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“Says the antisocial virginal prude.” I want to take the words back the second I see the flash of pain on his face. This isn’t who I am. I don’t hurt people. I’m about to apologize, but what he says next cuts off my oxygen supply. “At least the guys at school don’t think I’m a worthless slut.”
“Damn it. I—” “You what?” Whipping around, I give him a suggestive smile. “You want to fuck me?” His abs spasm as I trail a finger down his torso. “Cash in on your ticket to ride the worthless slut?” He snatches my finger before I reach his zipper. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” My heart twists as I back away. I wanted so badly to be his friend, but now? I don’t even want to look at him. “Says the guy who has none.”
“Peace offering.” There’s a hint of a smile on her face, but then she scowls. “Wow. You must really want to ride the worthless slut, huh?” Fuck. I’ve never been good at apologizing. Probably because I don’t feel sorry for a lot of shit. “You’re not a worthless slut.” I stifle the urge to tell her that I do, however, want her to ride me harder than a jockey riding their champion horse when they’re approaching the finishing line.
“How’d you know peach cobbler was my favorite?” Because I know almost everything about her.
Everyone has their preferences, sure, but no two people are the same. What one guy finds attractive, the next could find hideous and vice versa. However, Skylar could be five hundred pounds and it wouldn’t matter. She’s perfect.
Are you a breast, thigh, or leg guy?” I pry the bucket she’s holding hostage out of her hands. “I enjoy devouring it all.” Her gaze drops to my mouth and a faint blush creeps into her cheeks.
“Why are you looking at me like you hate me?” Because I can’t fucking have you.
“Because I always have this crazy, strong realization beforehand.” My lungs lock up. “What realization?” She looks so vulnerable right now. So pliable. “That I can trust you.” Tearing her gaze away, she looks up at the night sky. “But then that guy is gone, and the one in his place is an asshole.”
“I really want to be friends with you, Memphis.” Friends. It’s the equivalent of tearing my beating heart out of my chest and handing it to her so she can stomp all over it. But for some foolish reason, I’m willing to sacrifice my own happiness for hers.
During the short walk home, I try not to let myself think about the words she looked like she wanted to say but didn’t. The ones that would validate this intense awareness I get whenever we’re alone. If we had met first…she would have chosen me.
Memphis is still grumpy as ever, but we’re friends. It’s as if something I wasn’t even aware I needed has clicked into place. Reaching over, Memphis turns down the volume on his stereo. “Why do you keep staring at me?” His grouchiness only makes me grin wider. “I like being friends with you.”
“You know you’re the only person I’ll allow to shorten my name.” The faintest trace of a dimple peeks out of his cheek. It’s every bit as alluring as the tiny cleft in his chin. That’s when I realize. Clutching my chest, I gasp dramatically. “Oh my god!” The truck swerves. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” “Are you? Because, Memphis Payne, you are most definitely smiling.” Or rather, he was.
“She also mentioned that I was going to survive an apocalypse.” Memphis’s lips pull into a firm line, and I know he’s trying his hardest not to laugh. “As in the zombie kind?” “I don’t know. I was a fetus.” Exasperated, I huff a breath. “Anyway, after this apocalypse, I’m going to marry a dark knight who’s an incredibly gifted musician and a Scorpio.” It’s why I begged the universe for him every night. I knew he’d save me.
“Why am I always hurting my foot around you?” A slow grin unfurls. “Because of your aversion to wearing feet prisoners.”
One thing’s for sure, though. Memphis Payne is definitely not gay. However, it’s my next thought that makes my stomach bottom out and my heart stop cold. But he is a musician…and a Scorpio.
“Why would I ever cheat on you? You know how much I love you.” Relief washes over me until I think about Arabella. She looked so certain about what she saw. “Why would Arabella say you did then?” His eyes squeeze shut. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you this, but she came on to me at the party and I turned her down.”
“I was going to.” Scrubbing a hand down his face, he exhales. “I was pissed after Skylar staged that little intervention with Archie, and I wanted to get back at her…so I took Charlotte upstairs.” He looks at me. “I couldn’t go through with it, though. Skylar’s my endgame. Always has been, always will be.”
“Skylar’s pussy is the best I’ve ever had. There’s no way I’m giving that up for a piece of side snatch.”
Josh said Skylar’s pussy was the best he’s ever had… Not the only.
I’m even more excited for prom now, because I know without a doubt it’s going to be the best night of my whole entire life. Like a fairy tale. I want to do something that will make him feel good because his happiness is important to me, too. “Tell them to come in.”
“Isn’t she an angel?” Mrs. Landrum—who’s sitting in a nearby chair—coos. No. She’s a fucking seraph. I’ve heard the expression “took my breath away” tons of times, but I’ve never actually experienced it. Until now. She’s so goddamn gorgeous it physically fucking hurts to breathe.
I suddenly feel bad for my future wife because seeing her walk down the aisle in a wedding dress will pale in comparison to seeing Skylar Meadows in a fancy purple dress…smiling at me.
“What do you think, Memphis? I want your honest opinion.” You’re the most beautiful thing I’ll ever see in my life.
“Take it, you nasty little slut.” I’m confused because I distinctly remember Skylar mentioning she was spending the night with her aunt. Evidently not. I start to close the door but catch a flash of dark hair in my peripheral. Not blonde.
“Josh.” No response. I can feel Shane closing in once more…taunting me. Reminding me I’ll never be safe. Nausea plows through me in violent waves. “Open up,” I plead, hoping he’ll hear me. “Please. I need you.” But he doesn’t.
“Is this okay?” I breathe him in. He smells like Irish Spring soap and oranges. Like safety and shelter. “It’s perfect.”
“Don’t let me go,” I whisper, burrowing into the sanctuary he’s created for me. Because for reasons I don’t understand… This feels like home.
He’s so attractive it should be outlawed.
I gave her detention like you wanted. You better be at my house by 8pm because you owe me…and you know what I do to bad boys.
I bet that was the most fun you’ve ever had being called to the principal’s office. Turns out Memphis isn’t fucking a teacher. He’s fucking Mrs. Cox. That’s…he’s…she’s… “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t you dare defend that molester. Because that’s what she is, Memphis.” A sharp pain radiates throughout my chest, squeezing my lungs. “Trust me, I know.” Those brown eyes soften. “It’s not like that. I’m eighteen and—” “It started over a year ago,” I counter. “You weren’t eighteen then.”
“Where are you going?” he calls out when I storm off for a second time. “Home.” I don’t want to be anywhere near him right now. I can’t. I should be thrilled to have additional confirmation that my boyfriend isn’t cheating on me. Yet, for reasons I don’t fully understand…it feels like a knife’s been plunged into my heart.
“Let me see your hand. You’re bleeding.” I don’t care about the blood. I care about him yelling at me and defending her. Choosing her.
“Why are you acting like this?” Because he shouldn’t be with her. “She’s not good for you.” His gaze traps mine, sending a rush of heat to all the places it shouldn’t. “Why?” My heart thuds painfully against my chest. I open my mouth to deflect, but the truth slips out. “Because I don’t want you with her.”
“I’m sorry.” Slipping his impassive mask back into place, he steps to the side…letting me go. I try to shake off this feeling—this connection—as I walk away, but it’s impossible. Like telling my heart not to beat. Without warning, he grips my arm, pulling me back to him like a powerful current I can’t swim against. “I’m not.” And then his mouth is on mine.
It’s wrong. It’s reckless. It’s perfect. He’s like quicksand pulling me under. I’m sinking. Tumbling. Falling.
“Don’t ever do that again.” He can’t. An arrogant smirk curves his lips as he rubs the red mark I left on his skin. “Because you feel guilty for liking it? Or because you felt the same thing I did, and it scares the shit out of you?” Both. However, there’s another—more important—reason. “Because I love him.”
Go near my brother or fuck with Skylar, and I’ll be the one to ruin you myself.” I blow a stream of smoke in her face. “Don’t worry, though. You’ve still got a couple more miles before you reach the washed-up stage. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding another teenager with a big dick.” I drop my cigarette and step on it. “There’s always a new batch of freshmen in the fall, right?”
“Did you need something else?” “Yeah.” Placing the guitar he just bought on the floor, he marches over. “I need you to play that again. Right the fuck now.”
If this Chandler Dicky guy isn’t pulling my leg and really is the manager of The Resistance, then the Vic he was referring to is the Vic Doherty. Holy motherfucking fuck balls. Not only is Vic the founder and CEO of Phantom Rock Records, the dude is a fucking legend.
“No one’s been able to get in touch with him, and Skylar’s a mess.” My chest coils as he continues. “God help me, Memphis. It was the saddest thing I ever saw. That poor girl sat in our living room in her pretty dress with those big hopeful eyes glued to the front door for hours…just waiting for him to walk through it.” He puffs out a breath. “I had no choice but to go out there and tell the limo driver that Mrs. Landrum hired to leave. When I came back, she was gone—”
I never thought I could hate Josh. Sure, he’s done some messed-up shit before. Not to mention he’s lazy, unreliable, annoying…and an overall pain in the fucking ass. Despite all that, though, he’s still my brother. My family. But right now? He’s the piece of shit who hurt Skylar. It’s a good thing he’s not here because I’d beat the living hell out of him.
“How could he do this to me?” Her voice is fragile, like cracked crystal. “I don’t know.”
“He should have been here.” “I know.” He should have…but he’s not. I am.
“Home.” “You want me to take you home?” I’d like her to stay, but tonight isn’t about me. Shaking her head, she winds her arms around my neck. “No. I am home.” I’m trying to process what she’s saying when she leans forward… And kisses me.
He tastes like home and faith. Like loyalty and sincerity. Like affection and security.
He should have taken me to prom like he promised. He should have spun me around on the dance floor and told me how pretty I looked. Not because I’m conceited but because I spent hours shaving, curling my hair, and applying makeup…hoping to take his breath away. He should have been here…because he knew how happy it would have made me. But he’s not. And what I thought was going to be the greatest night of my life…has turned into one of the worst.
He should be forced to register that smirk as a lethal weapon because it’s dangerous. Same goes for his lips. That little chin cleft. That tiny dimple in his cheek that makes a rare appearance whenever he genuinely smiles. Those dark eyes. On second thought, every inch of him is dangerous.
“I’m…you’re…” I can’t form words…because there aren’t any that would even come close to doing his talent justice. “Incomparable.” That sexy grin is back with a vengeance. Dimple and all. “You going all fangirl on me, Meadows?” I totally am. And now I am totally blushing.
I wonder what those talented fingers would feel like inside me. If they’d move with the same expertise and agility. Without warning, those talented fingers fumble a note…and I realize I’ve been rubbing myself through my panties all while imagining him touching me.
