When we wake up, Sebastian doesn’t say a word about it.
And for the next couple of weeks, that’s how it goes. When the sun goes down, we’re together. I ask questions. Sometimes he answers; sometimes he doesn’t. He uses his fingers and his mouth to get me off—but never pushes for more, much to my disappointment—then holds me while we sleep.
When the sun rises again, we may as well be strangers. Each night I fall deeper, and each morning hurts more. I work the face-painting booth, hang out with Miles and Kat while Sebastian disappears during the day—don’t ask me where—before coming back to perform each night.
I spend more time with the rest of the Vixens, too, minus Selina. She’s been avoiding me. It’s a good thing, too, because I’m not in the mood to play nice anymore.
Jessup made me an offer again. One I almost couldn’t pass up. I could use the money for college, or at the very least, an apartment. The longer I’m on the road, the more I realize I can’t go home.
It’s been radio silence on my dad’s end. Sometimes at night, I lie in bed, wondering if he’s okay, or if he’s lying dead in a gas station bathroom somewhere. I question every single choice I’ve ever made. Did I give up on him too soon? Did I make it worse? Did leaving him take away his last shred of hope? How does someone get better if they have no hope or support? For the most part, writing him off is easy—until the memories creep in, reminding me that he’s still my dad underneath it all. And those moments? Those moments are crippling.
Mom has called me a grand total of two times. She’s been spending time with an old boyfriend, whom she swears she isn’t dating, and I think talking to me only reminds her of the mess she left behind. I get it. Resent it, but I get it.
“Can we do something tonight?” I ask Sebastian after he comes out of the shower in nothing but a towel. It shouldn’t be legal to be that attractive.
I shrug, like I haven’t been mentally planning it out. “Like, maybe a movie or something?”
He looks wary, and maybe even a little confused.
“You know…” I hedge. “Popcorn, candy, nachos?”
“Like a date?” he asks, one thick, black eyebrow shooting up.
“Are you going to have a meltdown if we call it a date?”
“Evan—” he warns.
“Then it’s not a date,” I interrupt, rolling my eyes.
“Fine. Get dressed.”
An hour later, I’m on the back of Sebastian’s bike, my hair in Dutch braids so they won’t get tangled from the wind on the way. I’m wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and an oversized black hoodie that’s longer than my shorts with the word Jessup on the front. Sebastian insisted it wasn’t a date, so I’m not dressing like it’s one.
We pull into the dark parking lot of a bargain theater that plays older movies for two dollars. I looked it up on my phone earlier. Walking up to the ticket booth, I tell the teenage boy working there what move we want to see. Sebastian doesn’t seem to care either way.
“Not a fan of movies?” I ask.
He shrugs, handing the cashier a bill. “We didn’t have television growing up. We didn’t have video games or iPhones either. The globe was our playground.”
That makes sense. Sebastian’s only a few years older than me, but it always feels like he came from a different generation entirely. He’s not fixated with social media. He’s completely out of touch with pop culture. I can see him, Eros, Lathan, and Tres running around like little hoodlums on dirt bikes, wreaking havoc. I kind of love that about them.
“Besides, my reality is stranger than fiction.”
At the concession stands, I order popcorn and M&Ms, while Sebastian opts for a cherry slush. When we get into the theater, it’s almost empty, save for a couple of guys near the bottom of the auditorium. I lead Sebastian to the very back row, making sure to find the seat directly in the center before I sit down.
“What’s this movie about, anyway?” he asks, taking the spot to my left.
“It’s about what happens when crime is legal for one night a year only. These guys run around in weird masks terrorizing people.”
“Eros was right. You like weird shit.”
“How would he know?” I ask, cutting my eyes at him.
“You left something open on your computer. Probably porn again,” he says, his voice taunting.
I roll my eyes, my cheeks getting hot. “I told you, it wasn’t porn.” Well, I guess technically it was. “It was an independent film.”
“You watch a lot of independent films, Evan?” he asks.
“They’re my favorite,” I say, ignoring his insinuation. “There’s this one about a girl whose vagina has teeth…”
Sebastian flattens his lips, hiding his amusement.
“Never mind.”
The lights dim, the previews starting up. I dump the bag of M&Ms into the bucket of popcorn, and Sebastian pulls a face like I’ve personally offended him.
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” I say, shaking the bucket before holding it out to him. He grabs a handful, gracelessly shoving it into his mouth before giving me a reluctant nod of approval.
Around halfway through the movie, I scream at a particularly unexpected part, causing the two guys in the bottom row to chuckle. I can handle scary. I just can’t handle things jumping out at me. Sebastian plucks the half-eaten bucket of popcorn out of my lap, sliding it onto the floor next to his feet. He flips the armrest up before fitting his palm between my thighs. I squirm, my body heating already. Sebastian looks over, smirking at me in the dark, then gives me a squeeze before turning his attention back to the movie.
Bastard.
Watching the screen, I try, unsuccessfully, to think about anything other than where his hand is. Slowly, the tips of his fingers graze the insides of my thighs, back and forth. My pulse picks up the pace, and now I know he’s doing it on purpose. He’s trying to get me hot and bothered, and it’s working. Deciding that two can play at this game, I pull my hoodie over my head, leaving me in a plain white camisole with a built-in bra. Sebastian grips my thigh tighter, and when I chance a glance at him, his gaze is aimed right at my chest.
Before I know what’s happening, he spreads his legs apart and plucks me off my seat, planting me in between them.
“Sebastian!” I hiss. He covers my mouth with his left hand.
“Shh,” he says into my ear before tugging on one of my pigtail braids. “I like these,” he whispers. “They remind me of the night we met. So sweet and innocent.” His right hand flattens onto my chest before dipping down into my shirt. “And I can see your pulse fluttering in your neck, too, just like that night.”
His index finger swirls around my hard nipple, causing me to squirm on his lap. I feel his dick harden beneath his jeans. When he tweaks my nipple, I gasp, pressing back into him, feeling moisture pool between my thighs. I drop my head back onto his shoulder, my back plastered to his front, and Sebastian hooks a finger into the thin strap of my shirt, pulling it down to expose my right breast completely. I jerk my head up toward the guys in the theater.
“They can’t see you,” Sebastian assures me, bringing his hand up to my throat to lean me back against him. Then his hand is sliding back down my chest and stomach before he pops the button on my shorts. I freeze. “Are you tapping out?” His voice is a challenge.
I spread my legs apart in response, placing one foot on the chair in front of where
I was just sitting. He groans, slipping his hand underneath my panties. His middle finger circles my clit lightly, giving just enough pressure to drive me crazy. I shift my hips, seeking more friction, and he pulls his fingers away from me.
“No,” I beg, but then I see his mouth close around his fingers before he dives back in. Two wet fingers plunge inside me, and my back bows off his chest as I moan.
“Be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want our friends to hear you.”
Oh God. If they looked back right now, they’d get a prime view of my spread legs and exposed bre
ast. It’s nerve-wracking, but somehow only makes me hotter. Sebastian’s other hand pulls my shirt down to free my other breast, kneading it as he fucks me with his fingers, the heel of his hand pressed against my clit.
My breathing is ragged, and my hips move wildly against his hand. “I’m going to come,” I whisper, grinding against him.
“Do it.” His tongue licks a path from my neck to my ear. “I want to feel your pussy come around my fingers.” Then he’s biting my earlobe, and I tense up, exploding on his lap, contracting around him.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, slumping against him. My leg falls from the chair and Sebastian scoops me up, setting me back in my chair before slinging an arm around my shoulder like he didn’t just give me an orgasm in public. I adjust my straps, then lay my head against his chest, suddenly feeling warm and tired and sated.
This was definitely a date.
“HAVE YOU BEEN AVOIDING ME, grandson?” Valeen asks from her usual spot at the card table, handheld poker game in hand. I’ve hardly seen her these past few weeks, and I knew I was going to catch shit for it if I put it off any longer.
“Never,” I assure her, dropping a kiss to her wrinkled forehead. “I’ve had a lot going on.”
“Evan keeping you busy then?” she says knowingly.
“Among other things.” I take the seat opposite of her. It’s always easy to talk to Valeen. Ever since I was a kid. Something about her has me divulging things I don’t even admit to myself. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” I admit, blowing out a breath.
“Enjoying the sun,” she says simply.
“At what expense?”
“All you can do is be honest with her, then let her decide what she can handle.”
I look away, and Valeen tsks her tongue at me. “You haven’t told her.”
“I don’t exactly know how to approach that conversation,” I say dryly.
She drops her game, reaching over to pat my face. “You have something not very many McAllister men have possessed.”
“What’s that?”
“The ability to care for others more than yourself. Selfishness is the real family curse, if you ask me.”
“Then why can’t I seem to leave her alone?” I know I should stay far away from Evan, but the more time I spend with her, the harder it is to stay away. Ever since she was sixteen, it’s like the universe has been trying to bring her back to me as some kind of sick joke.
“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” Valeen says, cryptic as always.
“I can’t depend on a maybe. I don’t want her to end up like Mom.”
“Your mother is a weak woman, Sebastian—even before your father took his life. Your Evan is not.”
I take a drink from my untouched bottle of beer, shoving a hand through my hair.
“You know what else runs in this family? Depression.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to read her meaning. Is she suggesting that my father and uncle killed themselves because they were depressed, and not because of the curse? “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that there is such a thing as a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
My mind races as I try to make sense of what she’s saying. There’s no way that nearly every male in the past one hundred fifty years has died prematurely because of depression. Suicide made up a good portion of those deaths, but what about the floods, the car accidents, the plane accidents? What about the drownings and the fires and the freak accidents and brutal murders?
“Why are you just now saying all this?”
“Because you’re only now hearing me. I’m not saying we aren’t cursed. Tragedy surrounds this family, but there is always hope. Even when there is nothing else, there is hope.”
I stand, overwhelmed, needing to get some air. “I’ll stop by tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Bring Evan. I’ll make your favorite for dinner. Your mother wants to meet her.”
I give her a suspicious look. Bringing Evan around my family is not something I’m looking forward to, but you don’t say no to Valeen. Giving her a brusque nod, I turn to leave.
“Tell her, Sebastian. Don’t take the choice from her.”
Bracing my hands on the top of the bunk, I peer down at Evan’s sleeping form. She’s on her stomach, her preferred way to sleep when she’s not tangled up with me, her blonde hair spilling down her back. She’s kicked the blankets off, but I can tell by her pebbled flesh that she’s cold. I shouldn’t have brought her into my bed that night weeks ago, but I was sick of seeing her die in my dreams, and after the trailer incident, I wanted to keep her close. Now that she’s with me every night, I don’t have to. I don’t have nightmares at all anymore, oddly enough.
I pull my shirt over my head and kick off my jeans before sliding in next to her. She turns, curling into me, even in sleep. Her head rests against my chest, her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks. Valeen’s words float through my mind, and for the first time, I wonder what it would be like to have a real future.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Evan mumbles into my chest. She opens her eyes, lifting her head to peer down at me. “I heard from my dad today.”
“Yeah?” I ask, trying to keep the disapproval out of my tone. I don’t like the guy, and Evan would be better off without him. Though, the same could be said about me.
“He called me from rehab,” she says sleepily. “He’s finally getting help.”
I don’t say anything. I want to be happy for her, but I know how these things work. It isn’t a quick fix. There’s no magic pill.
“I mean, it was court-ordered, but what matters is he’s there, right?”
“Right,” I say, my fingers tracing circles on the sliver of exposed skin between her tank shirt and sleep shorts.
“Where’s your dad?” she asks. “You never talk about him.”
“You’re awful chatty for a girl who was asleep about five seconds ago.”
“This is the only time I get straight answers out of you. When we’re in here, like this, you’re not as guarded.”
She’s not wrong. I blow out a breath, thinking back to what Valeen said about giving her a choice. I might as well give her some information so she isn’t blindsided tomorrow. Knowing my mom and Valeen, they’ll blurt everything out over dinner.
“He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her eyebrows pulling together. I see her wheels turning before she asks, “What about Lathan and Tres’ family?”
“Dead.” Even their mothers.
“Sebastian…” she says sadly. “I had no idea.”
I shrug. “We’re used to it.”
“What do you mean, ‘used to it’? How do you get used to death?”
This is it. This is either the moment I choose to keep lying to Evan by omission or lay it all out on the table for her. Maybe the truth will make her realize she should run far, far away. Maybe I should’ve told her sooner.
“It comes with the territory,” I start off.
“The territory of what? Being a stuntman?”
“Of being a McAllister.”
Evan sits up, her face twisting with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Our family is…jinxed. Wherever we go, death and destruction seem to follow.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“We’re cursed, Evan.” I finally spell it out for her. “None of the men in our family live to see twenty-five.” And the women who survive are left with the fallout.
Her face falls. “Cursed,” she repeats, skepticism in her tone. “Like, a witchy, gypsy type of curse? Is that what you’re telling me? You don’t really believe that.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, Evan, not that kind of curse. Haven’t you ever heard of the Kennedy curse? You can call it coincidence, but the end result is the same.”
“Are you telling me you have three years to live?”
I clench my jaw, not meeting her eyes. “History would suggest so.”
“This is ins
ane,” she says dismissively, shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t accept that.”
“It doesn’t matter if you accept it. I’ve lived it, Evan. I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t.” It sounds crazy saying it out loud. I realize that. But it doesn’t change the facts.
She goes silent, digesting the information. Just when I think she’s going to get up and leave, she lies back down with her back to my front, pulling my arm around her.
“I don’t think we ended up here just for you to die,” she whispers.
“What if it’s already in the stars? You can’t change fate.”
“Then we’ll rewrite the stars.”
THE AIR IS COOL, REMINDING me that the summer’s over. I’ve lost track of how many cities we’ve visited. I don’t even know which state we’re currently in, if I’m being honest, but I’m not ready for it to end. That coupled with the bomb Sebastian dropped on me last night has me in a somber mood. Do I believe in curses? Hell no. But the evidence is enough to freak me out. And now, sitting at the dinner table listening to his grandmother, Valeen, and mother, Krista, speak about it only cements that fear.
“When did it start?” I ask the question that’s been burning a hole in my tongue. “How does something like this happen?”
“We don’t know for sure, but it is said to have originated over a hundred years ago,” Valeen starts, ignoring warning glares from Sebastian. “When I was just a girl, I overheard my mother and her sister speaking about it. From what they said, a McAllister man bedded a woman who wasn’t his wife and got her pregnant. When the baby was stillborn, it was said to be an abomination. Said it was part beast, part fish, part human. When Thomas McAllister found out about the child, he accused the woman, Alexandra, of being a witch, then forced her to bury the child in secrecy. He then went and turned her in to the authorities for doing so. Of course, we know now that its demonic description was exaggerated to justify his actions.”
Rewrite the Stars Page 18