He refuses to take it, though. “I don’t want to put my problems on you.”
I grab his hand and hitch his pinkie with mine. “Swear it or else I won’t ever let you braid my hair again.”
The corners of his lips twitch, threatening to turn upward. “Let me? You’re the one who enjoyed it.”
"You enjoyed it too," I insist, mostly kidding.
“Fine.” His lack of an argument makes me wonder if perhaps he really did.
So West likes braiding hair. Or well, my hair.
“I pinkie swear I’ll tell you.” He carries my gaze. “Just as long as you promise to tell me everything that happens with the blackmailer.”
I consider his request then nod, hoping I’m not being Liar Alexis right now, but sometimes it’s kind of difficult to tell with all these versions of me.
His lips part then he stops himself as his phone vibrates again.
“I really need to get going.” He frowns as if the idea tremendously saddens him. He’s still holding onto my pinkie and makes no effort to release it. “Can I call you later so we can talk more? I want to… I like talking to you.”
His words are so simple. He likes talking to me. That’s a normal thing for someone to say. For a friend to say. But the tone in his voice, the seriousness, makes it seem like there are hidden meanings branded between each syllable.
I nod then start to pull my pinkie away, but he lifts it to his lips and places a soft kiss on it. Then he tentatively smiles at me as he lets my pinkie go.
A tentative West. Who would’ve thought such a thing existed.
Then again, after the last week or so, I’ve come to the conclusion that a lot of things exist that I never thought did—or could.
My heart is a fluttering mess as I bail out of the car, trying to bail from all the fluttering-ness and feelings. But even after I get out and shut the door, those crazy ass flutters continue to consume me, every inch of me, and it almost feels like he’s still kissing my fingers. But those flutters fade as I catch a glimpse of him as he drives away.
The pain in his eyes, the despair, it shreds a hole in my mask. The look haunts me all the way back to the house. I can't get the look out of my head, like a memory branded into my soul. A throbbing need starts to pulsate in my fingertips, and I feel it. Something I haven't felt in a long time. And while I try to fight it, it consumes me to the point that when I step into the house, I'm nearly crawling out of my skin, so much so that I barely pay attention to the dead rosebushes by the front door, to the wilting rose petals, to anything except moving toward what will feed my need.
Right as I reach the hallway at the top of the stairway, Zhara steps out of her bedroom, moving so swiftly she nearly runs into me.
We both startle, scaring the crap out of each other.
“Oh my gosh.” She presses her hand to her chest as she struggles to catch her breath. “You scared the heck out of me.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I didn’t think anyone was home… Loki said everyone was supposed to be at the store helping with inventory.” Me included. And I’m actually planning on going there, but after I feed the need searing in my veins.
And after I take a shower because I wasn’t lying earlier. I stink like smoke and beer, something I’m hoping Zhara won’t notice. Not that I think she’s going to rat me out. She won’t. Not after I kept her secret. We may not be close anymore, but that much I know about her.
“I was at the store, but Loki sent me back to grab this.” She holds up a folder. “I’m headed back now. Want to ride with me?”
I shake my head and a wounded frown forms on her lips. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I say. “I just need to take a shower.”
“Oh. Okay.” She turns into her normal self again, all smiles and rainbows. Then she starts to move past me, but then spins around. “Oh, I wanted to tell you that I think Loki is going to let me go on this tour thing. I mean, I haven’t fully convinced him yet, but I think I made a persuasive argument.”
"That's awesome," I tell her with a hint of envy. Not because I want to go on tour with a band, but because she's moving forward in life, and I feel stuck in the past. I don’t even know what I’m going to do after I graduate. But I make myself be happy for her. “If you meet any good bands, you should get their autograph for me.”
Her smile widens. “I will.” She starts to step away, but then turns back toward me again, hesitancy written all over her face. “Thank you for talking to me about this. And thanks for not telling Loki about the band thing before I did.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“It kind of was, though.” She gives me one last smile before backing toward the stairs. “And FYI, you should probably change your clothes because you smell really smoky. I like your hair, though. It looks nice braided.” With that, she waves and heads down the stairs.
And I’m left thinking of my braid and the guy who put it into my hair.
And just like that, my mind goes back to that despair in his face when he drove off, and that aching desire flares right back up inside me.
I have to get it out of me.
I powerwalk to my bedroom then kneel down on the floor. Then I take a deep breath, reach under my bed, and pull out my sketchbook and pencils. My fingers tremble as I press the tip of one of the pencils to the page, and for a moment, nothing happens, as if my mind and hands have forgotten how to pour these feelings out of me. As if they’ve completely forgotten how to be the Before Alexis.
But then it comes, in a rushing, potent wave. My hands begin to move, tracing lines across the blank, new page. I barely think about anything else as I shade and ache and stain that page with that image of West.
I stain the pages with his despair.
And when I’m done, I have a sketch of him, only I didn’t realize until now how much anguish was silently overflowing from his eyes until I see it.
West, my new best friend, is in agony.
And…
It’s like looking in a damn mirror.
I don’t like it. Don’t like that he could ache like I do sometimes. Ache in ways I’ll never admit.
I need to help him. But I don’t know how to help him. I’ll figure it out, though. Somehow.
Because now that I see it, see what’s in his eyes—now that I’ve let my hands and mind put it on paper—I can’t ignore it. The old Alexis is crawling out and she won’t let me.
But I still don’t know how.
I literally have no fucking clue about anything in that moment other than I don’t want West to ache in that desperate, uncontrollable way like I do. So I make a silent vow to figure out how to take that pain away Then I grab some clothes and head to take a shower.
As I'm headed out of my room, my phone vibrates with an incoming message. I almost don't want to look at it, don't want whatever words are in that message to destroy my motivation. To spook the Before Alexis into hiding behind her mask again. But the need to look is too great, and I end up swiping my finger across the screen.
There are actually two messages, one from Masie and one from Unknown.
Masie: Since you didn't come to my party, we'll talk at school. Because we need to talk, so stop shutting me out. I said I was sorry. I'm sorry, Lex. You're my best friend and we need to talk so we can get past this.
She sounds apologetic, but that doesn't mean I want to talk to her. I am no longer Talking Alexis when it comes to her. I am only that version of me when I talk to West because he listens. He talks to me in a way that makes me feel better, not worse. He likes talking to me. He's what a best friend should be, I realize. This entire time, my frenemy could've been my best friend. And he probably would've made a way better one than Masie or Blaine ever did.
That revelation makes me pissed off at the Before Alexis for being so stupidly blind. But that irritation gets redirected as I read the message from Unknown.
Unknown: Are you ready to play the game? Your first task is to destroy the guy who’s in
love with you.
Me: Nice try, but no guy is in love with me.
Unknown: Wow, you're more naive than I thought. Since you're clearly too blind to see it, I'll spell it out for you. I want you to destroy West’s heart.
My heart rate quickens.
They want me to destroy West’s heart?
They think West is in love with me?
What a dumbass, which is exactly what I type. A message pings through almost instantaneously.
Unknown: Believe whatever you want, but you will do this or else I'll send that video of you in the bathroom out to everyone in your school. The same goes for telling anyone about this. West included. And if you go to the police, I'll show them the other videos I have of you. And if you think I won’t do it—that I can’t get to you—you should think about how easily it was for me to break into your house and take that locket. How easy it could be for me to cut your brake cables next time instead of your battery cables. How easy it was for me to sneak into that shithole of a house and watch you sleep. Your hair looked so pretty braided and those little moans you kept making … if I didn’t hate you so much, I’d probably have gotten turned on.
My heart is thrashing in my chest as all the pieces of the puzzle click.
They were the ones that cut my battery cables.
They stole the locket.
They snuck in and watched me sleep.
Not only am I being blackmailed, but I’m being stalked by someone who clearly thinks I wronged them, which means I know them.
A chill rushes through my body as the severity of the situation sets in.
My fingers hover over the keys. I’m not sure how to reply. I want to tell them to go screw themselves, but they could easily do what they’ve threatened me with. Plus, I’ll admit, I’m scared.
Scared enough that I’m considering doing what they say. But then my gaze drops to my sketch of West , locks on those haunted eyes I just poured my soul into.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what’s right and wrong anymore.
I don’t know who I am.
And that’s the only truth I know at the moment.
That and I don’t think I can hurt West.
I can’t put more agony in his eyes.
But I also can’t let anyone see those videos of me either.
Because if someone sees them, then I’ll have to relive the past. And I can’t do that. Ever. If I do, my mask will shatter and the girl behind it…
Well, she’ll probably shatter too.
Thirteen
West
My thoughts are stuck on that stupid text message my mom sent me this morning. After I dropped off Alexis, I’d sent my mom a message asking what she wants from me. Her reply: meet me tomorrow, and I'll explain what's we want from you. We’re not meeting at the house, though. No one can know we’re meeting.
It made me really fucking nervous.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to tell her to fuck off.
But all I’d done was said okay.
I’m pathetic.
I really am.
And I’m about to break.
I might have already if it hadn't been for that hug Lex gave me before she got out of my car. When her arms were around me, everything felt okay. But her arms were just temporarily holding the cracks together because the moment she let me go, I felt like I was going to crumble.
And now I’m here, sitting in the living room of Holden’s and Ellis’s place, waiting for their drug dealer boss to show up so he can give me some details of this party he wants me to attend tonight. A party he wants me to deal at.
I don’t want to. But I also don’t know what else to do. I feel like I’m tumbling into a mess, and I want to climb out of it, but I can’t seem to figure out how to. I wish one of those jobs I applied for would call me and want to hire me, but I worry my mom—whoever the hell the woman is that I’ve referred to as mom for almost eighteen years—has ruined that chance for me. I worry that the only way to get out of this mess is for me to become her puppet. And I don’t know if I can do that, do everything I’m told and be okay with all those dark things that go on in that hellhole of a house. At first, getting kicked out seemed like an awful thing, but now it doesn't seem so terrible because he can’t get to me. At least not physically.
If only they’d just leave me alone and let me be. I think I could live with that.
Maybe if I found out who my real parents are—
I immediately shut the door on that idea.
No, I’m not going there. For all I know, my mom could be messing with me to get her way. Or she could be telling the truth. But then what? I track down the people that gave me up? Clearly, they didn’t want me.
Just like everyone else—
“So, I’ve got some good news,” Ellis says as he enters the room, yanking me from my thoughts.
Good news. I could use some of that. “What’s up?”
He takes a seat in the chair across from the one I’m sitting in. “I was able to track down the person harassing Lex.”
Now that gets me to perk up.
I straighten in the chair. “Who is it?”
“Well, the phone number is registered to a Blaine S,” he says. “And while I’m not completely sure, I’m guessing it might be that Blaine guy that you used to be friends with.”
My skin runs cold.
Numbs.
A part of me dies inside.
Lex.
This will crush her.
I lean forward, dragging my hands down my face. “What the hell? Why would Blaine do this to Lex?” And better yet, how did he get that video?
While I don’t know the answer yet, I’m going to find it out. Just like I’m going to make Blaine pay. And Jay. I don’t care if the fucker isn’t the one blackmailing Lex. He touched her without permission. Her hurt her. Scarred her. And I’m going to scar him in return.
But I need to get out of this place I am in my life right now before I end up stuck in it.
Get out, West. Get out now. Just leave. You have enough money to crash at a hotel for a while. Do that for now and figure shit out as you go because this way is going to suck you in and swallow you hole.
Holden walks into the room then. “You ready for this?” he asks me, slipping on a plaid shirt.
I nod, sitting back in the sofa. “Yeah, but I think this is my last one.”
He lifts a brow as he buttons the shirt up. “Last one of what?”
“The last time I’ll be dealing,” I tell him.
He lets out a slow laugh that sends a chill through my body. “No, it’s not.”
Is he being serious right now?
“You don’t just get to quit this, man,” he continues. “I brought you into this—vouched for you. And you don’t get to quit until I say you do. And if you try to, there will be consequences. Not just from me, but from my boss. When you agreed to my job offer, you agreed to stay in this until we let you go. Well, unless you don’t mind being thrown into a lake with bricks tied to your feet.” He turns around and goes into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.
I look at Ellis, hoping he’ll offer me some reassurance that Holden was just messing with me. But he looks away and hurries and busies himself with his computer.
And I’m left silently dealing with the reality of my bad decisions.
That I am stuck here.
Stuck in a place I don’t want to be.
And I have no idea how to get out of it.
Note from Author
Hey readers! Thanks so much for reading! Word-of-mouth is so important for an author. If you enjoyed the book, please leave a review online. Even if it’s just a sentence or two, it makes all the difference and would be very much appreciated!
Thanks!
Jessica Sorensen
About the Author
Jessica Sorensen is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she’
s not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.
Also by Jessica Sorensen
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The Start of a Mysterious Mystery: (Signed with a Kiss, Book 2) Page 12