When we kissed before, there was anger. There was lust. There was curiosity.
But there wasn’t … this, this bone-deep ache, this tenderness, this compassion.
His mouth is hot, the taste of him irresistible. He’s fucking delicious and I’m living for it.
We stumble back, still kissing, and my arms go around his neck.
There’s tongue—a lot of tongue—and when I press my body to his, I can feel how excited he is through his pants. If Tess opens the door and sees this … I think, but there’s something about the inherent danger in this situation that makes it even more exciting.
“Break up with Lumen,” Parrish whispers, but his mouth is still so close to mine that I can feel every word as a gentle caress from his lips to mine. “Don’t let her kiss you anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper back, but then he’s kissing me again, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t even feel anymore. I just am. I’m here in this moment, existing and taking it all in. If my emotions weren’t in a wild tangle already, they’d be an impossible knot. The more we kiss, the more my hands begin to rove down Parrish’s back, the more his hands creep down to my hips, the tighter that knot gets.
We hit the edge of the bed and I sit down, letting him brace a single knee on my right side. The mattress dents under his weight, but Parrish doesn’t break the kiss. Actually, he’s so good at it that I start to wonder if the rumors about him being a standoffish dick at school are really true. Does he pick up girls in secret and practice on them?
“Stop thinking so hard,” he murmurs against my mouth, sounding annoyed. “Just don’t think right now.”
I start to protest, but then … I’m always up in my fucking head, and I don’t feel like being there anymore. I don’t want to think about the Banks or about Tess or about some distant, random shadowy figure who’s supposed to be my father. At least whatever this is between me and Parrish is just that—ours. Nobody else’s.
“Tattoo me,” I blurt, before I can second-guess myself. “Somewhere that everyone can see. Somewhere that Tess can see.” Parrish pauses, his eyes flicking away for a brief moment. He’s indescribably beautiful right now, his foppish brown and gold curls falling across his forehead, his signature frown glossy with saliva from my own mouth. “I honestly don’t care what it is. You choose. Anything.”
“Anything …” he starts, and then he’s dragging his gaze back to mine and shattering me with it. Why is he so goddamn pretty? Why do I hate him so much? Why do I … not hate him so much? And why in the actual fuck does he go from being an asshole to acting like a savior, all in a single week?
Our mouths clash again, just before his hand slides up under my baggy sweatshirt. The zing of contact between his bare palm and my naked side is electric. A tingling sensation starts at the base of my spine and a heat takes over the apex of my thighs. Part of me wonders if I’d actually do it, if I’d sleep with Parrish.
Is that weird? To even consider that … If Tess found out, it would kill her.
Part of me likes that idea. The rest of me is horrified by it.
And yet, I don’t stop. Actually, it’s me that reaches down and encourages his hand to climb higher, to find my breast through the stupid lacey bralette I’m wearing, the one with all the holes in it that doesn’t even really fit. It’s comfy as hell though.
Parrish squeezes my breast, sliding his thumb over my nipple at the same time. Reflexively, I reach up and cup his junk through his pants. He pulls back, but only slightly, blinking at me in surprise.
“Really?” he asks, that caustic burn in his voice taking on a different note. It occurs to me that every insult he’s ever thrown my way—from moment fucking one—has been a defensive technique, something to keep me at arm’s length. He wants me. He has since the first second he laid eyes on me.
And vice versa.
I’m no innocent in all of this.
“Really,” I repeat, and then I give him another squeeze and he groans, pressing his mouth to mine with a surge of heat that reminds me of that ember in my belly, the one that flames every time he’s around. Gamer Girl in love with her stepbrother. Aghh! I promised I wouldn’t let myself do this, fall for him or … whatever it is that I feel for him.
I’m not sure how much further we might’ve gotten if Chasm hadn’t opened the door and caught us.
I must not have inherited Tess’ ability to write because when I see the look on Chasm’s face, words fail me. In some small way, I feel like I betrayed him. Or let him down. Or …
“Are you two fucking nuts?!” he growls out, slamming the door and putting his back to it. “Tess is on her way up here.”
Parrish stumbles back like he’s been punched, putting as much distance between me and him as he can before he stops moving. He’s looking at me, not Chasm, but his attention snaps over to the door as soon as a knock sounds on the other side.
The knob jiggles, and I hear Tess’ strained voice from the hallway.
“I’m allowing Chasm to continue your tutoring sessions even though you’re grounded, but I want you both downstairs.” A brief pause as she waits for us to unlock the door. Chasm keeps it closed, staring at me with an impossible expression as I swipe my hands over my hair and shove my sweatshirt sleeve across my mouth to hide the slightly wet, swollen nature of it. “Unlock this door now.”
Her voice brooks no argument, so when I nod, Chasm opens it without hesitation.
Seeing Parrish in the room with us calms her down a beat which makes me feel … either gleeful or guilty, I’m not sure. The piece of my soul that’s hurting makes me want to hurt her more, tell her that I kissed her precious son. The real me knows that it isn’t a very good idea. I don’t want to make Tess angry; I just want her to stop hurting me.
“Get your schoolwork and head downstairs; this isn’t a ‘hangout’.” She makes single quotes with her fingers, and I bite my lip to resist rolling my eyes. Tess looks at me for a moment, but she doesn’t apologize or even mention our fight downstairs. It’s such a sharp, harsh contrast from the way things are handled in the Banks household. Sometimes we fight and cry and yell, and sometimes that goes on for a while, but we always come back to it. We never just drop it. What good does that do, to pretend the problem’s gone away? “Parrish.”
“I heard you,” he snaps back, shoving his fingers through his hair and then giving her a look like he regrets saying that. Tess turns back to me briefly, but I won’t look at her. Instead, I focus on my feet like they’re the only things in the room.
“I’ll get you a new phone tomorrow,” she tells me, all matter of fact, like she didn’t destroy the slightly outdated but still super freaking important to me phone that Maxine pitched in to buy last year. Luckily for Tess, I have everything set to upload to the cloud, but what if I didn’t? What if she’d just destroyed months or years of precious memories? “But you’ll only be allowed to have it during the school day, in case of emergency. Otherwise, it’s mine.”
I grit my teeth as she turns on her heel and clacks her way back down the hall to her office.
Good.
I hope she writes about this. Maybe then she can reflect on what a bitch she’s being.
“Lucky you, a Tess-provided phone,” Parrish says, his voice quiet and strange. I lift my head up to look at him but he’s staring out at the lake, bored and apathetic and His Great Majesty of Sloths, like he didn’t just kiss me and grab my tit and … oh my fucking god, did I just let him—encourage him—to grab my tit?! “Be careful. She’ll get in there and snoop through everything.” Parrish turns his face back to look at me. “She’ll track you.”
Seriously? Seriously?! He’s doing exactly what Tess was just doing—acting like what just happened means nothing. And I hate that. I hate that more than anything in the world. Emotions matter. They’re sticky. They don’t just dissipate like water on hot pavement.
“Wait a fucking second,” Chasm says, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. I�
��m happy to see that his piercings are back in, his eyes ringed with liner, and that pretty yellow lightning bolt on full display. Guess that means his dad is gone again? “Do I have, like, a weed hangover from that blunt I smoked last night, or did I just walk in on the two of you rounding second base?”
Parrish tucks his tattooed hands into the pockets of his jeans and tries to take off. Chasm throws his arm out to block him, his palm slamming into the opposite side of the doorjamb as he turns a scowl on his best friend.
“Don’t even do that,” he murmurs, low and sharp. And then, much to my surprise, he says something in Korean and Parrish responds. Oh my god. He’s taught his best friend how to speak his language. It’s … it’s so cute. The ultimate bromance. Pretty sure I’d have a tear if I weren’t so … conflicted. Furious at Tess. Furious at Parrish. In … lust with Parrish? Eww, that’s fucking gross.
Gamer Girl got it bad.
As I watch, the two of them have a mumbled conversation in Korean while I try to use my incredible K-drama watching skills to translate it. Unfortunately, I understand little to nothing. Okay, not little to nothing, but just nothing. Nothing at all. Except for my name.
Dakota.
At least they’re both still calling me Dakota.
I stand up from the bed and both boys pause to glance my way.
Don’t fall for Chasm; break up with Lumen. Why did he ask me those things unless he wanted something more than a stolen kiss every now and again?
“Please speak English for my sake,” I say quietly, and then pause. “Or teach me Korean, too.”
“You can barely handle Japanese, and you need to learn it for school. Why on earth would I add another language to your plate?” Chasm asks, but he won’t look at me. That’s when I realize it: he could … he might … maybe Chasm is … “Get your stuff and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He drops his arm and Parrish pushes past him, slamming his bedroom door as I stand there gaping. After a second, Chasm turns and heads down the hall, leaving me there to roil in my own confusion. I grab some of my hair with either hand and give it a quick yank, closing my eyes to stem the surge of frustration and hurt that I feel right now.
Chasm and I did sort of, maybe like, have a thing? But Parrish and I clearly have a thing?
Fuck.
I open my eyes to find Delphine watching me, a tight smile on her face as she waits patiently just outside my door.
“Do you mind if I come in and clean?” she asks, but I just drop my hands to my sides and look around.
“My room is as sterile as a doctor’s office,” I murmur, hating every square inch of it. “What is there to clean?”
Delphine pushes her glasses up her nose and comes in anyway, pulling a cart behind her that looks an awful lot like the ones hotel maids have. Only, hotel maids don’t wear silly frilly headbands like they’re working at a maid café in Tokyo.
“Paul and Tess like the sheets changed at least twice a week.” She shrugs her shoulders and then glances in the direction of the bathroom. “And the bathroom bleached from top to bottom at least once a month.”
“Fantastic,” I say with a sigh, and then after realizing I’m being a rude dickhead, I force a smile. “Sorry. I know you have it a lot harder than I do.”
“You don’t know that,” Delphine tells me, starting to strip the bed. I step up to help her, pulling the pillowcases off the pillows, even though I know I don’t have to do it. I’m buying time before I have to face Chasm again; we both know that. “I’m not involved in a love triangle with two guys.”
“I’m not in a love triangle,” I choke out, but maybe I am and I just haven’t realized it yet? If I were in a love triangle, I’m certainly not now. Not anymore. The look on Chasm’s face when he walked in and saw us …
“Your blush might say otherwise,” Delphine tells me with a grin as I drop the pillowcase on the floor and reach up to touch my cheeks. They’re burning hot, searing my palms. “Want my advice on which one to pick?” I blink at her and drop my arms to my sides, waiting for sage advice from a college girl. Because she must be a college girl, right? I’ve seen her yanking a Washington State hoodie over her head on her way out the door. “Pick neither. Boys are trouble. Stay single and happy.”
I grin at her. I mean, she isn’t wrong.
“Do you … I mean, how old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” I start, and Delphine pauses to glance over at me.
“Nineteen. Why?” she asks, and I’m pleased to see that she’s the same age as Maxine. And Maxx. Fucking Maxx …
“If it’s not too, like, stupid, or something, you should hang out with me and my friends sometime.” I grab my school-issued iPad, my notebook, and a pen with a fuzzy soot spirit on the end of it (it’s a Spirited Away reference that most people don’t get which I love). Delphine watches me gather my stuff and then gives one, curt nod to acknowledge what I’ve said.
I head downstairs before Tess comes raging, and find Chasm in the dining room with Kimber. She’s practically hanging off of him which makes me crazy. First off, she’s fourteen and he’s seventeen and that’s gross. Second, he isn’t telling her to stop. Not today.
“Hey,” I say, and Kimber scowls at me as she stands up, uncurling her arms from around Chasm’s neck. Seeing her draped over the back of his chair like that … I clearly am in some sort of weird love triangle thing that I didn’t know about until just this second. I’m jealous, that’s the weird feeling in my belly.
“You really messed up today,” she starts, and I close my eyes because I just don’t have time for this shit today. It’s laughable, thinking that Kimber Celeste could ever be like a sister to me. We might share DNA, but she’s no Maxine, that’s for sure. I open my eyes again to see Chasm watching us warily. “I’ve never seen Mom so pissed off in all my life.”
“Fuck off Kimber,” Chasm snaps, waving his hand dismissively. “Leave us alone so we can study.”
The look on her face is priceless—but not in a good ‘I want to cherish this forever’ sort of way. No, it’s more like … she wants to literally kill me?
“I hope the Seattle Slayer gets you,” she spits at me as she storms past, tossing her blond curls at my face. I ignore her and take a seat next to Chasm. At this point, I’m not entirely sure that being taken out by a serial killer would be the worst thing. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with Tess. Really, who could be scarier between the two of them? They’re probably a match made in heaven.
“Let’s quiz you on hiragana first,” Chasm says, as if he ever just gets down to business like this. Usually we gossip a bit, or he shows me something cool on his phone. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
“Can we talk about the … Parrish thing?” I ask, but he just shakes his head at me.
Lips pursed, he murmurs, “nope.”
I turn in my seat to stare at him until he’s finally forced to look at me.
“What?” he asks, cringing slightly when I reach out to brush some of his hair back from his forehead. It’s stuck there because he’s sweating like crazy. I’m not sure why, considering it’s as cold as it looks in here. Tess likes to keep her ice cavern a chilly sixty-five degrees at all times; she says she can’t write if she’s hot. Fuck, authors are divas. The more I get to know one personally, the more I dislike them. Are all creative types this insufferable?
“Why can’t we talk about it?” I continue, digging my own grave with my big mouth. Why am I pushing him? If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I should let it go. “Are you pissed?”
He laughs at me then, and it isn’t a pleasant laugh at all. There’s a quiet fury in it that makes my skin ripple in warning. Goose bumps prick over every exposed surface of my body and then some.
“Pissed? Why would I be pissed?” He turns his iPad on and starts tapping the screen like he’s in a boxing match with it. “Here.” He shoves the device into my lap and then sticks a stylus in my hand. “Start writing.”
I open my mouth to protest
—clearly Chas is full of shit—but then I hear footsteps in the living room area and turn to see Tess entering the kitchen. My lip curls up at the corner, and I refocus my attention on my work.
When Chasm is ready, he’ll talk. If he … wants to tell me something, then I guess he’ll tell me in time.
I just didn’t think it would be, like, fucking weeks.
Bag of dicks is trending by Monday, and I’m officially an interesting person at Whitehall all over again. The fact that Lumen and I are still ‘dating’ doesn’t hurt either though I feel sort of bad about pretending, especially since Parrish asked me to stop …
Ugh.
That rat bastard hasn’t spoken more than a handful of words to me since yesterday; I should throat punch him. Then again, I did find my pan of cornbread carefully wrapped, buttered, and sitting outside my bedroom door last night—with a single piece missing. Who else would’ve done that but for Parrish?
Anyway, school is nice because at least I have a place to escape from Tess. Every day I spend in that house is a century too long.
“The only person I really like is my brother Ben,” I murmur, helping Danyella go through an old box of costumes that she found in the back of one of the theater department’s closets. There’s quality stuff in here for sure. Expensive stuff. At some point, it’s clear that Whitehall Prep did enjoy putting on a good show.
I mean, I guess they still do, they just like it in the hallways and during parties on the weekends.
“I thought you liked Amelia and Henry, too?” Danyella queries, shaking out a dress and taking mental stock of all the parts she can rip off and repurpose elsewhere. I’ve learned over the last several weeks that even if she seems distracted, Danyella is a good listener.
It’s nice to have her around, especially considering Nevaeh and Sally barely respond to me anymore.
“Amelia seemed okay at first, but the more I’m around her, it seems like she’s just a Kimber-in-the-making. And Henry’s too shy and introverted. I can’t break through his shell.”
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