Chapter 4 The Weakest Link
the weakest link
Saige
Three hours later, I've cleaned up the mess in the living room and the drywall from the staircase, vacuuming both. I finished Elias's bedroom and piled the broken televisions and electronics in a corner in the garage.
But now I'm standing in the middle of Nolan's bedroom on wet carpet, and I have no idea what to do about that.
It's not the kind of wet that I can just throw a couple of towels on—it's gallons of saltwater.
I cleaned up the glass and gravel from the tank and got rid of all the plants, but this is a problem I don't know how to solve. This can't be good for the floorboards.
Nolan must have taken care of the fish last night, because they weren't here when I came in.
To my left is a closed door, which, I learned last night, leads to a bathroom connecting Dax and Nolan's rooms. I hear that door lock from the inside, and seconds later, the shower turns on.
I guess I'll go make their breakfast.
I turn back toward the door, freezing when I hear a loud, low moan.
It's Nolan—I know that much. I can practically feel his voice through the door.
My first thought is that it's pretty sick that he can get up and go rub one out just a few hours after throwing a dead body off a cliff.
But he's always been creepy; despite being attractive and hanging with the popular crowd, I've never known him to date…
or show any kind of emotion for that matter.
I don't know that anyone has ever seen his arms or legs.
He wears pants and thick hoodies all year long, even in the hot summer months, and from what I understand, he doesn't like to be touched.
A guy I met at the skate park last year told me he knew someone who swore he saw Nolan bite the head off a live bird once. I thought it was fucking ridiculous at the time, but I'm not so sure now. Maybe this is the sort of thing he gets off on.
He lets out another lower, throatier groan, and I feel this one, too—right between my legs. It's shameful, given the aforementioned circumstances, and I know that. I decide to get out of there, but then I hear a second voice.
"You like that?" Dax asks, his own voice strained in a way I recognize from when I had him in my mouth last night. "You like watching me pump both of our hard cocks?"
"Oh…fuck…" Nolan moans. "Just like that. Just like that; don't stop."
"Your dick's already leaking for me," he continues. "Give it to me—I want you to come all over me."
I know I should leave, but I don't. I stay there, listening to the sound of what I know is Dax's fists pumping both of their wet cocks, their heavy breathing and Nolan's low, desperate groans.
And that's how they sound—desperate, like it's painful for him. It makes my clit pulse harder.
"Oh, god…" he says, his low voice breaking. "Oh, fuck…"
One more low groan, and I know he's coming, Dax urging him on, praising him before telling him to get on his knees. My cheeks burn, and I finally make myself leave the room, with both my heart and my clit pounding.
Nolan would probably bite my head off if he knew I was listening.
I practically fall down the staircase, running into the kitchen. I grab a couple of pans from the lower cabinets and then turn on the stove, getting the bacon and eggs from the fridge, trying to pretend like it never happened.
"Saige!" Elias shouts from the sofa.
He startles me enough that I almost drop the eggs.
"What?"
"You're being too loud; shut up."
I don't reply, sighing with relief, as if I'd expected him to say, Hey, stop listening to my roommates jack each other off! It's rude.
I drop the bacon into the sizzling pan and start cracking eggs.
I'm still waiting for it to sufficiently crisp when Dax and Nolan come downstairs. Instantly, I give them my back, worried they'll see my face and know I was listening to them in the shower.
"Smells good down here, Saige," Dax says casually, taking a seat at the table. Nolan sits across from him and takes out his phone. Elias steps into the kitchen, leaning over me, so close I can feel his breath on my neck. Instinctively, I recoil, but if he notices, he doesn't seem to mind.
"The bacon is done now," he says before sitting next to Dax.
I guess they expect me to serve them, too.
I add bacon to the plates, placing one in front of each of them, keeping my eyes anywhere but on the three of them.
"I could get used to this," Elias says. "And I think I will. I want you here, making us breakfast every morning."
"Every morning?" I protest. "But I have class."
"So? So do we. And I know your residence hall is only two blocks away."
"How did you—"
"And we get up pretty early, believe it or not. We're athletes—got to stay disciplined," Dax adds. "But not on the weekends. On the weekends, Elias and I are hungover and won't get up at all. So, just Monday through Friday should be fine."
"How early?"
"If you're here by seven-fifteen, that should work out," he says.
"Nolan usually starts his running-slash-gym routine at eight, which you fucked up for him today and probably sent his entire equilibrium into a tailspin that'll last at least forty-eight hours so…
you should apologize to him for that, too. "
"But—"
"No fucking buts, Saige," Elias scolds. "I told you that. You agreed to this; don't make me take it back…or make it worse."
"And that wasn't rhetorical, by the way," Dax adds through a mouthful of eggs. "You actually need to apologize to Nolan."
I shrug, rolling my eyes before his own harden. Dax is the only one who has been even a little on my side, even if he did force his dick into my mouth last night. I know he can be almost as bad as Elias if he wants to, and I don't want to give him a reason to.
"I'm sorry for disrupting your equilibrium, Nolan."
"That sounded a little disingenuous," Elias says. "Do you want her to try again, Nolan? I can make her do it on her knees."
My cheeks burn, holding my breath while I wait for his response.
Nolan shrugs, answering without looking up. "Nah, I'll accept it. This time."
Hiding my relief, I turn back to the kitchen and begin loading the dishwasher. Nolan is the only one who cleans his own plate, and then he and Elias leave.
While Dax lounges in a recliner staring at his phone, I head upstairs with a couple of garbage bags to clean his bedroom, which sustained the least amount of damage. I finish about an hour later, carrying down the destroyed canvas last.
"Do you know how long it takes to create something like that?" he asks as I pass.
I sigh. "I don't know, Dax. I'm not the one who did it. I'm really tired."
I step out into the garage, discarded the broken canvas in the overflowing bin, and then back into the house. "Can I leave now?"
"Are you finished?"
"Yeah. But I don't know what to do about Nolan's carpet."
"Hmm, okay. I need to get someone out here to fix the drywall.
I'll call someone to come take care of the carpet, too—before Elias gets back.
It'll be our secret." He winks at me like he's doing me this huge favor, but I'm too exhausted and emotionally drained to fake gratitude.
"I need your phone number before you go. "
I rattle off my phone number, and then another switch flips. All I wanted to do was get the fuck out of here and go to bed, but now that it's about to happen, I think of the after.
What do I do now…with all of this?
"Dax?"
"Hmm?"
"How are we going to get away with this? People saw me with him, and then there's his phone—"
"Saige, no one saw him at that party. It was dark, he was alone, and quite frankly, he was too fucking old to be there."
"Still, they're going to look for him."
"Don't worry about it," he says casually. "We'll take care of it."
"How will you take care of it?"
"Miles sent a message to the few people who may notice he's missing eventually, but still probably wouldn't care to let them know that, wrought with grief, he was going on a little trip. And he has a lot to grieve—so trust me, it'll be fine."
"That doesn't make any sense. I don't know what that means."
"It doesn't matter. I said don't worry about it. You don't need to know how."
"But—"
"Saige…" He rises from the recliner, closing the space between us before placing his hands on my cheeks, and I think that if I weren't so tired, I'd want to crawl out of my skin. "You need to think of us as a team now…"
"I don't want to be part of this team."
"Doesn't matter. And I wasn't finished," he says.
"On every team, there are certain roles and positions, right?
Well, you're the weak link on this team, sweetheart, so you don't need to know.
Just tell anyone who asks that you ditched him and stayed the night here…
with me. And be ready to answer if we call you for something. "
My lip turns up. "I don't want to tell people that. And what about cameras?"
"Again, not your role. Not for you to worry about."
"What are you going to call me for?"
"Sky's kind of the limit, isn't it, Ripley? We did cover up a murder for you." He pats my cheek before turning toward the living room and dropping back into his chair. "Do you want me to drive you back? Looks like I need to get my car detailed, anyway. Thanks for that, by the way."
"No, I'll just walk."
Dax shrugs, his attention on the screen in front of him. "Suit yourself. I'll see you tomorrow—bright and early. Oh, and throw your clothes away, baby."
Without answering, I grab my things from the counter and leave, stepping out of the crime scene and into the late summer afternoon sun.
Campus is bustling, the last day before classes start.
Music blares from cars and surrounding units as I pass on the crowded sidewalk, garnering a few side-eyes from my peers and even some of their parents.
I know I must look like I just crawled out of the woods, because I did.
By the time I reach my residence hall, my body is so tired, I can barely open the front door. I immediately strip down, wrapping myself in a towel before grabbing my toiletries and walking down the hall to the showers.
I turn on the water as hot as I can bear it, grimacing while standing beneath the spray. After washing my hair twice, I scrub every inch of my body, digging beneath my fingernails until they're raw and painful. I brush my teeth the same way, tasting copper after rinsing out my mouth.
Then, I return to my room, throwing on an old t-shirt before crawling under the covers. I close my heavy eyes, but all I see is what happened at the townhouse, playing over and over again in my head. I see Miles laughing with the fire poker in his hand, and then lying on his back in the grass.
I feel Elias's hand on my breast and his threat against my skin.
Silent tears roll down my cheeks, and I don't move, not even to eat, until the next morning.