“So, Colton,” Roderick starts, “what are your plans after Arcadia?”
We’re sitting at a circular table. Melissa and her dad are opposite me while the twins are on either side of me. Their thighs and hands have bumped my bare thighs on several occasions, and the collective breath I’ve gathered has sent shockwaves through my system.
I’m glad I have somewhat of an idea, or this would be really freaking awkward. It seems parents—whether mine or other people’s—always ask this question. It’s like their ice-breaker, the easy flatline kind of topic that makes meals go quicker.
“I plan to go to Providence Hall.”
His eyes widen as if he’s impressed. “Are your parents happy about that?”
Unlike normal people when they ask a question, his face gives nothing away. No eyebrow raises, no movement of his face at all. It’s daunting, like being at a poker table with a milestone gambler.
Justice grips my thigh with his hand. When his fingers tighten, a shudder zips through me.
“Honestly, they don’t care. As long as I go to one of their top five, they don’t mind which one I pick.” My focus is on how breathy or not my response came out. I could easily play it off as my illness, but at the same time, I’ve been better for weeks.
It’s true about my parents not caring. Moms wants me close, but she’s accepting of any of the colleges I choose as long as it’s what I want. Mom wants me to go to Duponte, where Yang is, but it’s not my kind of school. Duponte focuses on business, while Providence Hall focuses on creative arts.
He nods placidly. “Providence is an astute one, though. Surely they must be proud?”
It takes everything in me not to scoff. How could he know they don’t give two shits about what I do and where I do it? They don’t. Moms can try and pretend, but I’m dead to them, just like my brother.
“Like I said.” I grab my glass of water and take a long sip. “They don’t care.”
He purses his lips but drops it.
Justice decides it’s a great time to chime in, his skin still hot against mine. “So, got any plans tonight after dinner?” He waggles his eyebrows.
I practically cough on my next sip.
“Yeah, she’s hanging out with me,” Mel complains, giving her brothers a scathing glare.
“But she’d have so much more fun with us,” they both gripe, laying it on way too thick. Prudence decides that’s the best moment for his hand to grip my other thigh. My mind fizzles out. My breathing feels labored, and I swear sweat lines every inch of me.
Almost as if an idea pops into Mel’s head at their suggestion, she smiles conspiratorially. “Where do y’all want to take her?”
Squaring my shoulders for an uncomfortable situation, I sip my drink in silence.
“We were thinking Bear & Brawl.”
“That place is a cesspool,” Mel groans. “Why not Herrington’s instead?”
“Because we want to have fun, sis, not gouge our eyes out with people who think they’re above it all.”
While they have a staring contest with me stuck in the middle, literally, our food arrives. I went with chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, collard greens, and pea soup. It smells divine. Luckily, my nose and stomach are in agreement. No queasiness at all. This will save me from an awkward conversation about my recovery.
“You good?” Mel whispers so no one can hear.
I nod and unwrap my spoon. The boys haven’t stopped watching me, but as I put the soup in my mouth and moan, their expressions go from wonder to hungry in two seconds flat. Justice openly gawks at me as if I’m the true meal here, and Prudence adjusts his pants while trying to keep a neutral face. It’s endearing. Their hands disappear, and I’m sure it’s because they don’t trust themselves.
“So, Bear & Brawl... you down?” they ask me.
I’m not sure what the hell that is. Turning to Mel, I wait for her explanation.
“It’s a smaller club. Not seedy, but definitely where the darker parts of Tremington elites go to get drunk, high, and dance. Sometimes, there’s even some people fucking.”
My eyes widen. The fact she said that in front of her father makes me uncomfortable in my seat, but he seems unbothered by the entire conversation.
“Not sure if that’s me,” I admit to the boys.
For some reason, that makes them happier. They smile in a way that sends both shivers and tingles across my body.
“That means you’re perfect for it,” Prudence finally says.
Their dad eats his massive steak in silence, but when I peer into his brown eyes, they seem calculated, wading out the storm, but he’s definitely paying attention. What man like him wouldn’t?
We don’t go home to change after dinner. Instead, we go with the twins in their very rugged Jeep Wrangler, and they drive us out into the city.
Bear & Brawl seems like an okay place regardless of the terrible name. When they first brought it up, it sounded like a fight club, but the name doesn’t depict its appearance. It’s a massive club. The outside seems like a trendy venue, and the inside screams wealth.
Seedy, my ass. This place is nicer than most places in Arcadia Township.
I stare at the massive bar. We got in here so easily, didn’t show ID or anything, but these guys probably have the entire town under their nose, and that’s entirely too scary to think about.
“This is not what I expected,” I yell toward Mel.
She nods in a way that says she’s not impressed. I am, though. This is glamorous in a not-loud-but-not-subtle way.
She points to the bar, and I nod. I need a drink, and it needs to be pronto. Vodka is my poison. Whiskey is my cure, and rum is my lover. There’s no going wrong here.
The boys follow us to the bar, and when we can’t get the attention of the female bartender, it takes them one flick of their wrist for her to drop everything.
“She’ll have a vodka tonic,” he mentions and then motions to Mel. He stares at me for a moment and then smirks. “This beautiful one will have an Irish Trashcan.”
My face flames at that. How would he possibly know I’m a goner for some heavy drinks?
“Figured a girl of your caliber would need something that gives a pounding.” With the word pounding, he bites the inside of his cheek like he doesn’t want to be obvious about his ogling.
His sister notices anyway. “Stop being a flirt and go away.”
He grabs his chest as if he cares about her pushing him away. “You wound me.”
“No, I don’t. Now go find another girl to bother and leave my best friend alone.”
He eyes me, asking me silently if that’s what I want.
No, it definitely is not, and that reaction bothers me. It’s not like I’m all about finding new guys when I have five at home that I don’t know what to do with, and hate in the same breath. But these two, they’re fun, and I need some fun in my life.
I smile at him and tilt my head, telling him to go without making Mel angry, and he pouts. Mel turns to grab her drink, and before he leaves, I wink and blow him a kiss. The way his face lights up and then darkens almost sends me into a tailspin of hormones. Shit. What did I say about boy crazy? I’m pent-up with needs.
The bartender gives me a scathing glare before handing me my drink.
“Think she spit in it?” I ask Mel.
She laughs, but her eyes are a little hazy. “That’s Ronnie. She and my brothers dated.”
“Brothers? As in both?” I ask.
She nods.
My body absolutely melts at that. Not because I’ve met one of their playthings, but because the thought of being shared is something I fantasize about often.
“She was obsessed with them, but they were only in it short-term.”
“Do they do that often?” I ask, even knowing I shouldn’t.
“Share or date?”
“Both.”
She scrunches her face. “They haven’t dated since this chick Serena got in the way of their brothership.”
“Brothership?”
“They used to share her, date her, but she asked Justice for more, saying he was the one she chose, and she broke Prudence’s heart. Since then, they decided not to date. It causes too many strings to be attached, and they really love their relationship for some reason.”
My heart aches for Prudence and Justice. Imagine being best friends, literally with the other half of yourself, and thinking you’re less somehow.
When I sip my drink, I practically moan. It’s been so long since I’ve had a proper drink. After my diagnosis and the upending battle of being stuck with the inability to eat, I haven’t had any booze. My body absorbs it too quickly, and the high goes just as fast.
“Whoa, there,” Mel says. “Your eyes are looking glossy.”
I smile softly, feeling warm all over. “It happens. My body metabolizes slowly, making the alcohol sit and burn faster.”
She seems nervous when those words tumble out. “Should you not be drinking?”
“I’m fine, for now. You should go dance, though,” I offer since she hasn’t stopped looking at the dance floor since we walked in.
“Really?” she asks almost excitedly.
“Really,” I repeat and shoo her away.
Not even a minute passes before a slimeball sidles up to me.
“Well, hello, Walking Dead. Want to dance?”
“That’s a new one,” I mock. “Get something more original than that, and maybe I’ll not tell you to go fuck yourself.”
He scowls, his face turning hideous in an instant. “You stupid bitch, do you know who I am?” he barks and raises his hand.
This fucker wouldn’t dare.
“Plotts!” Prudence barks.
The man stiffens. How does he know this guy and why does that make me sad?
“Do you know this bitch?” Plotts—as Prudence called him—asks.
“She’s not a bitch, you piece of shit.”
“He was literally about to hit me,” I say.
Prudence’s face takes on a scary shade. His eyes blacken, and so does his features. In the low lighting of the club, he could even pass as an avenging angel about to smite this dude all the way off the planet.
“Was he now?” His voice is deepened to the point it’s a hiss. It’s gritty and dark and the depravity in it reminds me of something. I can’t recall what it is, but it’s there at the back of my mind, making my spine tingle.
“No,” Plotts barks. “I was waving the waitress over.”
It’s a goddamn lie, but Prudence doesn’t relax. If anything, he seems angrier.
“Ronnie!” Prudence barks, and she comes to him like a lost puppy. It’s pathetic, really, the way she looks at him as if he’s god. That’s not a good look, and I shouldn’t care, but it annoys me.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
I internally gag.
Prudence puts on a very fake flirty smile. His nostrils are still flared, and his back is stiff and unhappy.
“Did this man wave you over?”
She looks at me when he asks, and her eyes narrow. The little bitch isn’t going to be honest. She nods and says, “Yeah, the man wants an old fashioned.”
I glare at her but breathe in through my nose. As I’m about to leave, hands clamp on my shoulders. For some reason, I don’t feel disgusted, and when I look up and see Justice, I realize why.
His warmth spreads through me, making my cheeks warm. “Hey there, darlin’.”
“Hey,” I breathe, hating that his drawl does something inside me that shouldn’t happen.
He leans in close, and I can feel the air escape his mouth and skate over my neck, making my heart pound loudly. If not for the loud music, I swear the twins could hear it.
Ronnie looks at Justice’s hands on me and lets out a huff.
“This loser bothering you?” Justice asks.
I melt, fucking evaporate like ice cubes in a southern iced tea. I can’t help it.
He shares a look with his brother, and then some random person in a black suit and tie comes and carts the dude away.
Prudence takes the man’s place and leans in opposite of his brother. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It won’t happen again.”
My body shakes and warmth pools in my belly. What is happening to me?
“Thank you,” I say to both of them and then go back for my drink.
As I sip it, they watch me; one in interest, the other in barely abated hunger. I’m a mess of hormones and desires. I keep clenching my thighs to stop the pounding between my legs.
When they sit in stools next to me, I wonder what I’m supposed to do or say. The guys at Arcadia are always pushing, and I’m always caving, but it’s like these two want me to make the first move.
After I empty my drink, my body becomes looser, and I’m starting to feel that fake braveness that comes with a buzz. I reach for both of their hands, and with my eyes, I ask them to follow.
I’m not a dancer. If anything, I’m the awkward person they make GIFs of and laugh at. But for some reason, having these two sandwich me on the dance floor is more appealing than anything.
They trail me and I wrap my arms around Prudence, bringing our bodies flush. Justice comes to my back, and we sway together. We’re dancing off beat to the fast dubstep number they have playing, but that doesn’t stop the ardor from growing between my thighs.
Justice’s hands palm my hips, low and near my panty line. I groan, and Prudence brings our lips together. I’m so warm and consumed by their touch that I don’t notice a looming figure nearby. It isn’t until Prudence is ripped from my front that I realize we were entranced in one another.
I open my eyes to the blackest starless ones that haunt me every day.
“Bridger,” I whisper, knowing he probably can’t hear it.
Shit.
Thirty-One
Bridger’s face, usually dead and unresponsive, is haunting right now. His eyebrows dip in, chiseled onto his face like a demon, and the grimace he’s sporting would scare anyone. His jaw is locked tight, and his face seems devilish.
“Colton,” he bites out.
It’s chilling, making sure to slice me deep, past the bones, and somewhere in my essence. No Freak. Or Corpse. Just Colton. He’s not happy, but that’s an understatement. He’s more than furious and clinging onto psychotic.
“Bridger,” I repeat, louder this time.
“The fuck are you doing?” he demands.
My face falls. I’m not doing anything any regular teen wouldn’t do. Have fun. Meet cute guys. Dance with said cute guys.
“Dancing,” I bark, placing my hands on my hips, hating how he looks like he’s about to strike.
Bridger looks behind me, and with his guard down, I see a flicker of jealousy on his face. It disappears almost immediately before his scowl returns.
“Who the fuck are these two?”
The twins wear pissed off glares, and for some reason, it makes me want to keep Bridger safe, and that awareness has me hating my life. This shouldn’t be a thing. I shouldn’t be worried about what they do to each other when I walk away, but I do. I hate it, but I definitely care.
“Prudence.” Justice waves over to the brother Bridger ripped off me. “Justice,” he says, pointing to himself.
“If you ever touch me like that again, dick, I’ll end you,” Prudence threatens, coming next to me to place a protective arm around my waist.
If looks could maim, Bridger would be eviscerating the palm on my hip. The possessive look in his eyes throws me. This is the most emotion I’ve witnessed on his face since we made out that one time. He’s not one for emotions, and I’m surprised he’s letting them out in a random club.
Which hits me.
“Why are you here?” I accuse. He’s not the outgoing type, let alone the guy who will show up at a club.
“Ridge, there you are!” Mel’s chirpy voice sounds out.
My blood runs cold, and my body nearly shakes with unabated anger. That fucking bastard.
It feels like homecoming all over again—the green monster inside me, the burning ache of never being enough for Bridger, and the desperate need to stake my claim on him. They all drown me, making my skin crawl.
He doesn’t get this kind of power.
He doesn’t get to hurt me anymore.
He doesn’t get... me.
“Ridge decided to meet me here,” Mel explains, when not a single fucking soul asked. “He said he was nearby, anyway.”
My eyes narrow, my blood way past simmering and on the verge of boiling. I’m so close to exploding. The only thing that calms me is Justice leaning in.
“He’s not worth it, darlin’. Let me take you home.”
I nod at him, and Bridger’s face shows malice for two seconds before that stupid mask is in place.
“I’m not feeling too hot, babe,” I say to Mel.
She probably thinks it’s my stomach.
“Rain check? I really want to dance some more.”
The jealousy reaches inside me and squeezes before I nod. She came here to lose her virginity. That was the plan, and now she just might with the one guy who hurts me without blinking.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“We’ll get her home,” the boys reassure her. They lay it on thick for the benefit of the asshole standing in front of me.
“We’ll keep her safe,” Prudence adds, gripping me tighter.
Bridger’s eyes travel to the hand on my waist, and his nostrils flare again; the only thing giving away his anger at this very moment.
“Bye!” Mel says happily, probably grateful she won’t have her brothers watch her every move and me bother her tryst with Bridger.
Fuck them both.
“Let’s go, hmm?” Justice sounds in my ear.
“We’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” Prudence reassures, “in every way necessary.”
I shiver and relent, not looking at Bridger, who lets Mel grind on him, ignoring how he looks at me with that callous smirk, and certainly denying the way my body wants to erupt with a green rage that has zero claim to that man.
We drive back to the mansion in silence. My heart hurts. My soul dies a little, and I’m so beyond pissed that my body feels the tension tenfold.
Here Lives a Corpse: A Dark Bully Academy Romance (Here Lies Book 1) Page 23