“Well, I’m not a normal girl.”
“No, you’re not.”
The way he says it confuses me. But not as much as the way he’s looking at me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“Like what?” He keeps looking at me in the same way.
I eye him over. “I don’t know … like you’re a sugar junkie, and I’m a candy bar.”
He sinks his teeth into his lip and turns away, staring at the road and gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “You have no idea,” he mutters. “No damn idea.”
“Okay, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Instead of answering, he shrugs, keeping his focus on the road, acting weird, even for him.
I eyeball him over, wondering what the hell he’s thinking right now. And not knowing makes me feel squirmy and uneasy.
“Okay, now why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, releasing his lip from his teeth.
“I’m not looking at you in any way.” I yank my attention off him then change the subject. “So, where are we going?”
It takes him a moment to say anything, his gaze boring a hole into the side of my head. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my scarred skin.
“I’ll let you off the hook for now. Next time you look at me like that, though, I’m going to get the truth out of you.” His tone turns devious. “No matter what it takes.”
“Oh no, not the no matter what it takes threat,” I mock with an eye roll.
A small smile touches West’s lips as he drives down the road, but then he frowns. “We’re going to Masie’s,” he says as he glances at his phone.
“What!” My attention snaps to him. “No. Don’t take me back there. I’m worried if I see her again, I’ll kick her ass. And I can’t get arrested again.”
“Again, huh?” He glances at me. “What’s your number up to now?”
“I don’t know … like, five, maybe.”
“You’re lucky your sister has a cop for a friend.”
“Yeah, probably.”
He grins, and the corners of my lips quirk up into an almost smile, yet I don’t quite make it there.
Then he sighs. “Look, we need to go to Masie’s so we can look at your car and see if we need to pick up any parts.”
I guess he’s right, but still …
“Do we have to do that tonight?” I ask. “I’d kind of like a break from her, at least for the rest of the night.”
“Okay … But eventually, you’re going to have to get it over with.”
“I know but … can we, like, do it tomorrow?”
He hesitates. “Sure.”
He seems so squirrely suddenly …
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
I stare him down. “West, just tell me. You’ve always been honest with me, even when the truth hurts.”
He glances at me. “That’s not completely true. Remember that one time when I saw your cat get ran over and I didn’t tell you for a week because I knew you’d get upset?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” I drum my fingers on top of my knee. “I actually thought that was kind of nice of you, though.” Back when I actually thought I deserved nice.
He crooks a brow. “Really? Because you seemed pissed off at the time.”
I sigh. “Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry I was. I just get that way sometimes. Besides, I think part of why I reacted that way is because there’s always sort of been this challenge thing going on between us.”
“What do you mean?” he asks too innocently.
I give him an unimpressed look. “I think you know what I mean.”
“Okay, maybe I do.”
“Then why pretend you don’t?”
He shrugs. “Because I don’t want it to exist anymore.” He shrugs again, seeming confused and kind of vulnerable. “When I first met you, it was pretty clear you weren’t a fan of mine, so I played it off by teasing you.”
Really? That’s what this little thing between us has been about?
“It’s not that I didn’t not like you. You just know how to push my buttons.”
His brow curves upward. “Really? Because sometimes it seems like you hate me.”
I waver, unsure of what to say to that. “Look, I know we tease each other and everything, but I’ve never thought: Hey, I hate West. In fact, I’ve always thought you were kind of funny, even when I’m the butt of your jokes.” Look at me, trying to be nice. I’m not sure if I hit the mark, though, or why I’m trying to hit it at all.
I think this day might’ve broke me.
“You’ve never been the butt of my jokes. And I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” He nibbles on his lip undecidedly. I can tell the moment he arrives at a decision, because he smirks. “I’ve always thought of our little bantering as flirting.”
“Yeah right.”
He gives me a dubious look. “Deep down, I know you think the same thing.”
I glare at him. “I so do not.”
He smirks. “Sure, you don’t.”
“I do not and stop saying that.”
“What? Stop saying the truth? That just seems silly.” A wicked glint flickers in his eyes. “Besides, back at the park, I could tell you liked me biting your neck.”
“No, I didn’t.” It’s not a total lie. Not that I hated it … I just … “Dude, you’re about to get your ass kicked.”
He grins. “Aw, please don’t tease me.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Whatever you say.”
His indifference drags the fire out of me, something I haven’t felt in a long time.
“The neck biting thing was the most unpleasant experience I’ve ever had,” I say. “And I’m going to show you.” I lean over, put my mouth beside his neck, part my lips, and then sink my teeth into him. I don’t bite hard enough to draw blood, but he’s definitely going to have some teeth marks on his skin. Then I move back and smirk. “See?”
He doesn’t respond, just pulls the car over and turns off the engine.
“What’re you …?” I trail off as he leans over and puts his mouth on my neck, gently grazing his teeth along my skin as he sucks and nips and bites. I can feel the cold metal of his tongue ring against my skin, and I gasp, clutching him, goosebumps sprouting across my flesh …
For a moment, it feels good.
But then memories catch up with me, cold like the metal of his tongue ring.
“You’re so ugly. You should be glad I’m even touching you at all,” he whispers as he grabs my breast—
I jerk back, panting, my mind racing so swiftly that I can barely process where I am and can barely get air into my lungs as painful memories sear my brain.
West whispers something incoherently before he pulls away with his lips pressed together. “Sorry,” he mumbles, seeming unsure of himself and unlike the West I know.
“You’re so ugly. No one wants you.”
I let out a shaky exhale. “It’s fine. I just … I’m so confused … I just don’t understand why you did that. I mean, it’s not like you’re attracted to me. And we aren’t … I mean …” I trail off, realizing I’m rambling.
Calm down.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Now shove it down.
A strange look crosses West’s face and, for a moment, I worry he can see behind my mask. But then he says, “You do realize me and almost every guy that goes to our school thinks you’re hot, right?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not true. I know it isn’t.”
He frowns. “Lex, whatever happened with Jay and his friends, they were just dumbasses who wanted to mess with your head for blowing them off. The shit they said wasn’t true.”
I look away, hearing Jay’s and his friends’ words echoing in my head and feeling the stuff they did to me. Feeling the day Jay touched me without my permission.
Of course West can say what he’
s saying. All he knows about what happened is from the little Masie once told him and Blaine, despite my protests. And that was basically that Jay and his friends were being jerks to me, which is all anyone really knows. No one needs to know about how much they teased me, the cornering in the hallways, the shit they wrote on my locker, the many times they told me to kill myself, that frightening moment on the bathroom floor when Jay put his hands on me …
“Lex, look at me,” he says in the softest tone, and I almost do. But then his phone rings, and he answers it with a grumbled, “Hello?”
When he doesn’t say anything else, I glance at him and find his eyes fixed on me.
“Yeah … No, she’s here with me.” He gives a brief pause. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to you, man.” Another pause. “No, I’m not going to tell you where we are.” He grows quiet, shaking his head, then snaps, “Look, if she wants to talk to you, she’ll call you, okay? I gotta go.” Then he hangs up.
The reality of the day sweeps over me again. “Let me guess; that was Blaine?”
He nods, uneasiness creasing his expression. “He wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh.” I press my lips together.
The idea of talking to Blaine ever again makes me want to break something. And what’s even worse is I know I’m eventually going to have to, even if I don’t want to. Honeyton is a really small town. Plus, we go to school together.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to talk to him, but”—He searches my eyes and a crinkle forms between his brows—“maybe I’m wrong.” His lips sink into a frown. “If you do, you can call him. I’m sure he’d love that.” A drop of bitterness creeps into his tone, and he quickly clears his throat.
I assess him closely. “Are you okay?”
He dismisses me with a smile. “I’m always okay.”
“West,” I start, but he drives forward. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home,” he informs me. “Then, tomorrow, if you still want to, I’ll pick you up and help you fix your car.”
“Okay, that sounds good.”
I sink into silence. West remains strangely quiet, too.
I do my best to remain calm for the rest of the drive, letting that wall rebuild around me. I vowed a long time ago that I’d never let that wall come down, and I refuse to break that vow again.
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling into my driveway. I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out without uttering a word, ready to get the hell away from this awkward car ride. Well, most of it has been awkward. Not all of it, though. Truthfully, West made me feel sort of better, which is weird to think about.
“Lex,” he calls out as I’m about to shut the car door.
I pause then lower my head and glance into the cab. “Yeah?”
He rests his arm on the console as he leans over it. “Can we …? Can we just forget that neck kissing thing happened?”
Relief trickles through me. “Yeah, definitely.”
He smiles in relief, but then hesitancy crosses his expression. “Do you … think we can try to be friends?”
I almost say no, partly because of the whole neck kissing thing and partly because this is West and … well, it’s tough picturing us as friends. Plus, I’m really starting to suck at this whole friend thing. I had two left in this world, and now they’re gone. And all that’s left is pain.
Always so much pain.
Usually, I’m better at not feeling it, and maybe that’s why I say what I say next. Or perhaps I’m just tired. Whatever the reason, I find myself nodding despite my mind’s protests and warnings. “Yeah, okay. I guess we could try.”
“Okay, cool.” He moves to sit back in his seat. “I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m ready to go work on your car. Hopefully, we can get it fixed in one day.”
“Thanks.” I shut the door then head into my house.
When I step inside, I slump back against the door, the painful emotions of today trying to surface again and crush me from the inside out.
I’m not going to lose my shit here.
As I push away from the door and head for my room, chatter floats from the kitchen. My brothers and sisters are probably in there, eating dinner together. A part of me longs to go in there with them, longs to be the girl who could sit down and eat a meal with her family. But that girl died the day her parents died.
As my chest constricts, I spin around and slip back out the front door, heading to the garage to grab my backpack filled with spray paint.
I used to love to stain canvases with my soul, but I haven’t done that since my parents died. I have, however, found another alternative to express myself. One that I could get in trouble for if I got caught, but I just don’t care. All I care about is getting these stupid emotions out of me, no matter what I have to do.
Once I get my supplies, I leave the garage and hike down the sidewalk, heading toward the central part of town. Since I live in a subdivision that’s located a few miles out of town, it takes me a while to get to the area where most of the stores and shops are. By the time I arrive, I’m hot and getting sweaty, but I don’t give a shit. All I care about is doing this and getting it all out of me.
I veer down the nearest alley then drop my bag on the ground, take out a can of spray paint, and glance around to make sure no one is watching. Once I’m satisfied that I’m alone, I lift the can up to the wall, which is the side of a store, and paint the bricks with my pain.
Today, she learned the definition of betrayal.
A thorn got lodged in her heart,
But her heart was already woven with thorns
So really, did the betrayal matter?
Maybe one day she’ll find out.
But maybe she won’t.
Not everything has an answer.
— Signed with a Kiss
I always sign it the same way, but everything I spray onto the walls is different and are in random places across town. It’s really starting to annoy the townspeople, and the police are offering a reward for anyone who can bring in the person behind it. That should scare me enough to stop, but I can’t seem to make myself care.
As I stand in the alley, looking up at the art I created that now stains this building, I feel my control coming back.
I lower my head and my hands against the bricks hard enough that my palms split open.
Air in.
Air out.
Just breathe.
And that’s what I do. I keep breathing until every last ounce of pain leaves me and dissolves into the paint-saturated air. Then I walk away, feeling empty, just how I want to feel.
That’s when I spot him.
Jay and his friends, standing in the parking lot next door and passing around what looks like a bottle of tequila. His face looks a bit sunburned, other than that, he looks put together—nice clothes, styled brown hair, straight white teeth that glisten even in the dark when he smiles. But it’s all a façade. A mask. Just like mine. Only, his covers up darkness, while mine covers up the brokenness festering inside me.
He holds me down while running his hands all over my body, touching me in places no one has before. I start to scream, but he slaps his hand over my mouth and forces me down against the tile floor. Then he keeps touching me while I try to fight, but I feel so beaten down from all the previous crying.
Beaten down.
Broken.
Empty.
Dead.
Just like my parents.
Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening.
I can’t do this.
I can’t …
Finally, he stops.
“You’re welcome,” he says as he stands up, leaving me shaking on the floor.
My shirt is ridden up, and everywhere he touched me burns.
My eyes are empty with tears.
Everything is empty.
Everything is dead.
“Jesus, you’re pathetic,” he mutters when I don’t get up. “Do you know how many girls would l
ove to be in your position right now? Do you know how many girls wish I would touch them?”
I say nothing.
I am nothing.
I want to die.
“Whatever,” he mumbles, leaving the bathroom.
Only then do I push up and crawl over to the toilet where I throw up until nothing is left inside me.
Nothing.
“Yeah, you should definitely screw her,” Jay says as he hands one of his friends the bottle. “I did a few months ago. She’s a pretty good lay. Well, when she’s out of it. When she’s sober, she talks too much—”
I whirl around and walk off in the other direction. My heart is racing inside my chest, and my skin is crawling.
I’m about to lose it.
Take a deep breath, Alexis. Shut it down.
Air in.
Air out.
Now put up that mask.
Don’t feel a thing.
Become Numb Alexis.
When my phone buzzes from inside my pocket, I move to answer it, seeking a distraction. But then I instantly frown when I see who the text is from.
Masie: Oh my God! I know you’re mad at Blaine and me right now, but seriously, I didn’t think you’d do something this bad.
What in the hell is she talking about?
Me: I’ve done a lot of bad things, so you’re gonna have to be more specific.
Masie: You had West punch Blaine! His face is so swollen! And he’s really upset about it!
West punched Blaine? Why …? Huh …? What?
Me: Hate to break it to you, but I didn’t tell West to do that. Guess you’re gonna have to find another way to try to guilt-trip me into forgiving you.
Masie: This is so ridiculous. Why won’t you just talk to me? Blaine wants to talk to you, too. Please, just talk to us.
I shake my head. While I don’t want to talk to Masie, I have even less desire to talk to Blaine. Just the idea of seeing him again … now that I know he’s aware that I feel that way about him …
Dammit. I’m going to have to see him at school next week. I don’t want to. And I don’t care if that makes me seem weak. Because, if it’s one thing I hate more than feeling emotions, it’s people knowing about how I feel.
I feel so exposed right now.
And I’m burning with anger. Simmering. But anger, I can handle. Anger is so much better than pain.
Signed with a Kiss: A Novel (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 1) Page 5