34. Addy
Chapter thirty-four
Addy
M y pulse is a stampede, a wild thing trapped in the too-tight confines of my chest as I stumble up the stairs behind Gen. It's like I'm moving through water—every sound muffled, every motion resisted by unseen currents. The party, the dizzying mix of alcohol and laughter, the confrontation outside the bathroom, feels like a lifetime ago. But the car ride... Dre's hand on my thigh and... other places, Chess's lips on mine—those moments still burn hot on my skin.
"Come on," Gen encourages, her voice breaking through the haze.
The boys trail behind us, their presence a tangible weight that makes the air in the hallway seem thicker. We reach Gen's room, a sanctuary of pastels and plush. She flips on the light and I blink, adjusting to the soft glow.
"Here we are," she announces, ushering me inside before turning to the guys with a stern look. "No funny business."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Chess replies, his grin all charm and trouble.
I reach into my bag, searching for something to change into, and my fingers brush against my pajamas, silky, impractical things. Cheryl and William always purchase things with more regard for aesthetics than comfort. The fabric whispers luxury, but they also leave me exposed.
Gen, sensing my hesitation, peers over, her gaze landing on the silky set, and her eyebrows shoot up. Her laugh is abrupt, causing me to jump. "Yeah, no." She laughs, but her eyes are kind. "You can borrow some of my clothes."
"Nah, I've got her."
The room hums with a tension I can't quite name as Dre's hand moves to the hem of his shirt, a smirk playing on his lips. The fabric lifts in one fluid motion, revealing a canvas of skin etched in ink and scars. My breath hitches at the sight, as my eyes trace over the dark tattoos that seem to dance across his muscular chest. He's all hard edges and defiance, a stark contrast to the sheltered world I've been thrust into.
He tosses the shirt at me, the cotton still holding the warmth from his body.
"Thanks," I manage, voice barely above a whisper. My eyes are locked onto his, and in them, I see the wildness that sets Dre apart from anyone else I've ever met. Heat washes over my skin and I press my thighs together.
His grin widens, predatory and playful all at once, as he takes a step closer. I'm frozen, caught in the intensity of his gaze, but then Gen is there, her hand raised like a shield between us.
"Oh, no," she chides with a wave of her hand. "Out! Let the girl change in peace."
"Your hospitality knows no bounds," Chess quips, leaning against the doorframe with an amused smirk.
"Shut up, Ortega," Gen retorts without heat, pushing him out before he can say another word. The door clicks shut behind them, leaving us in a bubble of calm.
"Go change, Addy." Gen nods toward the bathroom, her voice gentle but firm.
I clutch the shirt and the bottoms from my pajama set and escape to the safety of the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind me, granting a precious moment of solitude. Leaning against the sink, I let out a shaky breath, trying to shake off the electric charge Dre's proximity always seems to stir within me.
"Get a grip, Adelaide," I mutter to my reflection. The girl staring back at me looks lost, out of place in this new world teeming with desire and danger.
With trembling hands, I peel off the remnants of tonight's carefully constructed facade and slip into Dre's shirt. It hangs loose and long on my frame, smelling faintly of pine and leather. It's comforting and disconcerting all at once.
"Okay, you can do this," I whisper to myself, stepping out of the bathroom to face whatever comes next.
I shouldn't be surprised to find the boys have returned when I step out of the bathroom. Chess is sitting on the edge of Gen's bed, an easy smile on his face that disappears as his eyes turn to me. The air in Gen's room seems to shift, thick with tension that wasn't there before.
"Wow," Chess breathes out, his hazel eyes raking over me in a way that turns my cheeks rosy with heat. "You look—"
"Fuck," Dre growls, standing up from the edge of the bed. His ice blue eyes burn into me as he crosses the distance between us in three long strides. "You look good in my shirt, Snowflake."
I swallow hard, the compliment wrapping around me tighter than the fabric of the shirt. A nervous laugh tumbles from my lips, unsure what else to do with it. "Thanks."
My gaze can't help but flicker to Saint, whose presence looms large even from across the room. His jaw is set, his dark curls falling into his face as he focuses on some invisible spot on the floor. The muscle ticking in his jaw is so tight I'm surprised we can't hear his molars cracking in the silence. He's a storm barely held in check. And all of his thunder is aimed at me.
I just wish I knew what I did to upset him.
I've never been good at this—never had a sleepover, never navigated the treacherous waters of teenage social rituals. I glance between the four of them, each so different, yet all looking at me like they're happy I'm here. Well, three out of four anyway. I'm pretty sure I would ignite on the spot if Saint had his way.
"What do we, uh, do now?" My question hangs awkwardly in the air. In foster homes, 'sleepovers' meant hunkering down in corners, trying to become invisible. Here, in this world with its own rules and chaos, I might as well be stumbling through a foreign land without a map.
Chess shrugs, the glint of mischief back in his eyes. "Usually we'd raid the fridge or play games, but honestly, I'm too wired to sit still."
"I can think of a few games we could play," Dre rasps, his heated eyes still raking over my skin. His shoulder brushes mine as he passes. The contact sends a shiver down my spine.
"I think Addy's had enough of you monsters for tonight, don't you?" Gen says.
"Come on, Gen," Dre murmurs, leaning in so close his breath tickles my ear. His hand wraps around my throat and gives a gentle squeeze that does things to me, things I'm not ready to face. "You know she'd have more fun if you stayed with Chess and me." His words carry an edge, a dark promise that sends a jolt straight to my core.
Gen rolls her eyes. "I'm not gonna listen to you guys fight over her like she's some prize. Addy is my bestie. And I'm not sharing tonight. Got it?"
Dre leans back, a feral grin spreading across his face, conceding for the moment. "Don't think I won't be back to steal her away."
Gen laughs and stands up, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Dre's head.
He ducks it, his eyes never leave mine. It's like he's trying to see into my soul. I'm not sure what he'll find there, but I know that if he keeps looking at me like that, I won't be able to keep my secrets hidden for long.
Before I know it, Dre's lips are pressed against mine in a desperate kiss. It's so intense that it makes my toes curl and my heart race.
I don't know what comes over me but I kiss him back just as fiercely. His hand at my throat tightens, his thumb pressed against my jaw until my head is tilted back so he can deepen the kiss further.
When the need for air becomes too much, we pull apart. I'm gasping for breath, but Dre seems eerily calm. We stare at each other for a moment before Dre leans down to kiss me again, a quick peck this time.
"You're mine, Snowflake," he murmurs against my lips. "I'm not giving up so easily."
I can't even form coherent thoughts as he releases me and steps away. I barely have time to blink before Chess is there to take his place.
He brushes the hair away from my face and runs his thumb across my cheekbone. I can't even stop myself from leaning into his touch. Dre may light a fire in me that I don't understand, but Chess ignites a slow burn that I can feel snaking its way through my veins.
His eyes search mine for permission before he's leaning in and claiming my lips for himself. Where Dre was harsh and demanding, Chess kisses with a softness that makes my heart beat faster. I grip his shirt, pulling him closer. I can feel the smile on his lips as he pulls back.
"Goodnight, Addy."
As the room falls into an awkward quiet, Gen nudges me. "Oh, we need to talk."
I nod, my mind still reeling. Gen takes my hand and leads me toward the bed.
"Girl, you are playing with fire," she laughs as she settles herself back against the pillow.
I pull my knees into my chest and rest my chin against them.
"Bitch, you better spill. What the hell is going on with you four?"
"Nothing to spill," I mutter, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "They're just... intense."
"Nothing?" she laughs. "If that was nothing, then I can't wait to see what you
consider something. Those boys have got it bad."
Did they? It felt more like they were toying with me. And, the way Saint looked at me, I was pretty sure he wanted nothing at all to do with me.
I shrug in response.
"Girl, you've got to be blind. Chess watches you like you're the answer to every question he's ever had," Gen says, her tone teasing, yet serious. "And Dre? I have never seen that boy chase after anyone. Literally ever. He's never had to. Everyone wants to dance with the devil, he lets them come to him. And Rhett?"
"Saint?" I scoff, shaking my head. "Can we talk about something else?"
"Fine," she sighs, then adds, "But you know Rhett's got it bad for you too, right?"
"Whatever," I deflect quickly, feeling a strange twist in my stomach at the thought. "Let's just go to sleep. Please."
"Alright, alright," Gen relents, though I can tell she's not convinced. "Sleep it is."
The mattress dips beneath me as I lie down, Gen already cocooned in her blankets on the other side. My eyelids are heavy, a surprising calm seeping through my bones. It's odd; a part of me had anticipated a night of tossing and turning, but instead, there's this gentle wave of security enveloping me. The darkness of Gen's room isn't suffocating—it's protective, a stark contrast to the shadows I've grown accustomed to fearing.
"Comfortable?" Gen's voice slices through the quiet.
"Surprisingly," I whisper back, finding the softness of Dre's borrowed shirt against my skin oddly soothing.
"Goodnight then, Addy."
"Night, Gen."
My breathing slows, matching the rhythm of the silent house, and sleep claims me with an ease I've never known before. For once, the nightmares don't chase me into slumber. Instead, there's just peace—a rare, fragile thing that I cling to even in unconsciousness.
I'm not sure what pulls me from the depths of sleep—maybe it's instinct or the shift in the air. But suddenly, I'm awake, and there's warmth pressed against my back, a solid presence that makes my heart jolt with panic. A hand rests lightly on my waist, and my breath catches.
The panic evaporates as quickly as it came, replaced by recognition. Chess's scent is familiar, a mix of mint and something uniquely him. It's comforting, grounding. I don't move; I don't want to disturb this precarious balance we've found.
"Fuck you," Dre's hushed tone carries a hint of irritation. "Why do you get to sleep with her?"
"I got here first," Chess murmurs back, the vibration of his words resonating against my back. “Means I get dibs on snuggle duty."
Dre retorts in a low growl.
"Guys, seriously?" Gen's sleepy mumble breaks through their whisper argument.
"Sorry," they mutter almost in unison, and the room falls into silence once more.
I lie there, the tension from their exchange dissipating into the night. The presence of Chess behind me, steadfast and protective, lulls me back towards sleep. As I drift off, I realize this is what safety feels like—not just the absence of threat, but the presence of allies. It's new, it's strange, but for the first time in forever, it's mine.
I just hope it's real.