CHAPTER ONE #2
We’re too good at what we do.
It’s not just the fact that we all woke up in the trailer one day with no recollection of who each other was…
Or who we were… It’s the uncanny way Carl is able to look us in the eyes and lie, say we all suffered head injuries from a massive accident that left us confused and that we’ve been working at Vore for years.
If anything, I have a head injury from him hitting me in it all the time.
The relentless dread of being out of control drifts up my chest, locking my throat with a parched knot that pricks my eyes with a pathetic mist.
All the fried foods are starting to get cooked. The soaring weight of hot oil and batter weaves around every corner of this place. Which usually leaves me unfazed, but it’s currently reminding me I skipped breakfast this morning and is making me even more uncomfortable existing here.
I sniff away the trickle in my nose, stealthily raising the back of my hand to wipe my eyes. Thankfully, the case of my rollers blocks my face from Carl as we pass by. Seeing me cry some more today would send me back to the tent.
Which is… kind of what I want.
The bikes rumbling against the hot pavement in the distance flip my stomach and encourage me to run to the nearest trash can.
I don’t know how long Razor’s been listening to me shower. I’ve never noticed anything suggestive from him. So, the knowledge of him preying on something private is flaming my nerves.
Even if he is being a little creep. He’s creeping on me.
Why? Why not Aries? She spends a lot of time with the guys and manipulates fire with her mouth.
Or Ora? She can chat away with anyone and sees beyond this realm.
Duse is able to charm snakes, and Gwen has the southern voice of an angel.
Or why not some freshly manicured college girl fawning over him on his bike and waving her touchscreen in his face for his number?
I swallow hard, turning the corner to their steel mesh globe stationed in the center of circular bleachers.
Several yards away, Aries strikes her long braids over her shoulder, shouting something at Cash that gets slaughtered through the intentional rev he does to tick her off further.
The laugh erupting from his big smile sneaks a grin onto my face.
But catching Razor’s dark eyes and acknowledging his black overalls undone, the loose fabric folded down over his hips, leaving his honeyed, suntanned muscle to collect more rays, sinks my heart right to my butt.
I’ve never felt so weird with him. Even when I woke up tangled in his limbs. And that was weird.
That was, uh… Hmm. Two years ago, now. I think. Yeah, it must be two years, since this is the second summer I remember Vore.
Tearing away from him drying his bike, I gorge my lungs on oxygen and follow Ora up the bleachers farthest from him.
Images of him are already polluting me. Visuals I’ve seen too many times to count.
But for some reason the sweat glowing on his sculpted waist is playing like a frustrating music box.
I have to share a roof with him. A bathroom. A kitchen. He helps with laundry sometimes. He gets my tampons and hormonal snacks. His room is next to ours…It would be easy to…
Bad, Bunny. Bad girl.
Having such sinful thoughts in a suboptimal situation squeezes my growling stomach with pressure that drips through my pelvis.
The blazing heat punctures through the beads percolating on my forehead, weakly shuffling up to Ora already throwing a leg around and straddling the bleacher she wants to set up shop on.
Planting my butt on the grooved metal in front of her opening my makeup, the bleachers start clanking and shaking, splitting my harebrained focus to the sweaty abs and wet, rich brown hair racing up the steps.
I muffle a wince, swiftly swiveling to face Ora and keeping my stiff back to the thunk of his boots.
“Bun?” he exhales, shaking the bleachers one last time with a leap that lands him right next to me.
“What’s up, Razor?” Ora holds up her knuckles, giving him a grin as he accepts the fist bump. But her eyes double back to me fumbling to open my polish with shaky hands, and her grin folds in, shunning her amusement with me being horrified of perception.
It’s a fluke. It’ll pass. I’m just burdened with embarrassment right now. He doesn’t know that I know, so I have no reason to be feeling Aries’ flames in my throat.
“What’s that?” he asks impatiently, moving his hand up into my peripheral.
My brows hitch, flicking up to him sweeping my hair from my face with lasers aimed at the handprint I forgot about.
“Nothing.” I crane away, my hair running through the gaps of his tense fingers. “What’d you need?”
“Carl hit her again. Obviously,” Ora inputs.
Retracting the razor blade tattooed on his hand, he brings his arm to his side, swiping his tongue over his teeth without looking away. “Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum, combing my hair back in place so he stops staring at me. “You needed something?”
Sighing through drumming constriction, I pivot back to what I was doing and start painting my other hand.
But I think it’s just drawing attention to how nervous I am right now.
My entire hand is twitching, no matter how hard I flex it, and the hand trying to finish the paint job is going everywhere but my nails.
“It’s not important.” The metal creaks under his steps, his fuming vexation evident in the way he’s walking heavily down the stairs.
“O-kay,” Ora sings, vapidly pursing her lips and digging through my makeup.
“That was weird, right? Or am I being weird? Is this entire thing weird? Do you feel weird?” I blabber, flailing the polish brush and my free hand around.
Laughing at me, she pulls out a single pan of blue eyeshadow and a fluffy brush. “He probably wanted to know how many fingers you use so he can envision it properly.”
“Ora!” My jaw hangs, my brows knitting tighter. “That’s gross!”
“Mm-hmm,” she smirks, peeking up under her bangs. “I’m sure he does wanna do gross things to you.”
Ignoring the fact that my skin is a mere second from burning off my skull, she pops open the lid of the eyeshadow and swirls the brush through it.
Razor is haunting.
There’s a broken darkness in his gaze that lingers within you, makes you unsettled in an interesting way. It leaves you curiously wondering about him.
And he’s so nice.
To me, anyway. He’s made it to all my performances, even if he had to run in order to not miss it. Though, I’ve seen him get in altercations with the other guys and… he was not very pleasant.
That curiosity for him gets the best of me, and I turn his way, I guess reciprocating the secret interest.
His short mullet has grown out, which has his sweaty hair falling low around his eyes. He usually sweeps it back, has the sides gelled sharply behind his ears and leaves the front a little messy. He’s been out in the sun, though. So, it’s extra messy with…
Why do I know that?
Realizing I’ve been keeping track of his way of life, my pinned eyes slowly pan away from the large, prominent scars scratched disorderly on his glistening back, over to Ora watching me with the pigment packed brush frozen in the air.
“Start putting a sock on the door… Unless you want me to see.” She winks, her bangs bumping with her brows.
“That’s never happening,” I insist, puffing out a sigh that sounds more heartbroken with the fact than frustrated with the situation.
“I don’t know, girl. He looked back at you. Whatever he heard through the bathroom door last night has him locked in on a little bunny.”
“He didn’t hear anything,” I argue.
Her lips curl tight to her teeth and she blinks impassively, nodding her head like I’m senile and she has to play along, or I’ll kill everyone. “You are so right.”