To Burn In Brutal Rapture

by Nyla K

  But then Lazarus never looks happy.

  “She’ll be fine,” his voice rumbles. I can practically feel it from where I’m standing.

  I inch closer to him and to my surprise, he makes no attempt at moving away, nor does he break our eye contact. The smell of him surrounds me, like an earthy, masculine cologne, mixed with the fire from the grill to create the perfect summer scent.

  Against my better judgement, because I just can’t help myself, my eyes drop to those full, luscious lips; that Cupid’s bow I’m desperate to lick, like the girl did in my living room that time.

  When my eyes come back to his, he’s squinting at me, looking downright villainous. I gulp as he lifts a brow, like he’s challenging me, though I’m not sure what he wants. Since he looks furious, I’m guessing he noticed that I was lusting after his lips, being that I wasn’t exactly being smooth, and now he’s pissed off because he thinks I’m going to kiss him again.

  I’m quaking from the inside out as I watch his gray eyes, having frozen over like ice. I’m afraid he’ll turn me to stone if I keep looking at them.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, Trix?” His tone chilling, his words polite, though the way he’s said them, and the look in his eyes, conveys a warning.

  It’s not that easy to keep my eyes, and lips, off your lips, Lazarus. It’s a struggle every time they’re near me.

  All I can do is brush off his bad attitude and act nonchalant as I turn away to go find my friend, praying like hell that he can’t somehow sense my affliction.

  About an hour later, we’re all sitting at the outdoor table beneath the canopy, enjoying our dinner while the sun sets. It’s cooled off quite a bit, which is nice, though I’m jealous of the apparently refreshing mojitos the adults are enjoying.

  Picking at my food, the voices in conversation come in and out. As usual, I’m highly attuned to anything Lazarus says, but now I’m choosing to block out the angelic female voice of his date every time she speaks. She doesn’t talk much, which is good, but I’ve had to stop myself from storming off a couple times already, like when she mentioned that she and Lazarus went on a weekend trip to Bimini.

  Apparently they’ve been seeing each other for a couple months already, which is as surprising as it is devastating. In my entire fifteen years of knowing him, Lazarus has never had a girlfriend. He’s never brought the same woman to any of the events or parties, because he’s a bachelor, and apparently relationships aren’t his thing.

  My mom used to get on him about it, telling him to stop playing the field. I never cared before, but now that I’m hopelessly infatuated with him, I think about it all too often. As much as it hurts to know he’s sleeping around, it’s a zillion times more painful to imagine him settling down with someone.

  If he gets married, I’ll kill myself.

  Merci kicks me under the table and I grunt, my eyes darting up to hers while she glares at me. The look she’s shooting must mean she wants me to do something, but I’m too bummed to give a shit, so I shrug and go back to pushing food around with my fork.

  “So Merci, what school are you planning to attend after you graduate?” My dad asks, ever the polite father who has a permanent obsession with kids going to college.

  I know for a fact Merci has no desire to go to college because she thinks it’s a waste of time, but I highly doubt she’ll say that to my dad, since she’s been trying to impress him all night.

  “Actually, I applied to the University of Miami,” she replies, which is a bold-faced lie.

  Merci is awful at school, and her parents are sick of it. She doesn’t give a damn about her education, unlike me. I’m not sure if college is in my own plans, though my dad would have a fit if I told him that. But I still respect a high school education, which is more than I can say for my best friend.

  “That’s great,” Dad smiles at her, then turns his gaze to me. “See, T? You’ll have a friend.”

  I fight not to roll my eyes.

  “Are you applying there?” Evangeline asks me, and my irritated gaze flicks to her. The way her silky brown hair is blowing in the breeze is really annoying for some reason, as is her desire to engage me in conversation.

  “It’s her first choice so far,” Dad answers for me, which I don’t mind, since I’m already getting sick of everyone always asking me about college, like there’s no other path to follow in life aside from that typical American Dream route of secondary education.

  “That’s exciting,” Evangeline says, as if I answered the question and am choosing to converse with her, which is not at all the case. “I went to Duke. It’s a great school, if you can convince your dad to let you go out of state.”

  She peeks at my father, giving him a teasing look to which he laughs.

  “Nice try,” he lifts a brow, and she chuckles softly in return. It’s a harmonious sound, but to my ears it’s like nails on a chalkboard.

  I watch her face for a moment as she speaks to my father about her college experience, completely zoning out her words while I study her features. She’s very pretty, but she also looks plain to me. And I know, it’s probably because she’s now my nemesis, but I think Lazarus deserves to be with someone different. Because that’s what he is.

  Unique. Special. Carved out of stone and heartache, and smarter than anyone I’ve ever met.

  He should be with someone who appreciates that, and compliments it. Not this cookie-cutter broad.

  My eyes dart to Lazarus and I nearly jump out of my skin when I find him glaring at me. The expression on his perfect face is stock-still and unamused, as usual, but his stormy irises are conveying something curious. He looks like he’s examining me, observing my behavior or my reactions to this conversation.

  Shrinking beneath his gaze, I swallow hard, fidgeting in my seat. I feel like he can read my thoughts, or somehow sense that I’m not interested in this college conversation in the slightest. I’ve never been very good at lying, or hiding things from people, but with Lazarus, especially now, it seems like he sees right through my act. Where my dad is ignoring my disinterest about my college education and projecting his own wants for my future onto me, I think Lazarus is totally sniffing out my bullshit.

  I just hope he doesn’t say anything to Dad.

  Deciding to take on a different approach, I sit up taller and squint at Lazarus, silently telling him to back off. Of course he’s not fazed by the look at all, and simply cocks a dark eyebrow at me, before picking up his drink and taking a sip.

  “What do you do anyway, Evangelina?” Merci’s voice cuts into my Lazarus tunnel-vision, and my head springs in her direction. “Do you work?”

  Dad chokes on something and coughs while I watch the show my best friend just started in her attempts to stand up for me. Evangeline’s pleasant smile is so fake, she reminds me of a celebrity who was just asked an inappropriate question during an interview. Quickly looking to Lazarus, I can see the amusement behind his regularly bored face, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he finds it sort of funny when we fuck with his date.

  “I’m sure I don’t work anywhere near as hard as the boys do, that’s for sure,” Evangeline gives a political response, like the brainless trust-fund Barbie she is. Then she leans in closer to Lazarus, placing a hand on his arm. I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood. “But I’m an influencer, I have a skincare line, and I support a few nonprofits in the area. All attainable goals, even without the political science and design majors.”

  She huffs a showy little laugh, batting her eyelashes at Lazarus who appears unimpressed, though he concedes to her with an obviously forced grin. My dad’s smile is just as dead as he kills the rest of his drink, and Merci is glaring at the bimbo from across the table, sharing the same thought that’s currently bounding through my brain.

  I really want to waste this bitch.

  The rest of the meal goes on from there, none of us necessarily enjoying the conversation, though Dad and Lazarus seem to be playing n
ice for Evangeline. It’s as if they’re both trying to make an impression on her, and I don’t understand why they would bother.

  What the hell is so special about her, anyway? They already signed her father’s stupid company. Why is it so important for Lazarus to make her happy? There must be something I’m not seeing, because she seems like such a dumb, trampy ditz that I can’t see Lazarus having any fun with her at all.

  Is it just because she’s pretty?? So what? There are tons of pretty girls out there. Rich ones, too. Why does he have to date the most boring, snobby one he could find?

  After dinner, Dad makes Merci and me help him clear the table, while Lazarus wanders off to take a call and Evangeline glues herself to her phone screen once more. Then we bring out dessert, and a bottle of the scotch my dad and Lazarus love.

  While we wait for them to get back, I take Merci into the pool house to get some small fireworks we wanted to light off. But really we need to talk shit about the enemy in a place where I know I have a pint of Fireball stashed.

  “She’s so fucking fake. I don’t know how he doesn’t see it,” Merci scoffs, taking a swig from the bottle then handing it to me.

  “I think he probably does,” I mutter before taking my own sip. It burns a little, but mostly because of the fiery cinnamon flavor. “He’s really smart. Chances are he’s just tuning her out, but I don’t understand why he’d want her around if that’s the case.”

  “They don’t even look good together. He’s way too hot to settle for someone like her.” Merci takes the bottle from me, slugging it back again. “She’s just some boring, bougie bitch.”

  “The three B’s,” I giggle and she grins, pressing her fingertip to her nose. “I don’t know, Merc. This is just so annoying. I don’t want her around all the time now. Why the fuck is he dating her? It’s disgusting.”

  “Your jelly’s showing, little green monster.” She smirks at me.

  I squint at her in return, snatching my bottle back. “Whatever.”

  “Hey, I can definitely see why you’re so into him. He’s awfully delicious, in a scary, might be secretly chopping women up and storing them in his freezer type of way.” I give her a look that has her laughing while I take a big gulp of booze. “I’d let him saw me in half any day. Add your dad to the mix, and we’ve got a pretty entertaining Thursday night.”

  “Ew! Shut up!” I smack her over and over while she cackles maniacally.

  She plops down on the chaise and sighs before sprawling out on her back. “There’s no way she’s good at sex. Rich, waspy bitches like her just lie there.”

  Merci spreads her legs and begins mimicking someone fucking her while she resembles a dead body. I burst out laughing and grab her feet, which just eggs her on more, cracking up as she does.

  “Oh yea. Right there. Don’t stop,” she speaks in monotone then giggles at the look of horror on my face, pulling me on top of her.

  I playfully fight her off, laughing so hard my face hurts.

  “Stop! I don’t want to picture them fucking, even if it is bad sex. It’s nasty.” I wriggle free as she continues to hump the air.

  “That’s just because you wish it was you under him,” Merci teases. “You definitely wouldn’t just lie there, either. I bet you’d bend over and call him Daddy.” Now she’s flipped over onto all fours and is gyrating into the air.

  “That’s so gross,” I mutter, though I can’t help but chuckle under my breath.

  “You’d be like, ‘Yes, Lazarus! Pull my hair and spank me, harder!’”

  I cover my face to hide how red I know it’s turning while she laughs at my expense.

  A throat clears, and we both startle, our heads turning toward the doorway.

  I feel the color drain from my face when I see Lazarus, standing there with his arms folded over his broad chest, brows raised in minute amusement.

  “Your dad sent me to see what the holdup was,” he rumbles as his lips curl ever-so-slightly. “What is the holdup in here, Trix?”

  My mouth drops open and I glance at Merci quick. Even she’s speechless right now, which never happens.

  “We were just… um…” My voice creaks as I try to think of anything to say that will spare me from the humiliation of what he probably just heard.

  “I’d say so,” his smirk widens, and it’s clear he witnessed a lot. But instead of looking like he’s disgusted or weirded out, he simply shakes his head, turning to leave the pool house. “Just grab the fireworks, and try to behave, hm?”

  Then he’s gone, and Merci and me are left staring at each other, mortified.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lazarus

  “You’re coming over for dinner tonight, right?”

  I glance at Damien, who’s shaking his dick off at the urinal next to me.

  “Yea, sure.”

  “Okay, so could you go to the house now?”

  I zip up and lift my brow in his direction. “We just finished lunch, and you want to have dinner now? Are you pregnant?”

  He grins. “First of all, you’re not supposed to ask that unless you’re sure.” I laugh out loud. “Second of all, no. Traci’s there and I just wanted you to go… wait with her until I get home.”

  I’m still looking at him like he’s insane. “And why would I be the one to do that?”

  “Because I’m not going straight home,” he mumbles as we both step over to the sinks to wash our hands. I keep side-eyeing him, since I know there’s something he’s not saying, and he needs to just come out with it. “Please? I just need an hour. Ninety-minutes tops.”

  “Damien,” I sigh his name, drying my hands with a paper towel. “We’ve been best friends for a long time. Meaning that if you want me to check in on your daughter while you go bang this broad on your way home, all you have to do is ask.”

  We face each other, and he stares at me for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Okay, I want to bang this broad on my way home. Can you please go to my house and check on Traci?”

  I have to laugh. “See? Was that so hard?”

  “Sorry, I’m just…” He shakes his head. “I’m probably not going to see this chick again after today and she told me she’s ready to climb on my cock, like right now. I’m not even exaggerating. She actually said those words, behind her menu, while you and Evangeline were ordering.”

  Another laugh pours out of me, while he grins. “Look, I’m just glad you’re getting back out there. But why do I need to check on Traci? She turns sixteen in a week, what do you really think will happen to her for two hours by herself?”

  “I don’t know, I just worry about her, you know that.” His fingers comb through his dirty blonde hair. “She seems like she’s doing better now that she has a friend, but she’s still so quiet. I can never tell what she’s thinking.”

  I have my own opinions about what goes on with Traci, but I’m obviously not going to voice them to him. Not right now, anyway.

  “So I get to babysit while you get your rocks off with some lady you’re never going to call back?” I tease, and he rolls his eyes again. “Who would’ve thought the day would come when you’d be the bachelor and I’d be in a relationship?”

  “The universe is clearly drunk,” he chuckles, turning to leave the restroom of the restaurant where we just had a nice little double-date lunch.

  Me, Evangeline, Damien, and the girl he picked up at Starbucks the other day. I can’t even remember her name if we’re being honest.

  I can’t hate on it, though. Damien’s getting all his aggressions out as a widow. He doesn’t see any of the women he dates more than once, because he says he’s not there yet, and I’m not sure he ever will be. We just got over him feeling guilty for wanting to have a little casual sex. At least he’s no longer moping around alone. Now he’s moping around while burying his dick in miscellaneous hotties. Progress.

  “So you’ll head over there for me?” He asks one more time, like a broken record.

  “Yes, yes. I’ll go over now,�
� I shoo him, following behind. “My girlfriend doesn’t like having sex during the day, anyway. She has an aversion to all things different.”

  He gives me a look that I really don’t want to see, so I resort to actually shoving him, with my hands on his back. He smiles while wandering back to the table where our dates are waiting.

  And I look after him for a moment, grinding my jaw a little too hard.

  We say our goodbyes at the restaurant, and I bring Evangeline home. Then I make my way to Damien’s to check up on his teenage daughter.

  I suppose I understand where Damien is coming from with Traci, since it is pretty hard to get a read on her. He tells me her studies have gotten better over the last year or so, but she’s still super quiet and pensive. She only has one friend, that girl with the purple hair, and outside of hanging with her, she mostly stays in her room.

  Personally I think Traci’s fine. She’s a quiet girl, always has been. She’s probably just turning into a woman or some shit.

  I mean, based on the fact that she tried to kiss me that time, and I caught her and her friend giggling about sex a couple months ago, I’d say it’s a safe assumption.

  Pulling into the driveway, I park in my usual spot, but instead of going inside, I follow the music around back to the pool. The gate is locked, but of course I know the code, and I open it, rounding the corner to the sounds of girls talking and laughing.

  Sure enough, there’s the little troublemaker herself, with her purple-haired friend, laying out by the pool. I stop and watch them for a moment, because they haven’t noticed me yet, and I think it’s funny.

  Traci is wearing a shockingly skimpy black bikini, the straps of which are untied, fabric barely covering her nipples. And her friend isn’t wearing much more, with just about her whole ass hanging out while she lies on her stomach.

  Damien has his work cut out for him with a teenage girl, I’m telling you. I don’t know how he does it, because if I had a daughter who looked like Tracien, I’d be constantly worried about dudes ogling her, especially when she’s practically naked out in the open, like she is now.