“I had this whole speech planned to tell you what a horrible person you are, and how you’ve ruined my life,” I begin, my voice only trembling a little. “But then you probably already know both those things—and you don’t care. So I’m not going to waste my breath. Instead, I’d just like to say that orange is going to be a terrible color on you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I have your little video confession.” I allow myself a small smile. “And tonight, I’ll be handing it over to the police.”
For a brief glorious second, her superior little smirk disappears, and her face pales. I watch her hand clutch the doorknob so tightly that her fingers turn white. God, I love her glittery nails. Maybe the other inmates will, too.
Kara quickly composes herself. She flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, and smiles tightly down at me. “You’re forgetting that I have a video, too. So, let’s do an exchange…unless you don’t want the entire school knowing just how wide you can spread your legs for our star quarterback.”
I have to swallow the bile that immediately rises up my throat. “Go ahead,” I say with false nonchalance. “I look awesome naked. I’ll probably get offers to be on a reality show afterwards. You, on the other hand, will be charged with a felony for distribution of child pornography. You turned eighteen in September, right? Guess that means you’ll be tried as an adult.”
Any normal bitch would be quaking in her designer shoes right about now, but Kara is a special kind. She is silent for a moment, studying me. Then that smug look is back. “Girls like me don’t do jail time,” she says confidently. “I know people who have serious connections, and I know exactly how to spin this. Go ahead and go to the police—by the time I’m done, I’ll look like a saint—and you, you little wannabe bitch, will look like a dirty moaning whore.”
She looks so sure of herself, so certain that everything is going to go her way. Man, she is beyond deluded. “You confessed to burning someone’s house down,” I feel the need to remind her. “You’re psychotic.”
Her glare is so malicious, I take a step back. “And you’re about to be an internet porn star.”
I suck in a breath. “You’re still going to release the video even though you know I’m going to turn you in?”
Kara smiles. She reaches out a hand, and slowly rakes her nails down my cheek—not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to sting. “If I go down, you’re coming with me,” she promises.
“Well, then, I have just one thing to say.”
I gesture for her to lean in. She looks at me like I’m a cockroach crawling up her leg, but moves forward, anyway. I punch her right in the face, putting everything I have into the swing—and she goes down with a splat. Astonished, she can only stare up at me from her sprawled position, blood pouring from her nose.
That’s all I had to say. I walk away, gingerly flexing my knuckles. Don’t care if they’re broken—it’s totally worth it. And, yeah, I know violence is never supposed to be the answer. But, god, is it satisfying.
The confrontation with Kara leaves me shaking so bad that I have to pull into the parking lot of a nearby coffee shop to collect myself. I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, and try to control my breathing. The more I try to calm down, the more panicked I become—until I can’t breathe.
Everyone’s gonna see that video—everyone at school, my family…everybody. Am I ready to deal with that? I guess I have to be. Kara could be sending it out right now. I need to go down to the police station. But first I need to see Dean.
Where is he? He’s not answering his phone. Though it’s almost completely dark out, I go by his house…but he’s not home. Finally, I text Johnny to ask him if he’s seen his stepbrother anywhere. Johnny texts me back seconds later to let me know they’re all over at Ben’s house, and that I should come over.
Ben lives in the neighborhood, so I arrive at his elegant mansion in less than five minutes. There are a bunch of cars parked out front, and I pick out Johnny’s, Mack’s, and Nick’s rides among them. I don’t see Dean’s Pontiac, so I guess he caught a ride with Johnny.
Johnny comes limping out the door as I’m going up the paved path in the front of the house. I walk right into his arms, burying my face into his chest, and absorbing his warmth and comfort.
“I’m so sorry, Teeny,” Johnny murmurs into my hair. “I should have listened to you about Kara. You were right along.”
I pull back a little, looking up at him. “You know about…everything?”
Johnny nods, his face grim. “Dean told me. He’s been so fucked up all week, trying to deal with the shit with Kara. We had to drag him over here, and get him drunk hoping he’d pass out and get some sleep.”
I frown, looking toward the house. “He’s drunk?”
Johnny chuckles, his bright blue eyes amused. “He’s not completely shit-faced, but he’s relaxed enough to let himself have some damn fun for once in his life.”
“I’d better go find him,” I say, shaking my head.
I start to move past Johnny, but he grabs my arm, stopping me. I look back at him questioningly.
He’s looking at me with the saddest expression on his face right now. “He loves you. He’d never betray you the way I did. God, you don’t know how much I regret that night. I should have treated you better. I should have told you…”
“Johnny.” My eyes prick with tears. “Please don’t.”
He just stares at me with such longing that I have to look away. Finally, he exhales, long and slow. “I won’t. Go find Dean. He’s hurting bad right now.”
“I will.”
Before I go, I give Johnny a fierce hug, holding him tightly. “I love you,” I whisper.
He squeezes me back, his gaze lingering on my mouth. “Not like you love him, but I’ll take it. Now go take care of Dean.”
“Thanks, Johnny.”
I’ve been in Ben’s house a few times before—enough to know where the game room is, and to assume all the guys are in there. Ben has an awesome set-up—a teenage boy’s dream—with everything from a fully stocked bar, three huge TVs, and every kind of game system known to man. Why is there neon everywhere? I don’t know, but boys seems to like stuff that glow.
The guys are all sprawled out on the black leather sofas, surrounded by pizza boxes, chips, and drinks. They’re so involved in whatever video game they’re playing that no one notices my arrival.
I spot Nick, lying on the ground with a beer bottle balanced on his stomach. I don’t know how he can play a video game with his controller sideways like that, but his excited whoops make me think he’s succeeding. I lean over, and grab the beer off of him. “Nick,” I say, trying to get his attention. “Where’s Dean?”
“Hey, Juliet!” Nick’s eyes brighten when he looks at me. But then his attention quickly goes back to the violent video game he’s playing. “Not sure where Dean is. I think he—oh, shit!”
Someone crows in triumph. “Suck napalm, Adler!”
“Aw, man!” Nick groans. “Cheap shot, dude!”
I’ve definitely lost his attention. Rolling my eyes, I decide to search another room. Just then, a flash of movement just outside of the sliding glass doors catches my attention.
The door slides open, and Dean steps in. He’s soaking wet, his shirt molding to the muscles in his chest and stomach like a second skin, and his jeans are dripping water in puddles at his feet. He looks dangerous, sexy as hell—and so lost that my heart aches for him.
His odd-colored eyes seem to glow when his gaze locks on me. Something like pain flashes across his flawless features, then he starts toward me, his jaw tightly clenched.
The force of my feelings for this boy hits me like a sledgehammer. I run to him, oblivious of everything else. I think I may have stepped on someone lying on the ground—but I barely notice the loud grunting complaint. I throw myself into Dean’s arms, and he staggers a little under my enthusiasm. That’s how I know he’s drunk—he’s usually as s
teady as a rock.
I don’t care that he’s soaking wet and cold. I wrap my arms around his waist, and sink into him. He smells like hard liquor, chlorine, and shampoo. Did he fall into the pool?
“You’re here,” Dean says, sounding incredulous. His arms tighten around me.
I wiggle away so I can check him out. “Are you okay?” I ask, looking him over. When I see his hand, I gasp. His knuckles and bloody and swollen. “What happened?!”
Dean glances down at the hand I’m now cradling. “I hit something,” he says, sounding confused. “I got you all wet.”
“Hells, yeah!” a deep voice crows, followed by perverted cackles.
I glance around self-consciously, but loud explosions are coming from the game playing, and the guys start shouting excitedly. Shaking my head, I turn back to Dean. “What did you hit?” I ask him, gently brushing my fingers over his knuckles.
“I don’t know.”
He doesn’t flinch under my exploration of his injuries, but just stands there, staring at me like a big lost puppy. I release a chest-heaving sigh, and give his wrist a tug. “Come on. Let’s find a bathroom, and get you cleaned up.”
I lead him toward the game room bathroom, but just as I reach for the handle, the door opens and Ben steps out. He grins when he sees me, adjusting his shirt before I surprise him with a hug.
“I have to talk to you, but not right now,” I tell him with a significant raise of my eyebrows.
“Yeah, sure. But, uh, I wouldn’t go in there.” Ben puts his arm across the doorway, blocking me. “I had some bad tacos for dinner.”
He waves a hand around theatrically, but his efforts are spoiled when the door opens further to reveal Katerinka, the foreign exchange student. She appears startled to see us all standing there, and quickly slams the door shut. I give Ben a disgusted look. Bathroom sex? Really? And with Katerinka?!
“That is not what it looks like,” Ben says, smiling shamelessly. He clears his throat. “Use the bathroom upstairs. More privacy.”
I smile my thanks, and pull Dean away. He allows me to, remaining silent behind me. I hope he doesn’t pass out on me, not before I can get him cleaned up.
I’ve never been upstairs before, so I pause at the landing, unsure where to go. Dean takes the lead, placing a hand on the small of my back as he guides me to the first door on the left.
I take a second to admire the bronze and gold theme of the bathroom, with tile that looks like stones, and a tub that looks big enough to comfortably fit a family of four. I should be used to rich boys and their beautiful homes by now, but I can’t help the stirrings of envy when I compare my bathroom to Ben’s.
Shaking my head of that shallow thought, I turn back to Dean. He’s leaning against the counter, watching me with a guarded expression. I find a clean washcloth in a linen closet, and run it under the warm water in the sink.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I clean the blood from his knuckles, as gently as possible. “These cuts don’t look too bad, but we should…what’s wrong?”
Dean suddenly shakes his head. He pulls away, running both hands through his wet dark hair, and locking them behind his head as he stares at me. The movement makes the muscles in his chest and arms bulge, and his damp shirt rides up in the front, revealing a sliver of his abs. My mouth goes dry. Given the circumstances, I should not be lusting after him right now. But, damn. Wet drunk Dean is hot.
“I thought you were gonna run,” he says, letting out a humorless chuckle. “I was sure you’d never want to see me again.”
I set the washcloth down on the sink, and turn back to him. “I thought about it,” I admit. “That video was awful! I felt so violated. I can’t believe someone was watching while we…I don’t even want to think about it now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Dean.” I sigh deeply, and look up at him. “We need to talk.”
He suddenly pulls me close, his hands on my hips. “Later,” he says, lowering his head to mine.
“But—”
He swallows my words up with his kisses. Deep, passionate ones that have me clinging to him like a life preserver. He turns us around so my back is against the counter. I entwine my arms around his neck and press my body closer to his. I can’t get close enough, and it makes me growl in frustration.
“I need you, Juliet,” Dean whispers, trailing kisses along my neck. His hands move under my skirt, sliding slowly up my thighs. “Right now.”
“I…”
I pull back a little and look into his eyes, seeing the torment in them. The raw intensity of his desire is scary, yet thrilling. My body responds helplessly. But it’s not the restless ache, or my own wild desire that has me reaching for him. This isn’t about sex as much as it is about comfort and need. I would do anything to drive out that look of pain and uncertainty lingering in his face.
Dean’s hands are paused at my thighs, waiting for me to decide. “Okay,” I say softly.
That’s all he needs. His grips me under my thighs, and I’m lifted onto the counter with a forcefulness that has my nerves singing with excitement. He moves to stand between my legs, and cups my face in his hands.
“This is going to be fast and hard,” Dean warns me, breathing hard.
I lick my lips very deliberately. “Just try to keep up with me.”
His answering grin is so full of dark promise that I experience a tiny bit of maidenly terror. Eek. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut.
Despite his warning, Dean takes the time to make sure I’m ready for him. When he discovers that I’m all set, he seems to lose control. Buttons go flying and underwear is ripped—and I am so completely turned on that all I can think is “more, more, more!” I thought I would let him take charge, and hold on for dear life—but I find myself desperate to consume as much of him as possible…demanding, taking…begging. I want to hold on to these desperate lovely feelings, but Dean’s got me hurtling to the edge at breakneck speed.
“You own me,” he breathes in my ear, and with that one push, I go flying.
After, we stay joined together, trying to catch our breaths. My ears are ringing, and I can’t see anything. I’m hoping these are temporary aftereffects, but if not…so totally worth it. Dean says something, but I don’t catch it.
“What?” I ask uncertainly.
“Are you okay?” he repeats.
“Yeah, I think so.” I giggle weakly, playing with the black cord around his neck. Seeing him wear the necklace I got for him makes me smile all over.
“Shit.” Dean bows his head. When he looks back up, his face is serious. “I didn’t use a condom.”
“I know.”
I give a little shrug. He knows I’m on the pill, and we’ve discussed our sexual health and histories—and we both got clean bills of health from recent doctor visits. Also, it’s the wrong time of month for me to get pregnant—I keep track with a handy app on my phone.
“I’ve never done it without a condom before,” Dean says, watching my face carefully.
“Hm. How did it feel?”
He exhales a husky laugh. “Fucking awesome.”
Sober Dean would have never said that. I smile at him, shaking my head. But my amusement is short-lived when I take stock of myself. My bra is ripped in half, and most of the buttons on my (wet) blouse are missing. I don’t even know where my panties…oh, there’s part of it, stuck to Dean’s pant leg.
“I can’t go out like this,” I whisper, mortified.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, not sounding sorry at all.
“Well, what am I gonna do? Do you have a jacket downstairs, or something?”
Dean opens his mouth to reply, but then glances down at me with a frown. He takes my right hand in his, holding it up to the light. “What the hell happened to your hand?” he growls.
Oh, now that I see my bruised and swollen knuckles—it hurts! Taking my hand back, I wince. “I hit something,” I say, repeating his words. “I’ll explain later. Right
now, I just want to get cleaned up.”
Dean studies me for a few seconds, then gives a curt nod. “I’d offer you my shirt, but it’s still pretty wet. Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll ask Ben if you can borrow something?”
“Okay,” I agree with a wince. “Be discreet!”
He smirks at me before slipping out the door. I lock it after him, then with just one longing look at the tub, I clean myself up as best as I can. I dump my bra and panties in the urn-like wastebasket, then throw a bunch of toilet paper over them to hide the evidence. I cannot believe I had bathroom sex! I wait for the shame to hit me, but really, all I feel is a little embarrassed. And very satisfied. In fact, I can’t keep the grin off my face.
A soft knock on the door startles me out of my dirty thoughts. Clutching my blouse together with one hand, I cautiously open the door with the other, peeking my head out. I sigh in relief when I see Dean standing there.
I step aside to let him in, and he does, locking the door behind him. He hands me a shirt, long-sleeved, dark blue, and smelling like Ben’s cologne. I take off my blouse and quickly slip into the shirt. It’s long on me, but not too bad, and you can’t tell I’m braless underneath. I still feel exposed, however, having nothing on under my skirt. Ben may be a very good friend, but I’m not about to ask him if I can borrow a pair of boxers. Ugh.
He’s waiting for us in the hallway. I freeze, my face warming with embarrassment when he gives me the exact same look I gave him when we caught him with Katerinka. He bursts out laughing at my guilty expression.
“Bad tacos?” he says with an impish smile.
“Must be an epidemic,” I mutter sheepishly.
Dean looks impatient when Ben continues to chuckle. “What’s up?” he asks, turning to him with his eyebrows raised.
Ben’s laughter dies down, and he looks back and forth between the two of us. “Have either of you checked your phones recently? I’m guessing not.”
“What—oh, shit.” Both hands go over my mouth as the blood drains from my face. “She sent it, didn’t she?”
It’s happening. I think I’m going to be sick. I glance at Dean, who’s looking down at me in concern. Numbly, I turn to Ben. “Can I see your phone?”
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