by Angel Lawson
It’s a topic of contention between us. He doesn’t want to tell her—afraid she’ll take off looking for her. He’s not convinced he really saw her. It could have been the drugs or panic from Eden passing out. Hope is a long-standing conflict between the two of them.
Theo thinks she’s ready to handle it and not telling her is a betrayal.
They look to me to break the tie. Ultimately, I think bringing Hope up without solid information could send Eden reeling.
So, we’ve agreed to keep it quiet.
For now.
The decision feels right as she settles in with the three of us. She leans against Theo’s side, while stretching her feet out on my lap. The intimacy is similar to what we share when we’re trying to convince the student body and Trip that we’re a bonded unit, but it’s not lost on me that there’s no one here watching.
I’m in the middle of a battle when I hear the long gurgle of someone’s stomach. I look up and see Eden blush, hand covering her stomach. “That was me.”
“Did you eat today? I ask.
She shakes her head.
I toss the controller to the side and grab her hand. “Let’s get some food.”
Hawk shuts off the TV and Theo slips on his shoes. We walk down to the dining hall where the staff has left a cooler of prepared food and drinks. We all grab what we want and pause before the expansive, empty dining hall.
“It’s weird being in here alone. Maybe we should eat somewhere else?” Theo suggests.
“Where?” Eden asks.
An idea pops in my mind. “Follow me.”
I lead them down the main hall, past the administration offices and the area with all the collectibles and artifacts on display. The cases are locked—impenetrable, even with my master key. We enter the original part of the Holmes house and I stop before a set of double doors with a long, stained glass transom at the top.
“Can you hold this?” I ask Eden, passing her over my food. Free-handed, I fish the key out of my pocket and insert it in the keyhole. “The lock sticks.”
“Dude, when did you come down here?” Theo asks.
I shrug. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I investigate.”
The lock gives with a loud click and I smile as I open both doors, revealing a large, formal dining room. A long table stretches down the middle of the room, surrounded by at least twelve chairs. A massive piece of furniture is pushed against the wall, filled with plates and crystal and silver.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here,” Eden says, eyeing the room.
“Of course, we’re not. We’re heathens. Feral street kids,” I say, stepping into the room. “This is the room for people with pedigrees. Millionaires. Donors and sponsors and all that bullshit we know means exactly nothing.”
Hawk walks into the room and stands before the wood-backed chair at the end of the table. I assume he’s planning on sitting there and move to the seat next to it. He pulls it out and looks back at Eden. “Take this one.”
I don’t know much about civility or manners or anything to do with class, but I’ve watched enough gangster movies to know that the head of the table is reserved for the leader of the group.
I raise an eyebrow at Hawk, but he ignores me, waiting for Eden to reluctantly sit, and then he pushes the chair in for her.
Theo watches the whole scene carefully before taking the seat next to me. We dig into our food. Theo dumps his chips for everyone to share and Eden pushes her fruit on all of us, telling us to try something healthy. Hawk looks around the room and says, “Do you think they even use this room anymore?”
I snort. “I suspect they do. Most likely for elitist blood oaths and orgies.”
Eden laughs. “You’re probably not wrong.”
“Plotting how they want to take over the world by tearing down one another,” Theo says.
“It’s weird right? That they have all this money and power, yet they use it to destroy one another.”
“They’re bored,” Hawk says, after swallowing a bite of sandwich. “Too much money and time. They have to entertain themselves somehow.”
“What would you do?” Eden asks. Her hair is a mess and loose pieces curl by her ears. Her neck is long, sleek. Kissable. “If you had money and time to do anything you wanted?”
“I don’t,” Hawk says with a dark laugh, “which makes that a pointless question.”
“You can’t use your imagination?”
“I’ll play.” I place my drink on the table. “I’d travel. Pack my bag, get on a plane, train, boat, or whatever the hell I could find and explore the world. No one would know me or about my past, my record, or the fact I can’t pass math. I’d just turn into someone new.”
They all look at me and I try not to regret saying it out loud.
Theo breaks the silence.
“I’d get clean—for real clean—in one of those fancy rehab spa places all the celebrities go to. Then I’d go find my mom. Make amends with my grandfather and pay him back for all the money he lost on me. Maybe I’d start swimming competitively.” He smiles at Eden. “Or coaching.”
She grins in return. “You’d make a good coach.”
Hawk focuses on his dinner, chewing huge mouthfuls of food that keep him occupied. It’s a deflection. Whatever. Theo ignores him and looks at Eden. “What about you?”
“Well,” she says, pulling at the paper napkin in her hands, “I’d get my mom and take her somewhere nice—like a clean, normal, suburban neighborhood. I’d hire a private detective to look for Hope.”
Hawk’s jaw tics at her response. His tone is incredulous when he speaks. “So, everything you’d do would be for someone else?”
“Having my family back is what it would do for me.”
“But what if they don’t want to come back? What if the dream of a perfect, suburban life is your dream, not theirs.”
I expect a fight, or at least some verbal threats, but Eden doesn’t fall for it.
“At least I had the guts to say what I wanted in life. You’re too chicken to even put it out there. You know,” Eden continues, looking at me and Theo. “Maybe we should have our own Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Here.”
“Eating what?” Theo asks, pushing the wrappers to the middle of the table. “Crappy food?”
She looks at me, eyes bright. “You can get us into the kitchen, right?”
“Sure.”
“We could create our own Thanksgiving feast.”
“Oooh.” I rub my hands together. “Like one of those things at the group home. A potluck! Everyone brings their own food.”
“Yes! Exactly. What do you think?” Eden asks. “Everyone in?”
“Definitely,” Theo says. “I make a mean mac and cheese. You know, if I can find a box of it.”
“I’ll make some vegetables, because I know none of you will do it,” Eden says.
“Mashed potatoes and gravy,” I reply, rubbing my stomach. “And maybe a pie.”
“Can you even make a pie?”
“I can probably find one in the freezer,” I admit.
We all look at Hawk. “I’ll figure it out.”
It’s as much as he’s going to give, but it’s enough. Cooperation has never been something that’s come easy for any of us and something like this? It combines tradition and cooperation and family all together. None of that is our strong suit, but like everything else in the last few months, adapting to our environment.
But most of all, adapting to one another.
24
Eden
The boys head to their room and I go to mine, showering and getting ready for bed. The absolute quiet gets to me after a while and I can’t sleep. Back home, the sounds of my apartment neighbors filtered through the walls and ceiling. The streets echoed all the time. I never realized quiet was a perk of the privileged. It makes me uneasy, like everything else at Sparrowood, and I decide to fall back on my standard distraction.
Candy. Candy fixes everything.
Grabbing the change off my dresser, I head down the hall toward the lounge. It’s creepy walking through the old building—lots of shadowy corners. This place makes me paranoid, first with Luke and Camille, now with Trip. It’s silly to worry about them. They’re gone—I mean, everyone’s gone. That’s why, when I slam face and body first into a body coming around the corner, I scream.
“Shhh! Eden! It’s me.”
He doesn’t need to say that. I already know it’s Gray. I can tell by the way he smells and the way his body feels next to mine. His hands grip my upper arms and our hips graze. We haven’t been close—or really alone—in a while. Not since everything escalated with Trip. But now that I’m in front of him and his lips are so close to mine, I desperately want to kiss him.
He blinks and takes a step back. “What are you doing down here?”
I hold up my candy. “What are you doing down here?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.”
He smiles down at me and holds up his brass key. “Want to go explore?”
I follow Gray through the building, past the dorm rooms (I try not to invade privacy), away from the classrooms (too tempting to check and adjust grades), and even past the offices. He leads me once again to the old part of the building—the original structure. We pass the dining room, cleaned and locked up from dinner, and he looks up the large marble and wood staircase. “Want to see what’s upstairs?”
“Haven’t you been before?”
He shakes his head, his hair dipping in his eyes. “Too many people around.”
“So even you have limits?”
“There’s one thing people underestimate about me.”
I lean against the curved, carved bannister. “What’s that?”
“I only get caught when I want to get caught.”
It’s a strange statement, followed by a cheeky smirk. He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs.
The landing is wide with a balcony that looks over the entry below. Oil paintings hang on the walls and thick carpet runners guide our way. The doors are closed. We open them, peeking into a series of bedrooms and bathrooms. They’re decorated in an old-fashioned style, but the fabric and furnishings look newer. It smells clean, like waxed and polished wood. At the end of the hall there’s a set of double, carved doors, and Gray uses his key to turn the lock.
Inside is the grandest room I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s huge, rectangular, with big windows that overlook the grounds. The room is decorated in pale blues and yellows, with a plush oriental carpet covering the floor and massive drapes that hang from the ceiling. A fireplace anchors a small sitting area, with a huge portrait of a woman mounted above the mantle. It’s Mrs. Holmes, her image recognizable from other places in the school.
The central focus in the room is a large four-poster bed covered in a thick floral quilt and big square pillows.
“Do you think this was their room?” I ask in a whisper.
“Probably,” Gray says, walking into the room and over to the dresser. Among the items displayed are antique perfume bottles, a small silver compact, and frames with black and white photos. He opens a small box and jewelry glints from inside.
“Could you imagine having all this space?” I ask, roaming around the room.
“Nope.”
I can’t help but touch everything. The back of the couch, the fireplace mantle. I open a door on the far wall and reach for the light switch. Inside is a deep closet, still filled with clothes.
“Hey,” I say, calling Gray over. “Look at this.”
There are suits and dresses and thick, wool overcoats. Boots and heels all perfectly preserved. This place is a museum—a time capsule—and just standing here I feel like an intruder or some kind of time-walker. Which means we should leave, but my eye catches the shimmer of fabric and I reach for the dress, running my hands over the tiny, intricate beadwork.
“You’d look amazing in that,” Gray says, his breath hot on my ear. I fight a shiver.
“I’d probably destroy it.”
A current of heat travels between us. Gray is the easiest of the guys. Fun. Mischievous. It’s easy to get caught up in his escapades, his clear green eyes. He’s the one that makes it hard for me to know what’s real and not real between me and the K-Boys. Does he want me? Is this part of the game? Or am I another shiny trinket to steal?
Needing air, I push past him, flipping off the light switch on the way. I hear the closet door click shut.
The bed draws me over, luring me in with the soft-looking quilt and pillows. I’ve never seen one so high before, so high there’s a little step stool at the end. I kick off my shoes and climb up, legs hanging off the side. Gray walks over and stands before me.
“This confuses me,” I confess in a quiet voice.
His forehead creases. “The room?”
I shake my head. “You. Us. I’ve spent a long time making sure people don’t use me. Back in the Park. Here. I’ve seen what happens. How it breaks them down,o and I don’t want to be that girl.” It’s why Trip bothers me so much. I’m working hard to keep control over the situation but he’s so slick, so manipulative, it’s hard to know.
It’s hard to know with Gray, too.
The height of the bed makes our eyes level and Gray holds contact as he steps closer, standing between my knees. “That’s the difference between me and them. I’m not a taker, Princess, I’m a giver.”
“You’re a thief—all you do is take.”
He smiles. “You stole my heart a long time ago, Eden Walker, I don’t think you want to talk about theft.”
His words are sweet, his expression genuine. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. His lips are gentle and warm. His touch, strong and compelling. My whole body comes to life, my nerves heightened, my heart pounding.
I ease out of the kiss but he doesn’t let me go, forehead pressed against mine, breath mingling. I hold his eye. “So, this is real?”
“As a fucking heart attack, Princess.”
He’s done nothing to betray my trust, and I realize with absolute clarity; this is something I want. He’s something I want.
The reaction is like a switch flipped, or maybe an explosion--whatever it is, all the hesitation, the holding back, the tentative game we’d been playing for weeks falls away. Our kisses grow harder, deeper. His tongue forceful, then playful, seductive and shattering. I grab for his body, wanting to feel the lean muscle stacked along his stomach. The soft hair traveling below his navel. I kiss the skin there, soft and warm. His stomach caves, his pants tighten. I feel powerful seeing—sensing—his reactions.
I feel vulnerable exposing mine. He pushes my legs aside to get closer and the hot, cotton-covered place between my legs lifts with want. I should be embarrassed. Horrified. I’m vulnerable. Obvious. Exposed.
I don’t care.
Gray’s fingers are slim and quick. They skim down my sides, feeling the curve of my breasts, rolling over the peak of my nipple. He tugs at the hem of my sweatshirt. In a flash it’s removed, and he pulls at his own shirt, one hand yanking it over his head, the other firmly on my hip. My bra is thin, lacey, and when he touches me my skin feels fragile, ready to break.
I fall back on my elbows, taking him in. He’s lean. Svelte. The guys all work out and Gray’s efforts show. I eye the fine trail of hair that leads under his jeans and wonder what he looks like, tastes like, without fabric between us.
He doesn’t give me a chance, dropping between my knees. I watch the top of his head as he kisses each knee and I get a flash of another boy in this position. Another mouth on my legs. Hawk? It’s fuzzy. Lost, and I blink trying to catch it.
“You okay?” Gray asks, hands on my inner thighs. He looks worried.
“Yes.” I don’t want him to stop. My body burns, the ache so very real.
“Is this okay?”
“I’ve never done this before,” I admit, certain that if Hawk had gone that far, I’d know. There’s no way I’d
forget it.
“Good. Then your first time won’t be some sloppy hand job in the back of a rusted-out Camaro. It’ll be in the bed made for a queen, and it’ll give me a chance to show you exactly how giving I am.” Gray gives me a lopsided, sexy grin before kissing the insides of each thigh, this time higher, closer. My hips move on their own. My fingers dig into the bedcovers. My body heats like a torch, waiting, craving.
Staring at the ceiling, with my heart pounding, Gray shimmies my shorts down my legs. He proceeds to show me with his fingers, mouth, and tongue how much he has to give, how hard he’s willing to work, and how there’s a fine line between dedication and devotion, both he proves he possesses.
He’s not the only one that’s revealed as I shudder on the bed, writhing beneath his hot breath, feeling like my skin has caught fire and my insides have melted. I’m panting as I realize that there’s value to being vulnerable.
I kiss his mouth and curl against his body, understanding for the first time that it’s worth trusting other people even if that means exposing your body, heart, and soul.
25
Eden
After being with Gray, there’s one thing I know for certain; he was the first boy that had ever made me feel that way. Hawk and I shared something that night at the party, it just wasn’t that.
After straightening the bed and making sure everything was back in place, Gray and I walked back to the dorms. I felt lighter. Raw. The place between my legs a sticky reminder with every step. That wasn’t the only reminder. There was no avoiding the smug, satisfied smirk that tugged on Gray’s mouth as he dropped me off at my door.
He’d definitely proven himself a giver. I owe him one. Or two.
I wake late, the sun already midway through the sky. I decide there’s no better time to confront my lingering confusion about the night at the party, and search for Hawk. The weight room is the third place I look.
He’s standing in front of the free weights, the back of his Sparrowood T-shirt drenched in sweat. Our eyes meet in the mirror and the first thing I wonder is if he can tell what happened with me and Gray the night before. Or if Gray told him. I doubt it, but the look in his eyes makes me feel like he can see through me.