by L. J. Woods
“Ugly bitch!” Jeff pushes back from the seat, beer dripping from his face onto his deer head t-shirt.
“Dick!” I retort.
His face is beet red when he takes a step forward. I take one too before his hand lifts. There’s a flash of black, a whiff of cinnamon and tobacco before Jeff hits the ground.
Gabe’s on top of him, throwing fists like this dude’s a punching bag. Like he’s pounding dough and I’m afraid he won’t let up. “Gabe! Holy shit!” I call.
“I dunno what he did but if Gabe’s on him he fucking deserves it.” Elijah pulls me to his side, his lanky body towering over me. He’s about to jump in before the bartender yells but Gabe’s already picking him up off the floor. Jeff is a mess, his face a mix of beer and blood.
“You good?” Gabe asks, holding Jeff up by his shirt. His jaw works, nostrils flaring. “You let this guy touch you?”
He saw?
Shaking the thought out of my head, my hands come to my hips. “No. I didn’t.” Something inside me wants to see the rage in Gabe. Wants to see him fight for me. I crave his attention and what can I say? It’s easy for me to find trouble.
Gabe pushes a wobbly-legged Jeff towards me. “Apologize.”
Jeff groans, wincing. “I-I’m sorry.”
“You guys need to leave.” The bartender appears behind Gabe, a towel slung over her shoulder.
Gabe drops him to the ground and with that, he makes his way for the exit, passing the girls on the way out.
When Elijah and I join him outside, he already has a cigarette by his lips, hoodie over his head by his car. A Tesla. It’s a wonder that thing doesn’t get stolen here.
“The fuck, man?” Elijah walks ahead, stretching out his arms, the night breeze catching his baggy blue shirt. “That was about Delilah?”
Gabe’s eyes meet mine, a boom in my chest before he looks down at his shoes. A fresh white pair of sneakers. “He was going after her.”
Nix catches up to me as the boys chat ahead. He’s telling me about his girl problems but I’m more interested in my brother’s conversation.
“Thought you didn’t like her,” Elijah says. He’s keeping his voice low but here’s the thing about younger siblings. We’re really good at eavesdropping.
“I don’t,” Gabe responds, a punch to my gut. And now I wish I wasn’t so good at eavesdropping. “Just looking out for her.”
Elijah sighs, “I appreciate it. I’m just protective, she can get herself in a lot of trouble.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“And if you’re thinking about it—”
“I’m not,” Gabe flicks his butt onto the concrete. “She’s seventeen. For real, you don’t have to worry. As long as I’m around, I got her back. Nothing more.”
Elijah leans against the hood of the car. “And in a year?”
“Won’t change a thing. Ever.” Gabe sits on the hood, the car lowering under his weight.
“Liles, you hearing me?” Nix taps my shoulder, rolling up a joint on the trunk of Gabe’s car. “This chick is wild!”
Glob in my throat, I nod. But it’s hard to listen to your best friend when your heart’s shattering to pieces.
Fifteen
Delilah
Present
“Cocks! I’m so fucking stupid.”
The minute the door closes, curses fly out mouth, doing my best to pull on my clothes before the janitor makes another appearance.
Yeah, Delilah. Finger-fuck your brother’s best friend. That’ll give you justice.
I must still be high because a part of me doesn’t regret it. It’s been a while since I let anyone touch me like that. And I don’t know if it was Gabe’s magic bean or his magic peen but that was one of the most amazing orgasms I’ve ever had. He’s a homing missile with those thick, sturdy fingers. He knew exactly what I wanted without me saying a word.
A pang hits my chest. That’s exactly how he got these drugs from Kelly in the first place. Those fingers. That mug. That voice. “Stupid. Stupid.” My shirt’s on backward and my kilt’s hardly at my waist as I make my way to the front. My walk of shame.
My mind spins. How do I go from accusing Gabriel Godfrey of murder to letting him finger me? Begging him to finger me? This town’s right. I need Jesus.
The janitor tips his grey ball cap as I walk towards the front door. After slamming the skates on the reception desk, I hustle out of there. Groaning, I push through the exit, the breezy late-summer air on my face. Gabe’s there when I get out, finishing a cigarette and my mouth fills with glue.
Fuck.
For once, I’m speechless. After all that, I can’t say a thing.
He flicks his cigarette and with a tilt of his head, he starts walking. A car pulls into the lot, the brightness of those lights telling me I’m still fucked up, my body still buzzing from the wizardry Gabe pulled on my vagina. The light catches his eyes and I have to look away before I’m pulled into the depths of them. Until I get the full story of what happened this summer, and why he’s being such a dick, that can never happen again.
Skateboard under his arm, he leads the way back to my Grandma’s, over the grassy patch we came from. I’m hoping there isn’t a heaven because I’d hate for Elijah to see what happened between us. His best friend. His sister. How fucking cliche. Taboo.
Stupid.
Man! I’m a fucking idiot!
“Little bit,” Gabe responds.
My fingers come to my lips, closing my eyes. “Aaand that came out loud.” Great.
“Yup.”
“This shit is a trip.” My eyes land on the new skateboard in his arms. “That was you, right? My board?”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“You pissed me off.” He shrugs.
“By asking questions? What are you, a dictator or just a dick?”
“Both,” he answers with as much confidence as his strides.
I regret speaking. It’s making this after-glow a lot less sexy but at least we’re talking. “Add bully to that list.”
“Does a bully buy you a new board? ‘Cause I can take this back and you can ride that old ratty thing.”
“Fuck you, that old ratty thing is Elijah’s.”
A beat. “Didn’t know.”
“Like you didn’t know to pick up the phone?” Silence, but he picks up his pace. That’s fine, I don’t mind yelling. “You kinda did the same thing to him that you did to his board! Tossed him and by doing that you tossed me too.”
The sound of his sneakers against the concrete deafens me but I don’t miss the way he balls his fists tight. “Why are you being like this?” I ask, standing in place, hoping I’ll get something. Anything. All I get is silence as he keeps walking down the wide empty street. Houses that all look the same line each side, streetlights lighting our path. “You can stick your fingers in my pussy but you can’t answer a question?”
With no response, I ask another, one heavy on my mind as I pick up my pace. “What did you do with Sammy’s body, Gabe? At least tell me tha— ” Gabe stops in his path and I bump into his back. When I move beside him, I see why. It wasn’t my question at all.
The car that was in the driveway, the one I’m guessing belongs to my excuses for parents, still sits in the driveway. The bright yellow Jeep. “Cooocks,” I groan. Turning to Gabe, I tug him out of sight of the windows.
He’s hard to move but he gets the picture, stepping to the side. “Nervous?”
“I can’t go in there. Not when I’m this high.”
Gabe shrugs. “So? Tell ‘em to fuck off and go to your room.”
“Like you’ll tell your parents to fuck off?”
“That’s different. You’re an adult now, you can handle ‘em.”
Shaking my head, I decline that offer. “Nope. Can’t.”
“You can.” He puts his palms on each of my arms. “They just want power over you. Don’t let them have that and you’ll have nothing to fear.” Taking a moment, m
y eyes dance with his before I shake my head again. He smirks and I hate that he looks so fucking good when he does. “Know what’ll really piss ‘em off?” Ushering me forward he brings his voice to my ear but that only reminds me of how he groans. Low. Sexy. Rolling. “Go inside and act like not a damn thing bothers you.”
I’m totally bothered. “But—”
“Go, Dee. I got you.” He pushes me ahead, hand on my back. Does he? I’ve heard those words before and he didn’t deliver. But I’m way too fucked up to handle this on my own. Pulling a cigarette out of its pack, he pushes me ahead. “I fingered you to the heavens, the least I can do is get you out of trouble.”
Grabbing the board, I slap it against his arm. “Oh, we’re talking about that now?”
“Go,” he urges.
He’s right. It’s better if we don’t talk about it at all. Less chance of me riding his face. “Sick fuck,” I mutter. We both are.
Taking a breath, I walk towards the door. A peek through the window tells me they’re all in the living room. Sweet bread on the coffee table. My eyes on the stairs, I head straight for it the minute I’m through the door.
“Delilah?” My mom calls but I keep going, my Chucks pattering up the old steps. “Delilah! We need to talk!”
Shutting the door to my room gives me a bit of safety but the way my mom calls me again has me wondering if Gabe’s gonna keep his word.
“Delilah has a migraine.” Gabe’s voice bellows through the room. “She should get some rest with all that’s going on, don’t you think?” My jaw drops. Gabe’s speaking to them with the confidence I wish I had.
“I still need to check on her,” my mom rebuttals, never the one to take ‘no’ for an answer when it comes to what she wants to do. “We still have to talk. She can’t talk to us like that. That’s not the girl I’m raising.”
Funny. She’s not raising me at all.
“Not a good idea,” Gabe says. “It’ll only stress her out more and stress is big with migraines.” This is new. Someone rarely has my back. Rarely does someone take my side. So why couldn’t he have been there when I needed him the most?
“What she needs is a better diet and better sleep.” That’s Tim and it almost makes me pull the door open so I can tell him where to shove it.
“What she needs is for you to leave her alone and mind your business,” Gabe responds, my eyes wide. “Grandma, I’ll help you clean up the rest of the stuff in the kitchen.”
“Who do you think you are?” Tim grunts before I hear the sound of a chair against the floor. Bringing my ear to the door, I imagine them squaring up.
“Someone who knows and cares about Delilah way more than you do. Now, if you’ll move, I’m lending Grandma a hand. Unless you’d like to.”
Holy shit!
Reaching for my phone, I text Nix what’s happening. I’m impressed. Surprised. My mom’s voice lowers, so does Tim’s before I hear the sounds of the kitchen in action. Someone turns up the gospel on the radio, helping to drown out other sounds. I’m curious if I’ll have to pay for Gabe’s words later but a feeling of warmth fills me. A lightness in my chest.
Changing into an old tie-dye shirt, I climb into my unmade bed. I’m about to text Nix what happened at the rink when I stall. My eyes on the vintage TLC poster on the back of my door, my teeth sink into my lip, chewing and chewing. There’s so much I need to say to Gabe and I want to speak with him first before I tell Nix the deets.
Hopping out of my bed, I rummage through my old dresser, looking for something better than this shirt before I stop myself. Nope. I’m not about to try to impress a guy as deadly as him. As fucked up as he is. Today at the rink was a mistake. One time, just like he said.
It can’t happen again.
It won’t.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Gabe’s thuds are a huge difference from my grandma’s flimsy patter and I wish my heart would stop booming with them. Something blocks the light from under the door, my breath stopping in my throat. I’m not sure how much time goes by, my eyes on the knob. Each second feels like an entire hour before the light reappears and I hear the door close across the hall.
Nibbling on the inside of my bottom lip, I don’t move. Like I’m scared or frozen. Is he changing? Putting something down? I wait another few minutes but nothing happens. Same after another ten. Another twenty. Then thirty.
Fucker.
I storm towards the door. With the television blaring from the living room below, I slam my fist into the wood. “Gabe!” I try to keep my yell to a whisper, saying it against the door. He doesn’t answer and knowing these doors don’t lock, I barge in.
Gabe sits on the edge of the small bed, staring at a photo in his hand. That makes me bite my tongue, finally looking around the ‘forbidden’ room. “Gabe?” A shiver rolls through me as I look around. The “Volcom” poster on the green wall catches my eyes first, then our old Gamestation tossed in the corner. My grandma’s cleaned up, boxes and plastic bins tucked to the side, but it’s still filled with his clutter. Remnants of him.
“Do you remember this photo?” Gabe asks, a break in the silence. I avoid the other photos on the walls—the ones from hockey games, Bible camps, and army cadets. Everything Gabe was there for, including the photo in his hand.
“Yeah, you clobbered the guy that called me an ugly bitch.” It’s hard not to laugh as memories of that night come flooding back. The look on the sorry asshole’s face when Gabe’s fist plummeted into it. “Confession?” The springy bed dips a bit when I sit next to him, Elijah’s smile between us lighting up the whole picture.
“What?” he asks.
“I totally started it.”
“I know. Still doesn’t mean he could talk to you like that.”
“Damn right.” My shoulder touches his and even that’s enough to set my whole body on fire, remembering what it was like to have his strong body pressed against me. “That night you made a deal with Elijah that you’d never let anything bad happen to me. As long as you’re there, I’d be fine.” There’s a twist in my stomach. A sickening knot. “Funny how that’s changed. Can’t even have a conversation.”
“Didn’t wanna talk at the rink, did you?” He flicks the faded photo across the room.
“Like you didn’t want to talk about the kiss the first night you saw me? Or where you were the night Elijah—” His grip comes around my neck, cutting off my words before he pushes me on the mattress. I fight back but he’s too fucking strong.
“What? You wanna talk about how we made a mistake? Or do you want to feel my fingers in you again, is that it, Dee? You want my cock?” His eyes dart around my face, nostrils flaring, his lips an inch away. “Is that why you’re so riled up? I can hardly sit in this room and you wanna talk about your snatch?”
“No, I—” My brows furrow, his grip tight enough to keep me in place but loose enough so I can speak. That’s not it at all. “You keep leaving! You won’t answer my questions! Any of them! You just get off on being this god you think you are. How am I not supposed to think that you didn’t have something to do with Elijah? That you don’t have something to do with whatever’s going on at the school?”
“Get the fuck out!” He releases me, getting up before he pulls me off the mattress like I’m a doll, walking me towards the door. “I’m done, Dee.”
“Done?” I’m outside the door before I realize. “We haven’t even started!”
Slam!
Cocks! My fists rap against the wood again and when I push on the door, something’s blocking it from opening. Like he’s pressing against it or he’s put something there. “Gabe!”
“Delilah?” My grandma’s climbing up the stairs, finding me with my hands splayed against the wood. “You need Gabriel?”
Shit. My hands drop, avoiding her eyes until I have an answer. “Just wanted to know if I could get a ride with him to school tomorrow,” I lie. “He left me this morning.” Not a lie.
She sm
iles, patting my back when she reaches the top. “Gabe’s a nice boy. He won’t leave you alone.”
If only that was true.
“Delilah!” Hazel waves me over to where I enter the library, laptop in her face. She’s sitting by herself with what appears to be Sammy’s sweater on her shoulders.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask as I approach. There’s a solemn air on campus. While students still “bah” at me like I’m some lost sheep, the remarks and comments are minimal. Pictures of Sammy litter the halls in memoriam, a display of remembrance in front of the chapel.
Hazel tugs on the cross around her neck. “It’s just so weird …” She doesn’t know half of it. Shaking her head, she wipes away the tear in her eye, straightening up. “How’s the roomie situation?”
Collapsing in the grey bean bag couch next to her, my eyes wander the space. It looks like something from Futurama. Four floors filled with white shelving and glass walls. Bubble chairs and cubicles.
“So very fun,” I say, sarcasm fueling my tone. While Gabe left me behind again this morning, the wheels on my board were still in place. That means I was actually early to class for once. No help from Hazel needed.
“I bet.” Hazel twists her ponytail as the “gods” enter the library, Gabe included. With our view from the second-floor balcony, I can see every movement. Every muscle. Like he knows I’m here, he looks up and our eyes meet. My stomach flips. I want to pull away but I can’t. I want to punch him in his face but I can’t either. “Can’t imagine what it would be like to have a god living in my home.”
“He’s not a god.” Even though he uses his fingers like one. Turning my back to him, I haven’t decided how I’ll get what I want. Gabe’s acting like nothing at all happened last night and I’m trying my hardest not to let that affect me. “He’s the devil.”
“And they’re approaching.” Hazel sits up, dusting off her kilt.
“Ladies!” Adam greets, his blazer over his shoulder when they reach the top of the escalator. Gabe keeps walking, not even a glance our way as Adam rests a foot on the coffee table. Clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his salon-styled hair. “Yours truly turns nineteen this weekend. My parents are out of town. So you know what that means.”