Chapter 6
Aston
“This is so stupid. We’re gonna get caught. Why are you like this?”
Ignoring Eden’s seemingly never-ending stream of commentary, I bring the binoculars back up to my face, squinting as I dart my eyes all around the party.
Someone was just dropped off. I heard a door open, slam shut, and a couple minutes later, the car drove off. Couldn’t see what kind it was over the cornstalks surrounding us, or who it was that got out, but my skittering heart has me hoping it’s Vale. Finally.
Talk about being fashionably late.
But I suppose he’s earned that privilege, being the star quarterback of a winning team and all.
There’s a huff, then, “Where did you even get those?”
“Hm? Oh, these old things?” I say distractedly, realizing he must be talking about the binoculars looped around my neck. I’m practically crawling out of my skin with anticipation as I wait for the newcomer to appear. “They were Gerty’s.”
“Gerty? Hold up, you mean my grandma. Gertrude? You raided her shit too?”
I roll my eyes, not bothering to lower the binoculars. “Don’t sound so outraged. She’s been dead for how many years? She’d probably be glad someone’s finally getting use out of her things.”
“Have you never heard of boundaries?”
“Mhm,” I say noncommittally, burrowing into my hoodie. It got a lot chillier once the sun went down, and we’re too far from the fire to benefit from it.
When I say nothing more, Eden says, “That’s it? That’s all you have to say.”
“Excuse me for taking life by the horns.”
Valey, Valey, Valey, where are you?
I speak around a yawn. “Come on, you and I both know boundaries don’t really exist. They’re just empty platitudes meant to make you feel in control.
Kind of like when someone dies, and you say, ‘Sorry for your loss. If you need anything, let me know.’” I roll my eyes.
“No one actually expects to be asked to do anything. It’s just a thing you say to be nice and feel like you’re contributing somehow.
” I scoff. “As if I’m actually going to drop my plans to come over and watch your kids. Be so fucking for real.”
A long moment passes where just music and laughter fill the night.
“Right…” Eden whispers. Then, “Are you sure you’re not just a klepto?”
Blinking, I lower the binoculars, and frown over at Eden. Whereas I’m on my knees, creeping through the floppy stalks, he sits crisscross applesauce, face downcast, peeling a fallen husk. “Kleptos steal. I borrow,” I tell him.
His fingers still, and he lifts his unimpressed gaze to mine. “Borrowed implies you return the things you took.”
I gesture at my chest. “I’m still alive and kickin,’ aren’t I? Didn’t realize I was living on borrowed time. Ha, get it. Borrowed, because we’re talking about—”
“It also implies permission.”
I scrunch up my face and turn my attention back to the party. I inhale deeply, then—
“Nahhh.”
Eden mutters something very unflattering under his breath. I’m just about to lower the binoculars to scold him when a commotion draws my attention across the clearing.
I suck in a breath, straightening. “Ohmygodohmygod, there he is!”
Eden grumbles something I can’t make out—nor do I care to ask him to repeat it.
My new brother is so chatty compared to my last one, and I just don’t have the spoons to sponge up every. Single. Thing that comes out of his precious mouth.
Leaning forward, I poke my head through the stalks as far as I’m willing to risk it. I use my elbows to part the drooping leaves, giving myself an uninhibited view of Vale’s grand entrance.
Firelight from the raging bonfire dances over his chiseled profile and exposed biceps as he crosses the clearing and greets his jock buddies with back slaps and hand clasps.
Meanwhile, I’m practically melting into the dirt.
Because as delicious as he looked in his tight little football uniform earlier, I can’t deny that I wasn’t low-key dying to see what he was hiding under those bulky shoulder and chest pads.
Heck, it’s half the reason why we’re currently hiding in a cornfield, spying on a party we weren’t invited to.
And let me tell you—I am not disappointed.
No siree.
How could I be, when he struts in all fashionably late looking like a wet dream in dark jeans and an oversized black muscle tee, a burgundy hoodie slung over his shoulder.
So loosely fit and stretched out around the shoulders, the cut off shirt not only puts his toned arms on full display, but exposes his entire side to me anytime he lifts his arm.
Gifting me a tantalizing peek of well-defined lat muscles and smooth tan flesh swirling with dark ink.
A little more swish to the side, and I’d get a flash of a nipple.
Talk about a tease.
If I wasn’t still so gobsmacked by the mere sight of him after all these years, I’d probably feel a teensy-weensy bit self-conscious in the face of all that glorious muscle.
Ha! As. If.
All the easier for him to throw me around when he has his wicked way with me, methinks.
I drag my teeth over my lip, putting a pin on that visual for later.
Next to me, Eden shifts impatiently, and I’m dimly aware of him saying, “There. You saw him. Happy? Can we leave now?”
The pulse-thudding music that was playing is cranked up, crackling from the truck parked over by the stone stacks. I don’t recognize the song. I don’t typically listen to rap. But I can’t deny the energy it exudes isn’t a tad addictive—all violent and primal, making me feel downright bad ass.
I watch as a tall, broad blond dude wearing a backwards baseball hat lumbers up to Vale, shoving a red Solo cup at him. Vale glances down at it before taking a long sip, and even from all the way over here, I don’t miss the little scrunch of his face.
Not a fan of beer?
Can’t say I blame him, if it tastes anything like it smells. I wrinkle my nose just thinking about it.
The guy who handed it to him punches him in the shoulder, grinning around whatever he says that gets an eye roll from Vale. I vaguely remember him from the game, catching the balls Vale would throw. He’s still in his jersey. Shrute, #42.
“Mom texted,” Eden tells me. “Wants to know how it’s going. She also wants us to bring her something back.”
“Tell her it’s packed, but we’ll try,” I murmur distractedly.
After I overheard some girls in the parking lot following the game talking about a bonfire happening in the fields—or rather at some place called the furnaces—I tugged Eden back, demanding he give me all the deets while his parents walked on ahead.
Apparently it’s where the team always goes after a game, be it to celebrate a win or mourn a loss. And where the team goes…Vale goes…
And where Vale goes…
Eden warned me that we wouldn’t be welcome. It’s for the popular crowd only. But I just waved off his silly concerns and began plotting our mission.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned since moving in, it’s that Tillie is desperate for Eden to get out more—make friends, have a social life…instead of spending all his time hiding away in his room, being all emo and anti-social and secretive.
And Walt is whipped as fuck. He gives into pretty much whatever his wife wants. Especially if it’s something that benefits his son.
But allowing their underage son and mentally unstable ward to attend a kegger…yeah, I didn’t think they’d be too keen to agree to that.
So, once we got home, with a little bit of coaxing and pretty, pretty please-ing, we managed to convince Tillie to hand over the keys to her Beetle, so he and I could go get ice cream.
Eden only recently got his license, and being that he’s a minor, he has to be off the roads by eleven. We probably only have another hour, if that.
Just then a slim figure approaches Vale from behind.
I growl at the sight.
Eden sighs.
“Who the fuck wears khakis and a polo to a bonfire?” I mutter, lip curling as I watch what’s-his-name slinking up behind Vale, wrapping his twiggy arms around his waist. A very snappable arm at that.
The boyfriend.
In the midst of everything—everything mostly consisting of me trying to hide a boner from the impressionable townspeople—I’d forgotten about the little…creatin.
It might just be wishful thinking, but I swear Vale stiffens, a flicker of something playing over his harsh, firelit profile—and not a good something.
But a something that is further confirmed by the way it takes him a half-a-second longer than it probably should to lower the cup from his mouth and greet the guy he’s allegedly dating.
I gasp. “Is that an eyebrow piercing???”
I’m so fucked. So fuckety fucked.
Eden shushes me and smacks my arm, but I barely notice now that Vale’s finally, finally facing my direction head-on for the first time since that too-brief moment at the game. Except this time, I get to take my time cataloging every inch of his face unbeknownst to him.
If I thought he was gorgeous all sweaty and flushed and streaked with black paint under his eyes…
He’s downright lethal when cleaned up. All harsh, rigid lines and high sculpted cheekbones; smoldering dark eyes and pouty lips I want to chew on.
Throw in tattoos and piercings, and at this rate, Eden’s going to have to pick my jaw up off the floor and wipe me down because Hot. Damn.
Dat face.
Dat ass.
Dat whooolllleeee package.
The tell-tale buzzing of a phone cuts into the night. “Shit,” Eden mumbles, hurrying to answer it.
I whip my head around. “What are you doing?” I whisper-shout. I shake my head and make slashing motions with my hand. Don’t pick up, don’t pick up, don’t—
He picked up.
Pushing to a stand, he rakes a hand through his hair, turning his back to me as he answers. I strain my ears to hear what he’s saying.
“Uh, no, they’re out of th-that.” A beat, then a smidge louder, he says, “I’m…not. I just—we’re fine, I promise.” Another longer pause as he listens to whatever Tillie is saying. “Yeah, he’s…” He narrows his eyes at me. “Not any weirder than usual,” he says dryly.
My jaw drops. Rude! I claw at the air with my hand, snapping my teeth together.