by B. K. Leigh
“Here.” He thrusts a red cup into my hands. “Happy 420.” He winks.
“You’re such a dork.” I make fun of him. “It’s not even 420! That was almost a week ago.” I laugh and lift my cup to his anyway. “Cheers!” We both down the contents in our drinks immediately. My face contorts in disgust as the alcohol burns down my throat and settles in my stomach.
“Ew!” I stick my tongue out. “I thought you said no more alcohol.” I question him.
“I did.” He shrugs his shoulders as he fills his cup up once again. “But it’s the last day of break. We’re gonna need it considering we wont get another one until summer starts.” I follow his lead and fill my cup. We stay that way for what seems like forever. Filling and refilling our cups. We don’t stop. Even when my legs go numb and can’t hold me up anymore. Even when his eyes close and have trouble reopening.
“I don’t feel good, Co.” I tell him as nausea begins to build deep in the pit of my stomach. I should have eaten something. I curse myself.
“You don’t look good.” His face swirls as my vision begins to fade. His lips are moving as his hand comes up to my forehead, but I can’t hear any of the words coming out.
“Cohen?” My words are sticky on my tongue. I’m not even sure if they’re audible at this point. He looks worried. I feel my knees go out, and my head turn off like a light switch. It feels as if I’m floating on a cloud that’s been tossed in a washing machine. My head feels like it’s spinning, but my body feels as if I’m laying on a waterbed. I feel my head snap to the side as something hits the side of my cheek. It takes a minute, but I finally manage to pry my eyes open.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Tatum.” Cohen yells in relief. “You fucking scared the shit out of me!” He looks as if he’s been through hell. As I take in my surroundings I realize we’re in a bathroom. Half my body is draped across his thighs while the upper half of him is draped over mine. My hair is soaking wet, and my face feels clammy.
“Cohen?” I say his name with panic evident in my voice.
“I thought you were dying.” His eyes become glossy.
“What the fuck happened?” Anxiety begins to overtake my entire body.
“You just dropped to the floor.” He tells me as if he’s reliving a nightmare.
“It’s not like I haven’t blacked out before.” I tell him, my voice uneasy.
“No, Tatum.” His voice is stern. I’ve never heard him so terrified before. “You started...” He trails off as his mind replays what happened.
“I started what, Co?” He’s beginning to worry me.
“You were shaking, Tate. You were fucking laying there having a seizure. I had no idea what to do to help you.” He tells me with such a raw honesty I’ve never heard before. I push off of his lap and wrap my my arms around his neck. The movement causes my head to spin in circles.
“I’m fine, Co.” I squeeze him tightly. “Co, I’m fine.” I tell him again.
“Tatum, you were out for a half an hour.” He breathes heavily into my neck. “I fucking thought you were dying.” His drug fueled mind has his worry turning to anger real quick. “I fucking knew there was something wrong with that weed.” He pinches his eyebrows together as I pull away to face him.
“What?” I ask confused.
“I thought the weed was laced. I’ve never had a bag that good before. Something was off, it was different, stronger. I could feel it as soon as it hit my lungs.” He looks so guilty. “But then you said it was so amazing. I just thought we hit the jackpot. Then when you fell I knew right away. There’s no way you would have that reaction from just weed and alcohol.” He pulls me against his chest again.
“Cohen, it’s fine.” I hug him back. “Look, I’m good Co. I’m good.” Besides the burning headache and my stomach ready to throw up everywhere I’m fine, and I try to reassure him with that.
“Fuck, I fucked up.” He pulls away and tugs at his wavy hair.
“No you didn’t.” I try to tell him. “You’re the best friend a girl could ever have.” I send him a small smile. It’s true though. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
“No you don’t understand.” He rubs his hands over his face. “I really fucked up, Tatum.” There’s an apology in his eyes as he pulls away.
“What did you do?” My voice is low as concern takes over my body. “Cohen?” I urge him.
“I fucking called your parents.” He rushes out. I feel all the blood drain from my face the minute his words register with my brain.
“What? I’m still fucked up from all of those shots.” A strained laugh gurgles up my throat threatening to spill all of the contents of my stomach. He grabs my shoulders in both of his hands and brings his face as close to mine as humanly possible.
“I. Called. Your. Parents.” He says each and every word as slow as possible. “They’re coming to get us.” He tacks on the end.
“Cohen!” I screech. “You called my parents?” I start to panic. They’re going to murder me when they see the state I’m in.
“I fucking thought you were dying!” He yells back at me. “What was I supposed to do?” He asks in defeat.
“I don’t know, Cohen call a goddamn ambulance?” I yell. “They’re going to kill me!” I blanch, already preparing myself for my fathers speech I know is coming.
“I wasn’t thinking!” He throws his hands in the air and stands to his feet. “I panicked! I didn’t know what to do.” He turns on the faucet on and lets the water run.
“You could have done anything else besides that!” I argue. I watch as he starts to cup his hands under the faucet and slug the water back almost as quickly as we downed those shots.
“Here.” He points to the running water.
“What do you want me to do with that?” I raise my brows in confusion.
“Drink it.” It’s not a statement, it’s a demand. “You need to come down a few levels before your dad gets here. He’s going to literally go ballistic.” He tells me as if just now realizing how badly my parents are going to freak.
“I can’t believe you called them.” I say before copying him and drinking from the faucet. “You know my dad’s going to murder you.” I tell him honestly.
“Why me?” He asks. “I didn’t shove anything down your throat.” He accuses.
“No, but you didn’t stop me either. You’re supposed to keep things like this from happening, Cohen Parker!” I argue.
“Don’t full name me, Tatum O’Neil!” He threatens.
“Or what? You gonna call my parents? To freaking late, Co. They’re already on their way here!” Now were an arguing drunk mess.
“I said I was sorry!” He confesses. “I was scared, Tate.” He looks like a little boy again. The same little boy who would crawl through my window in the middle of the night when the monsters invaded his dreams.
“I know, Co.” I send him a small smile. “But you’re gonna have to get more sneaky about sneaking into my room at night, because after today we’re not going to be allowed to see each other for a long time.” I tell him honestly.
“Ugh!” He pulls his hair out. “What did I do?” He says with regret.
“Nothing I wouldn’t have done.” I assure him.
“Should we go wait for them?” He asks me skeptically.
“I guess so.” I make a face. I’d rather stay locked in this bathroom with him until my parents forgot we even called. But I know that's not the case. They probably hopped in the car the minute Cohen called. We make our way through the crowded house and out the front door. “This is social suicide, you know.” I murmur against his back as he pulls me outside.
“Trust me, Tate. I know.” We make it to the end of the driveway and wait. It’s like kindergarten all over again as we wait for them to pick us up. Minutes go by. Then a whole hour and we’re left here waiting until our feet hurt. The high in my brain has faded. The alcohol in my blood has gone from strong intoxication to a lightly simmered buzz. The spins have long since left, and for
that I am entirely grateful.
“They probably fell back asleep.” Cohen says around a long tired sigh.
“They wouldn’t.” I argue. “You know them, they’re crazy.” I shake my head just thinking about it. My parents are the type of people who arrive early to an event rather than being on time. They are never late. They don’t ever not show.
“Maybe we should just start walking.” He suggests. His eyes are tired and his voice is sleepy.
“It’s like over an hour walk from here.” I complain.
“Yeah but it’s better than staying here, waiting.” He leans his face to the darkened sky as if waiting for an answer.
“Fine.” I huff out in annoyance. We don’t even get thirty feet from the driveway when an old beat up Corolla comes barreling towards us. Cohen pushes me to his other side, and throws a protective arm around my shoulders.
“Tatum!” The driver yells my name as soon as the driver side window is rolled down.
“Haley?” I ask confused. My sisters small frame comes into view and I’m finally relieved.
“Never thought I’d see the day you got up before ten in the morning.” Cohen jokes from beside me, but the look on Haley’s face is anything but amused.
“Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?” She barks out angrily. “I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour now.” She sounds angry, exhausted, furious. A whole mix of emotions all wrapped up in one big blanket.
“It’s been dead for hours.” I shrug, already annoyed with her attitude. She’s constantly treating me like her child, rather than her sister. “What’s up with you?” I raise an eyebrow in her direction. She stares at me for what seems like forever until her lips finally move.
“There’s been an accident.” Her eyes shine with tears as she manages to get the words out of her throat. Instantly my heart stops. Cohen squeezes my body into his as if to carry some of the weight of my sisters words. I don’t remember getting into her car. I don’t remember the drive to the hospital. All I can remember is the pain the doctor brought into my life the second he told me my parents had passed. Killed. By a drunk driver. How ironic?
“You can’t blame yourself for that.” Killian’s voice stirs me out of the past and brings me back to the here and now. “That wasn’t your fault.” He tries again. I stare into his eyes looking for the truth. Looking to see that he, along with everyone else blames me for their deaths. But I can’t find it. The grief is there, but it’s not cloaked in pity. It’s something I’ve never seen before. It’s not what I’m used to. It’s not what I was expecting.
“How can you say that?” I question him.
“You’re young, Tatum.” I see a flash of worry break through his iris’s and disappear almost as quickly as it came. “When you’re young you’re supposed to do dumb things. You’re supposed to fuck up. You going to that party didn’t kill your parents.” He pulls me onto his chest. “That drunk driver did. The difference between you and them is that you’ve learned from your mistakes, they didn’t.” He tells me with such conviction that I actually believe him. I can feel the weight lift off of my shoulders as the death of my parents doesn’t weigh me down for the first time since it happened.
“Where did you come from.” I whisper while cradling his stubble covered cheek in the palm of my hand. My eyes search his for all of the answers I’ve never seemed to find. If they are anywhere, then I most definitely can find them in there.
“What do you mean?” His eyebrows pinch together in utter confusion.
“I’ve never had this before.” I try to tell him exactly how I’m feeling. “With Cohen it’s always been different. The way him and I love each other isn’t like this.” His eyes darken at the mention of Cohen’s name. “This is raw. This is feral. I’ve never needed anyone the way I seem to need you.” I admit sheepishly.
“You seem to think it is only you who feels that way.” His words come out in question. He lifts his body into a sitting position and moves me to where my legs rest on the outside of his large thighs. I’m straddling him, the heat between us is already building.
“Is it not?” I ask him, knowing he feels the same to some extent but needing him to say it out loud.
“No.” He tells me slowly, bringing his lips to the sensitive skin on my neck. “It’s not.” He breathes out heavily as his tongue slips out to lick the throbbing vein in the crook of my neck. “You drive me fucking insane, Tatum.” He growls next. “If I were a good man I would stay away. If I were a better man, a fucking responsible man, I would not have these illicit thoughts of you running through my head day in and day out.” His teeth nip at my collar bone.
“But?” I ask just above a whisper.
“But I’m not a good man.” He promises me. I can see the war raging in his eyes as the words come forcing their way out of his mouth. A mouth I’ve been dying to have against mine since I stepped foot into his house. “I’m the fucking worst man.” He breathes deeply. His hands picking up their pace as they squeeze, rub, and touch every part of my body. He keeps going, murmuring all the wrong words, but delivering all the right feelings. I can’t help the way my body always seems to react to his. He makes a quick motion to stand, and I struggle to cling to his body. My thighs squeeze his waist as my arms wrap around his neck. The palms of his hands come to rest on the round globes of my ass. His fingertips send electricity through my skin and into my veins. His legs move us quickly through his beautiful house, but I focus all of my attention on him. He’s determined, and full of pent of want and need.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask in a breathy whisper. His eyes meet mine as if finally realizing I’m still holding onto him. He brings his lips to mine in a swift kiss. We make it to a stairway. The long and narrow passage looks as if it leads up to the gates of heaven.
“I want you in my bed, Tatum.” He says huskily. “I’ve wanted to take you into my bed since the moment I laid my eyes on you.” His fingers squeeze my flesh causing a raging fire to burn it’s way through my entire body. I want whatever this will bring. I need him like I need my next breath. All I can do is nod my head in agreement. I’ll follow him anywhere if it means I can have his hands and lips on me at all times. His muscular thighs bring us up the stairways and down a small hallway stopping at a closed door on the right. He struggles balancing me and twisting the door handle but finally manages to swing it open. He looks like a feral animal in this state. Like a lion ready to take down its prey for lunch. I should be scared by the look in his eyes, but it only seems to turn me on further. He strides until his knees hit the edge of what must be the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. He lets me go with a plop and I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips.
“I love that sound.” He admits as he crawls over my body. I scoot all way towards the wooden headboard until there’s nowhere else to go. I can feel his body heat cocooning me even though there's still about six inches of space between us. I’m laying on my back, waiting, wishing, wanting. I bring the palm of my hand to his cheek covered in dark stubble. I love the feel of it. It makes him seem even more rugged. Such a contrast to the respectful teacher he tries to be while we’re in class. “I want to hear it everyday.” He adds on. “Among other ones.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively seducing another giggle from me in return. Being this way with him makes me want to tell him all of my secrets and insecurities. I mean all of them. I open my mouth just enough to force the words out.
“Killian.” His name rolls off the tip of my tongue, and I can’t help but love the way it sounds. I take a deep breath, ready to tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth but his lips cut me off, attacking the flesh at my collar bone.
“I need this off.” He practically demands as his large hands tug at the hem of my sweatshirt bringing the flimsy T-shirt I had on underneath with it. I didn’t even put a bra on before I left the house, and now my breasts are completely bare to him. I lift my arms above my head not thinking about anything else other than needing to be co
mpletely bare for this man. I want to bare my entire soul to him. I want him to see everything. “These too, sweetheart.” His fingers get to work on my leggings next. He grips them with his fingertips, hooking them in the elastic of my underwear at the same time and slowly pulls them down and over my thighs. I’m completely exposed to him. I can feel a red hot blush begin to take over my body as his eyes rake me in. I wonder if he can see the small bump growing in my belly. It’s still small, small enough to be played out as just extra weight gain from all the stress. Cohen’s words not mine. But if anyone were to ever ask, Killian especially, I know I could use that excuse. My words of truth get tucked back down as Killian works my body like a violin. Pulling all the right chords and creating a beautiful melody. He elicits soft moans from deep within my throat left and right. The noises coming out of me are foreign, not yet used to the intensity of Killian’s masterful touch.
“Killian!” I moan his name as his lips make sure to cover every inch of my entire body. I watch with hooded eyes as he slides down my torso paying close attention to my nipples, and slowly inching his way towards the apex of my thighs.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Tatum.” He growls as his tongue sweeps out and licks my soft sensitive flesh. “I’ve never wanted to taste anyone more than I have you.” He takes a deep breath and my cheeks flush. My hands reach out to pull at the thick strands of hair on his head. I wind my fingers through the dark clumps and pull just as he goes in for the kill. He doesn’t hold back, attacking the small bundle of nerves right away. He nips, licks, and sucks as if his life depends on it, taking joy in extracting all the right sounds from my body.
“Oh, fuck!” I have to push the words past the ball of lust lodged in my throat. My body feels as if it’s on fire, and I have to close my eyes as the pressure in my core begins to build higher and higher. I feel pressure as Killian slips a finger inside of me taking what he so desperately wants, and sending me completely over the edge into the deep depths of ecstasy. “Fuck, Killian.” His name comes out strangled around a moan. Stars shine behind my eyelids, bright and sparkling all around me. I watch Killian pull away from me, his lips and chin still wet with my juices. I focus on him as he crawls up my satiated body. It’s all I can do. Watch him. Want him. Need him. I feel so numb from pleasure I’m not sure I’d be able to walk. He grazes his knuckles along my side.