Wicked

by Addison Moore

  “No, this is perfect,” I say. “I think when the weather clears I really will take it to school.”

  “Won’t Gage mind?” My mother twitches her nose at me.

  I shake my head as I envision Chloe dragging him around by the hair.

  “I don’t think so.”

  I don’t think he has a say.

  ***

  Gage shows up a little after eleven that night. I’ve showered and shaved and pushed the dresser in front of the door. I’m totally ready to do whatever it takes to get him to tell me what Chloe’s holding over him.

  I pull him towards the bed and push him backwards onto his elbows. Hopping up beside him, I give the sexiest, albeit awkward, sideways kiss.

  “Hello to you, too.” He lets out a lazy grin and kicks off his shoes. They hit the wood floor with two very distinct thuds. The noise causes me to simultaneously freeze and stop breathing just before I lean over and turn off the light. Not that my mother could ever successfully evict Gage from my bedroom.

  “That was smooth.” He pecks a kiss on my forehead. “Sorry.”

  “So what’s going on?” Now that the lights are off, I doubt he’ll notice the pink lace boy-shorts and matching bra that I spent hours debating over. Or the fact I redefined forever by applying false eyelashes until my fingers cramped up from almost adhering my lids together, twice.

  “Nothing’s going on with me, but you’ve definitely got it going on.” He pulls me into a series of mind numbing kisses, taps into my soul with aching throws of desperate passion that only Gage is able to emanate so well.

  We build a blaze on the bed, an inferno that transcends any stupid invitation I was told to send out. It feels right like this with Gage. I trace my hands down his chest and into the edge of his jeans. I don’t bother with the button or the zipper, just glide my fingers into the waistband of his underwear and push in a little deeper.

  Gage snaps me up by the wrist and brings up my hand as though he’s just made the interception of the year.

  “Where you going?” He gives a husky laugh.

  “I was checking—you know, boxers or briefs.” I pull a face and scoot in towards the wall to give him more space.

  He brushes my hair back with his fingers in long continuous strokes. A perfect seam of moonlight falls over his face—highlighting him like a black and white picture, save for the eyes, which remain true to the deepest part of the ocean even in this dim light.

  “You know that I want to,” he leans in with a sarcastic inflection, “help you demystify my clothing preferences, but not like this, not on your bed in your room with a dresser barricading us from your parents.”

  “They’re not my parents, if that helps.”

  He shakes his head.

  It makes me think of Logan, how he had Chloe right in this very room, twice to be exact. He wasn’t quite as altruistic as Gage, but then again, he wasn’t really in love with Chloe to begin with. And I can’t judge Logan. I would’ve jumped at the chance if Gage let me.

  “So you prefer the downstairs sofa?” I shrug.

  “No—nowhere in the Landon residence to be exact. I’d hate for Tad to be right about me.”

  “Who cares about Tad? This is about us.” I reach my hand inside the bottom of his t-shirt and trace a heart onto his smooth bare chest. “It’s going to happen eventually.” I bite down on my lower lip and magnetize him byway of a bewitching stare. “But then you probably already know about it, which totally isn’t fair.” I push him in slowly by the back of the neck until I can feel his warm minty breath on my face. “So tell me about it.”

  He shakes his head in reluctance. “It’s a very naughty bedtime story.”

  “You do know.” I give a quick scratch at his chest. “I bet its prom because I secretly love clichés.”

  “No.” The curve of a wicked grin waits to explode on his face.

  “OK, Christmas,” I whisper. “I like Christmas better anyway because it’s practically almost here.”

  “Nope.” There’s a gleam in his eye because he’s so obviously enjoying this.

  “Two days—Thanksgiving. Right up on the table in front Tad and my fake mom, Marshall will be there did I forget to mention that?” I giggle at the thought.

  “Yeah, well, Marshall might try to knock me off the table and take over, so that’s definitely a no go.”

  I swallow hard and just stare at Gage, perfect in every way—every way, of course, except for the fact he continues to willingly allow Chloe to insert herself as the thorn in the side of our relationship.

  “I want to know what the hell Chloe is up to.” I needle him with a suspicious gaze.

  He doesn’t say anything—think anything, other than graze over me with his eyes, as he focuses in on the color of my skin, my clean scent.

  He’s so keyed into the moment, almost forcefully so, as if he were acutely aware of the fact I was prying into his thoughts, waiting to pick up the slightest clue to Chloe’s latest and greatest way to unravel my life. Obviously Gage isn’t going to tell.

  “Why does she hate me so much?” I breathe the words out in a sigh. “I mean, other than the fact I killed her, but that was totally called for.” I blink into my own stupidity.

  “It’s not that she hates you, it’s that she loves herself and her own ambitions. She doesn’t let anything stand in the way of getting what she wants.”

  “And right now she wants nothing more than you.” I let my hand fall out from under his shirt.

  “Yes, but she doesn’t get me.” His dimples sink in deep. “You do.” Gage pulls me on top of him and traces a line up the side of my neck by way of his tongue. “It’s worth the wait. I’ve seen it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Off To Work I Go

  Tuesday and Wednesday go in the same direction with me trying to lure an explanation out of Gage and Gage artfully avoiding the conversation by way of his lips.

  After school on Wednesday, the weather is its regular crappy self as a morose cloud stretches over the island like a layer of dusty gossamer. Instead of begging Drake or Brielle for a lift to work, I decide to ride my bike down to the bowling alley.

  “What happened to you?” Logan strides over examining me curiously as I walk through the door.

  “Nothing.” I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored paneling.

  My hair is plastered, completely drenched, and my mascara has bled two inches down my face. I don’t even look this bad when I get out of the shower.

  “I rode my bike,” I blow out the words as I try to wipe down the makeup atrocity with the sleeve of my jacket.

  “Your bike?”

  “My parent’s gave it to me for my birthday. You know, the ones who will probably fork me over to the Counts in exchange for cash and prizes? How could you not tell me I was living in enemy territory?” I watch as his face smoothes over. “Never mind, you’re one of them.” Logan is the enemy. How’s that for irony.

  His eyes close momentarily as though he were truly sorry about something, and I’m betting it’s the fact he got caught.

  “Look, I have rules about hygiene and,” he motions towards my chest, “a dress code to maintain, so I can’t let you work like this.”

  I look down to see my lace bra peeking through my t-shirt that apparently decided to dissolve in the rain.

  “Crap,” I whisper.

  “I also moderate employee language.” His cheek rises on the side, forcing his newfound dimple to wink at me.

  Really it doesn’t seem fair, in the one moment I want to hurt and deform Logan, I only managed to make him more unbearably handsome.

  “Are you firing me?” A part of me hopes so. It’s too difficult to be around him, close enough to touch him, close enough to feel his constant yearning. Just breathing the scent of his musky cologne is like letting Logan swirl around inside of me.

  He stands there with his arms folded low, looking at me with those citrine lenses, over a thicket of long black lashes that any girl would
kill for.

  “No, I would never fire you. You could do just about anything and on your worst day, you couldn’t get fired,” he says it mournfully. You could feel the longing exuding from him. Even though he’s resigned to the fact I’m with Gage, he can’t seem to control his aching expression of sadness. “I have Brielle here—Gage is coming in at six.”

  I take in a quick breath at the thought of working with Gage. I miss him insanely. He said four words to me today. Pass me the paper. And that was in lit, first period. It’s like he’s afraid he’s going to accidentally divulge whatever the hell Chloe is lording over him. I begged him for hours last night to give me one hint, and nothing.

  “I’ll go home and change. My mom can give me a ride back.” I almost said, that lunatic who claims to be my mother, but somehow I really believe she has maternal feelings for me even if she does plan on eating me or setting me on fire one day.

  Logan twists in his shoes looking back into the kitchen.

  “You know, I think it’s better if you and I just hang out.”

  “Did Gage say he didn’t want to work with me?” It hurts just to think it.

  Logan swallows hard and ushers me towards the entrance. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and shouts over to Brielle in the kitchen that he’ll be stepping out for a while.

  “Logan,” I pull him back by the arm. “Are you keeping me away from Gage, or does he not want us working together?” Logan has managed to keep Gage and I off the same schedule for weeks. It makes me wonder if my makeup and fashion disaster are all a lucky coincidence for him.

  He gives a slow blink. “This time it’s not me.”

  ***

  Logan tosses over the keys to his dad’s ‘66 Mustang and asks me to follow him. The night glows a gas lamp yellow as street lights dot the main highway like a series of miniature moons as far as the eye can see.

  It’s scary being in a car alone. Well, as alone as I can get with Holden’s ghost, only I try and blank the thought of him out of my mind because the last time I drove, Holden gave me a formal introduction to his brother by way of a major car accident.

  Logan makes a turn into the Black Forest. I hate this place. Maybe it’s Logan who’s going to set me on fire, chop off my limbs, or whatever it is the Counts do to Celestra for kicks.

  A swarm of trees lean in with their long fingerlike branches as I drive along the dirt road. Every now and again, one gets too close, and a horrible screaming sound arouses the silence as its fingernail scrapes against the metal. The car hobbles in and out of the muddy potholes in steep unnatural gyrations. It feels as though I’m riding on an over-laden mule, only this one holds the promise of blowing out all four hooves.

  Logan parks up on the side, and I pull in behind him and get out of the car.

  “So, what’s going on?” A puff of pristine fog encircles us as I make my way over.

  “I thought we’d hang out. You know, we could talk.”

  “Here?” We could have talked in the office, or over the phone while I relax in my room. It’s so murky his face is lost in the evening shadows.

  Logan pulls a blanket from the driver’s side and spreads it out in the bed of the truck.

  “Here.” He lends me a hand as we hop inside, and suddenly I’m feeling rather kidnapped even if I did voluntarily drive myself here. Come to think of it, that’s probably exactly how my capture will take place. The Counts will invite me someplace, and I’ll mindlessly go right along.

  I sit opposite him as far away as possible and press my back into the hard frame of the truck as a way of showing my loyalty to Gage.

  “Skyla.” He crawls over on his stomach and lands just shy of me. “I had no idea I had a drop of Countenance in me. I swear, and neither did my uncle.”

  “That’s nice.” Never believe a Count, ever. It’s my own rule, and I think it’s a damn good one.

  I watch as the black fur of the evergreens waves limp against the dark purple sky.

  “Nev!” I shout, just in case I need him. Truth is I’d rather be here with Logan the Count than with Gage who won’t tell me why he’s suddenly Chloe’s chauffeur and personal book caddy. “You know he walks her to every class? I spent lunch today with Ellis. He’s my favorite Count by the way,” I sneer half playful.

  “Oh really?” I can see his tongue rounding out the inside of his cheek.

  A thread of light gets caught in the line of his scar.

  “I can’t believe I hurt you.” My fingers stop shy of touching his face.

  “It adds character,” he says dropping his gaze to the blanket. His face darkens to soot when he takes the light of his eyes away like that. Sort of the way my life has darkened without him.

  “I really love Gage.” It comes out like a proclamation. “So what do you think is going on with him, anyway? And what happened to you when we got separated in Ezrina’s lair?”

  He sits up besides me as the night dulls out in a fairytale wash of amethyst.

  “It’s not called Ezrina’s lair,” he corrects, bumping into my shoulder. “It’s called the Transfer.”

  “The Transfer.” I think I like Ezrina’s lair better. “So, now that you’re a Count you know all of their big bad secrets?”

  “No, but I’m going to.” The whites of his eyes illuminate in jags like a mirror reflecting the sun.

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “I’m going to renounce myself as a Celestra.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Deal

  I put on my fuzzy leopard print robe and nothing else as I wait for Gage to drop in through the butterfly room, but he doesn’t come. Eleven turns to twelve, so I decide to text him.

  Why are you being a turkey? ~S

  It’s officially Thanksgiving, and I hope he reads between the lines because being a turkey on Thanksgiving pretty much sucks.

  I was held up. Can Marshall sub for a while?

  Is he freaking kidding?

  Are you kidding? ~S

  A lengthy pause ensues.

  I’ll be right there.

  Gage appears in the doorway and comes over to the bed.

  “Thank you.” It comes out laced with sarcasm. I want to say something fun and light, but it feels like a jackhammer has impressed itself in my gut, and any minute now I’m going to cry out from the pain.

  “Hey.” He rolls in next to me and pulls me into a hug. “I swear I love you.” A warm kiss lands on the top of my head as I sniff back tears.

  “I think I’m going to kill her.” It comes out flat, more like a fact than anything euphemistic. I did it once for my father, and it didn’t take. I think I’m entitled a do-over.

  “No,” a soft rumble of laughter ripples through his chest.

  “Then you need to tell me.” I pull back and glare over at him. “Right now, tell me what she’s doing to keep you away from me.”

  “No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  A wash of moonlight blanches out the color in the room. It bathes us in a sea of grey, colorless as stone. It tries to siphon all of the hurt and drama from the moment, but its efforts prove impotent. Chloe has detonated herself in my world, and the fragments of evil she’s unleashed are stabbing the life out of my relationship with Gage.

  “Tell me.” My voice shakes with a quiet rage. “If you love me you’ll tell me.”

  He lies back on the pillow and gives into a long thoughtful blink.

  “I just need a little time. I think I can get us out of this,” he whispers up towards the canopy.

  “What kind of time? Our entire junior—senior year? Chloe doesn’t take no for an answer. Trust me, I’m well aware that she gets what she wants, but I’ll be damned if she thinks she’s getting you. This is one game I’m not playing. Tell me what’s going on.”

  He leans up on one elbow and runs his fingers over the side of my face, tracing the outline of my lips before dropping down to my neck—the bare center of my chest.

  Ch
loe. She is the black hole of destruction that sucks out all of the good things in my life and systematically takes them away. She stole my father, and now she’s stealing Gage.

  “This won’t go away until she does,” I whisper mostly to myself.

  “She’s indestructible with that protective hedge.”

  My hand floats up to the ring Gage gave me hanging from a thin thread of silver around my neck. I had it once, the protective hedge, and I was foolish enough to give it back. I’m sure all that babbling in her diary about a game of buried treasure had to do with just that. Chloe spent the last several weeks of her life securing her future, so that I couldn’t kill her a second time.

  Gage slips his hand into the hem of my robe just above my stomach.

  “So what does she want from you?” This time it’s me catching his wrist like a thief as I gently pluck him away from the warmth of my skin.

  “To talk.” He pulls me in, resting his head on my shoulder. “She’s convinced the more time I spend with her, I’ll actually want to be with her.”

  “Be with her,” I mouth the words. Chloe was trying to land a kiss from Gage long before she knew she was terminal. I’m sure she wants something more than having him in her close proximity, like being with her in the literal sense. “So you think this will end soon?”

  “It’s never going to end with her. I just need to tactfully remove myself from the situation before she does something irrational.”

  “Does that irrational behavior involve me?” I already know the answer. Gage would die before he let one bad thing happen to me.

  He pulls back, a direct stream of moonlight pours over his features. There’s such a magnified splendor about Gage. Every piece of marble should ache to be carved into his likeness.

  “It involves you.” He gives a nod. “I’d let her set me on fire before I let her hurt you.”

  I nod into his words.

  Chloe will never relent from her blackmail—I already know this. And Gage will never stop trying to protect me. He will end our relationship if he has to, I can already feel it. It’s funny how this mirrors what happened to Logan and me, only I’d have to kill an entire faction of people to ever be with Logan—back when I wanted him—when I thought I knew who he was and what he stood for. But for Gage, only one person has to die, and it just so happens she can’t.