my toes curl inside my sneakers from the delicious pain of being stretched.
Sam is thick and big. And better yet, he can fuck.
It’s not soft or without rhythm. The machine rocks beneath me with each pump of his hips.
The lights flash like a deranged disco and Sam matches it with each thrust, making me a discombobulated mess of moans and desperation.
My nails scrape against the flesh of his neck as I hold on to him while he fucks me through my orgasm.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he breathes as he pulls out. “Look how greedy that tight pussy is.”
And I do.
I look down to, where we connect only to watch his cock disappear once again. “Sam,.” I chant his name like a prayer, enticing him to continue.
“That’s right, baby, I’m the one fucking you,” he groans before he bites down on my collarbone. My nails dig into his skin, causing us to both hiss from the pain. Sam picks up his pace, delivering pushing thrusts into me. “I want to fuck you like this all the time.”
I want to tell him he can, or that I do too. But I don’t. Instead, I met him at the edge. “You don’t have a condom?” I ask utterly too late.
“I don’t, that’s why I’ll be coming on that pretty face.” Without a warning, he pulls out, but not before fisting my hair and bending me down to face his erection. With a groan, he strokes his cock until warm ropes of cum decorate my skin. “Fuck… Jessica.”
I come again just from the act alone. And when he’s finally done, he uses my lips to clean off any residue of us. I should feel shame but all I feel is satisfaction and a giddy joy that I shouldn’t.
“You look beautiful with cum painted on your face.” He motions to the front of the store as he uses the inside of his shirt to clean off my face. “It’s a shame to wipe it off. You should go first?”
My brows pull together as I shake my head. “No, I was here first.”
“As you wish, just figured with a killer on the loose.”
When he puts it like that, it’s kind of hard to argue. I finish putting myself together, and without another word, I leave him standing there.
“Not even a goodbye? I feel used,” Sam says from behind me, and I cast him a look over my shoulder and give him a middle finger before dropping the gate down fully.
“Thanks for the fun, asshole. But I gotta go pick out a prom dress with your sister.”