by S. J. Sylvis
We all stopped and stared at each other, a trio of brothers at a loss for words. Christian eventually dropped his gaze and backed away. He gave me one more glance before turning around and stalking off to the front door. “You better watch her, Eric. She has sharp claws.” Before he left my house, he stopped with one foot out the door. “And if I knew she was yours first, I would have never fucking touched her. You know that, right?” He glanced back at me, and for the first time in all of our lives, I saw a sliver of remorse in his eye.
I nodded. “It’s true what they say, you know.”
“What?” He half turned toward me, his hand on the doorknob with Ollie nearby.
“Hayley did thaw your heart.”
Ollie snickered as Christian rolled his eyes aggressively. “Fuck off.”
Ollie cackled as he followed him out after giving me a fist bump.
I craned my neck back to the stairs, ready to get back to Madeline.
I heard every last thing Christian and Ollie had said, but none of it really mattered. They didn’t know her like I did.
No one did.
After scooping up Madeline’s clothes and rearranging the pillows on the couch, I went back upstairs to check on her. My bedroom door creaked as I pushed it open. I leaned against the wooden door jamb and locked onto her curled body, tangled in my sheets.
Her hair was cascading in waves all over my pillow, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a delicate shadow over her high cheek bone. She’d make an amazing muse for a painter or sculptor with her soft, angelic features. I was almost jealous I couldn’t capture her like this and bottle it up forever.
Was Christian right? Would Madeline end up fucking me over in the end? I gripped her clothes tighter, wondering if I had gotten myself into something too deep. She wasn’t what they said she was. She wasn’t some crazy, fucked-up chick with sharp claws. She was scared, and fragile, albeit distant when it came to others, but I was still swept up in her, wanting to protect her and be there for her.
After laying her folded clothes at the end of the bed, I sat on top of the covers and continued staring down at her face. Her eyes fluttered a few times before relaxing again, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
The shine of headlights caught my eye from the window, and I left her on the bed alone, wanting to get a better look.
Madeline’s father’s Jaguar whipped into their driveway, parking just behind Madeline’s black BMW. His door swung open, and a tall leg popped out. He wore dark slacks and a crisp white button-down with the first few buttons undone. His light hair was gelled back, his jaw clean shaven. When he went around to the passenger side and opened the door, Madeline’s mom stepped out, and she was slammed against the hood so fast I hardly had time to blink.
My heart ricocheted with rising stress. I didn’t particularly care for Madeline’s mom, and I’d never ever be able to get the visual out of my head of her ass up in the air and my father’s dick buried inside her, but the thought of Madeline’s father using his hands as weapons and his steely gaze as a warning had my entire body shaking.
I kept going back to the night before when Madeline was trembling in my hands. He scared her, and I didn’t take kindly to that at all.
My jaw ground back and forth as he hovered over her mom, assuming the moon and stars were his only witnesses.
I rested my arm along the window, gazing down sternly as he pulled her dress up and wrapped her leg around his backside. Her head was turned as if she were trying to pretend he wasn’t on top of her, fucking her with what seemed to be his hand. My stomach turned when he bent his face down to hers and kissed her. Her back arched up, and he smiled down like the fucking devil.
She was swiftly flipped around with her ass in the air, her dress bundled up to her hips, and he pounded her from behind. I had to turn and stop watching for a moment, because I was sickened by it. What a fucking douche. Could he not see that she wasn’t enjoying herself? Or did he just not care? She wasn’t pushing him away, not physically, but even from where I was standing, I could see that she was just waiting until the moment passed. There was no flick of desire on her features, no opened-mouth orgasm driven from pleasure. Nothing. The only thing I caught a glimpse of was a blank expression and downcast eyes.
After making sure Madeline was still asleep, I looked back through the glass only to see him zipping his pants and smiling like the snake that he was. He turned Madeline’s mom back around and pulled her dress down before slamming his mouth onto hers. Her back was ramrod straight, her limbs stiff like she’d been paralyzed.
He’d mouthed something to her that barely had her mouth lifting to a smile before getting back into his Jaguar and backing down the driveway. She stood and waited, dress half on, until his taillights faded.
Then, she quickly darted for the bushes and bent over at the waist. Her body wracked and heaved. When she stood up, she wiped at her mouth and peered up at Madeline’s window.
I dodged out of the way before she found me lurking like a fucking creep. It was no wonder she slept with my dad or any other men she brought home.
If I had to be with that man, I’d want an escape too.
Still didn’t excuse her sleeping with a married man, but at least now I had a little bit of insight.
My father on the other hand?
He had no excuse.
None at all.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Madeline
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d slept cuddled up to a guy. Once, I’d fallen asleep with Christian, but we weren’t cuddling like long-lost lovers or even like the couple that we both pretended to be. To be honest, Eric had been the only guy I’d ever fallen asleep next to, with our limbs tangled like a knot, our skin brushing against one another like a live wire, ready to burn us alive.
I swallowed back my selfishness and slid out from his heavy arm. His features tightened for a moment, the mass of dark lashes outlining his closed eyes as they clenched, but soon, everything relaxed again, and I got to take in the softness of his sharp jaw and straight nose. Eric’s dark, thick hair was laying over his forehead, grazing down onto his eyebrows. His cheek was turned away from me, the smoothness of it begging me to run my finger along the chiseled curve. Eric was dangerously attractive; he made everything awaken when he pinned me with a stare. There was always a slight dip in my stomach when he’d catch my eye, some automatic pull between us, like we were tied at the waist by the same rope. He was bare chested as he slept, his expanding chest moving effortlessly with each flowing breath.
Depression started to set in as I pulled my bra and panties back on. The fabric of my shirt and pants felt heavy against my body—uncomfortable—like it knew that, just hours prior, I had Eric’s hands running along my skin.
There was too much bad shit that had gone on between Eric and me. It wasn’t like we were best friends and had drifted apart due to age, or like I’d moved away and we had lost touch. Instead, it was years and years of me parading his best friend in front of his face after I’d inevitably hurt him and threw him out of my life so fast he couldn’t even reach a hand out for help. Hearing him defend me to his friends made me feel warm all over, like the sun had dipped down and brushed over my shoulders, but it was wrong.
We had no future. I hurt him. My mom had a hand in ruining his parents’ marriage. His friends hated me. Eric deserved so much better. Even when he spat hateful things my way and snickered when someone wrote slut on my locker in permanent marker for the fifteenth time since Christmas break, he still deserved better.
I gave him one last look before tiptoeing to his door, grabbing my phone on the way. My mom had texted at some point, after I’d gotten back in bed and fallen asleep after hearing Eric with his friends, that my dad had left for the airport hours ago. Thank God.
I told myself it was better this way. My mom and I could go back to our fake lives, revolving around hushed truths, and Eric could go back to hating me, and everything would be
normal again.
There would be no more guilty thoughts, no more butterflies full of hope in my stomach, nothing. I could go back to feeling absolutely nothing, except that tiny bit of fear I’d continue to push away until it’d eventually fade.
One foot was in the hallway when I froze, my back snapping to attention.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
Shit.
Slowly spinning around, pushing my hair over my shoulder, I bit down on my lip. I averted my eyes away from him, unable to say even a single word. Say something, Madeline.
My first reaction was to lash out, to be the meanest I could be so he would just let me go. But something inside of me began to mend the very second he protected me. It mended even further when he defended me to his friends.
“What’s this?” he asked, his voice all sleepy.
I watched in dread as he reached for the note I had left, ironically on the back of the stupid piece of notebook paper he’d held up through the window the other day.
A gulp worked itself down my throat as I gripped my phone, glancing away.
He chuckled, and I winced at the crumpling of the notebook paper and then flinched all together when it landed on the floor.
Silence passed between us, each of us waiting for the other to break the ice. I knew I had to be the one to do it, so I did what I did best; I shut him out. “What did you expect, Eric?” I asked, placing my shaky hands on my hips for stability. His gaze lingered there for a moment as he sat up in his bed, the blanket falling to his lap. “Did you expect us to walk into English Prep Monday, holding hands, acting like a power couple?” A breath-filled laugh left me. “I heard everything Christian and Ollie said a little while ago, and they were absolutely right. I’m not good for you. For anyone.” It hurt to say it, but it was the truth.
“So you heard the entire conversation between us then?” Eric’s jaw ticked back and forth with unshed anger. “Then you heard me defend you, right?”
My stomach began falling, dread pulling it all the way to the floor. “Yeah. That’s part of the issue.”
Eric pushed the blankets off his legs and stood up quickly, adjusting the waistband of his sweats around his slender hips. I hated how good he looked. It made me waver for a moment. “How is that part of the issue?”
I threw my hands up, looking past him at the window. “I’m not coming between you and your friends. You shouldn’t be arguing with them about the girl you just fucked. They hate me. Everyone at school hates me. Your mom should hate me. And let’s not forget that my mom ruined your parents' marriage! I could barely look your mom in the eye, let alone your dad! He knew I knew that they were fucking occasionally. He even waved to me afterward, like it was no big deal. Are we just gonna pretend like everything is all good with us? Because if there’s anything I know, you can’t just keep shoving the truth under the fucking rug. It’ll all come out eventually.”
Eric stared at me intently as I ranted. He stood in the same spot, right next to his bed, with the warm glow of the lamp outlining his body like he was a god. Seconds passed, maybe even hours, before he finally slanted his head and glared. “You don’t get to do that again.”
I fidgeted on my feet, backing up into the hallway so we weren’t even in the same room. “Do what?”
“You don’t get to shut me out again. I’m not letting you.”
Anger came rushing to the surface. Anger and fear. I felt scrambled inside, unable to pinpoint exactly what I was angry about and what I should have been fearing. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Eric. I’ve never given anyone the power to boss me around, and I won’t start now.”
A dark chuckle came from him, and goosebumps rushed to my skin. He was in my face fast with his hand wrapped around my back like a snake striking its opponent. His stormy gaze fell upon me like a dark cloud over the ocean. “You don’t want me to touch you? Fine.” I gulped, my breasts pushing upward, rubbing along his chest. I ignored the way my body sparked. “You don’t want me to kiss you? Also fine. I won’t kiss you unless you beg for it. You don’t want us to hold hands and act like some fucking power couple? Super.” His face crowded mine, his lips a breath away, making it hard for me to remember where I was. The floor thundered under my feet with the protectiveness of his tone. “But so help me God, if I see a red Porsche in your driveway, I’ll be over to your house so fast you won’t even have time to panic. And if I see that sleek, expensive Jaguar parked just behind your car, I’ll be in your closet with you, holding your hand as your father demands that your mother bows at his fucking feet. And if either of them—or anyone, for that matter—lays a hand on you without your consent”—Eric reached up and grabbed onto my face so hard I couldn’t look away even if I wanted—“I will rip their fucking arms from their body.”
My lip began to tremble. A firework worth of feelings clawed at my chest, begging to be let out as I willed for them to stay put. How? How could he still be so protective over me even when I was pushing him away again? I swallowed back the sadness in my throat and bit my lip so it would stop wobbling like the weak girl I’d become. Eric’s eyes drove into mine, his fingers digging into my skin. “You pushed me away once, Maddie, and I swore I’d never ever give you the power to do that again.” His hand suddenly vanished from my face, and his fingers let go of my shirt he’d had bundled from behind. He bent at the waist and picked up the crumpled piece of notebook paper and held it up. “So no, I won’t stop worrying about you. Thanks for the recommendation, though.”
Leave, Madeline. Fucking leave right now.
I stepped one foot backwards, and then another, neither one of us breaking the hold we had on each other. I was unable to grasp the fact that my plan didn’t work. That he still wasn’t giving up even after I’d reminded him of everything bad that came associated with me. What do I do now?
Right before I turned to dart down the stairs, Eric left me with, “Let me know when the nightmares come back, Maddie. I’ll be over when you need me, even though I know you’ll tell yourself that you don’t.”
Eric was wrong.
I did need him. He just didn’t need me.
The next few days were some of the worst I’d ever had at English Prep, and that was saying something, because nothing out of the ordinary happened. No one messed with me. No one tried to trip me in the cafeteria or called me a cum-dumpster as I walked by. Slut was somehow magically erased from the front of my locker too.
It was all very strange, but I wouldn’t let myself ask Eric if he had something to do with it. Eric was a no-look, no-talk, and no-think zone. Of course, two out of three of those were nearly impossible to abide by. I thought of him 24/7. I even dreamt of him last night when I’d managed to let myself sleep, too afraid he was right, that the nightmares would start coming back. And they did, except it was an entirely new nightmare.
This one was all about Eric. Instead of some creep sneaking into my room to feel me up, it was Eric. I enjoyed it, even waking up with a wetness between my legs, but somehow my dream flipped, and he’d left my room and started fucking my mom down the hall.
To say I was fucked up would be an understatement.
It was even more messed up that I told Eric to stay away from me and to stop worrying about me, yet I couldn’t stop searching for him every single time I walked into the lunchroom. Our eyes would meet briefly, and he’d hold my stare all while nonverbally asking, Change your mind? I’d quickly look away and pretend to go about my business.
For the entire time in history class, my neck prickled like little spiders were crawling all over. Whenever I’d brush my hair back behind my shoulder, I’d catch his lingering stare on me, causing my face to flush and my back to sweat.
I was exhausted when I came home from school, only to become even more exhausted as I tried to force myself to stop looking at his bedroom window, too afraid he’d be standing there like some bodyguard, but on the other hand, I was even more afraid he’d be gone, partying at the cabin.
What I needed was for him to leave me alone so I could bask in self-pity and fear. But what I wanted was for him to keep watching me and making me feel the sort of jitters you get when you’re about to have your first kiss.
I was pathetic. I dug my heels in, wondering where that fierce, I-don’t-need-anyone girl I used to be was.
I groaned, kicking my uniform skirt halfway across the floor of my bedroom. I put my back to my window, ignoring the fact that I could hardly keep myself from glancing at his every three seconds. My mom was gone, go figure, probably trying to gain back her self-worth after my father had crumbled it a few days ago.
After flinging off my shirt, I stalked to my closet to put on something comfy. I had the urge to text some of my old friends, those who didn’t necessarily bully me after Christian shunned me from the entire school but also didn’t reach out. I wouldn’t mind wasting my time with them, even if they weren’t really friends to begin with. That was, if they even wanted to be seen with me.
Rolling my eyes, I opened my closet and flipped on the light, only to scream bloody murder. My hand flew to my chest. “What the hell, Eric!” I scrambled backwards, tripping over my shirt that I’d haphazardly thrown to the floor and landing on my ass with a whoosh.
His palms were on me within an instant, pulling me to my feet. His large hand swiped my messy hair out of my face. “You good?”
If I had any will power left in my body when it came to him, I would have ripped my arm out from his grasp. But instead of doing that, I stood there, in nothing but my underwear, bra, and knee-high tights, completely out of breath. “I…I..”
Eric raised his eyebrows as his lips tilted upward. I took a step back, and he dropped my arm.
“What are you doing in my closet, Eric?”
Eric darted his gaze away momentarily, which was unusual for him. He was typically searing me from the inside out, his dark and moody eyes always trained to mine like they were sucking my soul. “Not worrying about you, that’s what.”