Wild Girl: A High School Bully Romance (Slateview High Book 2) Page 10

  Finally, he pulled out and set me gently back on my feet. He cleaned me up and helped me put myself back together, taking his time with every bit of it, as if he liked this part almost as much as the sex itself.

  Then he kissed me once more and led me from the room.

  By the time we emerged from the bathroom, the hallway had mostly cleared out. Only a few kids lingered, and when they glanced our way, Kace’s threatening expression quickly made them turn away. Strangely, I found that I hardly even cared. I was sure they knew what we’d been doing, but I couldn’t find an ounce of shame about it. Let them think whatever they wanted.

  I gathered the rest of my things from my locker, and Kace held the door open for me as we stepped out of the school building. The air was sharp and cold, but I found I didn’t mind it much as we started the walk home. I still burned hot, my body still buzzing and my blood still rushing in my ears from our encounter in the bathroom.

  We walked in comfortable silence for a while, our bodies brushing against each other occasionally, and it was so… easy that it made my heart ache with an emotion I couldn’t even quite name.

  “You never did answer my question,” I murmured, glancing up at him as we made our way down the quiet street. “I wish you would. Why do you always fight?”

  He sighed, his grip on my hand tightening a little. “Reaper. It’s my nickname, ain’t it? Should answer that question pretty well.”

  “Not really. I don’t even know why that’s your nickname. I mean, I could guess… but I’d rather hear it from you.”

  Kace stared straight ahead, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer me, and frankly, I couldn’t blame him if he didn’t. We were all entitled to our secrets, and the Lost Boys in particular were very good at keeping things close to the chest. But after a few more heartbeats, he let out a long breath.

  “I told you about my mom, right? How she was hooked on drugs? That’s why I was taken away from her.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I remember.”

  “Yeah, well. Her dealer was my father. It’s how they met. He used to knock her around a lot too. Used to use her to connect to people to sell to. Man’s willing to pay for a piece of pussy, it’s just a step below payin’ for drugs, y’know?”

  I said nothing, but the weight of his words settled hard on my chest, making my heart beat slower.

  “Anyway… he got too fucking vicious one too many times. He liked knocking her around when she started to try to come off the stuff. I think he did it on purpose. He crushed her spirit because he knew she’d go back to the only thing that would make it all numb again. She’d go back to the blow. And oh, that fucker would hold it over her head, especially when he knew she was hurting for it. She’d never been on the stuff before she met him.”

  Kace didn’t look at me as he spoke, but now that he’d started, the words seemed to pour out of him, as if they’d been kept contained for so long that they couldn’t be held in any longer. As if he’d been dying for this release.

  “So one day when it was hurting her really bad, she just… I dunno, she realized she’d had enough. She wanted to stop everything. The blow, the guys, him. He didn’t like it. Started beatin’ the shit outta her.”

  My stomach twisted, and I reached for Kace’s hand, not even sure if he would accept that gesture of support. His gaze still didn’t meet mine, but his hand was warm and solid, and he tightened his grip as we interlaced our fingers.

  “I was about nine, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been drinking, so, I dunno. I guess that made it easy to knock him down. I don’t even remember gettin’ the gun that he kept in the nightstand, but I remember tellin’ the cops that he’d come to the house and broken in, and that’s why he was there. ’Course, the cops didn’t give a shit about the how. Apparently, he had a few warrants out. They’d had eyes on him for dealin’ and pimpin’. Didn’t give a shit if he was alive or dead, as long as he wasn’t a problem for them anymore. And of course my mom…”

  I clenched my jaw, blinking hard and willing my tears away.

  “She was on drugs, so they didn’t consider her situation before taking you away from her,” I said softly.

  He nodded, one quick jerk of his head.

  “Yeah. I was put into foster care after that. No prosecutor was going to waste time and money on a poor piece of shit killing off another piece of shit, least of all when the killer was barely more than a child. But the people at the foster home knew who I was and knew what I did. Heard the social worker who dropped me off call me a ‘little reaper,’ and the nickname stuck.”

  There was a hitch in his voice that I had never heard from Kace before. A vulnerability that usually wasn’t attached to a man like him. I reached out, brushing my fingers along his cheek.

  “I hate that fuckin’ nickname,” he continued, his face contorting in anger. “But I guess it fits. ’Cause every time I see someone I give a shit about gettin’ hurt by someone—especially someone bigger and stronger than them—I can’t help but feel the way I did the night I killed my old man. I don’t regret takin’ him out. He would’ve gotten worse as time went on… I know it. I know it was the right thing. I just hate that my mom ended up suffering for it too. I hate that we got all this shit hanging over us because of Flint. I hate that goin’ up against that fucker Eli today is probably gonna blow up in my face too. But I don’t regret it. I can’t.”

  I nodded. Then I tugged on his hand as I stopped walking, urging him to stop too. When he turned to me, I wrapped my arms around him, rising up on my tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his lips.

  “I understand,” I murmured, kissing him again.

  It was just a small press of my lips to his, but I hoped it could communicate everything I was feeling.

  “Do you?” he asked. He pulled away a few inches, his hands resting on my hips, and I could see his pulse throbbing in his neck. “I killed someone. I killed my father. Ain’t like my mom was a walk in the park either, but I tried.”

  “You were a kid, Kace,” I said. “A kid who was scared and who only knew that someone who should’ve been taking care of you and your mom was hurting the both of you. You weren’t responsible for anything that happened. I’m just… sorry you think that that’s the only thing that defines you when there’s so much more to you.”

  “Is there?” He looked down at me, the question serious. “You said it yourself that I’m always doin’ this. Always gettin’ into fights.”

  “Yeah.” I grinned lightly, tightening my hold on him, emotions bursting in my chest. “Because you are. But that doesn’t mean that that’s the only thing worthy about you, Kace.”

  He laughed, and some of the harshness faded from his face. He dipped his head to kiss me so thoroughly that my knees went weak, and when he pulled back, he gifted me with a rare, soft smile.

  His eyes were still shadowed though, and I could tell that, even though he wanted to, he didn’t quite believe me.

  “I hope you’re right about that, Coralee.”

  Thirteen

  Despite my fears about Eli’s threatened retaliation, he did nothing following his fight with Kace. I hoped he was smart enough not to piss off his boss by starting shit with the Lost Boys, but I was well aware that logic didn’t always play a huge role in the shit that guys did.

  I kept an eye out for him anyway for the next few days. I didn’t want to let my guard down and end up being blindsided by him. Again.

  Between keeping an eye on Eli and keeping an ear out for any indication that Nathaniel had gotten wind of what’d happened to Flint, I was so distracted that it almost surprised me when finals loomed on the horizon.

  I’d always been a straight-A student. I was used to rigorous study sessions, sinking hours and hours into my studies, checking and re-checking notes, making sure I understood all the class material like I understood the ins and outs of high society.

  At Slateview, however, I found that I didn’t need t
hat kind of intense studying. A lot of the material was stuff I’d already covered at Highland Park, and what hadn’t been covered was easy to grasp. I was thankful for that; it meant I didn’t have to juggle heavy studying with everything else going on in my life. I liked our study sessions with Jessica and Liam, but that was more about the company than the schoolwork.

  A few days before our first final, I had the boys over. Mom was out—again—having left a note on the fridge telling me she was meeting with a friend and that I shouldn’t wait up for her. I had no idea what “friend” she could be talking about. From what I understood, we were still social pariahs, and my “friends” certainly hadn’t made the effort to try to see me, let alone talk to me, since my father had been taken to jail.

  But my woes about broken friendships and my curiosity and confusion about what my mom was doing with her free time faded from my mind as I glanced contentedly at the three boys seated around the table. They had a rare night off from work for Nathaniel, and I wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

  We didn’t have our textbooks out, but rather little cups of microwave macaroni and cheese, a bag of chips, and a bag of baby carrots—which all of us were ignoring.

  “I mean, I know it’s an important class, but come on,“ Misael said, shoveling a spoonful of mac and cheese into his mouth. “I can’t spend the entirety of health class looking at weird pictures of STD junk and watching videos of people giving birth just because the teachers want to convince us we’re supposed to be scared of boning.” He glanced up, humor dancing in his dark brown eyes. “So I feel like my suggestion was perfectly fine. I mean, if they’re gonna show us that, we might as well be allowed to look at nice ones too, y’know?”

  “You told Ms. Hurston that doing a project on porn would be beneficial to the overall class experience, dude,” Bishop said. “You kinda deserved to get shut down for that shit.”

  “Yeah, well, it was worth it. Got a decent laugh.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Ms. Hurston could make anyone celibate just from breathing.”

  “You know, I bet she’s just had bad experiences,” I said generously. “It’s probably not a coincidence that she seems to think sex is the root of all evil. I know people like that.”

  “Oooh. I can’t tell if that was a burn or not, but I’m gonna call it a burn.”

  I rolled my eyes and nudged Misael.

  “Not a burn, just an explanation. There were tons of women like that in my family’s circles,” I said. “Women who’d had bad marriages or whose husbands cheated or whatever. So they ended up vilifying any kind of relationship because their own ended up going bad. Honestly, it’s kinda sad.” I smirked. “But, I mean, shoving STD junk in our faces is probably a little bit of an extreme.”

  “A little?!”

  Bishop rolled his eyes. “Enough talk about weird junk. I’m tryin’ to eat here.”

  Misael only protested long enough for Kace to threaten to eat his food if he was going to be obnoxious like that. He jerked his little bowl of mac and cheese back to him, looking like he would fight to the death for his meal if it was necessary.

  I laughed, shaking my head. My gaze met Bishop’s, and the warmth and heat gazing back at me made a slight flush rise in my cheeks. He reached under the table, squeezing my thigh.

  “Why don’t we get a little studying in before we cut out and go to the warehouse tonight?” he suggested. “That way this fuckhead over here actually has a chance at passing the classes he’s so against learning in.”

  “Hey—!”

  Misael put on an offended expression.

  True to Bish’s word, however, that’s exactly what we did. After spending an hour or so on homework, we loaded up into the convertible and drove to the warehouse as the sun set. The music blared from the speakers, and I sang along to songs that I had come to learn in the months that I’d been with the Lost Boys. I danced in the seat, swaying and moving my body to the beat the way Misael had taught me.

  When we got to the warehouse, we unloaded everything, bringing in a cooler with some beers and snacks. Kace had gotten ahold of some pot, and as Misael put it, we deserved a little relaxation with exams coming up.

  I plopped down onto the couch while the boys set everything up. As music started to blare from a boom box, Misael came over to me, a joint held tight between his plush lips and a smirk on his face as he took a drag. He swayed his hips to the beat of the music as he held it out to me, and I laughed, taking it from him as I stood. I moved my body like his as I took my own drag. It hit my lungs, a slight sting and a strong taste on my tongue, but I loved the feeling of being lifted… weightless.

  It settled easily and comfortably, and I laughed again, letting Misael pull me toward him to dance. I looped my arms around his shoulders, letting the music dictate how and where we’d move.

  This was my new normal. And as much as I wanted to help my father, I couldn’t help but love how good being with the boys made me feel. How effortless it was to just be with them. How… perfect it felt.

  The irony of that wasn’t lost on me. In my world, it wasn’t normal to spend time in warehouses. It wasn’t normal to smoke pot and party with dangerous, wild boys. It wasn’t normal to be shared between said boys either, and it certainly wasn’t normal to crave them with every fiber of your being.

  But I did.

  Finals came and went in a blur. None of us were particularly worried about them, not even Misael, although he did seem to breathe easier once they were done.

  On the Friday of our last exam, the boys dropped me off at home after school since they had a job to do for Nathaniel, promising to pick me up afterward so we could all celebrate properly.

  I kissed them each goodbye in the way that had become our custom, then climbed out of the car, straightening my clothes and trying to get my breath back. Indulging in my hunger for these three boys never seemed to sate it. Instead, it just left me craving more.

  More. Always more.

  I watched the beat-up convertible disappear down the street before turning toward our squat little house. When I did, I noticed a second car parked outside our house, one I didn’t recognize. It looked shiny and nearly new, an expensive model I recognized from having seen several in our old neighborhood. Had mom bought another car?

  Fuck. What is she thinking?

  I steeled myself for that conversation as I went inside.

  But the moment I stepped through the door, I froze.

  Moans came from the end of the hall, a raucous kind that were punctuated by the sounds of rhythmic knocking. My brows furrowed, and a sudden rush of cold filled my body. I had a split second of panic that someone had broken in, that someone was attacking my mother.

  But, no…

  Those weren’t the sounds of something unwanted happening.

  My mouth dry, I walked back through the hall. My footsteps felt like lead. I felt my pulse in my ears, and the cacophony of blood pressure pounding through made me feel nauseous with each step.

  She couldn’t… she wouldn’t…

  She would.

  I pushed my mom’s door open, unable to look away at the scene in front of me. Limbs and sheets tangled together between my mom and a man who was definitely not my father. Nausea twisted my stomach, and I swallowed hard as bile stung the back of my throat.

  They didn’t even notice that I was here, too fucking wrapped up in each other to care about anything else.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  The words burst from my lips on a hoarse croak. My throat was tight, my chest constricted. My hands unconsciously clenched into fists, but I wasn’t even sure who I wanted to hit.

  They both startled, and the man cursed as he jerked away from my mother, grabbing at the sheets to cover himself up.

  “Cordelia—what are you doing?” Mom demanded breathlessly, wrapping her bed sheets around her. Her hair was a mess, and so was the makeup on her face. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. They’d been at this for a while.


  “What am I doing?” My voice was high-pitched. Strangled. “What are you doing? What—”

  And that was when I got a good look at the man that was in my mom’s bed.

  “Mr. Jemison?”

  I knew him. I’d seen him at a few cocktail parties my parents had thrown, although he hadn’t been invited to many. He was an average man, someone that people in our old circles had deemed unremarkable in almost every way. He’d probably been handsome in his prime, but those years were past him even though he was only a few years older than my father. He’d had the decency to cover himself but not the shame to get out of my mom’s bed—or even to look ashamed of himself for getting caught in it.

  “I see this was a bad time,” he said stiffly.

  “You’re goddamn right it was a bad time. What—”

  “Cordelia, dear, please. You’re making a scene.”

  “I’m making a—?”

  I cut myself off, glaring at her. My jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt, but I sucked in air through my nostrils, trying to ignore the smell of perfume and cologne and sex that permeated the room.

  I breathed in. Out.

  Then I turned, slamming the door behind me.

  Fourteen

  Sitting on my bed half an hour later, I listened to the muffled conversation coming from Mom and Mr. Jemison.

  They were showering. Together. As if I wasn’t in the other room, as if I hadn’t walked in on them having sex, as if this was nothing.

  My father was in jail, and my mom was having sex with a man who should be miles and miles away from us. He should be on the other side of Baltimore, with his own fucking family. He shouldn’t be in this house. He shouldn’t be touching my goddamn mother.

  As I sat there, it all clicked in my mind—everything I had tried so hard not to see, not to acknowledge for the past several weeks. Her suddenly lifted spirits. Her getting dressed up, wearing makeup every day. The days when she was out of the house for seemingly no reason, at hours that simply didn’t make sense.