Cruel Boy

by Wild, Clarissa

  His fingers move down my mound and slide into my wetness, and I gasp. He touches me in places I’ve never been touched by someone else before, and it feels so damn good I don’t want him to stop. I know what we’re doing is wrong. We’re not good for each other, and I know he knows it too. But he doesn’t care, and neither do I. What we want and what we should do are two completely different beasts, and I’m not listening to the right side now.

  I want him to do me dirty. I want him to be filthy. I want him to take me whole.

  “Still scared of how I make you feel?” he murmurs, his fingers playing with my clit.

  I suck in the air. “I … I …”

  “That’s it, Sam … Come all over my fingers.”

  He alternates finger thrusts with circling right on the edge, and I’m losing it. I’m coming apart, and it’s not even been a few minutes. Just seconds. Fuck.

  Am I that easy, or is he just that good?

  Every flick of his finger is another wave of ecstasy until I fall apart right in his arms, my body collapsing against him.

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  When his finger disappears, I’m left with a wantonness I can’t describe.

  “Your face when you did that just now was amazing,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. “So how was it?”

  I just moan out loud with my eyes closed.

  “Can’t speak? That good?” he muses. I don’t need to look at him to tell he’s gloating.

  “Fuck you,” I say, which makes him laugh.

  Still, he forces me to stand, and he kisses me hard. His lips are so good I forget everything circling in my head about him. And damn, it only makes me wonder more and more how good he’d be with his dick.

  When our lips briefly part, he murmurs, “Hmm … virgin, right?”

  My eyes spring open. “What?”

  “Oh, you think I couldn’t tell?” He raises a brow, still flicking me.

  I pause with the kisses and look at him. “How?”

  A defiant smirk forms on his face. “Because you’re soaking wet, and I don’t mean the water. You’ve been fawning over me for a long time … and every time I touch you, something goes off inside you like a goddamn volcano.”

  If I wasn’t red before, I am the color of a fucking beet right now.

  I close my eyes and sigh, completely embarrassed.

  “Shit,” I mumble.

  “What? I don’t mind,” he muses. “I like it. And I think you did too.”

  I make a face. “That’s not the point.” I shove him away and move before he gets the chance to convince me to do more than what he did just now. This has already gone too far.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “None of your business,” I reply, grabbing a random shirt lying in the corner so I can put something on and not look like a goddamn half-naked porn star walking through the hallways. Even though it smells like hell, it’s better than nothing at all.

  “What are you doing? You can’t go out like that. You’re completely wet. Your skirt and your shoes—”

  “Watch me,” I reply.

  He grabs my shoulder and forces me to turn around. My eyes can’t stop themselves from following the trail of water all the way down his delicious abs to the erection hiding behind the thin fabric of his boxer shorts.

  And that … made me do a double take.

  Fuck. Me.

  I need to get out of here fast.

  “I wasn’t finished.”

  “I am,” I say, taking off my shoes so I can pour out the water. “I’m done with this.”

  “I’m sorry for what I said,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  It’s the first time he’s said the word sorry, the one I’ve craved so long to hear. It does make me pause, but it still does nothing for me.

  “Stay,” he says, still holding my arm. But when both our eyes linger on his hand, he lets go of me. “Please,” he adds.

  I lick my lips and think of the amazing orgasm I just had … and how much it was ruined by what he said. Was I just another girl he conquered? Another stripe he can add on his long list of exes? I’m nothing, a nobody, and he managed to persuade me it was something more than that.

  “I have to go,” I say, and I turn around and walk off.

  “Sam! Don’t, I—”

  But I’ve already closed the door and left him and my heart behind in the cold, watery mess. Where they should be.

  Chapter 23

  Nate

  I hold her panties close to my nose and take a whiff, the smell like cocaine to my soul. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with her. Maybe it’s because she’s so weird, or because we shared a common experience, or maybe it’s because she defies expectations too.

  Whatever it is, I know deep down this is about more than just pictures. But how do I prove to her that it’s the truth? I made her believe my attention was all because of the photos. That was my choice, and now I gotta live with it.

  But dammit if I didn’t feel angry with myself for letting things escalate the way they did. I shouldn’t have hurt her. I did so many things to get in her way just so she’d do what I wanted, and now it’s getting in my way of doing exactly that.

  I wish my kisses alone could convey how badly I want her, but my greed won’t help me here. She won’t allow herself to be loved by me. I’m the bad guy. The criminal. The murderer.

  In her eyes, I’m the worst thing she could ever want.

  I sigh out loud and lie down on my bed, clutching the panties I stole from the locker room floor.

  At least I have another memory I can add to my collection.

  Someone stomps up the stairs, and I barely have enough time to hide the panties underneath my pillow before the door opens.

  “Nate, what is this?” my dad holds up my shirt that’s covered in paint.

  “I, uh …” What do I tell him exactly? I don’t want him to know about her yet. It’s too fresh, too early, and I’m not sure I want to explain to him why I’m involved with her. “Paint.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” he says, making a face. “Why is there paint on your shirt?”

  He sounds disappointed, and if there’s anything I hate, it’s that voice.

  “I guess I missed the canvas,” I say, laughing, but I’m terrible at making up excuses on the fly.

  Dad sighs out loud. “Nate, I can’t deal with this.”

  “Why not? Laundry should work,” I reply.

  “No.” He frowns. “This. Your attitude. What you’re coming home with.”

  “Sorry,” I say, sitting up on the bed. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

  “You keep messing around as if it means nothing,” he says. “As if school means nothing to you.” He chucks the shirt in the corner. “Do you have any idea what I have to go through to keep you in that school? The number of calls I’ve had to field to prevent you from getting expelled?”

  Wow. He’s never said a word about any of this. All I know is that lawyer showed up to talk to me about Nina, and I told them I was innocent, but I never explained why. I didn’t see the guy again, but I guess it didn’t stop there. Shit. I should’ve asked about it.

  “I … I’m sorry,” I say, burying my head in my hands to run my fingers through my hair. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

  “But it did. And you keep leaving me to deal with all your shit,” he growls. Wow. My dad rarely swears. “Why can’t you behave? Why can’t you just play football, work hard, and be nice to the people around you? Why is it so difficult?”

  I suck on my bottom lip and run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know.”

  I do know, but I don’t want to say it out loud. I don’t want to be in this position. I don’t want to actually play football. I just want to write my lyrics and be a goddamn rap god, but that doesn’t happen overnight. And it’s certainly not a career to aspire to when you know a high percentage of those trying don’t actually ma
ke it.

  Football gives me a scholarship. I should be grateful—happy—but I’m not. Especially not with Nina’s ghost following me around wherever I go. Fuck.

  “Nate, step it up,” my dad says. “For your mom.”

  “Don’t,” I say, looking up into his eyes. “Don’t bring her into this.”

  “Don’t you want her to be proud?”

  “Of course I do!” I get up from the bed. “I’m doing my best.”

  “I don’t think you are,” Dad says, making a fist, the look in his eyes stabbing like a knife straight to the heart. “You keep involving yourself with bad people.”

  “I’m not,” I reply. “And you don’t know anything about that.”

  “What about that girl then? Nina? You can’t tell me that was healthy,” he says, and I try to pass him, but he blocks the doorway with his hand. “I’m not done yet.”

  “I am.” I glare at him from the corner of my eyes.

  I push past him and walk down the stairs.

  “You can’t keep running from this, Nate!” my dad calls after me. “Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to tell the truth and face the consequences.”

  I throw my hood over my head and stop listening. I don’t want to talk to him about this. Anyone but him. The actual truth might destroy him too.

  It’s raining outside, but I don’t feel like driving, so I walk instead. The cold water pouring down on my head is refreshing, the noise drowning out the voices in my head. I love the darkness in the sky and the water cleansing the ground. All the dirt rinsed away like it never even existed. Sometimes I wish that was possible for me, but those are impossible dreams.

  * * *

  Sam

  I gaze at my laptop, but I can’t get myself to open Facebook and message Mo. Maybe that’s petty of me, but I don’t know what I’d say to her. I feel lost. My emotions are all over the place, and I can’t explain that to her. I can’t talk to her without feeling like I’m hiding a part of myself.

  No one else knows what I know or has seen what I’ve seen.

  Except him … Nate. He was there with me at the beach that day and all the days after that. He’s everywhere, around me, in my head, and I can’t get rid of him, no matter how hard I try. And Lord knows I’ve tried … so hard … but it only made it harder to get away.

  This room in my home is suffocating me, so I need to get out.

  I walk out the door and come face to face with Mom, who just came out of the shower. “Hey! Where are you going?” She twirls her hair into a wet towel.

  “Out,” I say.

  “Oooh, meetup with Mo?”

  “No,” I reply.

  “Who then?” she asks.

  I frown. “I didn’t know I was being interrogated.”

  Her lips part, then she pauses for a moment. “Oh, I’m not, sweetie. I just … well, I just asked.”

  I smash my lips together. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  As I walk down the stairs, she says, “Uh, actually, I’m going out.”

  I spin around and raise a brow at her. “Wait … you’re going out with him again?”

  “Well, it was a long time ago since I last went out, and—”

  “Really? I thought you two were done.” I sigh and turn my eyes away. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t wanna know.”

  “Sam …” Mom sighs, trying to follow me downstairs, but she’s still in her bathrobe, and none of the window drapes are closed. “Sam. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”

  “I know you can, Mom,” I say through gritted teeth. “That’s exactly the point.”

  “What?”

  “You can make a choice,” I reply as I grab my coat. “You made one.”

  Then I open the door and slam it shut behind me before she follows me outside too. I don’t think she will because it’s not her style to have the whole neighborhood see her half-naked. But at least I’ve now closed off the window of opportunity.

  I just wish she did too.

  That fucker who cheats on his wife so he can pork my mom on his off days doesn’t deserve her.

  It’s raining hard outside, so I zip up my coat tight and jump into my car. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to go for a drive to clear my mind a bit. I start the engine and drive off slowly, not aiming for any single place. Driving around town eases my mind. It’s one of the few things, along with painting and drawing, that sets my heart at ease. I don’t do it often anymore because I’m always carpooling with Mo, so this is a nice breath of fresh air.

  There’s a 7-Eleven up ahead, and I park outside. I could go for some chips and a Coke right now. Right as I pull my key out of the ignition, I spot someone familiar standing at the counter inside.

  I swallow hard. Nate’s buying a whole six-pack of beers without speaking to the cashier. And the cashier hands it to him in a brown paper bag as if it means nothing. But I know for a fact he’s not old enough to drink yet.

  Nate grabs the bag with a surly look on his face and marches out the door. I watch and hide my face as he passes my car and walks off through the rain. I wonder where he’s going. Instinct tells me it’s dangerous to follow him, but my heart has already made up its mind.

  I open my door and jump out, pulling my hoodie over my head before I trail him. He opens one of the cans and starts drinking while sauntering down the sidewalk. Even though I know it’s none of my business, he doesn’t seem to be in a right place, and for some reason, that doesn’t sit right with me.

  I know he’s an asshole who teased me and seduced me into letting him touch me, but that doesn’t mean I have to be the same. Sometimes people do cruel things because they’re scarred and trying to mend their wounds by lashing out at others. But that never worked well for anyone.

  I sigh. If only I could get through to him.

  My feet traipse behind him, careful not to give my cover away. He walks up to a fence and opens it, going inside. The graveyard. A place where all the dead lay buried, including Nina. Is he going to see her?

  I lick the droplets of rain off my lips and keep walking. I don’t know why I care so much, but I want to know what he’s going to do. Maybe he plans to desecrate her grave, and I’ll need to stop it before it happens.

  With that in mind, I hold open the fence before it closes and makes a noise. Then I slip inside and softly close it behind me. The leaves crackle under my feet as I gently tiptoe around, looking for him.

  When I find him, he’s hunched over a stone standing in the far corner of the graveyard, but he’s not anywhere near Nina’s grave. My brows draw together as I step closer and partially hide behind a tree to watch him.

  Nate clutches the stone, and suddenly smashes his fist against it.

  “Why? Why did you have to leave me?”

  The broken sound of his voice hurts to listen to.

  Tears well up in my eyes.

  “Why? Why now? I fucking need you, and you’re not there for me!” he yells, punching the stone again and again until he sinks to the ground in front of it. An empty can of beer lies beside him with five others stacked up next to the stone. He buries his head in the palms of his hands, hiding himself and his pain from the world.

  It’s hard to watch, hard to swallow. My feet start toward him before I realize it, toward the pain and suffering. Even though I know I should turn away, I can’t.

  And as he sits there, hugging himself, I approach him from behind the tree and kneel in front of him. I grab his hands and pull them away from his face. Tears stain his cheeks, and he makes no effort to brush them off. He stares right back at me unapologetically. Without looking away, he forces me to witness the pain in his eyes.

  Without saying a word, I wrap my arms around him and pull him against me.

  Chapter 24

  Sam

  “Why are you doing this?” he murmurs against my shoulder. “I hurt you. I’m a fucking bad guy.”

  “Even bad guys deserve a shoulder to cry on,” I reply, smiling gently.


  He leans back. “I don’t want to. I want to scream.”

  “Then scream,” I say, shrugging.

  And he does. So loud that the birds fly out of the rustling trees. The sound is like that of a wounded lion roaring in pain. His chest deflates slowly, and I watch the energy dissipate.

  “Feels good, right?” I say. “I do it sometimes.”

  “When?” he asks.

  “After my dad left.” I suck in a breath and tuck my hair behind my ear. “When he met another woman. He never came back to us.”

  The silence following my words is deafening.

  “I’m sorry,” he says after a while.

  “Don’t be. I’ve made my peace,” I say. “Besides, he’s still living his life out there, somewhere, even though it’s without me and my mom.”

  Nate nods. “Must be hard.”

  “It’s fine … It’s not as hard as what you must be going through right now,” I say, cocking my head. “Are you okay?”

  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Raindrops fall down onto his face, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it does,” I say, pulling off my hoodie. If he’s gonna get wet, then so am I.

  “Why do you even care?” He rubs his forehead with his thumb.

  I shrug. “Because I just do.”

  He snorts and shakes his head. “Stop lying.”

  “I’m not,” I say.

  He smiles, but it’s not one of pleasure or happiness; it’s one of pain. “If you’re here to see me at my worst, have at it.”

  I grab his hand and hold it tight, forcing him to stay and look at me instead of constantly walking away from things. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Why? Is it any of your business?”

  “You’re crying at someone’s grave with a six-pack of beer.” I glance at them. “Are you going to drink those all by yourself?”

  “Well, I was until you showed up.” He laughs, but it dies off quickly. “How did you find me, anyway? Did you follow me?” He raises a brow. “Little stalker girl … all grown up.”