Chapter 6 #2
He shakes his head, hanging it, letting his hair fall across his cheeks. “Okay. Yeah, we’re, uh, leaving n—”
“We can’t leave,” I blurt in a harsh whisper. We should still have a half hour left before we have to head out. And a lot can happen in half an hour.
Eden’s jaw works, and he peers at me from under his lashes.
I cock my head. He’s got really pretty lashes. Long and thick. They’d—
Focus!
Shaking my head, I mouth, Please, giving him my best puppy dog eyes. These suckers have gotten me many perks over the years. Combine them with another kind of sucker-ing, and it’s all but impossible to tell me no.
Not that any sucking of the mouth variety will be happening here. Legalities aside, something tells me my new brother wouldn’t take so kindly to the idea.
With a scowl, Eden lowers his head and mumbles into the phone, “Can we please stay?”
Whatever Tillie says has his shoulders balling up tightly, and his eyes growing hard as they lift to mine in a surprisingly vicious glare. “No, Mom,” he says through his teeth, “he’s not forcing me. I do have a mind of my own, you know?” A pause, then—
“There’s a girl here I like, okay?” he rushes out, the words running together.
My eyes bug, and I gape at him.
That…
That is not what I expected him to say.
“Are you happy?” he says to her. Jaw working, face shiny and red, nostrils flaring, he nods shortly. “Great. Will do. Promise. Bye.”
Once the call’s disconnected, he locks the screen, rucking up his oversized Anthrax hoodie to shove the phone back in his pocket. He mumbles something under his breath, and I catch words like regret and pay.
When he realizes I’ve yet to say anything, he glances over with a frown. “What? Was that excuse not good enough for you?”
I blink. “You…you’re straight?”
He curls his lip at me. “I only said that so she’d let us stay out a little longer. And it worked.”
“But…” I look around at a loss. “Why not at least make it believable and say it was a boy?”
His eyes narrow. “What makes you think I’m not straight?”
I give him a droll, pointed look that says, Really?
He scowls, shifting in place. Clearly uncomfortable. Despite the defensiveness in his body language, his eyes…they’re swirling with an emotion akin to curiosity. And something else…something I can’t place.
Something that has images of what I discovered in his room the other day surging to the forefront of my mind.
And if the beet-red hue of his cheeks is anything to go by, he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Swear to me you won’t tell.”
“Depends…”
“Depends on what?”
“What I get out of it.”
“Fuck off,” he grits out quietly, pulling me from the memory. “Maybe I’m bi. Ever think of that?”
Ignoring that, I say, “Honestly?” I lift a shoulder. “You do have the perfect lips for sucking dick. So can you blame me for assuming?”
Now, he’s the one with his jaw on the floor, said full lips parting like they’ve been summoned to do their thang.
Sputtering and red-faced, he goes to whirl around and storm off, when I reach over and stop him with a tug on his sleeve.
“Don’t worry. The only lips that will be touching my dick in the foreseeable future are Vale’s. ”
Eden stumbles. Ripping out of my hold, he turns to face me, his expression one of horror. “Your brother???” he all but shrieks.
Oh shit.
Our gazes snap together, eyes wide and panicked.
There’s a rustle from somewhere way too close. “Did you hear that?”
Eden grabs me by the wrist and yanks me to a stand with far more strength than I figured he’d be capable of.
We sweep our dark surroundings, my binoculars falling from my hands to dangle in front of my chest. Closer than before, there’s a crunch and crackle of sticks and withered leaves. And a loud whisper—
“I think someone’s over here.”
Uh oh.
Eden slumps, arms hanging lifelessly at his sides. I encircle his wrist with my fingers and start dragging him between stalks away from the party, and hopefully away from whoever was about to stumble upon us. Finding one of the many narrow paths woven throughout.
Just when I think we’re in the clear, there’s a yelp just as Eden’s arm is ripped from my hold.
Momentum carries me forward a few steps, before I stumble to a stop.
“Well, what do we have here?”
Whirling around, I find a hunched, pale, trembling Eden sandwiched between two smirking, towering walls of muscle.
“Oh, hello, boys,” I greet sweetly, straightening to my full height. “Fancy running into you here. Come often?”
And because I can’t help myself, I wag my brows at them. “Get it? Come often?”
The Black guy who I recognize from the game as someone Vale would often pass the ball to—and the first player from their team to reach Vale when the final whistle blew, all but tackling him to the grass—flits a bemused look at his glassy-eyed, rosy-cheeked friend.
White and bulkier than his buddy, with freckles and frizzy red hair, I don’t remember seeing him earlier. But based on the tight-fitting gray shirt he wears, with the burgundy and black Archers logo I recognize from all over the place in this town, I’m going to assume he’s on the team too.
He sure is big enough to be.
He’s also the first to say something—revealing he’s the one who spoke before too.
“You’re Jennings’ kid, aren’t you?” he says, eyeing Eden up and down. “What are you, like, twelve?”
Eden’s cheeks darken, and he quickly shakes his head, his shoulder-length, tangled hair swinging side to side. “I—”
“He’s with me,” I cut in confidently, jutting my chin out. “And he’s seventeen.” Almost… His birthday’s not until next week, but I don’t tell them that.
The Black guy arches me a look. “And you are?”
Just as I go to open my mouth to introduce myself, we’re joined by several others, only one of which I recognize.
“Yo, what’s up?” Behind Shrute, with a manicured hand splayed over his chest, is a girl with long wavy auburn hair, wearing a black and burgundy track suit.
Cheerleader, I silently surmise, when I notice two other girls dressed just like her crowding her back.
I dimly remember seeing them bouncing around, yelling, and throwing each other up in the air during the game.
They’re still in their uniforms, unlike the guys.
God forbid we forget their role in life.
Not taking his dark, glittering eyes off me, the Black guy answers, “Found a couple party crashers spying on us.”
Shrute starts to laugh as his gaze darts between Eden and me. I lift a hand, wiggling my fingers at him in a wave. “Howdy.”
He cocks his head. “You don’t go to Grady.”
“Not ye-et,” I sing.
He frowns, but recognition seems to bowl over him a second later, and his eyes widen. Face blanching.
Interesting…
Narrowing my eyes, I watch as he leans toward the Black guy, and whispers something in his ear.
His brows spike. “That so…” he murmurs, his grip on Eden going slack. The redhead frowns at them, brow knitting. Unlike his buddy though, he tightens his hold on their poor little hostage.
“Hey!” I bark, taking a step forward. “You’re hurting him.”
The thick fingers around Eden’s slim shoulder are bone-white. Too white. And Eden’s face is pulled tight in a wince, his other, now-free shoulder hiked practically to his ear.
Gingersnap eyes me up and down with a familiar, dangerous sort of grin. “Oh yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?”
Even from a couple feet away, I can smell the whiskey wafting from his breath and pores. My mouth waters, and not in a good way.
Forcing a small smile, I casually meander my way into his space, not taking my eyes off the bleary narrowed ones I hold captive. I vaguely register someone talking—telling Murphy to let the kid go. But I pay whoever it is no notice.
Tilting my head, I hum softly under my breath as I approach the side of him not blocked by Eden. I lift a finger to drag around his insanely thick neck, his creamy white skin hot and clammy and squishy.
One…
Two…
Just as he tenses, and before he can snap to his senses, I quickly push up on my toes and lean my mouth against his ear. Whisper-singing the next part. “…he’s a comin’ for you…”
He stiffens. “The fuck?”
Next thing I know, I’ve got two sweaty, meaty hands gripping me by the collar, practically yanking me off my feet. Putting me nose to nose with red shiny crossed eyes and a sea of mottled freckles.
I’m laughing as he shakes me, and someone shouts something.
I think it’s in warning.
Too bad for Gingersnap here, he doesn’t realize the warning’s not for me…
But him.
Grinning wildly, I lean up all close to him and stare into his eyes as I wait for him to notice the sharp point of a knife prodding ever so slightly at his belly.
I’d like to think his reaction time is a teensy-weensy bit better when he’s sober, because if not, somebody’s gotta tell Coach they’ve got some dead weight on their hands.
I prod a little deeper, as calm and cheery as ever.
There it is.
His eyes flicker and flare. Finally. Jesus H. Christ on a stick, does he want me to gut him like a fish?
Jocks, I tell ya. Some of them really do live up to the stereotype.
He looks down between us, his whole body going utterly still.
A satisfied purr rumbles from my throat.
“Touch him again,” I murmur, “and you’ll be gathering your intestines from the dirt.
” And because I’m so close, and it’s been weeks since I’ve had any semblance of physical affection…
not since good ol’ Brucey petted and stroked my hair while I sucked him off in the storage closet…
Well, can you blame me for giving this chin a lil smooch?
It’s right there, you know?
And he’s so still, so pliant, so completely and totally at my mercy—
“What the fuck is going on?”
And just like that, everything grinds to a halt.
Even the crickets that were chirping up a storm all night seem to go, Oh shiiiiittt, son, and scatter.
I don’t have to look to confirm who that deep voice belongs to.
Now that the little spell I was under has effectively been broken, my senses return with a vengeance. And I can feel him—his sudden proximity a thrumming live wire that has the little hairs on my neck standing upright.
A breathless smile overtakes my face. “Vale.”