7. Kayden #2
“What? Never seen a man wear makeup?” I joke, trying to get her to look away.
“Yes, but I didn’t take you for one who does.”
“You know nothing about me, Little Demon.”
“Fair. But I’m not talking about the makeup, I’m talking about this.” She pokes at my skin, and I wince, ripping her hand away. “Sorry.” She half-smiles. “Not sorry. What happened?”
“You can be a bitch, you know?” I hiss, planting my palm to the side of my face.
“You too.” She shrugs. “A little one.”
“Fuck you,” I say, cackling. “And I’m okay. I bumped into something.”
“You bumped into something pretty hard.”
“Yeah,” I spit out.
Her big eyes fix on mine now, challenging me, questioning me. She’s giving me a chance to talk. To really open up. To tell her about my father. But I can’t. Not a damn word comes out of my mouth.
“Whatever. You’re changing the conversation. I said I’m fine. Now, answer my question. What is attractive to you, Little Demon?”
Her lips part. “Forget it. It’s stupid,” she whispers, avoiding my gaze. “You’re right. Everyone’s taste is different. I-I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe that woman likes that guy.”
“Look, just because he isn’t the definition of beauty doesn’t mean she can’t be into him. Something being unconventional or unlikely doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” I say, invoking the philosopher in me. “The word impossible itself suggests everything is in fact possible.”
What am I saying? What is she doing to me?
Her eyes scan me, locking me up in her peripheral vision.
My heart races against my rib cage.
“Isn’t that the beauty of life?” I add, feeling myself getting lost in her unless I talk. “An unlikely love story is much more thrilling than a predictable one.”
I can’t tell if I’m resonating with her, but she’s listening. She presses her hands against her knees and keeps her gaze locked in mine.
“You really think so?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. Give me weird and atypical any day of the week. The forbidden fruit is much more tempting than the regular apple, Madelyn.”
She adjusts herself by my side, looking away now, and I swear I hear her exhale.
“Something that is knowingly wrong will always feel greater than something attainable and simple.”
I pause, examining every one of her little reactions.
How her lips pucker, her gaze avoids me, and her grip on herself tightens.
She swallows.
Am I—making her uncomfortable?
Oh, fuck, yes.
“Is that what you think?” Madelyn asks again.
This shyness is taking me completely by surprise. Finally, something to intimidate my little sister with.
“Oh, I know so.”
“I’ve never thought about that before.”
“It’s how our minds work, Little Demon.” I pause. “Give it some thought. Some of the greatest romances of history started as forbidden ones.”
It takes her a moment.
I can see her eyes flickering, and her head nodding along as if she’s making mental calculations.
“You’re onto something,” Madelyn says.
“Thank you.” I roll my eyes and lean back on my elbows. “And I’m still curious.”
“About what?”
“What’s considered attractive to you.”
She purses her lips. “I-I don’t have a type.”
“Come on. Everybody has a type. I won’t judge, I swear.”
I’m enjoying this way too much, especially when her cheeks turn a pink shade mimicking that of her hair dye.
I grab the bottle of wine, sitting patiently by my side.
Undoing the cap, I tilt it toward her. “Need a little liquid courage?”
Madelyn’s eyes widen. “Y-You’ve been drinking here?”
“And smoking again, as you saw.” I smirk. “Needed something to take the edge off.”
“That’s…You shouldn’t do that, Kayden. I told you. Smoking isn’t good for you, and neither is drinking. And a combination of both things? Up on this roof?” Her words are defensive, to the point. “That’s dangerous.”
“I didn’t listen to you last time when you nagged me about smoking, Little Demon. I don’t know why you keep bothering.”
Why does she care what I do with my life? Why is she so worried about my well-being?
“Besides, you must know by now I’m into danger,” I say, my eyes fixing on hers. “Turns me on.”
“T-That’s—”
She can’t find words.
A smile coats my face. That’s the reaction I wanted from her.
“That’s why I said ‘a little liquid courage’. Nothing crazy. A little is okay. It’s fun, try it.” I hand her the open bottle.
She hesitates, her fragile hands tightening around the opening.
“Okay,” she says. “One sip.”
And she presses her lips to the opening of the bottle, taking more than a decent chug that fills my heart with pride.
Good girl.
Step one of corrupting my sister, check.
She hands the bottle back to me.
“Not so hard, was it?”
She shakes her head. “It’s sweet.”
“Need a little sweetness in this bitter life.”
She hums.
“Back to you, Little Demon.”
“Huh?”
It’s a sip, but I swear her eyes squint, and her whole posture has loosened up.
No way she’s drunk already.
“Your type?”
“I…”
“Don’t be shy.”
“I like tall guys, I guess. Which isn’t hard considering I’m practically a garden gnome.”
I cackle.
She is not. She might be scraping five feet two, but she’s the perfect size for me.
I take a sip of the wine, pass it back to her, and she takes it.
“What else?”
“I care about their heart.”
“Bullshit.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not bullshit.”
“Come on, Madelyn. Tell me what you really care about. No one cares about a person’s heart.”
Not in my world. Hearts are good for nothing. The less you act with your heart and the more you act with your head, the better it’ll be for you.
“For example, guys. We care about whether a girl will willingly go down on her knees and suck our dicks. If she’ll let us spill in her mouth—”
She squirms.
And my dick twitches.
Shit. I like this.
I like making her uncomfortable. But I stop. I know my limits.
“I care about heart,” she insists.
“So you’re telling me you don’t care about whether a guy can give you what you want at all? About whether he can satisfy your physical needs?”
“I-I look for a deeper connection than the physical.”
I don’t believe that for a second. We’re young, and it’s the perfect time to discover what we like and how we like it served. Explore our sexuality, our wants, and needs.
But I decide I’ve pushed her enough for now. I’ve got a suspicion about why she’s being this way, and I’ll find out eventually.
“If you say so.”
I let the silence simmer between us. Until I can talk again, shower her with more of my questions, see how badly I can traumatize her. Scare her with my thoughts.
My dick’s still pulsating with every moment that passes. A rush of adrenaline pumps through my veins.
“It’s beautiful out here.” I catch her looking up at the sky. “Why do you focus on the ground, when you have this big, wide sky?”
Wow. She’s as bad as I am at this. Making conversation.
And still, I’m watching her as she stares up, focusing on the lines of her neck, the space between her jaw and shoulders, instead of the constellations in the sky.
I want to pin her against the rooftop and suck on her neck.
The sky isn’t beautiful. She is.
“I don’t come out here to look at the sky.”
“What do you come here to look at?”
“Nothing,” I say.
Though right now I can’t see anything else but her. The way the blouse she’s wearing clings to her skin. How her nipples are becoming hard from the breeze, giving away the fact she isn’t wearing a bra.
I laugh. Talk about wanting what you can’t have.
“I don’t come out here to look at things. I come here to think.”
“Think about what?”
Her mouth opens, her pouty lips directed at me.
My mouth, on your skin, my tongue marking my territory on your body.
“Everything and anything. My life. My mom. My dad. What I hate. What I like. Sex.”
She blushes at the mention of the three-letter word.
“School,” I attempt to soften her.
“Right.” She nods to herself, bringing her legs closer to her chest again. “Talking about school, congrats on graduating. Are you excited?”
I scoff, snatching the wine bottle to take another sip. “Define excited.”
“Well, you’re a free man now.” She fumbles with her fingers. “I didn’t see you getting any admission letters or anything, and that’s something we usually deal with before graduation. So I wonder what your plans are? Don’t you want to go to college?”
“Right.” I swing around the bottle in my hand. “Yeah, I’m not going.”