Reckless Games: A Rixon High Novella

by L A Cotton

  Pressing her lips together, Carrie-Anne swallowed whatever retort was on her lips.

  “You should go home, Kitty Cat. You don’t belong here.”

  The second I said the words, I regretted them. The blood drained from her face as she darted her gaze away from me.

  “Shit, Caz, I didn’t mean—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She hurried to the door, trying to wrench it open.

  “That was a shitty thing to say. It just came out.” Carrie-Anne ignored me, clawing at the lock. “You drive me in-fucking-sane. You have an answer for everything. You don’t listen. You’re—”

  “Stupid thing, why won’t it open?” Her voice cracked as she continued trying—and failing—to unlock the door. “I need to go. I need to—”

  “Carrie-Anne, stop.” I took her hands in mine, tugging her to me.

  “I can’t be in here. I need to go.” Tears collected in the corners of her eyes, and it broke something inside me.

  I’d done that.

  I’d reinforced every single thing she felt about herself in those four little words.

  You don’t belong here.

  Fuck.

  I’d messed up.

  So throwing all sanity out of the window, I asked the one thing I knew would distract her. “Is it true you’ve never been kissed?”

  Her body trembled. Her eyes wide and lips parted with surprise. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me, Kitty Cat.” My lips twisted.

  “That is none of your business.”

  “So, it’s true?”

  Peyton was right. It was kind of sad. Just because she wasn’t popular, outgoing, or a cheerleader didn’t make her unkissable.

  As I said the words, my eyes dropped to her lips.

  She had a nice mouth. Full and pouty…. And why the fuck was I thinking about Carrie-Anne Trombley’s lips?

  But now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop. Curving my hand around the side of her neck, I brushed my thumb along her bottom lip.

  “Bryan?” She suppressed a moan. “What… what are you doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I didn’t. But now the thought was planted in my head, I couldn’t seem to stop myself from touching her, from imagining my mouth on hers. Hard and unyielding. Couldn’t stop myself from imagining how sweet she would taste.

  “Okay.”

  The air crackled around us as I pressed down slightly, gently pushing my thumb past her lips. Her tongue darted out and Carrie-Anne sucked the tip into her mouth.

  Holy fuck.

  It was like a live wire to my dick, and I was instantly hard.

  She must have felt my reaction because she startled, pulling away from me and cooling me off like a bucket of ice water.

  “I should go,” she rushed out, sounding more sober than she had a second ago.

  Carrie-Anne put her back to me as she tried the lock again. I obviously wasn’t thinking straight—probably since all I could think about was how her mouth had felt around my thumb, my fucking thumb—because I stepped up to her, gently brushing her hair off her shoulder, and leaned in, whispering, “Don’t go.”

  “W-what…?” She turned into my arms, putting her between the door and my body. My other hand pressed flat beside her head, caging her in. “What are you doing?” she asked again.

  “I don’t know… but I’m not sure I want to stop.”

  “You hate me,” her voice was barely a whisper.

  “And you hate me.” My fingers sank into her hair as I closed the distance between us. So close I could feel the warmth of her breath, smell the sweet tang of liquor.

  Carrie-Anne tensed under my touch, but the second our lips collided, she melted into me. At first, she was uncertain and restrained, following my lead. But as I curled my tongue around hers, she grew bolder. Rising up on her feet to kiss me back harder, more insistent.

  She tasted sweet. So fucking sweet. Peaches and something zesty. Passion fruit maybe.

  I liked it.

  I liked it a lot.

  Fuck, why did I like it so much?

  Still, I tilted her head back letting me deepen the kiss. Carrie-Anne clutched my t-shirt, pulling me closer. Erasing every sliver of space between us.

  I’d kissed plenty of girls before. But I wasn’t ever sure I’d had a kiss like this.

  My body came alive with every stroke of our tongues, every soft nibble of teeth, and lips and skin.

  “Fuck, Kitty Cat, I didn’t expect this.”

  Carrie-Anne froze, like a wall of ice thrown up between us. “I need to go,” she said, coolly, making my blood turn to ice.

  “Go?” I asked incredulously, raw lust coursing through my veins.

  I wanted her.

  Shit. I wanted prim and proper Carrie-Anne Trombley.

  “Yeah, this…” she rasped, slightly breathless. “This was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Bitter laughter spilled from me. “You mean you’re running.”

  “I am not…” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I’m ending this before we both do something we’ll regret. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  She managed to get the door open and slip away.

  While I stood there, dumbfounded, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

  Carrie-Anne

  Bryan had kissed me. He’d stolen my first kiss and it was everything I had ever imagined a first kiss to be. Intense and dreamy and steeped in passion. The way he’d glided his tongue against mine, fitting our bodies together, and holding me as if I was his.

  But it was a lie.

  A reckless game.

  He didn’t want me; I’d heard him say as much.

  Whatever I’d felt, whatever had been sparking between us, I couldn’t trust it. So I did what any sensible girl would—I avoided him. He tried to talk to me Monday at school, probably to apologize or feed me some bullshit excuse as to why he’d kissed me in the first place, but I didn’t want to hear it.

  Instead of dwelling on it, I threw myself into the legacy project. A lot of seniors had willingly provided one piece of advice or message for the future generations of Rixon High, and with a little help from Miss Denton, I began the arduous task of engraving each leaf. It was tricky at first, figuring out how to apply the right amount of pressure to the soldering tool to burn the message into the surface, and I may have ruined a few leaves in the process. But by Thursday, I had a good routine going. They were taking me much longer than anticipated though, and after six hours, I’d only managed to engrave around eighteen leaves.

  “How’s it going?” Mr. Keefer poked his head into the room, the smell of burned wood lingering in the air. I placed the soldering tool down and brushed the hair from my eyes.

  “Good. I’m getting quicker, I think.” At least, I hoped I was.

  “That’s great.” He came closer, snagging a leaf and inspecting it up close. “Nice job, Carrie-Anne. These look great.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You say that like you expected not to be able to pull it off.” He chuckled. “I never doubted you for a second. Although I’m not entirely happy about the fact Joseph and Sorcha were unable to help you. I could always talk to them again and—”

  “No,” I blurted. “It’s fine, really. I can manage.”

  “Well, if things get to be too much, just let me know and I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  I nodded. Mr. Keefer added the leaf back to the growing pile and gave me a warm smile. “I think this project will be really special, Carrie-Anne. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “I am, sir. Thank you.”

  He gave me a small nod and left me to it. I released a shaky breath. The truth was, I was proud, but I was also worried about how I was ever going to get all the leaves engraved in time for Miss Denton and her art students to install them onto the tree before the grand unveiling. But I’d be damned if I asked Joe, Sorcha, or any of the other yearbook committee members for help. No, I could do this. I woul
d do this. Because this was my one shot at leaving a small imprint of my life here at Rixon High.

  My classmates might have looked past me, barely noticing the girl always on the periphery looking in, but future generations would know me.

  And it was enough.

  It had to be.

  After another two hours of being hunched over the desk, engraving leaves, my hand was cramped, my eyes were sore, and my back ached like nobody’s business. And I was beginning to realize how much I’d underestimated the amount of work required for such a project. But I was feeling proud, a small smile tipping my lips as I grabbed my bag and headed out for the evening.

  I didn’t expect to walk straight into Bryan.

  “Hey,” he said around a sheepish smile.

  It disarmed me.

  “Hey. What are you doing here?” Because if he was stalking me, I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  “I was in the gym. Coach lets us use it after school sometimes.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment welled inside me.

  Stupid, foolish girl. Of course he was in the gym and not hanging outside the Art Department like some kind of creeper.

  “You’re working on the project?” he asked, and I nodded.

  “How’s it going?”

  An involuntary sigh escaped my lips. “It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

  “I could always help—”

  “No, that’s okay.” I didn’t want his charity. “Well, I should go. I need to get home. See you around.” Moving around him, I barely made it two steps before he snagged my bag and pulled gently.

  “Wait, Caz, please.”

  Reluctantly, I turned around and met his apologetic gaze. “About the party… I’ve been trying all week to talk to you, but you make it damn near impossible.”

  “It doesn’t mat—”

  “For fuck’s sake, Kitty Cat. Will you just let me speak?” He pouted, and I fought a smile. God, he looked adorable. But then I remembered what I’d heard him say to his friends, and the feeling melted away, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said that, and I shouldn’t have kissed you. Not while…” he kept talking, but all I heard was those five words over and over.

  I shouldn’t have kissed you.

  I shouldn’t have kissed you.

  I shouldn’t have kissed you.

  He regretted it. My first kiss would forever be tainted, all because the boy who had stolen it, regretted it. I’d never felt more pathetic or worthless than I did in that moment.

  “I need to go,” I said, unable to meet his gaze for fear he would see the tears clinging to my lashes.

  “Carrie-Anne, just let me—”

  “Goodbye, Bryan.” I didn’t look back, hurrying down the hall. My heart beat hard in my chest, my stomach in a tight ball. God, I knew… I knew he didn’t feel the same, yet still, a part of me clung to the hope that he might have felt something for me.

  Spilling into the balmy evening, I made a beeline for my car, relief sinking into me as I climbed inside. Bryan hadn’t followed me, thank God. I wasn’t sure I could keep doing this with him. He made me reckless. Made my carefully constructed walls falter.

  I jammed the key into the ignition and drove. But I didn’t go home. Instead, I parked down at the lake and called Peyton.

  “Hey,” she answered on the second ring. “This is a surprise.”

  “It’s been a day,” I said.

  “What happened?”

  So I told her. I told her what really happened at the party with Pacey and then Bryan. I told her that I’d avoided Bryan all week at school, until just now in the hall. I told her that he called kissing me a mistake, that he said I was weird. I told Peyton every last detail and then I sucked in a shaky breath.

  “Wow, okay…” She breathed. “I wish you’d have told me this sooner. I knew something was wrong when you left the party suddenly.”

  “I was confused. And angry.” Really angry. But not at Bryan; at myself. For letting him kiss me. For letting me believe I could ever be the kind of girl he wanted.

  “So he kissed you. How was it?”

  My brows furrowed. “Did you hear a word of what I just said?” I asked, incredulously.

  “I did… and do you know what I think?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I murmured.

  Peyton chuckled. “Bryan likes you, babe. He. Likes. You. Maybe he doesn’t want to, or maybe he doesn’t even realize it yet, but he does. And you know what else? I think you like him.”

  “I don’t—”

  “It’s okay to admit it, Carrie-Anne. I know it’s scary and unknown and new, but this is a good thing.”

  “He said I’m weird, Peyton. He said he felt sorry for me.” I couldn’t just forget about that.

  “He’s a guy. They say dumb things all the time. Look at me and Xander. He’s probably confused about his feelings for you.”

  “He is?”

  Huh.

  I wasn’t sure I agreed, but she sounded so certain about it.

  “Bryan practically manhandled Pacey off you. He protected your honor, and then he kissed you. Sounds like he was jealous to me. And when you think about it, that’s kind of romantic.”

  Romantic?

  There had been nothing romantic about the way he’d dragged me into the bathroom and then proceeded to spew cruel taunts at me. But did she have a point? Had Bryan been… jealous?

  And if he had, what did that mean?

  God, this was so confusing.

  Why would he say such cruel things about me if he liked me?

  “I can practically hear your mind spinning from all the way over here. I know you both have this weird hate rivalry thing going on, but just remember, love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Listen, I gotta go before my boss comes in here and makes me pull a double shift. If you need to talk more, I can call you when I’m done.”

  “Okay, yeah, sorry.”

  Peyton chuckled again. “Relax, babe. It’s what friends are for.”

  There was that word again. Friend. It felt foreign to me. New and uncertain.

  “My parting advice, life is short, Carrie-Anne. Too damn short to worry about what might or might not happen. If you like Bryan, really like him… tell him before it’s too late.”

  She hung up, her words hitting me square in the chest.

  Part of me knew she was right. Graduation was right around the corner. If I didn’t confess how I felt soon… I’d miss my shot. But if I fessed up and he threw it back in my face…

  Well, I didn’t know if I could survive that.

  Chapter Four

  Bryan

  It was Friday night, and life sucked. Kaiden was out with Lily. Gav was on babysitting duty, and Aaron and his friend Cole were on a double date with a couple of junior girls. Which left me all alone with just the television for company. Mom and Dad had been gone all week and weren’t expected back until Sunday. Most eighteen-year-old guys would have dreamed of having the house to themselves. But it got boring quick. Especially on nights like these, when you had no one to keep you company.

  I guess I could have called up one of the cheerleaders. Melissa maybe. But my dick wasn’t into it. Because she’s not Carrie-Anne.

  Fuck. I couldn’t get her out of my head. She’d barely spoken two words to me all week. But it didn’t stop me daydreaming about the kiss—and what a fucking kiss it was. My whole body had lit up like the fourth of July. She’d been soft under my touch, eager and responsive. Part of me loved knowing I was her first, and that part… well, it was down for taking all her firsts.

  But Carrie-Anne had stopped play, her expression freezing over as if I was the devil incarnate. Did she really hate me that much that she’d deny whatever had sparked between us in Aaron’s bathroom?

  Fuck. Girls were complicated. None more so than her.

  I was scrolling on my phone, checking in on social media, when it st
arted ringing.

  “Hey, Bry,” Peyton chimed. “How’re things?”

  “Did Kaiden tell you to call me?”

  “What? No!”

  “So, he didn’t mention to Lily I’m home alone on a Friday night?”

  “You are?” she teased. “That’s kind of lame.”

  “You’re telling me. What’s up?”

  “I was just calling to see if you’d spoken to Carrie-Anne yet?”

  “Carrie-Anne? No, why?” My heart ratcheted in my chest.

  “You haven’t? Oh… uh, nothing. I must have gotten my wires crossed.”

  “Wait a second, are you saying she talked to you about me?”

  Why did the idea excite me so much?

  I was losing my fucking mind. Maybe it was some weird side effect from lack of sex. Yeah, that must’ve been it.

  “Maybe.”

  “Seriously, you’re going to leave me hanging?”

  “No, I’m going to ask you what the hell you were thinking saying all that stuff about her.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. How about how you think she’s weird, or that you only offered to help her out with the legacy project because you felt sorry for her.”

  “Wait a second, how do you know—”

  “She heard you, you idiot. Carrie-Anne overheard you saying all those things.”

  Fuck.

  “I… I didn’t realize.”

  “Yeah, I guessed as much.”

  I released a strained breath. I couldn’t believe it. She’d overheard me. Shit, no wonder she had turned so cold on me. I was half-surprised she hadn’t called me out on it and punched me in the balls. Instead, she’d retreated into herself.

  Because you hurt her, asshole.

  “I messed up.” I sighed.

  “Yeah, Bryan, you did. But you can fix this… If you want to, I mean.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think a simple ‘sorry’ is going to cut it.” I’d tried that, more than once. And every time, Carrie-Anne brushed me aside like I was nothing.

  “I think you’re right,” Peyton added. “She’s not going to forgive you easily.”