Rewrite the Stars

by Rose, Charleigh

  “I don’t know what you see in her.”

  I don’t respond. Kat hurries toward me, taking Selina from my arms, ushering her toward one of the couches. Selina plops down gracelessly and closes her eyes. “How much did she have to drink?”

  “Fuck if I know. She showed up in my trailer and started stripping her clothes off.” We’d just finished our show. Lathan and Eros took off to stock up on food for the week at the twenty-four hour supermarket, and Eros was meeting up with some of the ride jocks at the Vixens’ tent. I put out my cigarette, went inside to take a piss, and came out to a topless Selina.

  “Jesus, Selina,” Kat says, planting her hands on her hips, wearing nothing but two titty tassels and a black thong like it’s the most natural thing in the world as she stares down at Selina’s slumped form on the couch. “Thanks for bringing her to me.”

  I give her a curt nod. “Tell her if it happens again, I won’t give her the same courtesy.”

  “Okay,” Kat says. I turn to leave. “And Sebastian?” I pause, looking at her over my shoulder. “I really like Evan.”

  Unfortunately, so do I.

  I take Evan’s seat next to Eros before flagging down one of the bartenders, ordering two whiskey neats. Eros’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “It’s that kind of night?”

  “Drink with me or fuck off.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Any word on who slit Jessup’s tires?”

  Eros shakes his head. “Nah. I put out feelers, but no one seems to have seen anything. You think they’re working alone?”

  I shrug. I hadn’t considered that it could be more than one person.

  “How are you and Lathan lately?” Eros asks.

  “How are we?” I repeat. “What kind of a question is that?”

  “Evan said something tonight,” he hedges.

  “Spit it out,” I say as an uneasy feeling falls over me. The bartender returns, placing our drinks in front of us.

  “We’re gonna need two more,” Eros tells her, surmising as much from my reaction.

  “He tried to make her leave.”

  “When?” I bite out.

  “I’m not sure. Said he offered to buy her a plane ticket home. Think he hinted about the McAllister curse, too.” Why wouldn’t she tell me that?

  “We’re going to have to have a little chat.” I bring the glass to my lips, shooting the whiskey in one shot. This chick is fucking with my head, making me feel shit I can’t afford to be feeling. Shit I don’t have the luxury of feeling.

  “I got your back,” Eros says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. He always does, when it comes down to it. The four of us have butted heads in the past. It’s usually me against Lathan with Eros on my side and Tres acting as the peacemaker, but the rift has never been this wide before. There’s something going on with him, and it goes deeper than Evan.

  The server is back with our drinks, and Eros plucks them off her tray. I reach for my wallet, but she stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I glare at her blood red nails, then back up at her face. She takes the hint, pulling her hand away.

  “It’s on the house,” she says, biting her lip in a way I’m sure she thinks is seductive.

  I take in her hair, blonde like Evan’s, and her long legs in those fishnet tights. She could be fun. I dismiss the thought quicker than it came, knowing she won’t alleviate my need. Only one person can, and it’s the one person I can’t let myself have. The one person who makes me want things I’ve known better than to want my whole life.

  “Thanks.” I dip my chin before turning back to Eros. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her deflate, her shoulders sagging with her smile before she walks away. Standing, I down the other drink before slamming it down a little harder than I intended.

  “You got plans for the rest of the night?” I ask Eros.

  “Nope.”

  “Get some.”

  The music starts back up, and Kat takes the stage once again. Eros takes a swig of his whiskey, staring ahead at her. “Think I just did.”

  I walk out of the tent, through the lot, and back to the bunkhouse in under two minutes. Walking up the steps, I let the door spring shut behind me. Evan’s sitting at the table in front of her laptop and Elliot’s next to her—too close—as they watch whatever’s on the screen. What the fuck?

  “Out. Now.”

  “Maybe I don’t want him to go,” Evan challenges. “We’re watching a movie.”

  “We need to talk.” I look to Elliot, lifting a brow. “There’s the door.”

  His nostrils flare, jaw clenching, but he’s too much of a pussy to say anything. He turns to Evan. “You know where to find me if you need me,” he says softly.

  “I’m good,” she assures him. “Thanks.”

  Elliot makes his way to the door and Evan stands, barely sparing me a glance before she turns away.

  I close in on her, close enough to feel the curve of her ass. I dip my head, pressing my nose into her hair, inhaling her scent. “You’re pissed at me.”

  She huffs out a laugh that lacks any humor. “What was your first clue?”

  “I told you once that Selina and I weren’t going to happen. I won’t say it again.”

  She whirls on me, eyes flaming. “You think that’s why I’m mad?”

  “You telling me that’s not why you stormed out of the Vixens’ show?”

  “Stop answering questions with a question,” she says, frustration bleeding from every word. She puts distance between us, grabbing a loaf of bread from the cabinet.

  “Then what is it? Because I can’t seem to figure out a fucking thing when it comes to you.”

  “I heard you,” she mumbles, setting two slices of bread onto a paper plate.

  “Heard me what?”

  “The other night,” she says, hands braced on the edge of the table. “I’m pretty sure your exact words were ‘sexy as a root canal,’” she mocks, giving a bitter laugh.

  Fuck. I blow out a breath. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

  “No, I should think not,” she says sarcastically. She makes her way to the water bottles stashed under my bed, plucking one from the pack. I sit on the edge of the horseshoe-shaped bench that wraps around the table, my knees spread apart, feet in the way of her path. “If you don’t want me, fine. But stop fucking with my head and stop isolating me. I’m allowed to make friends.”

  I shove a hand through my hair, picking my next words carefully, knowing I owe her some kind of explanation. “It’s not true.”

  Evan looks at me over her shoulder, waiting for me to continue.

  “I think we both know I think you’re sexier than a root canal. I needed them to think I don’t care about you,” I offer. A half-truth will have to do.

  “And do you?” she asks softly, that rare vulnerable side showing its face. “Care about me?”

  “Yes.” I clench my jaw. “And that’s the problem.”

  She doesn’t say anything, though I know a million questions are running through her mind. The silence between us is strained, as if both of us are ultra-aware of the other’s presence. I stare at her in that short black dress, her big blue eyes looking lost but wild and defiant.

  Evan walks back toward the table. When she goes to pass me, my arm shoots out, curling around her waist. She makes a squeal of surprise but doesn’t pull away. I pull her in between my spread legs, looking up at her as I trace my fingers up the back of her thigh. Her eyes fall closed.

  “You want this,” I tell her, my fingers moving toward the soft skin of her inner thigh. “You want me even though you hate yourself for it.”

  “How would you know?” she bites back, but her voice lacks its usual fire.

  “Because that’s how I feel about you.”

  I see her nipples tighten through her dress, and without thinking of the consequences, I lean forward, covering one with my mouth through the fabric, scraping my teeth across the hardened peak. I hear a sharp intake of breath, an
d when I pull away, her eyes are glazed over with lust. I hook my finger into the neckline of her dress, sliding it back and forth. Without breaking eye contact, I pull it down, exposing her soft pink nipple, and I dip forward, flattening my tongue and taking a lick as my hands grip her waist. Evan’s eyebrows pull together as she watches me, her expression pained, but I know pain is the opposite of what she’s feeling right now. I take another swipe, tightening my hold around her waist. The water bottle falls to the floor, and then she’s grabbing the back of my head, pulling me into her.

  Fuck.

  I lift her onto the table, sliding farther into the booth so I can keep an eye on the door, before I plant both hands on her ass, sliding her across the tabletop, angling her toward me. Evan’s fingers find my hair as she dips her head to meet my lips, sliding that little pink tongue inside my mouth. I pull her into me until our bodies are flush against each other, kissing her back until she pulls back, breathless. “You were the first boy I ever kissed. I spent two years trying to find this feeling again.”

  Her words stun me. I knew she was innocent back then, but I didn’t think she was that innocent. I still remember how she felt against me that night, so scared and timid, but our bodies spoke a language she didn’t understand yet.

  “Did it work?” I ask, sliding my teeth over my bottom lip. “Did any of the other boys make you feel like I can?”

  “No,” she admits, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I finger the strap of her dress that’s fallen down her shoulder, and she shivers under my touch.

  “Good.” I flatten my palms on her spread thighs, sliding upward, pushing her dress higher as I go, exposing a black scrap of lace between her legs. “Have they ever kissed you here?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer. I use my thumb to brush against her clit through her underwear. She plants her hands on the table behind her and jerks at the sensation.

  Evan swallows hard, shaking her head. “No.”

  I freeze, not expecting that. “You’ve never had your pussy licked?”

  She glares at me, trying to clamp her legs shut, but I stop her, putting a hand on each knee. I shouldn’t be surprised. High school douchebags are notoriously bad at foreplay, only looking to get their dicks wet. Hooking my fingers through the straps of her underwear, I look up at her. “Lift.”

  She does, lifting her ass just high enough for me to lower her underwear, before closing her knees. I slide them down her legs, letting them fall just below her knees. “Now show me your pussy.”

  Her eyes flare, just like they did when I said it to her on the carousel. I don’t know if it’s the words or the fact that I’m telling her what to do, but she likes it.

  Evan opens her legs, revealing a perfect little pussy. I stare at her, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this. Knowing I won’t be able to keep from fucking her if I go this far, but not caring enough to stop. I run a finger up her center, feeling that she’s already wet for me. I grab one ankle, one side of her underwear falling from her foot, before placing it flat onto the table. Meeting her glazed eyes, I lean forward, taking the first lick.

  OH MY GOD. MY MOUTH pops open, head falling backward at the feel of his warm tongue against me.

  “No,” Sebastian says. “Watch.”

  I lift my head, eyes locking onto where he flattens his tongue, giving long, slow licks. I shouldn’t be letting this happen, but I’ll worry about the consequences tomorrow. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, and I feel a bead of sweat roll down my neck. The view is obscene, one foot up on the table and one foot resting on his lap as his dark head of hair moves between my legs, taking his fill of me.

  His tongue moves lower, circling my entrance before dipping inside. He fucks me with his tongue, holding my ankle in place as I start to writhe against him. I can’t help it, my hips move on their own accord, my arms starting to shake. When Sebastian sucks my clit into his mouth, my arms give out, and I fall backward, knocking the plate of bread onto the floor. A noise comes from the back of Sebastian’s throat, and then he’s lifting my other leg, planting my foot onto the table. He pushes my knees apart, the cool air hitting my hot, wet flesh. The position would be mortifying if I was coherent enough to care, but I’m lost to lust, uncaring of how I must look.

  He dives back in, licking, sucking, and fucking me with his tongue. Sliding my hands above my head, I fist the edge of the table. Sebastian reaches up to tug on my dress until my breasts pop out, bouncing.

  “Fuck, Evan. I want to feel you.”

  “Do it. Please,” I urge, knowing what I’m asking. I’d let him take me on this grimy little table and not feel an ounce of shame about it. When he takes my clit into his mouth and lightly bites down as he sucks, I explode, legs shaking, muscles tightening. Sebastian keeps his mouth on me, bringing me back down to planet Earth as I shudder beneath him, like aftershocks following an earthquake.

  I open my eyes to find Sebastian kissing the insides of my thighs. I peel my fingers away from the edge of the table and push my spent body into a sitting position. I can see that Sebastian’s hard, even through his jeans, but he hasn’t so much as made a move to touch himself. Still feeling high, I slide my foot up his thigh, rubbing against his length. His jaw clenches hard as his eyes squeeze shut, but then he’s wrapping a hand around my ankle, moving it away.

  “I want to touch you, too,” I say, pouting. Sebastian snaps, standing up and jerking his belt off his hips. He pushes me backward, flat against the table before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling himself out to fist his length. I’m mesmerized by the sight. It’s not like I haven’t seen a penis before. But I’ve never seen one that made me feel…anything. Sebastian is thick, hints of veins running through the shaft and glistening at the tip, and watching his hand slide up and down the hard length is erotic in a way I didn’t expect.

  His eyes are on me as he works himself. My dress hangs off my chest, slightly ripped. I lower the strap that’s still intact, giving him a better view. My nipples feel tight, and my clit is still throbbing, ready for more. Knowing it’s a dangerous move to taunt him right now, I part my knees, bringing my fingers down to slide through the mess he left between my legs.

  He lunges and suddenly, he’s on top of me, his face an inch from mine. “Don’t push me,” he grinds out.

  Circling my legs around his waist, I pull him into me. His eyes widen when his hot skin hits mine, then he drops his forehead to mine, rocking against me. He fits his cock between my lips, sliding back and forth, never pushing inside. I try to angle my hips to take him inside me, but he pulls back.

  I groan, frustrated. He chuckles, leaning back down to suck on my nipple as he moves against me. “Oh God,” I whine. I feel it building again. The need to come is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

  “You’re so fucking wet. It’d be so easy to slip inside you,” he taunts, his voice low and husky, his expression pained.

  His words have me clenching around nothing, but then the tip of his head is right there, nudging against my entrance.

  “Please,” I whisper, not above begging.

  “I want you to come like this,” he says, jerking his length with the tip still inside me. His mouth is on my nipple again, and I bring my hand down to rub my clit, needing the friction. “That’s it, Princess,” he coaxes, his hand moving faster.

  I come apart, this time harder than before, wanting so badly for him to shove inside me, filling the emptiness. Sebastian pulls back, moving the tip of him from my entrance to my clit, pumping himself hard before his abs tighten and his cum shoots out, the warm liquid falling across my thighs and pelvis.

  Sebastian reaches for the underwear, still around one ankle, before wiping his cum away. He wads it up and throws it somewhere behind him before he shoves himself back into his pants and zips up. He sits back on the bench, pulling me to straddle his lap, sandwiching me between him and the table.

  He looks troubled, the crease between his eyebrows deeper than it usually is. I have the urge to smooth it a
way with my thumb. I know asking him directly would be useless. His teeth scrape across his bottom lip, drawing my attention to the scar beneath it.

  “How’d you get this?” I ask, tracing the half-moon shape with my finger.

  He hesitates, and I wonder if he’s going to answer at all before finally says, “Eros’ dad. My uncle.” His voice is grim.

  “Was it an accident?” I ask.

  His hard eyes meet mine. “Yeah, it was an accident,” he says, and I’m momentarily relieved before he finishes. “He was aiming for my throat.”

  I gasp, not at all expecting that. “Where is he now?”

  “Dead,” he says, watching me for a reaction.

  “Good.” It’s the only response that feels right. Maybe it’s not right to wish death on anyone, but I don’t feel sorry that it happened.

  The corners of Sebastian’s lips lift. He’s clearly amused by my answer.

  “Why did he do it?” I know I’m pushing my luck, but I’m taking advantage of his momentary willingness to divulge information.

  “Eros and I were just kids. He took us camping. We rode our dirt bikes. Took us fishing. Made s’mores around the campfire. Gave us one of the best days of our lives before swallowing a handle of vodka. We went to bed, and the next thing I knew, Eros was screaming from his sleeping bag and his dad was on top of him with a knife.”

  Tears burn my eyes, and I fight to keep them from falling, but thinking of a baby Sebastian and Eros going through something so horrific makes it nearly impossible. My chest aches as sadness for them wars with rage for Eros’ dad.

  “If he wasn’t dead, I’d kill him,” I announce.

  Sebastian lifts an eyebrow, not expecting that from me, I’m sure. His hands smooth up and down my thighs in a comforting gesture. “Me too.”

  “What else happened?” I don’t know why I ask. I know they made it out alive, but I feel like I need to hear the end of this story.

  He stares blankly ahead as he finishes his story. “I wrestled him off Eros, but not before he got him good.” I think about Eros’ scar that runs from the top of his shoulder to the underside of his peck, my skin prickling with anger. I want to find him and hug him. How can someone go through something like that and still be so happy, so full of life? “He came after me next. Got me under the lip before Eros hit him over the head with a lantern. We took off on our dirt bikes, trying to remember how to get back to where we came from—our parents were with a different carnival back then—but he’d taken us so far out in the middle of nowhere, and it was so dark that it was a lost cause.” His thumb bounces on my thigh, but I don’t even think he notices he’s doing it. “Finally, a police officer on his way home from the night shift spotted us and brought us to the hospital. Doctors said Eros was lucky to be alive. He needed over fifty fucking staples to close his chest.”