If anything, I kept up the act when Gemma showed because I was curious if she’d get jealous. I wanted to see her jealous over me, like I get anytime another guy even looks her way. Seeing her jealousy proves she needs me—wants me the way I want her.
Lucas: There are no other girls for me. Only you.
She replies immediately.
Gemma: Save it, your dick won’t grow the more you lie. I’m done. Go away.
She can’t keep me away.
Annoyed that I’m not getting through to her, I stuff my phone in my pocket.
She doesn’t believe me. Fine. I won’t plead my case to ears that don’t give a shit to listen. She can cool off and I’ll try later.
Your fault, coward, a voice niggles in the back of my head. I twist like I can physically escape the slithering thoughts.
It was easier when I hated her. When she didn’t make me face the person I am and the one I pretend to be.
This all went sideways the minute I started to catch feelings for Gemma Turner.
My life would be cake if I simply put her in her place and moved on. Leave her for some other idiot to deal with, if he was brave enough to tame her.
Even thinking like this, my reaction is visceral. I swallow through the possessiveness that rears up. My mind screams mine, mine, mine.
Gemma’s in my fucking veins. I can’t get her out that easy.
Or let someone else have her.
My fists clench, the skin stretching over my knuckles.
The bell rings, cutting through my swirling thoughts. I gather my stuff and follow the rest of the class into the hall as our teacher shouts after us about a possible pop quiz.
Marissa finds me at my locker five minutes later as I’m stuffing books inside. Alarm bells go off in my head. I am not prepared for even more bullshit to cap off the day.
“Hey, baby,” she says in a husky voice that carries across the hall as she approaches.
I sidestep the baby pet name. “I’m really not in the mood.”
Undeterred, Marissa slips into my personal space, wedging between me and the locker. Her arms lock around my neck and she pouts at me.
Tensing, I snap, “Marissa, what the fuck?”
“Are you ready to come back to me? You know you’ve got it good when we’re together. You can have this,” she takes my hand and presses it to the front of her skirt, “anytime you want.”
I open my mouth to tell her I’m never getting back with her. A strangled scoff to my left draws my attention.
Fuck. This can’t be happening.
What karmic god did I piss off?
Alec and Gemma stand there, probably on their way out to their car. Gemma props her hands on her hips. She studies us with a hard expression, eyebrows raised.
“Not a liar, huh? Yeah. I thought so.”
After she spits those words, she turns her back on me and rushes off.
“Goddamn it,” I grit out. “Gemma, wait!”
“Why are you bothering with plain Jane when you have me?” Marissa’s persistence crumbles my patience.
“Gemma! It’s not what you think!” I shout. Marissa gets in my way as Gemma rounds the corner. I take her by the shoulders and move her aside. “Marissa, get the fuck out of the way!”
Marissa lets me go. She knows how to work a crowd in these halls. She’ll only make a scene when it works in her favor.
I don’t care about any of that, I only want to get to Gemma.
Alec stops me in my tracks with a hand on my arm, blocking me from following Gemma’s hasty retreat. “That’s enough. Leave my sister alone, man.”
The protective challenge in his eyes puts a bitter taste in my mouth. I don’t want to hurt Gemma. I’m worthy of protecting her. Or, I will be again, after I clear up the mess I made.
“Look, I just want to tal—”
“It looks like she’s done talking to you. Back off.”
With a shove, Alec releases me and stalks off in the same direction as Gemma. Stunned, I stand in the middle of the hall as people give me a wide berth. Their whispers fly freely as I try to make my legs move.
It’s like I’m encased in cement, unable to drag myself to fall on my sword for Gemma—because that’s what it will take to get her back.
I have to choose, my mask or the girl that holds my still-beating heart in her palms?
By the time I reach the parking lot, the silver CR-V is gone. I blow out a ragged breath, dropping my head back.
Flurries drop from the overcast sky.
This is why my life is easier when I play up what people want to see me as. If I shroud myself in my god-like persona as the golden king of Silver Lake High School, I don’t have to deal with this fear and pain.
* * *
My phone vibrates itself off my desk later that night.
I tossed it there when I threw myself down after getting back from Gemma’s house. Alec met me at the door and wouldn’t let me in to plead my case.
I pull one of my earbuds free, disrupting the music drowning out my thoughts as I sketch. Lancelot is curled up on the bench seat beneath the window.
None of it has been good, anyway. My head’s too full of Gemma to focus on drawing concepts. I’m used to being naturally gifted with throwing a ball. My hands have never let me down like this before. It’s scary to think I can have days so bad I can’t draw.
Bending down to pick up the phone, I find a slew of missed texts. At first my heart jumps. But it’s not Gemma. It’s my cousin.
The last text catches my eye.
Devlin: This might be a problem.
Attached is a link to Instagram. Marissa’s account. Wary, I open it.
It’s a video post. I clench the phone in my grip so hard it might break.
The video shows a clip of a stupid mistake I made with Marissa when I thought I loved her.
We recorded ourselves once. A freaking sex tape. It was her idea.
In the clip, Marissa giggles as I kiss down her belly. I’m tagged in the post. Jesus. I scrub my face and read the caption.
@MightyRissa: Got my man back, bitches. [Lips emoji]
It’s not the full video, thank fuck.
I’m dialing Marissa’s number before I even process my dumbfounded anger.
She picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, babe.” There’s a sly smile in her voice. “Ready to grovel for that shit you pulled earlier? It’s going to cost you.”
I need to grovel, but it’s not Marissa’s mercy and forgiveness I need to earn.
“Marissa,” I bark. “Cut the shit.”
“You brought it on yourself for how you left me in the dust today!” She grumbles on the line. “I can’t believe you’d chase after some nobody slut when I was standing—”
“Marissa, that’s enough! Knock it off.”
A vein pulses in my temple and I get up to stalk the length of my room in an agitated pace.
“You went too fucking far. I am not your boyfriend anymore. You decided that. You wanted a break. Posting this to make it look like we got back together is the most ridiculous shit you’ve ever done.”
“Lucas—”
“No! I’m done, Marissa. I’m fucking finished! Don’t test me again, or I’ll rain hell on you so hard your reputation will be destroyed at school. Bishop’s collects everyone’s dirty secrets and I won’t hesitate to unleash yours to him with the order to put you on blast.”
“Jesus, Lucas. What is your deal?”
“My deal is that I’m over playing this game with you. We’ve been done for a while. Whatever feelings I once had for you are gone. I thought we were friends, but you went and screwed that over, too.”
I don’t tell her she probably fucked me big time with explaining to Gemma. Marissa’s actions in school were enough to make Gemma believe I was lying.
Marissa starts to speak, but I hang up and set her number to do not disturb so she can’t bother me. I sink to my bed and hang my head between my hands.
E
rupting from the mattress in a jolt of motion, I throw my fist with a yell. It crashes through the wall. Lancelot runs from the room with a shrieking pug warble. My chest heaves as I pant, the sudden instinct fading. I stare from the hole I left in the wall to my red, cracked knuckles.
Regret immediately settles in my gut. “Shit.”
I flex my hand carefully. It doesn’t feel broken. At least I threw a good punch. It’ll bruise, but it seems fine. My wall on the other hand…not so much.
Thank god my parents are out on an overnight date in Denver.
“Fuck me,” I groan.
I’ll need to fix this before they see it. I grab a poster from the opposite wall and tack it over the damage to hide it. It’ll do for now.
The need to hear Gemma’s voice right now is inescapable. I dial and press the phone to my ear.
“Pick up, pick up…”
The line clicks and my heart stutters.
“This is Gemma. Leave a message and I’ll hit you back.” Her voice is a balm I don’t deserve.
“I really fucked up,” I tell the voicemail when the tone signals. I rub my forehead. “I wish I could do today over. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
It’s nowhere near satisfactory for an apology. Pitiful, in fact. My words flee, though, and I hang up. I dial again just to hear her voice.
My sketchbook sits open on my desk, but it feels wrong to make another attempt to use it.
I don’t have to know the answer to the question running through my head when it comes to anything important in my life.
Am I good enough?
I’m pretty sure the answer is a fat fucking no.
Twenty-Nine
Gemma
The bath I took with a scented bath bomb cleared my head.
“Everything okay, honey?” Mom asks, delivering a set of folded towels to the hall closet.
“Yeah. Of course.”
I let out my hair from its bun and it falls around my shoulders. Mom steps forward and presses her hand to my face with a small frown.
“You look flushed. Your eyes are red. Are you coming down with a cold?”
I wave her off. “No, it’s just the drop in temperature. I probably spent too long in the hot water. I promise, I’m fine.”
Mom and I have never been the type of women to titter over crushes. Telling her vaguely about Matt was enough to put me off it. I’m not about to start now. I’ll handle this on my own, too. Since moving here, my parents have seemed happy. I’m not going to kill that with my drama.
Besides, what’s the point in telling her yeah, I thought I had a boyfriend again, but oops, turns out he was a big jerkface liar, so that’s over now? Not my idea of a fun time.
“Want to order from the stack of takeout places we haven’t tried yet?” She waggles her brows and it gets me to laugh. She loves takeout and has been on a mission to decide on a rotation of favorites. “I’m in the mood for curry. What about you?”
“Sure, Mom. Anything’s good.”
I check my phone when I pad into my room in a towel. There’s a few Instagram likes on my latest post and a direct message.
Thinking it’s a story share notification, I swipe to open it. I’m met with a message from an unfamiliar account.
I tap on the username to see the profile and my brow wrinkles. There’s a thin bio, but the name says Devlin Murphy. His precious red car is in the first three posts. I go back to the message he sent me.
@DeviousDev: [eyes emoji].
That’s the only explanation he gives, along with a post by another account. When I go to it, my heart plummets off a cliff edge.
Marissa’s account.
Got my man back, bitches.
I watch the video clip three times. Each time Lucas kisses Marissa’s stomach, my own twines into a tighter knot.
Take it in. Then pick yourself up.
I repeat my trusty mantra that got me through worse. The desired effect is lagging, like a magic spell that’s run out of power.
I get dressed and curl up on my bed, an emptiness settled in my chest.
What did I expect?
Lucas is a cocky football player who swaggers around the school like the resident king.
He’s not the guy with bigger dreams than people think he’s capable of. He’s not the guy that took care of me when I was freaked out and alone in the rain. He’s not the same one that kissed me like I meant the world to him.
No. All of that was the world’s oldest lie. One I fell for when I knew better.
As I lay there, I can’t stir much anger at Marissa for going after what she wants. At least she’s honest about it. She’s been upfront this whole time that she planned to take Lucas back. Lucas is the one that lied to me and the one running straight to her.
Letting my guard down around Lucas was the wrong choice. Now I know not to make that mistake again.
Marissa and the rest of the school can have their self-important savior. I’ve had enough.
I’ll protect myself the only way I’ve learned how. I’ll stay safe on the other side of a camera lens. Getting involved means missing the bigger picture. It’s only led to hurt and betrayal.
* * *
School sucks for a few days. The people that once labeled me a prude because I was angry about Lucas stealing my first kiss now have an active rumor mill to prove what a slut I am with the circulation of the selfie Lucas sent Carter.
Cute double standard, isn’t it?
They’re all absolute idiots.
Their bullshit isn’t what gets to me. It’s the twinge in my chest when I see Lucas in the halls.
Even when I’ve resolved to be strong, it’s easier said than done. Controlling the longing call my heart gives when I see him is impossible.
My rotten heart hasn’t accepted moving on from Lucas. Riotous little bastard.
Unfortunately, I have to endure it for the rest of the week. The snow that fell soon melted as the weather warmed. No snow days to get a minute’s peace from Lucas. He glances my way, but as soon as he sees me a gate slams over his face, keeping me out of his true thoughts. Lucas sets his jaw, returning his attention to goofing around with Devlin and Connor.
I guess he didn’t want to talk to me that badly. It was a gallant effort on his part to pretend for five minutes he was a decent human. It seems I was right to block his number.
The only upside is watching from afar as Lucas gives Carter the cold shoulder.
* * *
At home I can pretend everything’s okay. Mom and Dad rope Alec and I into some Netflix original, a murder mystery that has all of us glued to the TV after dinner. When they both fall asleep on the couch, Alec and I head upstairs to go to our rooms.
“Hey.” Alec pauses outside his door. He picks at the doorjamb. “Wait a sec.”
“What?”
Alec follows me into my room. “Are you cool?”
“Cool about what?”
I grab a stack of square prints from the nightstand and kneel on my bed to stick my new additions to the wall. The photos that have Lucas in them still sit in the drawer.
The bed shifts when Alec sits down.
“At school. The stuff with Lucas.”
I shrug.
“He came by the other night. When you were crying in the bath. I wouldn’t let him in.” When I don’t respond, Alec goes on. “Should I punch him?”
I peer at him over my shoulder. “Now why would you deck your friend, Alec?”
He chews on his lip, his face troubled.
“I’ve been a shitty brother.”
“Alert the media,” I deadpan.
“Seriously, Gem.” He scoots closer and pokes my ankle as I return to my task. “I want to punch him every time I see him laughing with the guys. He treated you like shit and got away with it.”
“Rich, popular, quarterback.” I tick each one off on my fingers. “Privileged beyond belief. Basically an untouchable god amongst men.”
“Okay, can you put the tough girl sarc
asm on hold for five minutes? I want to know what will help you feel better. I’ve seen the way you still look at him.”
My shoulders slump. “What makes you want to help now? You’ve been pretty hot and cold since we moved. I told you, Matt never asked—”
My voice cracks and I stop.
“I know,” Alec says in a rush, voice gruff. “I know. I’m the worst for all of that. I should’ve believed you. I think…”
Abandoning my prints, I turn to face him. One hand is in his hair and his wide eyes stare at nothing.
“I didn’t know how to handle it.” He holds a palm up when I open my mouth to sling another snarky retort. “I know. It’s not a good excuse. There aren’t any valid excuses. Obviously things were worse for you, it actually happened to you. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t want things to change. We all had fun together. He was my best friend. I didn’t know how to flip to hating him overnight on your behalf.”
A frown tugs at my lips. Alec lifts his tortured gaze to meet mine.
“I’m saying sorry now for being a dick about it. And for this year, since we moved.” Alec scrubs his face. “I resented that we had to leave our home. I was ripped away from everyone. But it’s cool here. I shouldn’t have hated you for that.”
Emotion bubbles over and closes my throat. I sniffle. Alec darts his eyes up.
“Oh god.” He looks lost, but genuine. “Don’t cry. Please.”
I flap my hands as the tears flow. Alec wipes them away with his sleeve.
“Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”
A watery laugh leaves me. “Tough people cry, too.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” He tugs me into his arms. “I’m sorry.”
The tears run their course as I cling to Alec. I retreat with a gross snuffle, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
“It’s fine.” I knock my fist against his knee. It won’t erase his actions and inactions, but he’s apologizing now. “Thanks for saying sorry. And for realizing you’re an ass.”
Wicked Saint: Sinners and Saints Book 1 Page 20