by Eva Ashwood
Instead, the blowback seems to happen within the tight-knit group that is the Sinners. When Declan returns from his parents’ place on Monday, I catch sight of him and Elias in a hushed, intense conversation outside one of the school buildings. I’m tempted to try to eavesdrop, but there’s no chance of that. Almost as soon as I catch sight of the two men, their gazes turn toward me, as if I’ve got some kind of flashing beacon on me.
Their expressions are unreadable, and I set my features in a similar mask as I walk past them.
Fuck it. I’m not giving up more than they are, so if they’re gonna play shit close to the vest, so am I.
I sneak up to the second floor landing in the dining hall after lunch to smoke, but Declan doesn’t show. He doesn’t show the next day either, or the next, and I try not to let my unreasonable disappointment in that fact distract me from my mid-terms.
But as the week progresses, I notice something else.
The Sinners have all gone back to ignoring me… but they’re ignoring each other too. A rift has sprung up between the three of them, and I wonder if it’s because of me or something else. I still see them together sometimes, but they’ve stopped eating lunch together and no longer stride across campus as a single united group like they used to.
Cliff seems fucking delighted by the new turn of events, holding court with his two friends, Landon and Adam, as if they’ve become the de facto rulers of the school. He catches my gaze as I walk across campus on the last day of mid-terms and gives me a sly smile, as if congratulating me on breaking up the Sinners.
Something strange twists in my gut, and I look away, passing him by without saying a single word.
I don’t understand the odd knot that’s developed in my stomach, a ball of tension that won’t seem to go away.
It almost feels like guilt, but that makes no damn sense at all. So what if me kissing each of the guys drove a wedge between them? Gray has no damn claim on me, and he’s made it more than clear he doesn’t want one. So I’m free to do whatever the hell I want, and so are Declan and Elias. They’re grown-ass men. I didn’t make them do anything.
“You okay? How’d your Lit final go?” Max asks when I meet her outside her dorm building. Several other girls are lounging outside, bitching about mid-terms or making plans for the weekend.
“Oh. Uh, good, I think.” I shake my head, trying to focus.
“Yeah?” She tilts her head. “You still seem a little out of it.”
“I am.” I grimace. Then I laugh. “I’m honestly a little sad mid-terms are over. With all that damn studying, I stopped having so many fucked up dreams. I hope they don’t come back now that I’m not cramming until three in the morning every night.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a weirdo. The only student in the history of higher education who wants more mid-terms.”
“What can I say?” I tap the side of my head. “Gotta keep this damaged brain busy.”
“It’s not damaged,” she insists, shooting a sharp look at the girls around us as if daring any of them to say something bitchy.
A smile pulls at my lips before I can stop it. I love how protective she is of me. I’ve never had that before, and I didn’t know what I was missing not having a best friend. I’d be just as willing to step into a lion’s den for her, and I’d kick the ass of anyone who gave her shit.
“Right.” I nod. “Thanks.”
Unfortunately, she’s not quite right. Something is fucked up about my brain, just like doctors have been telling me for as long as I can remember. And as class workloads ease a bit after mid-terms, the dreams worm their way back into my sleeping mind again.
Only now it’s not just strange, half-formed images invading my dreams at night. The nightmares are interspersed between dreams about the Sinners.
I have vivid dreams of Elias’s lips on mine.
Declan’s tatted arms wrapped around me, pulling me close.
And then… then there’s Gray, whose body I have seen and felt so intensely in real life that the dreams are too damn vivid to handle. I wake up more than once over the next week with my hand between my legs and my clit still throbbing from the remnants of an orgasm.
Even in my fucking dreams, I can’t resist the pull between us.
The only plus side in all of this bullshit? The heightened emotions churning through me make for great paintings.
I do some of my best work in the weeks following mid-terms. I manage to get some proper canvases, and the paint just flows onto them as if it’s guided by a force outside my conscious mind. Every emotion spills out of me through the strokes of my brush. Angry reds and dark blues, shadows and highlights and muddy shapes that don’t mean anything but somehow convey everything.
It’s become part of my routine, and I paint for an hour or two a day if I can manage it.
But when I return to my dorm after dinner on a Thursday in mid-November, my footsteps slow as I near my door.
It’s cracked open a little.
Just an inch or so—but that’s enough to make my heart beat harder.
Goddammit. The hazing and bullying has been slowly getting better, but if someone decided to get their kicks in by fucking with my dorm, I’m gonna be pissed as shit.
I step inside quickly, hand resting on the door handle as I take in the interior of my little apartment unit.
And my heart seems to stop beating entirely.
Someone didn’t fuck with my dorm. They fucked with my art.
They destroyed it.
Canvases and papers are strewn everywhere. Shredded, broken, Sharpied over, the pieces tossed carelessly all over the floor and couch.
Like they’re worthless.
Like they mean nothing.
Red colors my vision. It’s all I see. Blinding, rage-filled red consumes me as vicious certainty rises up in my chest.
I know who did this. Who else could it possibly be?
I remember Declan vaguely mentioning that all three of the Sinners have dorms right next to each other during one of our smoking sessions. And I’ve been on campus long enough to know which building is theirs.
My body goes into autopilot, moving without conscious thought as my brain grapples with the horrifying fact that all of my pieces—every last one—have been destroyed.
I march across campus in the dwindling twilight and pace outside until a guy whose name I don’t know uses his key card to get into the building. I shove my way in after him, ignoring his muttered curse and the glare he levels at me. I don’t care. My mind has narrowed down to a singular focus, and it’s all I can think about.
“Gray Eastwood’s dorm,” I demand. “Where is it?”
He looks at me like I’m a crazy person, but I repeat the question, my entire body shaking with rage. He holds his hands up, grimacing. “Third floor. It’s the one at the end of the hall.”
I take the stairs so fast my feet almost trip on the steps, and I pound on Gray’s door with one hand when I get to it. My fist aches from the force of my blows, the heel of my hand throbbing and red.
I don’t care. He’ll open this goddamn door or I’ll beat it down.
“What the hell?”
The door next to Gray’s opens, and Declan steps out. His eyes widen when he sees me.
On my opposite side, Elias yanks his door wide too, a split second before the one in front of me opens.
I register a look of surprise on Elias’s face, but then my focus lands on Gray, and everything disappears in a haze of red again.
“Whoa—Sparrow, what the fuck?”
Gray’s large hands grab my shoulders as I barrel toward him, intent on beating the shit out of him. He manages to hold me back out of arm’s reach, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Did he not think I would fight back? He ruined years of my life in what was probably a few minutes of calculated destruction.
And for what? Because I kissed his friends? Because he doesn’t like me?
That doesn’t give him the right
to touch what’s mine.
“Fuck you!” I scream. I twist out of his grip, only to have one of the others grab me from behind. Red. All I see is red. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you keep coming after me?”
“Sounds like a question I should be asking you.” Gray narrows his eyes. “You barge into my room like a bat outta hell snapping and yelling. I haven’t done anything to you—”
“Bullshit! There’s only one person besides me who has a key to my fucking room, and that’s you. All my paintings, all my art… it’s all destroyed! And you’re going to tell me you had nothing to do with it? You’ve taken every chance you could get to fuck with me, to hurt me, to do whatever the hell you want! What… what did I ever do… what—”
I can’t breathe.
The red in my vision flickers, and it’s not just red.
It’s grey, and confusing, and fuzzy.
My legs are jelly.
Art is the thing that grounds me. Really, truly keeps me whole. It’s the one constant out of every stupid little bullshit thing that’s ever happened in my life, and it all was destroyed in a few moments.
Carelessly. Callously.
A lot of shit has happened to me in the part of my life I can actually remember. It swirls in my head, a whirlwind of abuse and hurt. Things I could paint over. Sketch away. Lock into a piece of art and leave it there where it couldn’t touch me anymore.
It’s all gone. I can’t fix any of those.
I think about the sketch of Jared. Ripped up. Scattered. Just like him.
Something like a sob breaks out of my chest, and I shove away whoever is holding me. I don’t pay attention to who it is, lunging forward to grab Gray by the front of his shirt.
“Do you have any idea how important those were to me?” I blink as I speak, realizing there’s a thick layer of tears in my eyes. “Do you know how many years all that art on my walls represented? You can hate me all you fucking want, but why…”
My voice trails off. I can’t put my feelings into words. I can’t catch my breath.
I’m fucking losing it, and I can’t stop. This downward spiral is too much for me to handle.
I’m crying.
Fuck, I’m sobbing in the middle of a room with three of the most infuriating men I’ve ever met in my life, and I can’t even think about how much I hate them because I feel like shit.
I feel broken. Like my entire world is crumbling into a pile around me and I can’t fucking breathe. I can’t even think. There’s nothing about this that makes sense—because what kind of sense is there to make when the things that kept me sane are all tattered and ruined?
Just like me.
“Oh… fuck. She’s really messed up.”
No shit, asshole.
The tiny functional piece of my brain that’s left wants to snap at Elias, but my mouth won’t form the words. My throat is constricted as if invisible hands have wrapped around it. Breathing hurts. Thinking hurts. I just want it to stop.
“Get some cold water. Put in on her forehead.”
Gone. It’s all gone. Everything is gone. I deserve this. Part of me knows that I deserve this.
Scratch that. Every part of me knows it.
It’s been written in my stars since the day I was born. We all end up like this. Cursed from the very beginning.
Jared. Me. So many others like us.
“The fuck did you do to her, Gray?”
“I told you, I didn’t do shit. No idea what she’s talking about.”
Their voices dissolve into gibberish in the background, and I feel like I’m floating in a thick fog. Something cold presses to my forehead, and there’s more than one pair of hands keeping their hold on me. I let them. It’s the only thing keeping me upright.
But it’s not enough to really bring me back.
“Why did you do it?”
The question keeps repeating itself over and over again, but I don’t know if it’s just in my head or if it’s actually coming out of my mouth. I think I might actually be saying it. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, so maybe I am saying it, speaking thickly through the lethargy that’s trying to pull my brain apart.
Someone steps in front of me, a face hovering so close to mine that it banishes some of the red-tinged darkness.
It’s Gray.
“Listen to me, Sparrow. You need to chill out. Breathe.”
His words are low and calming, and worry flickers in his blue-green eyes. But the sound of his voice is like a knife across my skin, the sharp snick of a blade that opens me up and sends a torrent of rage pouring out of me.
“I don’t need to do anything!” I scream, wrestling against the arms holding me again. “You’re the one that needs to do something! You destroyed my art. You destroyed me! How could you… it’s all gone—”
“No. We didn’t. I don’t know who destroyed your art, but it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Declan or Elias either. We wouldn’t do that.”
I hate how sincere he sounds. How concerned he looks.
Liar. Liar, liar, liar—
“I’m not a fucking liar,” he bites out. Was I saying that out loud? “And I didn’t ruin your shit. I don’t know what or who got into your room, but it wasn’t us.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Sparrow, you don’t have to believe me. It’s the goddamn truth.”
He sounds so sincere. And I hate that more than anything. He can’t be an asshole to me so much of the time and then be kind right now.
Because cruelty, I can take.
Harshness and brutality, I know how to handle.
But the softness I see in his eyes right now calls to the softness in me, the vulnerability I try to pretend isn’t there. It uncovers my weaknesses and lays them bare.
I’m nothing but a raw, exposed nerve, my heart beating so hard the rest of me can’t keep up.
“It’s wrecked,” I choke out. “It’s gone. It’s all gone.”
My teeth are chattering, making it hard to speak. I feel like I’m falling out of my own body.
“Fuck.” Elias steps forward, coming to stand on one side of me. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s having a panic attack. Shit.”
“Sophie, it’s okay. We’ll help you.”
“She’s not breathing. Look at her, she’s turning fucking blue.”
Declan and Gray and Elias are all speaking, all gathered around me in a tight knot, concern darkening their faces. Their words sound strange and muffled, but I think they’re right.
I’ve stopped breathing. I don’t know how to tell my lungs to pull in more air.
“Motherfucker. Gray…” Elias’s light brown eyes are fixed on me, and there’s a note of urgency in his voice.
Gray curses under his breath. He steps forward, capturing my numb face in his large hands. His thumb brushes my bottom lip, tugging my mouth open a little.
Then he presses his lips to mine.
20
My body jerks in shock as Gray’s warm, firm lips press against mine.
It’s like getting hit with a defibrillator.
My heart stutters in my chest, and air rushes into my lungs on a gasping breath as we break apart. I stare at him with wide eyes, the veil of panic lifting for a second.
He’s broken through my shock, but he’s also reminded my body of the one place it’s always found comfort, whether my mind agrees or not.
His hands are still cupping my cheeks, and I mirror the movement, grabbing his face and dragging his lips back to mine. This time he’s the one who tenses in surprise, but then our kiss deepens and settles, neither of us able to resist it for long.
We’re each the moth, and we’re each the flame.
We’ll burn each other to the ground one day, but that doesn’t stop us from playing with fire.
Panic still dances at the edge of my consciousness, but as long as I’m kissing Gray, as long as I’m surrounded by warm, solid bodies on all sides, it can’t reach me. So I keep kissin
g him, drinking him in with every stroke of my tongue.
Declan makes a noise in his throat, and Elias grunts.
They both move to step back, but as soon as the comforting heat of them disappears from beside me, my stomach clenches. No.
I whimper into Gray’s mouth, reaching out blindly to drag the other two Sinners back toward me. There’s a moment of hesitation before they both press in close on either side of me again, and Declan murmurs, “I don’t think she wants us to go.”
“It’s okay, Blue. We won’t.”
Elias pries my fingers loose from his shirt, and the feel of his large hand enclosing mine makes a pleasant little shiver run up my spine, cutting through the encroaching panic.
Gray’s lips leave mine for a second, and he looks at both of his friends. My mind is too splintered to read the expression on his face, but I don’t want him to kick them out. I’m not sure I could handle it in this moment if he does.
I need them here. I don’t even know why, but I need them all here.
So I seal Gray’s mouth shut by pressing my lips to his again, dragging his attention back to me.
It works.
He kisses the fuck out of me, fingers delving into my hair as he plunges his tongue into my mouth.
Declan and Elias both have their hands on me too, and it’s exactly what I need right now. It’s an escape from every shitty thing that’s ever happened to me, an escape from reality.
Because there’s no way this is real, right?
How could it be? In real life, these men are my enemies. Not my best source of comfort.
Heat burns under my skin, and even though I think Declan and Elias are trying to keep their touches soothing and even platonic, that’s not how any of it feels. Every brush of their fingertips elicits a rush of sensation, and I find myself shifting restlessly between the three of them, desperate for more.
I get what I want.
As they watch my response, I can feel the atmosphere shift around all of us. The hands on me become rougher and more possessive, sliding beneath my shirt and kneading my ass through my pants. I respond by kissing Gray harder, moaning into his mouth. He’s getting hard, and I grind against his stiffening cock. My mind might still be half-lost in a fog, but my body has no fucking problem at all demanding what it wants.