Craving Dragonflies

by Terri E. Laine

  When his focus landed on me again, I was paralyzed. His silent communication went on deaf ears as I was lost in just how gorgeous he was in a tragic way. It was like how my scientific specimens stared at me with abject horror that their lives had ended just to be pinned to a petri dish for study.

  “Spare tire.”

  I blinked. His gruff voice was like a command forcing my body into action. It took a second for my brain to process his words. I shuffled away, feeling more like a complete loser than I ever had. I shoved back my sun-bleached curls, muttering curses in my head.

  Clearly, I’d been moving too slow for him as he wedged in behind me, something I was keenly aware of. He was so close I could smell the faint scent of soap he’d used to shower with. Even with barely millimeters between us, his skin never touched mine. I stepped out of the way when he effortlessly lifted the tire from my trunk like it was an inflatable beach tube.

  Then he slid by me and worked the spare on in a matter of a few minutes.

  “I’ve never seen anyone work as efficiently as a worker ant before.”

  Had I really just said that? Not that it mattered. He didn’t so much turn and acknowledge that I’d spoken.

  I pulled the elastic band I used to tame my hair from my arm and worked it around the mass that begged for a flat iron. I managed to wrangle the mess into a half-formed bun at the base of my neck before he stood, hefting the damaged tire into my open trunk.

  Metal clanged shut when he called over to me. “Don’t drive too long on that.”

  “Thank you,” I said to his retreating form. Though he didn’t run, his lengthy stride had him out of earshot in seconds. “Thank you,” I muttered again, more to myself.

  My phone had vibrated a few times during the short time he’d taken to sort me out.

  “Celeste,” I said into the phone.

  “Where are you? I’ve called a dozen times and you haven’t answered—”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m on my way.”

  “On your way? Seriously. I’m standing out here wilting in the sun. I should have driven myself…”

  The shrillness of her voice made me flinch. I got into the car, knowing it was better for me to be on my way than to listen to her give me hell for not being on time.

  I set the phone in the cradle and let her continue barking into the phone. Hopefully, getting her rant off her chest would leave her in a better mood once I picked her up.

  By the time I arrived in front of the beauty spa my stepsister frequented, she stood tapping her foot in time to the barrage of unflattering words directed at me. Apparently, I was an awful sister. My tardiness was a reflection of how little I cared about her.

  I sighed and pulled to a stop directly in front of her. She barely had to reach to open the car door and get in.

  “Where is your mind, Willow? I’m practically dripping with sweat.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Finally, she took a breath. “What happened? It’s not like you. Tell me it’s a boy. I could forgive that.”

  My tongue loosened, but I stopped myself. If I told her about the nameless boy who had changed my tire, she would make it her mission to try to hook us up and only end up making the boy like her. She didn’t mean it. She hadn’t asked to be born with perfect hair, a movie star face, and a picture-perfect body that made guys weak. No, it wasn’t her fault. At the same time, I couldn’t lie.

  “I had a flat tire and a heck of a time changing it.”

  She glared at me. “And you didn’t get some guy to help you?”

  For her, this was the obvious move. For me, I wasn’t helpless and I couldn’t fault her for being so. Her father doted on her like she was the princess she acted like.

  “One did,” I admitted.

  Her frown morphed into a blazing smile. “And?”

  I shrugged as I pulled out into traffic. “He helped and I told him thank you.”

  Though it was probable he hadn’t heard me.

  “What’s his name? Is he cute? Did you get his number?” When I only shrugged, she frowned again. “You can’t leave college a virgin. Seriously, Willow. This isn’t the 1950s. No guy is going to respect you more for saving yourself for marriage.”

  Talk about burn. I hated that I flinched. It wasn’t like I was purposefully saving myself. I dated a few guys over the years, but either they’d used me to get to Celeste or once they met her, they forgot about me.

  “Guys aren’t interested in me,” I said half-heartedly.

  She sighed. “Willow, you’re so pretty. There are so many guys out there. You just have to stop hiding in that lab studying bugs to meet them.”

  Bugs didn’t hurt you like people did. At least the dead ones, not that I killed them. Though she was trying to be kind, the nameless boy hadn’t even given me a once-over.

  Mom and Celeste could call me pretty all they wanted, but I’d never felt it. I was the ugly stepsister who didn’t catch the beautiful gene.

  I wondered again what it would have been like if my father hadn’t died. I envied Celeste and my stepdad’s relationship. He was nice to me to a point, but his eyes didn’t light up when he saw me like they did when he looked at his precious daughter.

  “Willow.”

  I blinked and came to a stop. My mind had wandered, and I almost ran a red light.

  “Don’t kill us. We are going to a party tonight, and I’m going to glam you up. Tonight’s your night.”

  She didn’t stop there, though I tuned her out. There was no stopping her once her mind was made up. I would be going to the party whether I wanted to or not.

  Would I see my savior again? If Celeste dressed me like her—a doll in clothing too short or too tight—would he see me? And if he did, would I want him to like the version of me Celeste created?

  3

  Ashton

  * * *

  Between two fingers, I held the glass neck of my choice of poison for the night. I’d been irresponsibly mesmerized by the sight in front of me, hooked on the truth of what I was seeing.

  “Shit.”

  I glanced over at Chance, one of my former roommates. He’d muttered a curse staring at his girl, Brie. With her hands in the air, she moved to the beat with her friend, Shelly, who was in front of her. They were equally engaged in a snake charmer’s dance. The two had caught the attention of every guy in the room, including Sawyer who had worked his way behind Shelly. I didn’t want to notice him moving like he fucked, grinding behind her ass like she was everything he wanted and more. I looked away.

  The 1952 Macallan glided over my tongue. It was like honey coating my throat, taking me back to a time when he was behind me. It had been a one-time thing that happened when he’d been too fucked up to realize what he was doing. That single moment looped hopelessly in my mind and I couldn’t let it go.

  The rare scotch that cost upwards of five figures didn’t fill the empty spaces in me. By the time I brought the bottle down, Shelly’s face was mottled with anger as Sawyer glibly walked in our direction.

  “I wouldn’t mind being in that sandwich,” he said, eyeing Chance.

  “Don’t you fucking think about it!” Chance declared with menace written in the tightness of his brows.

  Then Sawyer’s gaze slid my way. I knew him well enough he’d realized what he said. How many times had it been the two of us the ends with some random girl between us? Those times were long over or so I told myself. Sawyer had a way of talking me into stuff.

  Time to go. I turned away from that stare I knew better than my own. His hand landed on my arm to stop me. It only took one death glare over my shoulder for his hold on me to fall away. I hated the shiver that raised the hairs on my arm.

  I headed to the only place I could think of that offered solitude, the backyard. My new dwelling upstairs belonged to Sawyer and me. I wouldn’t allow him to trap me there to talk.

  Outside, I breathed in the wood smoke coming from the fire pit and moved past the milling people to find a spot t
o claim.

  Before I got past the deck, a small crowd gathered in a semi-circle. Just as I was about to pass, I noticed a girl dancing to the beat of her own drum. She had a captivated audience of guys counting their chances to find out the color of her underwear. She lifted her head, grazing her hands sultrily over her breasts and down the center of her body. That’s when I caught sight of her face. It was tire girl from earlier today.

  “Fuck, man, I wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that.”

  That voice had my head snapping in Willhouse’s direction. Even with nothing but strung Christmas lights, I could see the drool practically running down his face.

  The “Wait. No. Stop,” snapped my focus back to the girl. She struggled against the hold of another girl. They played tug-of-war with her arm until the one holding her let go.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” the second girl said, like she was calming a terrified animal.

  “Can’t a girl lose her virginity in peace?”

  You would have thought time stopped with how deathly quiet it got until a few snickers from the growing crowd seemed to break the girl out of her drunken haze.

  “Did I just say that?” she slurred. Her friend nodded. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  She took off like a frightened bird.

  Immediately, I glanced Willhouse’s way. His nose was covered in something white like he was avoiding a sunburn. The dark glasses he wore only played off the look. People probably assumed it was some kind of inside joke or a frat prank.

  He knocked fists with another one of our brothers, and all I could imagine was punching that smug smile off his face. It wasn’t my business or so I told myself when I managed not to. Why should I care about some girl? I had a lot of my own shit to deal with. Yet, I found myself doubling back toward the house.

  It wasn’t hard to find her. Her back was to me as she clung to the railing of the deck. Her voluminous hair in different shades of blonde wasn’t as curly as it had been earlier, though it had begun to wave, probably because of the heat. Still, it made her distinctive and easily marked.

  Only she wasn’t alone and didn’t need my help. Standing next to her was a guy whom I’d caught looking at me several times tonight.

  His hand was on her back rubbing circles. Whatever he was saying, her head bobbed before they turned as one. My body instantly tightened.

  She looked nothing like the innocent girl I’d helped in the parking lot. No longer dancing, my eyes followed the line of her throat down to a top dipped dangerously low and a skirt that wouldn’t hide a thing from behind if she bent forward.

  Then there was the smile the guy next to her gave me. It was very different from the one he’d aimed at her seconds ago. His eyes dropped to where my dick decided to make a stand.

  Her eyes, on the other hand, softened. “You,” she said sloppily.

  She stumbled forward as if she planned to flee. I stiffened, prepared for the shock of pain to stab at my nerve endings when I had no choice but to catch her or let her face-plant.

  It should have been lucky for me when the other guy caught her. Then he gave me a smirk I didn’t want to interpret. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

  “Let me help you with that,” he said as smooth as cognac.

  As his eyes found my dick again, I had no idea if he was referring to catching her or how hard I’d gotten.

  It was more messed up I couldn’t determine if it was his heated stare or the swell of her breasts that had gotten me that way. Anger tightened my jaw. I hated that I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything. The only person I’d ever desired was lost to me.

  “I’m sorry,” the girl said. She wiped a hand over her mouth and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

  Then she looped off in a half-run, half-sway.

  The guy helping her didn’t follow. He just stood there with his eyes on me.

  I turned away, realizing I wasn’t ready for answers. Even subconsciously, Sawyer was there in my head yelling at me to follow through with one of them. When would I be my own person? When would the fucking one-sided feelings fade? I drifted around the side of the house and found a spot of wall to rest my back.

  I’d stood there long enough that my smart watch told me to breathe. I almost snatched the thing off and threw it. But the bottom of the bottle held more interest as I searched the sky for stars, tipping it back to swallow away my pain. The smooth way it went down had me longing for the burn of cheap alcohol so I could feel something other than the hollow spaces that made up my chest. Instead, the faint citrus taste clung to my tongue as I knocked the back of my head onto the wall as if I could gain sense from the action.

  A giggle caught my attention. Hidden by shadows, a couple emerged through the back gate, making their way toward the front of the house, and hadn’t spotted me.

  “You think I’m pretty,” the girl said, smiling up at him.

  “Of course.”

  I heard the lie in Willhouse’s voice. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she was pretty, more that he would have said whatever to fuck her.

  As they neared, I would have appreciated remaining hidden until I saw who it was.

  Tire girl. And she was barely walking on her own. Willhouse had an arm looped around her, helping her balance as they walked. The way he looked at her suggested her drunkenness was an answer to a prayer.

  His rep made slim seem appealing. Likely, he’d do her passed out and take pictures to share without a second thought. When he spotted me, his smirk grew.

  I stood straighter, pushed off the wall, and stepped to intercept their path.

  “I’ve got her,” Willhouse said.

  I let my eyes drop to the tape on his nose as a reminder, and then leveled a hard glared at him. His smug smile didn’t falter as if our early morning beef hadn’t happened.

  “She’s willing,” he said as if that was an excuse.

  Knowing him, he’d probably already recorded her consent in case he needed a lawyer later.

  “No.”

  My tone was a repeat from this morning, but it was a solitary word. So I shook my head to drive the point home before I shifted my gaze back down at her. She was staring at the ground as if she needed the reminder of how to put one foot in front of the other even though she was standing still.

  His eyes narrowed. “You calling dibs?”

  He’d sounded affable enough. But the heat in his gaze suggested there were other things he’d wanted to say and couldn’t in her company without blowing his chances.

  Like everyone in the backyard not long ago, he’d heard her confess her virgin status. That had made her his target for the night. Willhouse considered it his mission in life to conquer the virginal world. He had a game and scoreboard in his room with a cherry counter to mark each one he and others tagged and bagged.

  I didn’t play his stupid game, but for some reason I found myself nodding. I would tell myself later it was only the pureness of her smile that determined my fate.

  One of the rules was that a player could claim one girl as his. She’d be off limits to any of the frat brothers even if she didn’t know she’d been marked. Each player could only do it once. In three years, I’d never claimed anyone, though Sawyer had.

  Willhouse nodded, taking his game seriously. He dropped her hand and she swayed on her feet. Before I could move, he was in my face talking low so she couldn’t hear.

  “Fuck it, you can have her. She’s not the only cherry here tonight. You can’t save them all in this crusade of yours. I’ll mark her down. And maybe if you fuck her, you’ll leave the rest of us alone.” He sneered before stalking off.

  After I made sure he was gone, I turned back to find wide eyes on me.

  “Wait,” she called after him, realizing he was leaving. She aimed those innocent eyes on me. “Where is he going?”

  “You’re better off,” was all I could think to say.

  Glazed eyes turned sharp. “Why…” She paused and swallowed as if she might be sick. “Wh
y is everyone telling me—?” She heaved a little. “—Shit to do?” she blurted before turning her head and hurling on the shrubs.

  It was a wonder why we paid so much for lawn care. There was probably an extra charge for barf clean up. It was a regular occurrence at our house.

  If I thought she was done with her verbal vomit, I was wrong. The wounded expression she aimed at me hit home.

  “He hasn’t even seen Celeste yet.”

  I frowned, not sure what she was slurring about.

  Then her kaleidoscope eyes narrowed on me at the same time her lips curled into amused lines as she switched topics.

  “Do you know you have a beauty mark like Marilyn Monroe?”

  Before I could stop her, her fingertip scorched on one of my many imperfections.

  “It’s like it was stolen from here.” That same finger marked the divot in my chin. “How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?”

  I flattened my lips hearing the lie from her mouth. I was far from beautiful. More likely I was the aftermath of a wildfire on a destructive path.

  Just as I lifted my hands, not sure if I was willing to grab hers, I paused. It was bad enough having the tip of her finger on my skin than to add my entire hand wrapped around her wrist. Her arms flayed as she tried to balance and not fall backward.

  “Willow.”

  The tug-of-war girl jogged up in time to catch her friend.

  “Celeste,” Willow said with a wide grin.

  I turned away, assuming she was safe now. It was better to leave than to analyze why I felt so protective of this girl.

  “Where did he go?” I heard her ask.

  Yet I found myself wondering just why the burn of her touch was nothing like the sting of a hundred hornets I usually felt when someone’s skin brushed against mine like Mother’s.

  4

  Past

  * * *

  “Ashton.”

  Mama wasn’t happy.

  I left the ant hill and ran with my dirty hands in the air into the open back door of the house.