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Copyright © 2021 by
P.A. Brokenshire
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First eBook and paperback edition May 2021
18+ This book includes graphic depictions of sex as well as dark topics that may trigger some readers. This is a work of fiction and as such certain sexual actions and behaviors in this book are not condoned in everyday life. Read at your own discretion.
Prologue
Garrett - Present
“Stop it! You're just trying to hurt me!" She screamed at me, covering herself with the dress that was now coated in dirt from the dock. “We can make this work. I can help you.”
I struggled with my pants, trying to button them as the voice in my head screamed.
“No one can help you. No one will ever be able to fix you. You’re broken.”
"You can’t fucking help me!" I snarled the words at her as she looked up at me with wide eyes, tears filled them. Tears for me.
Those eyes didn't just look at me, they looked through me. I wanted to hold her, press her to me, and accept her comfort like I had done the night before. I wanted to give the comfort she so craved in return, but this had gone too far. I couldn't bring her down to my level only for her to discover how much more of a monster I could be. I'd done a lot of terrible things in my life, things that would kill most people. Sometimes I wish they had killed me.
I wasn't a good man. I was full of rage, of pain. Not worth the faith her father gave me, or the understanding that showed in her eyes. I could hurt her. I had proven that 10 years ago. Hurt came to me so easily. It was something that seeped from my soul, rotted my bones. It was a part of me. Easy. Easier than forgiveness, than acceptance, than love. I could give her that much. I could make her hurt again even if it cost me my redemption. I was doomed long ago anyway.
With the button on my slacks finally latched, I ran for the path and headed directly to the truck. I started the engine and pulled abruptly out of the driveway. I drove straight towards my undoing.
Chapter 1
Garrett-10 years ago
Another party, another drink, another joint, another girl. There was always another. I just wanted silence, for the world around me to pause for a change. The music was loud, so loud that the bass pounded under my skin. I sat back on the couch, eyes closed as the girl next to me curled her fingers into my stomach and under my shirt. She was pretty enough- honey hair, pretty lips, big tits, but the feeling of her skin on mine did little to excite me. Sure, my dick was hard. Too bad the sensation was more of an annoyance. I was lost in the fog of my own exhaustion. My body was so tired, used up. I knew that eventually it would shut down. It had been too long since I had truly slept. Days, I think. I would black out soon.
"You feel so good," she mumbled, and I felt the zipper fall on my jeans followed by her fingers sliding beneath the fabric, soft and unsure.
There were at least a dozen people in the room. She was either too drunk to care or a kinky bitch. Fine by me either way. I wasn't planning on returning the favor anyway. I'd never touch a girl who was too inebriated to think. Touching me on the other hand? That was fair game. She turned her head and her lips met mine, her tongue pressing urgently to open my mouth, mumbling my name. Shit. What was her name? Stacy? Stephanie? Samantha? I could swear it started with an S. Her tongue slipped in and the taste of her broke through my haze. She tasted like Tequila. I shoved her away, but the smell had already seeped into my nose. My stomach lurched.
"Who the fuck brought Tequila?" I growled into the crowd. The music had nothing on my screaming voice. The girl looked confused, but Trevor knew better. He found the bottle on the bar, scattered among all the others. I hated Tequila. They all knew that. Probably some stupid out of towner, like the dumb slut on my hip.
"I got it, man!" He shouted, taking a quick swig before pouring the contents into the sink and tossing the bottle in the recycle hard enough to shatter.
He laughed to himself and tore off his shirt, flexing his tanned biceps. Trevor was a clown, always so amused by his own antics. The guy was a complete tool bag. Some chick came up beside him and ruffled his brown hair before moving to stroke his pecs. I'm not sure if it was the sight of him shoving his tongue down her throat or the lingering aftertaste of Tequila that made my stomach turn at that point.
I rubbed my face, closing my eyes again, allowing the world to right itself. The girl went back to her ministrations and I released a groan that had nothing to do with her hand fisting around my dick. My anger was quickly overtaken by the exhaustion once again.
I didn't want to sleep. I knew what would be waiting for me in that dark. Even through the drugs and the booze, the nightmares would always win. Nothing could entirely fill the black hole in my chest anymore. It grew with each passing year, invading my body like black mold. Eight years and nothing had changed. I was dressed in nicer clothes now, the house was clean, my brother was safe, but I still felt like the little boy in that closet. I needed to stay alert. Stay awake for a few more hours.
"Do you want another beer?" Trevor asked, waving the bottle in front of my face, the red in his eyes surrounding his brown irises. I shouldn't take it. I needed an upper to get my blood pumping, but Trevor was all out of the good stuff. I would have to do something else to spike my heart rate, something drastic.
"Fuck it," I declared, looking at whatever her name was, pulling my cock free as I grabbed the beer. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
The girl's eyes went wide in surprise at my lack of shame, and I chuckled. I doubted she had seen one as big as mine. It wasn't freakishly large, but it was thick and long. I knew I was packing
enough that I had nothing to be ashamed of. My pulse quickened as several people looked our way. I chugged the whole beer. Electricity ran underneath my skin. Adrenaline pumping at full blast. Something about the crowd made me just a bit harder. She wanted kinky. Welcome to my world.
"My dick will look so good between those lips. But I can find another set just as easy." I added, tossing the empty bottle to the floor as I reached up to cup her cheek. She laughed. I didn't. My eyes burrowed into hers. "Well? Are you gonna taste me with that pretty mouth or not?"
I watched her pupils dilate, felt her squirm on the couch. The moan that left her lips was all the answer I needed. She wanted to taste me, it turned her on. Good. She bent over to put my dick in her mouth as I slid my hand into her hair. She was warm, wet, and eager. I felt her take me into the back of her throat almost immediately as I massaged her head in my hand. The adrenaline continued to course through me as the beer further clouded my senses. It would shut off my brain for a while, not filling the hole exactly, but it would cover it as would the nameless girl's mouth. It would keep the nightmares away, but they would find me eventually. They always did. No matter the drugs or booze or warm mouths.
She worked on me with the finesse of a girl who had done this a hundred times, cupping my balls and flicking her tongue. I let my head fall back as I listened to the crowd hoot and holler. The high of them watching was fading quicker than I wanted it too. I was still so tired. My hands stroked her hair as I grunted, trying to fight the sleep.
"You gonna swallow, pretty girl?"
She moaned loudly then. So much for names. She didn't care what I called her. Her throat opened and she took me all the way in. I could feel the building in my stomach. Someone smacked her ass and she
yelped around me, mouth full, and the vibrations were amazing on my skin.
"That's a good slut."
My body shook with the threat of release and I growled, tugging on her hair as I came into her mouth. The stunt wasn't good enough to beat out the exhaustion. I wasn't even sure if I stopped coming before I blacked out.
Fists collided with skin. I felt my bones crack and splinter. Everything hurt. I cried, trying my best to cover myself from the punches. A hand pulled me up by the hair and I was doused in water that covered my face as I clutched onto the rim of the toilet. I fought for air, for escape.
I woke to a pounding headache, covered in sweat on Trevor's guest house couch, and gasping for oxygen. The memory still lingered behind my eyelids as I stumbled over to the kitchen. The place was already spotless, but he always left the booze out when I was over. I grabbed the closest bottle of liquor to clear away the image and get a grip on my hangover. The bottle shook in my hand as I swallowed. Once...twice...three times. There wasn't much left in the bottle, so I drained it, wiping my mouth before clutching the counter.
"About time you got up," Trevor said with a laugh as I panted. He was used to my nightmares. He knew not to ask questions, not that he cared. Trevor only cared about Trevor. He shoveled a handful of chips in his mouth. He was watching some football game on TV I couldn't tell if it was just highlights or an actual game and I really didn't fucking care. "The maids didn't even wake you up this time. You don't usually sleep that hard."
"What time is it?"
"More like what day is it." He laughed again. Always with that damn laugh. The world was a joke to him. "You slept clear through
Saturday, bro. It's almost two on Sunday."
So, the game was live then. Fuck. No wonder I had the shakes. I was starting to go into withdrawal. My phone vibrated from its place on a side table in the living room.
"Shit's been going off for hours," Trevor said, gesturing to the cell.
I shrugged, letting the liquor work its magic before finally reaching for the phone and unplugging it from the charger. Ten missed texts from my brother, a dozen or so calls from Robert and Laura. I ignored those, opting to reply to a text from Heather instead. She wanted to know why I didn't show up for our date last night.
"Damn it all to hell," I said, beginning to type a message back. No lame excuses. I told her I passed out on Friday and just woke up. Lying was for people that gave a shit. I didn't. It wouldn't make a bit of difference in the end. "I missed that stupid date."
Date was a bit of a stretch. I didn't do dates. She had invited me over to watch movies, but we both knew it was so we could fuck. Well, I knew. Maybe she had diluted herself into thinking differently. That was her problem, not mine.
"Heather?" He replied, shoving some more chips in his mouth with his mouth still half full. Could he at least fucking chew?
"Yeah. I've been trying to hit that for weeks. Now I'm going to have to get her hot and bothered all over again."
She would fall for it, they all did. The little cat and mouse game I played, the seduction and the dirty words. It always worked eventually. I dug around in my jeans for my car keys and took a final swig of liquor from a fresh bottle for good measure before heading for the door.
"I'm going to check in at home before they lose their shit. I've been here all week."
"Cool. I'm going to make a trip into Harrow. Want anything special?"
The smile that took over my face felt foreign, dark. The thought of some percs or Vicodin made my skin tingle.
"Same old, same old."
He gave a nod. Tossing the chips and reaching for his phone.
"See you tomorrow at school. That's if you're showing up."
I shrugged. Although it was more likely than not that I would show up. I ditched a fair amount, just enough to still pass, but Trevor couldn't miss any more class and he would have the good shit. My blood hummed for it and he knew it.
"Later, man."
He didn't respond, already caught up in his phone.
By the time my car hit the main road I had a good buzz going, enough that I could face them. I popped some cinnamon gum in my mouth and took off for home or at least the address on my mail and license. I wouldn't stay for long before crashing back on Trevor's couch or guest bed. I could only stand my family for so long. Despite the fact that I was eighteen those fuckers cared too much and the last thing I needed was their judgment or anyone else's. Trevor may be a class A douchebag, but he was shallow. He'd pat me on the back as I did a line of coke off his sister's ass while throat fucking her. Not like I would, she was fourteen. Regardless, he wouldn't blink an eye and that's what I needed, someone who didn't care and knew nothing of importance. I could pretend with him and drink, smoke, or fuck my way into oblivion.
Chapter 2
Avery- 10 years ago
The crowded hall made me feel claustrophobic as I shoved my books into my locker before straightening my black sweater over my dark skinny jeans. I had to hold my breath as a group of jocks passed behind me. It felt like they took up all the space and air in the hall. I wanted to go home to my books and my TV Home to the fictional friends who kept me company when no one else would.
I thought things would be easier when we moved to Junction, NC last year. I'd stupidly hoped that I would make at least one friend. Dad made it sound like a quaint small town from the books Mom used to read to me as a kid, but it was little more than a town full of rich snobs. I was still a pariah, still lost. I wondered if I would ever fit in, if people would ever stop looking at me with pity or annoyance. The poor girl with the dead mom. Better yet, the town weirdo and reject. Most days I would take the invisible girl over the bullied one. A large majority of the kids in Junction knew each other since pre-school and had parents that worked in Charlotte all week and left their kids with nannies. They were practically adults, throwing parties every other day and getting away with everything short of murder. I was the odd girl out, the broken toy nobody wanted. I couldn't keep up.
I'd tried to make friends at first, but all the girls talked about summers in vacation homes and what new car Daddy would buy them. For the first few weeks of Senior year, I had tried to become friends with no less than a dozen girls. I'd even exchanged numbers with a couple of them. They all looked at me like I had two heads when I told them I didn't wear makeup and they didn't like that my dad and I spent so much time together. It was even worse when they found out I read for fun and apparently, I was the only girl at Junction High that watched Inflictions. I would bet good money on
that being a lie. Inflictions was the hottest show on TV I may have said as much. The rumor mill was not friendly. It didn't take long for everyone to stop talking to me all together after that.
Dad fit in a bit better than me, but only because of his job. The small contractor business he opened last summer was booming. Money bought a lot of beautiful bathrooms, state of the art kitchens, guest houses, fancy porches, and tree houses. Dad was the best builder in town, and everyone knew it. They hired him even though his crew was mostly paroles and guys that had been shit on by life. His work was that good. Weirdly enough that's not why people thought he was strange. It was the fact that he didn't date, and I could admit my dad was a good-looking guy. Despite, well, being my dad.
He was still pining for my mother even eleven years later. We both missed her, but in a different way. I missed the mother I barely knew, the mother that I fantasized. His grief was more substantial. They had been high school sweethearts and he grieved a woman that he grew up with. He still grieved for her heavily, that wife that died over a decade ago. It sat weird with a little town. Add on to that a loner daughter and let's just say people give Dad a wide berth. At least we were outcasts together, but not even he could keep me in Junction.
I had only four more months of senior year before summer and then college. I had money saved up from mom's life insurance and an acceptance letter to NYU. I just had to make it through this hell. Four more months at this high school, with these people, and then I could escape to the city. From there I could explore the world and hopefully make a friend or two along the way. Someone to talk books with or watch bad TV Dad did not understand the greatness of dramatic TV shows and it's not like I could talk to him about guys. The dorm might actually give me some real experience with boys outside of fiction and that one horrid attempt at sex a few years ago. That's what it was, an attempt. I shook my head at the horrible memory. Calling it sex was being generous.
"Please, Garrett."
I heard the girl's pleas from behind me just as I shut my locker.
"You still owe me after that date you missed two weeks ago. Besides, I know you want to come. Everyone will be there," she said, and I turned to see Heather Lovely leaning against the lockers on the other side of the hall.
Yes, her last name was Lovely and that's exactly what she was, lovely and so impossibly perfect. Long blond, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect clothes, perfect baby blue eyes. She even had perfect teeth and beside her stood her dark equal, Garrett Hathaway. He towered over her small frame by a solid foot. Tall and toned with a slight tan. Italian roots, he definitely had them.
He looked down at Heather with annoyance, leaning with his side against the lockers and looking like some sort of model. One of those cologne models from the commercials who oozed sex and dazzled girls into idiocy all in classic black and white. He brushed back wavy black hair from where it touched his cheeks, a little bit of dark stubble coated his chiseled jawline.
His whole demeanor just screamed darkness, especially with his black shirt, jeans, and black coat. He was a shadow, someone who fit so easily into the darkness. He didn't adapt to the Technicolor world around him. Everyone just embraced him like they would the night. He was inevitable. The only thing light about him were those piercing blue eyes that he used to entrance every victim he set them on. Victims like Heather. The way he was staring at her...it was sinful. Honestly, I was surprised he hadn't gotten to her already. Then again, she was nice under all those perfect features. Unlike Garret, who's beauty hid the poison that ran through his veins. He was a wolf among sheep, who treated people like trash or toys. I absolutely loathed him as a person, but fuck me, I couldn't stop staring at him whenever I got the chance.
"No, I don't want to come with you to some stupid Valentine's dance," he replied with his usual bored tone, but his lips lifted in a slight grin as he reached up to touch her cheek, placing his thumb on her lip. I gazed at his fingers, his hands. I wished I could see his arms through his jacket. They were especially lovely to ogle when they were available. Every bit of him was so masterfully defined. "You know where I do want to come though? In this hot little mouth."
My cheeks heated as Heather released a soft gasp. I felt a rush of warmth run through my body as my heart picked up a bit. There was something about the sound of his voice, the commanding tone. As much as my head and heart hated Garrett my body didn't, not even close. And whenever I heard him talk like that it just did things to me and he talked like that a lot. To every girl that caught his eye. It seemed like every other week there was a new one.
He didn't laugh at Heather's reaction. Didn't apologize or pretend to be joking because he wasn't. He was dead serious. I hated that I liked that so much. Most guys my age didn't understand the appeal, they wouldn't. He never held back. Girl or guy, teacher or parent. Garrett said what he meant with zero regret and most of the time that meant hurting someone's feelings. He was too attractive for the girls to care and the boys thought he was a god for his way with women. I wished I was different, immune to his good looks and dirty words, but I wasn't. Heather recovered much quicker than me.
"Just meet me there. Two dances and some pictures, please?"
She pouted her perfect lips at him, and I shook my head at the ridiculous display. My racing heart returned to normal, and I held back a laugh. The fact that she thought she could convince him to go to a dance was absurd. Garrett didn't do dances. I couldn't picture him there in a suit and tie with his unruly hair tamed. He'd look out of place. Dances are too bright, too lively, for a shadow.
"Absolutely not, but the other offer is always available," he said, dropping his hand. He straightened his dark jacket and turned to go, catching my eyes. I immediately looked to the floor, letting my auburn hair fall in front of my face, but I knew it was too late.
Garrett made no secret that he didn't like me even though I never did anything to prompt his distaste. Maybe I wasn't hot enough for his liking. He only went for the obnoxiously hot girls. It wasn't like I was a hobbit, but he showed zero interest in me. I tried to remember that was a good thing. It's not like he ever actually dated those girls he talked to anyway. I doubted he liked them for more than their pretty bodies. I got the feeling Garrett didn't actually like anyone past their skin. I didn't even think he liked himself. As much as my body craved his, as much as I loved the words that came from his mouth, I knew that he was just an asshole. He was the type of venomous snake that was pretty to look at, but you would never let him slither freely into your home unless you were too stupid to notice.
"Anybody ever teach you to mind your own fucking business?" His voice was full of malice.
I looked up to see his face set in stone. Those beautiful eyes of his looked like glacier ice and when he glared at me, my insides became cold and hot all at once. I turned away from him, immediately coming to my senses. He was absolutely the biggest asshole on the planet. I started to walk away, hoping to avoid a confrontation in front of everyone. His damn audience of puppets gasped and tittered. Stupid sheep. I made it two steps before I felt myself being pulled back by my bag. The move was harsh and sent me falling to the ground. I didn't have time to stop it. My ass hit the tile. I let out a sharp hiss. That was going to bruise. I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I got onto my knees to pull myself up.
"You know, you look kind of hot in your proper place." He chuckled softly. "A bitch on all fours."
Hot? My stupid skin broke out in goosebumps. Of course, I would pick that to focus on. I really hated myself and whatever unruly hormones seemed to control me when it came to him. It didn't take long for my brain to catch up with his other words. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes as I gained my footing. My chest ached, but I managed to flip him off before I made a hasty exit to my next class. I was surprised that I managed that. It wasn't like me to bite back. I just wanted to try. Fuck those hormones and that pretty face. His friend Trevor slapped him on the back and the laughing started. Four more months.
Chapter 3
Garrett- 10 years ago
"Did you really have to pull that shit this morning?" Chris asked, sitting on a chair beside me at the lunch table. Even as a Junior, I wasn't surprised that he had heard of the incident in the Senior hallway with Avery. It did however surprise me that he would bring it up. He usually avoided talking about the things I'd done. I played with the water bottle in front of me, sliding it between my hands.
"What brother, were you not amused?"
Of course, he wouldn't be. He was a good kid, never made trouble. My little brother was as straight laced as they came. He even looked the part. Not a single dark brown hair on his head was out of place. His glasses made him look smart, but not nerdy. His warm brown eyes looked nothing like mine. He was so lucky that he shared none of her features. That thought made me insanely jealous. My life would have been so much easier if I hated him, but he's the only person I couldn't seem to hate. I loved my brother. Sometimes the looks he gave me were too much though. He wanted me to be someone better. I would never be that person.
"What did that girl ever do to you, Garr?"
I shrugged because I wasn't entirely sure of the answer myself. Avery Finley had moved to Junction last summer. She was pretty enough. Green eyes, reddish brown hair, nice round tits that were the perfect handful. And that ass. That ass was perfection with those curvy hips. When I caught sight of her in town before school started, I had wanted to stick my dick in her immediately. I might have tried if her dad hadn't been with her the day I first saw her.
"We need a funnel and tube for the beer bong." Trevor said, taking a stealthy hit off the vape pen he always kept in his pocket. "Fuck if I know where to find it."
The asshole chuckled to himself and I rolled my red eyes. He was ruining my high and stumbling through the hardware store was the last thing I wanted to be doing. I wanted to fuck something and sleep while the voice that constantly plagued my thoughts was hibernating.
"Let's split up. We'll find them faster that way."
Trevor went running off like a golden retriever on a mission. I took the opportunity to lean against a shelf and embrace my high. The air smelled like sawdust with a slight twinge of metal.
"I'm going to miss my show."
I looked over to see a sexy red head glaring at the man that I presumed to be her father. She was...something. I hadn’t seen her around before, but I'd heard a few rumors of the new girl in town. They hadn't been here for more than a few weeks. My eyes wandered her body from long legs to a girl next door face. She pouted her lips. Fuck. Those lips. A flash of an image of them wrapped around me made my stomach flip. Her father stared at the shelves in front of him, examining the tools. I wondered if I could get her attention. I cleared my throat, but she was entirely focused on her father.
"You're the one that wanted to come with me," he said playfully, nudging her on the shoulder and she pushed him back with another pout. He laughed, letting her drag him to the front towards the registers. "Okay, okay. No need to be so rude."
His words didn't match the look on his face. He was more than happy to cater to her, clearly enjoying her little tantrum. I watched as she stared up at him with just as much admiration.
"Can we get a pizza too?"
He shook his head but smiled at her. I could barely make out his begrudging agreement. They were getting too far away. The look on his face was unmistakable though, adoration.
I scoffed at the memory. I'd been ready to fuck her stupid until her father had looked at her that way- like she hung the moon, like she was the one bright thing in the universe. I didn't think anybody ever looked at me that way my entire life. Pity, hate, sadness, lust. Those emotions were all very familiar. Even Laura and Roger looked at me like a wounded animal. Chris too.
That day in the hardware store had been the starting point for my irritation with Avery. Then we started senior year and she was such an easy target. I needed entertainment and she was there. Quiet, smart, head always stuck in a book. She looked away at every sharp stare, fell for every stupid prank. No one bothered to stick up for her. It didn't take her long before she figured out that she didn't fit in and she didn't try to anymore. That just irritated me even more. She had the balls not to pretend like everyone else. I shook my head to clear it. Fucking stupid.
"No
one wants you around."
It was too early for that shit. The damn voice in my head loved to taunt me, to pray on every moment of weakness. At least when I was awake I could fix my torment. I twisted the cap off my water bottle and took several swigs. Chris caught the scent of the liquid inside and snatched it out of my hand.
"Seriously?" He shouted at me quietly, replacing the cap and shoving the now half empty bottle of vodka into his bag. "Can you try to be sober for five minutes?"
"Sorry," I mumbled, rubbing my face as the alcohol burned its way down my throat. Not that I was truly sorry. The alcohol would do its job and keep the monster at bay. He didn't understand. My perfect little brother, he didn't live with the same demons that I did.
"Mom and Dad want you home tonight." He released a sigh at the way I tensed at his words. What did he expect? I still couldn't believe that he could call them that so easily.
"Whatever."
He ignored my half ass reply and started talking about some new video game he was playing. He didn't sit with me often and it was a nice change of pace. The rest of the lunch period passed in a blur as he talked. I laughed and smiled genuinely for a change, not quite sure if it was him that made me feel so relaxed or the booze. Regardless, it was good to have the time with him talking about something other than his severe disappointment in me. It helped me make it through another few hours of the day. That and the first half of the vodka from the water bottle warming my stomach.
My buzz was wearing off by the time I stepped into my last class of the day, Economics. I was half tempted to skip, but the final project of the year was getting assigned and I needed it to pass. I took my seat in the back of the class as Mr. Watts greeted the class and quickly started talking about the importance of our final project. Like we didn't already know the project was worth a large portion of our grade. Even Trevor was paying attention.
I should have just dropped out. I thought about it last year, but Robert and Laura could barely look at me without pity. They already felt like they failed me, no reason to make it worse. Not that it mattered. College wasn't in the cards no matter how much they wanted me to go. They would pay way too much for me to get some shit degree that I would never use. I was done abusing their kindness and understanding. I would graduate, do the bare minimum. After that I could let the alcohol and drugs finish me off.
"You'll never be good for anything. You're a complete waste of space."
I flinched, digging my nails into my palms to keep my focus on something other than the damn voice. I had no drugs, my buzz was wearing off, and sex was out of the question. All my normal coping mechanisms. Pain was a good last resort. I could feel the marks my
nails were making in my palm. Sharp. I focused on the pain and my breathing while Mr. Watts droned on. I tried to pay attention.
"I'll be placing you in pairs and you will need to invent your own product together with a full marketing campaign, financial plan, and mock product."
Partnered projects were always such a cluster. Everyone in the class looked at each other, tension built in the room. Those idiots were so fucking predictable, anxiety practically oozed off their skin. They knew nothing of real panic or fear.
"Now for the fun part. You'll have to convince your classmates to buy your product," Mr. Watts said, flashing some monopoly money. "You'll each be given a set amount of cash to give to your fellow classmates and those cash earnings will be tallied into your overall grade. You'll have some time to work on this in class over the next few weeks before I expect you to start selling."
I rolled my eyes. As if that wouldn't turn into a straight up popularity contest. He finished handing out the money and proceeded to read names off a sheet in his hand. The class tittered with every name. I was fucking bored by the conversation. My fingers were getting tired, and I wanted more vodka or percs. Fuck yeah. Percs would hit the spot. I'd have to hit up Trevor for some. He would want another party. The thought exhausted me.
"Trevor Matthews and Heather Lovely."
Trevor grinned at me like the Cheshire cat as Mr. Watts kept talking. Mother fucker. I gave him a heated look. If he got to hit that before me, I would be pissed. I didn't like sloppy seconds. She was going to be one of the last high school bitches I bothered to stick my dick in. There weren't many left worth my time.
"Garrett Hathaway and Avery Finley."
The pain in my palms was overshadowed by my irritation. Of course. It would have to be that bitch. You have got to be fucking kidding
me? My thoughts flashed back to the hallway when she was on all fours like a dog.
"Maybe we can make some dog leashes," I said the words aloud without even thinking about it, and the class erupted into giggles. Fucking sheep.
"I didn't ask for commentary, Mr. Hathaway," Mr. Watts said, giving me a death glare before continuing with his pairings.
I could say something. I thought about it, but it wasn't worth the effort. We already had it out a few months ago when he caught me cheating on a test. The last thing I needed was another detention or suspension. High school was getting tedious. I had no intention of extending my time.
My eyes wandered over to Avery sitting on the other side of the room. She looked straight ahead, avoiding my gaze. I guess she didn't want a repeat of the hallway. I could see her side profile perfectly though. Her gently sloped nose was scrunched up. She was mad and the thought made me smile. Her eyes were tightly closed, and her cheeks were red. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. I'd thoroughly pissed her off and she wanted to say something about it. I laughed to myself. Well shit, that was a first. I recalled the way she flipped me off this morning. That was also a first. Maybe the little bitch was finally starting to fight back. That could be fun. I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing with new possibilities.
Chapter 4
Avery- 10 years ago
Mr. Watts partnered us together in the library a week after presenting the assignment. I sat across from Garrett at a small table in the non-fiction section. He leaned back on his chair with his feet on the table. Careless. I could hear the others talking about their ideas, feeding off each other's thoughts. Garrett didn't even bother to look at me. We were supposed to be working and instead he just sat there, fucking around on his phone. I wanted to smack him. We had to agree on our invention, and I couldn't even get him to pay attention. Class time was running out. We only had 20 minutes left in the period.
"When are we going to start working on this assignment?" I asked, pushing the papers I had written my inventions on towards him. "I've given you multiple ideas, just pick one."
He looked up from whatever text or social media app he was wasting our time on, glanced at the writing on the papers, and scowled at me.
"They're all shit ideas."
Now I really wanted to smack him.
"Then why don't youthink of something," I snapped at him.
"Don't need to. I already have our idea."
He slid his phone across the table, and I took it. It was warm from being in his hands for so long. I froze at the image on the screen. Bare skin. A naked, dark-haired woman posed on all fours with a gag
in her mouth. My entire body tingled; my skin practically hummed. It was impossible not to stare. She had a collar on her neck attached to a leash. The man behind her held onto it as she looked adoringly at another man who smiled with such raw pleasure. Porn. The mother fucker was looking at porn in the school library and now so was I.
"I still like the leash," he said, drawing my eyes from the photo. He looked at me with the darkest expression, a smile on his lips. The way I would expect the devil would look. A lure to darkness.
"Jesus!" I whisper yelled, shoving the phone back in his direction, the blush finally tinging my cheeks. My tongue flicked out to wet my lips. I was hot with...embarrassment. Yeah, that was it, I was embarrassed. And turned on. I was definitely turned on. I could admit that to myself. I smoothed my hair down to cover my flush. I noticed I was breathing a little heavy, so I tried to steady my breaths.
"You're such an easy target." He chuckled, picking the phone back up. I hoped he hadn't noticed my reaction. "It's like you've never seen a naked woman before. Or are you so much of a prude that you can't even look in a mirror?"
A different heat filled me. Anger. I wasn't going to answer him. It was none of that asshole's business what I did in my spare time. He didn't need to know about Lucas and the way he had humped me like a rabid dog Sophomore year. I definitely wasn't going to tell him about the porn I watched or the smut I read. He clearly didn't know much about readers. I doubted there was a reader out there that hadn't read at least a few romance novels. But in the library? In the middle of class? Did he have no sense of propriety? For that matter, did I? There was a slick wetness between my thighs now. My nipples ached against the smooth lining of my bra.
"Hate to break it to you, but leashes were invented a long time ago," I said, ignoring his rude remark and my own stupid reaction to the photo. My breathing was returning to normal. Now I was sick with nerves and my attitude was making an appearance. Garrett wanted a reaction out of me? Fine. I'd give him a taste of his own medicine. "Do you have a legitimate suggestion or not? I don't need this project to pass, but something tells me you do. You need my help, and I could just as easily let you fail. How's that for an easy target?"
The look on my face was steel. I was chewing the insides of my cheeks to hold back the urge to say more. I wanted him to stew on that. He took his feet off the table and leaned forward, pressing his elbows to the hard wood. His icy eyes glared into me, meeting my anger.
"I don't need anythingfrom you," he said the words with a slow, dark smirk before standing. "Fail then, bitch."
I felt like all the air in my body just disappeared. He left me sitting at the table. Mr. Watts didn't even look up from his book as he walked out of the library. He'd called my bluff and I had no idea what to do about it. The students around me whispered. No doubt about me, and Garrett's abrupt absence. I'd gotten accustomed to their taunting. It's why I didn't have social media, it's why I avoided talking to anyone unless I absolutely had to. Best to be considered shy then the butt of everyone's jokes.
Shaking my head with a laugh I did my best to shut them out. I compiled my research into a stack. I needed to get Garrett to at least agree to the invention at the bare minimum. I could fake his participation through the rest of the project. I'd put on a good front, but if I failed it would bring my A to a C. Still passing, though far from my average. The final bell rang, and I was the first one out of the library.
The cool air in the courtyard was a reprieve to my warm skin. I could feel it through my sweater. We were well into February, and March was fast approaching. My four month sentence was getting closer to three. The thought brought a smile to my face as I made my way to my car. It started on the second try and I even got a little heat for a change. Dad may be a good carpenter, but he was a shit mechanic. No point fixing it now. I wouldn't need a car in New York. I wouldn't need anything. The thought reminded me of Garrett's sharp words. He may not need anything, but I needed him to pick an invention. I shuffled through the papers I had and pulled out the best idea in the bunch. It was stupid, childish honestly. It would make for a good nostalgic factor though. People loved to buy stuff they could relate to and it would be easy to make.
A knock on the car window made me jump. I looked up to find Chris, Garrett's brother. Great, another fucking prank. I didn't need that shit.
"Go away," I said through the window, organizing my papers into my bag. I went to shift into drive, but he knocked again, holding up his hands in surrender when I scowled at him. He had his motorcycle helmet in one hand and nothing in the other. He wanted to make it clear he was unarmed. No cell phone, no spray paint, no toilet paper, or honey. I'd seen it all.
I rolled down the window with a glare. He smiled and I felt my anger dissipate a little. He looked mature for just turning seventeen. If he had been born a couple months prior, he and Garrett could have been Irish twins. It was hard to remember they were even related. They looked nothing alike, ran in different social circles, and I rarely saw them together. They had such contrasting personalities. At least from what I could tell at a distance. If Garrett was a shadow, Chris was a warm reading lamp.
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for my brother."
"Sorry that he was born? Can't say I blame you. I would be too if I were you."
He laughed uncomfortably and adjusted an out of place leather jacket over his red sweater. Chris wore better clothes than most people in high school and he had a bit of a hot professor thing going on. I chastised myself inwardly for that thought. One guy smiled at me with kindness and of course I took it immediately in the wrong direction. I needed to stop reading so many romance novels. It didn't help that his brother had shown me that photo. I was still thoroughly hot and bothered. That thought made my anger rise again.
"Well, if that's it, I've got places to be."
"Yeah of course," he murmured, shuffling nervously. "Someone just told me that Garrett ditched you in the library and I saw you sitting here. Thought I could at least check in and apologize. He can be a...handful sometimes."
"That's an understatement. Your brother is a dick," I said, pulling my hair into a ponytail. A frustratingly hot dick. There had to be a point where being hot just wouldn't give you a pass on your tantrums. Surely his parents didn't let him get away with shit? Or maybe they did. Then who in his life had shit in his cheerios or was he born that way? A little shit from birth. "What's his fucking problem anyway? Was he bullied as a kid and now has to take it out on everyone else?"
Chris choked for a second, before regaining his composure. It was obvious that my statement had surprised him and maybe hit a nerve. Huh, maybe there was more to the shadow that was Garrett Hathaway.
"I should have said something a few weeks ago after the hallway incident. I try to stay out of his business, ignore the pranks, but
shoving you...he took it way too far. I just wanted you to know that not all of us Hathways are jerks. I'll try to keep him in check. He listens to me."
I laughed, like honest to God laughed. It had been a while. It was truly funny to me that Chris thought he had some sway over his brother. I highly doubted that. He laughed with me.
"Okay, so sometimes he doesn't tell me to fuck off at least," he said finally, smiling sheepishly.
Now that was probably a more accurate statement. I heaved a deep sigh and tried to give him a warm smile. It was not Chris' fault that his brother was an asshole. I held up a finger to pause him as an idea suddenly occurred to me. I grabbed the invention ideas from my bag and passed them through the window to Chris.
"Can you take these to him? Maybe help him pick one for our senior project?"
"I can try," he said, tucking the papers into his own bag. "Maybe I can catch him at home if I go straight there. Sometimes he comes home to grab clothes after school, especially on Fridays."
"Clothes?" I asked, confused.
"Yeah, um, he spends most nights at Trevor's."
That's weird.
"Okay, well, just give them back to me on Monday if he doesn't take them."
He gave me a nod and turned to walk across the parking lot. I watched him climb onto his bike and place his helmet on before situating his glasses. My stomach flipped. There was something
undeniably attractive about a guy on a motorcycle. I shook my head again and reminded myself that I shouldn't be staring at Garrett's brother. Granted, it was no worse than staring at Garrett which I had done a lot of recently. The words he had spoken in the hallway to Heather were still running in my mind on repeat. Clearly, I was losing my mind.
I turned on the radio loud enough to drown out my thoughts and by the time I pulled up to our cute little pale blue house nestled in the woods I had almost forgotten about Garrett and his brother. Almost.
Chapter 5
Garrett- 10 years ago
My mind reeled, replaying the scene in the library. I had expected to get a rise out of Avery. She was so easy to manipulate, but her reaction to the porn was not quite what I anticipated. I thought she would throw the phone down, maybe smack me, or run out of the library. She hadn't. I'd seen enough women turned on before to know that is what happened. Her eyes went wide for the briefest moment, her body had tensed. I had watched her flush and squirm, her body reacting before she got it under control. Then she'd snapped back at me and boy, had she hit the wrong fucking nerve.
"You need me," Chris argued, shaking his head and dropping his bag. " Who's going to take care of you if I go?"
Chris looked at me with such sorrow. I wanted him to be excited for camp, but he was afraid to leave me alone.
"Just go, it will be fine. For an 8-year-old you worry an awful lot," I said, handing him his bag and ruffling his hair. "It's one week."
A week of beatings, of torture. Just another week in my neverending agony. Chris didn't need to be there to witness it. The bus pulled up and I waved to my brother as he boarded before heading back into the house. I took a slice of bread and hoped that it would go unnoticed. I hadn't eaten since the apple Chris gave me the day before. My legs felt sore from being cramped into my chest in the closet. I laid out on Chris' bed and stretched them. I even dozed for a little while, before securing myself back in the closet so I would be out of reach when she got home. One week. I would live.
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