by L. J. Woods
His eyes are still on me as Christian takes a look around the room. “You sure, man?”
“Get out!” His voice booms and it makes me flinch.
Christian grabs his letterman jacket, brushing Damien's shoulder as he passes. “Fuck. Whatever.”
I turn to walk away but Damien doesn’t let me. “Medusa.”
When I turn to face him he’s standing at the side of the doorway to what I assume is his room. “It’s Jo.”
“Snooping around is bad for your health.”
“Is that another threat?”
“Does that get you wet?” I roll my eyes and turn to walk away but he calls out again. “Wait, Jo." Hearing him say my preferred name makes me pause. "You came all this way. Might as well have a drink with me.”
Turning around, he’s gesturing to the room behind him. From the entrance, I can see it's like his outfits. All black everything, including an abstract chandelier hanging in the middle. What is it with rich people and chandeliers?
Damien turns around, leaving the door open. With an invitation, I can’t help but walk in behind him.
After what happened in the hallway, I'm smart enough to know I shouldn't be alone with Damien. So I'll blame this on bourbon.
His room looks like a rockstar's tour bus. Glamorous and trashed. Red neon lights line dark textured walls, ceiling painted like the night sky. Even with a Mac screen punched in and crap all over his bed, the space looks incredible, dark wood floors shining. Black chairs lay on their sides, empty beer bottles everywhere, some of them smashed.
A slow song with booming bass comes from another speaker I can’t see. Choosing not to find out where it's coming from, I stay put near the door as he tends to a small bar cart near his desk. The clinking of ice in a glass blends with the music. Followed by the pour of whatever alcoholic concoction he’s mixing up. Not that he looks like he needs any more.
“Is this what you expected?” He walks over with a glass, large pupils running up my outfit. He doesn’t hand the glass to me, instead, he takes a sip, eyes on my thighs. “Because you’re not at all what I expected. Didn’t know they made them like this in The Grove.”
Ignoring his comment, the twitch in my stomach, I let my eyes wander some more. He’s got old band photos on the wall, all in black and white. Pink Floyd, Metallica, Hendrix. An Interstellar poster hangs framed on one wall, a signed hockey jersey on another. Price. On a tall shelf sits glass bongs next to books and I spot a copy of The Great Gatsby.
“Sounds like we’re not so different.” I shrug, remembering his phone call as I do my best not to slur. The black sofa in the middle of the room has a toppled chess set. Next to it is an ERA yearbook, a pile of white powder on top. “None of my foster parents give a shit about me either.”
CRASH!
Damien’s glass hits the wall beside me before he slams the door. Using his chest, he backs me against it. “You don’t know me, Medusa.” The alcohol from his breath damn near burns my nose, his facade changing like the coin he flips.
“Oh, fuck off.” I push against his chest but he pins my wrists above my head.
He leans closer, a swoop of dark hair falling in front of his face. “Why are you here?”
“I was about to ask you the same question.” I hate how shaky my breath sounds. How much I can’t breathe with his face in front of me. Damien King is intense, and the way my body reacts to him is no different.
A dark eyebrow raises as his grip on my wrists tighten, his other hand brushing against my cheek. “Seems like you’re here to make my life hell,” he says.
“Maybe I am.”
He studies my face. “I’ll ruin you, Medusa.”
“It’s Jo.”
“Joelle.” The way my name rolls off his tongue sends a shiver down my spine, a tingle in my core and I hate it.
Maybe it’s all the whiskey but the room feels like it's moving and I start to feel a little dizzy. “Damien,” my voice is a near whisper and I hate that too, my eyes dropping to his lips.
Remembering to take a breath, I part my mouth to inhale. Before I can, his lips meet mine, a rush flowing through me.
Damien’s lips are as soft as they look, if not softer. Like sweet marshmallows and while I should stop him, I don't. Damien’s grip tightens as we fall into each other. He parts my lips with his tongue and I’m starting to feel like I’m floating. He tastes like peppermint, his kiss as intoxicating as the whiskey on his tongue.
Manson’s rendition of “Sweet Dreams” plays in the background, an eruption of pleasure slinking through my body when his teeth sink into my lip. The coldness of his hand on my skin makes my body tense, but I still let him climb to my bra. My nipple lands between his fingers, already puckered by his touch.
There’s a heaviness in my stomach. Heat in my cheeks. It tells me I’m either embarrassed or turned on. With the feeling I have between my legs, tingly and wet, my stomach twists, realizing it's the latter.
“Wait.” The fog clears enough to get the words out but it's a murmur and my body is abuzz. Damien’s lips move to the thin skin of my neck only to make my knees feel weaker. It's like fireworks when his teeth sink into me again.
He presses against me, the door making a loud thud. There's something hard between us and I know this is turning him on. He wants me as bad as I want him.
But after the way he treated me how can I trust what's going on right now? He's Damien King. There are always strings attached. I don’t know how much he’s had to drink but it’s clear it’s a lot and I’m not much better.
When he reaches between my legs I find the will to push him back. “Damien, stop.”
He does. Stepping back to look at me, a stunned look on his face, “If you don’t want me to I won’t. But we both know that’s not true.”
Biting my lip, I clench my fists, my wrists burning where he held them. I already miss the warmth of his body on mine but I can’t.
I won’t.
“I should go.” I’m flustered. Confused. But one thing’s for sure, I’m not about to sleep with Damien King.
Pulling down my shirt, I turn around, his growl coming from behind, “Don’t you dare walk out on me Medusa. I know you’re a slut, might as well sleep with the King.”
His demeanour shifts again, so do the colour in his eyes when I turn to look at him. It’s like they’ve darkened, a cloud forming over the room. It only solidifies my decision.
“Fuck you, Damien.” I’m pissed for ever letting him put his lips on me and I reach for the door behind me, wanting out. “Let’s make one thing clear." I stare him in his eyes. "I serve no King.”
“You walk out that door and you’re royally fucked Medusa.” He’s speaking quicker, slurring with desperation in his voice.
I can’t tell if he wants me to stay because it’s me, or if he’s too fucked up and horny to take “no” like a responsible human. I turn around and try not to smirk at the hardon pressing against his jeans. To be honest, it’s bigger than I thought and while I’m curious, there’s no way I’m giving into that now. No matter how incredible that kiss was.
He approaches me again, backing me against the door once more. I turn my head to the side, avoiding his gaze. “Don’t try to fight the fact that you want me.” He takes my chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing it right back. It’s like he knows the battle going on in my head. “I won’t tell but I can’t promise they won’t hear you.”
His lips are back on mine in the next second and it’s like that first sip of water. Warmth washes over me again but I don’t give in. I push against his hard chest but he’s not so quick to move this time. He presses harder into me and I fight how good that feels.
“Get the fuck off me, Damien.” My words fall onto his lips and I realize I’ve been saying that a lot today.
“Give it up. Lea’s already the queen of this school, Medusa. Might as well lay down and get a royal pounding.”
I bite down into his lower lip, hard enough for him to feel it. T
hat gets him to pull back, a smirk on his face as he touches where I bit.
Pushing him back, he staggers. I smirk, “Why would I need to go for queen when I can go for King?”
Opening the door, I take my chance to get away, but my heart stops in my chest. Lea, Georgina, Isaac and some other students all stand in front of his door.
Were they all listening?
Georgina looks disgusted as usual but Lea looks gobsmacked. I try my best to not let them see my gasp before pushing through them, fixing my fallen strap on the way.
That’s when I hear Damien call out, “Thanks for the blowie, slut.” I turn around and he’s got that asshole smile back on his face. “Now get the fuck out of my house before I have you thrown out.” He slams the door to his room and I’m too stunned to move.
When I hear chatter erupting around me, I jet for the stairs, jaw clenched.
“Really? Crashing a party while you're blacklisted and sleeping with the King on the first night? Not a good move, trash.” Lea crosses her arms, eyes like daggers. She smiles, but her cheeks glow red. “See you tomorrow, skank."
To anyone else that would be a 'good-bye', but from Lea, that's another threat.
“Jo?” Before I can clap back, Allie calls to me from the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes are wide when she sees the crowd around me. Looking around, she hesitates. “There you are?”
I make my way to the bottom, and I don’t stop as I pass her. “I’m heading home.”
“Wait, I’ll drive you!”
“It’s fine, I’ll call a cab or something,” I say.
“No.” She puts her palms between my shoulders. Her eyes gaze into mine and I hope she doesn’t see them water. “I’m driving you. Let’s go.”
I’m still haunted by the party when the sun rises the next day. That kiss with Damien is impossible to swallow. It’s been playing in my head for hours. The way his lips felt on mine. The way the force of his body made my legs tingle. I’m turned on and disgusted at the same time.
Avoiding Damien and his asshole friends is the thing to do if I’m going to make it through at least one semester. And that’s already proving hard.
That doesn’t mean I’m not ready to fight and I’m hoping the new changes to my uniform reflect that. Cindy Huang has a problem with tattoos but after seeing Damien’s on display, I don’t think the school cares. So here I am, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, tattoo and scar for all to see.
“I have some books to return for Georgina.” Willow slings her backpack on one shoulder. We’re standing in the front yard below the steps when she waves me off before I can protest. “Catch you later." She starts walking up the stairs but calls over her shoulder, “Stay out of trouble!”
Shouldn’t I be saying that to her?
Students pass by and they’re already whispering.
“Did you hear? She slept with Damien King on the first day.”
“Slut.”
“Whore.”
My jaw clenches and I call to my sister, giving these students something more to whisper about, “You don’t have to do that stuff! You’re not a slave to these assholes!”
She turns around, yelling back, “Better off than with you!”
I stick out my tongue and she rolls her eyes before continuing on her way. She’s probably right.
“You look good, Medusa.” Christian's voice turns me around. He's getting out of a black car, driver closing the door behind him. I’m relieved no one else is with him as he walks towards me, hockey stick and duffel bag over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” I say, but I’m not sure if he means that. My Docs are eons old, second-hand. I’m wearing the same blouse I wore yesterday. Buttons undone at the top, tie loose around the neck.
When he gets to where I’m standing, his eyes take a slow look from my shoes to my puffed out curls. There’s a pang in my chest, a flutter in my stomach.
“I mean it.” His chin rests on the top of his stick. Smiling, the sunlight catching his eyes. “This suits you.”
“Thanks, turns out ballet flats aren’t my thing.” My laugh sounds more nervous than usual and I wince.
Christian bites his lip and I swear there’s a sparkle in his eye before his brows furrow. “Hey, I overheard Lea and her mom talking about you. She was asking some pretty weird questions. Everything alright? Besides the obvious.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Weird questions?”
“Yeah a lot of them were about your folks. Not the Archibalds,” he pauses. “They died right?”
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard of myself and the Huangs in the same sentence.
Does Cindy know more about me than I realize? And why? Or how much?
“Jo?” He leans over to catch my eyesight before I realize I’ve been staring at nothing. “Oh fuck, wait, I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“No, it's fine.” I shake my head. There’s a hint of red on Christian’s cheeks and I pull my eyes away. My fingers flick at the strap of my watch. “It was a long time ago.”
“Well, let me take this chance and say I’m sorry about last night.” He scratches the back of his neck. The other hand sits on the top of the stick. He gives a weak smile, and that’s when I notice a scratch on the side of his left cheek. “Classic Damien.”
My jaw clenches at his name. So do my thighs. How does anyone let Damien get away with his antics? “What happened?” Touching my cheek I inch closer to get a better look.
Christian backs away, turning his head. “Hockey practice.”
Something tells me that’s a lie. Something also tells me a drunken Damien had something to do with it.
“Is it okay that you’re talking to me? I’m ‘blacklisted’ and all.” Rolling my eyes, I use two fingers as air quotes.
Christian’s knuckles go white around his stick. “Yeah but he doesn’t own me, Rowland.” His voice is a snip. He gives me another up and down before he swivels around. “Anyway, see you in there.”
I’m not too far behind, my kilt and grey knee-highs no match for the chilly pre-autumn air. Taking a deep breath I make my way through the open door to find Lea and her crew in front of the tree.
“Well, if it isn’t Trashy from the Block.” Lea smiles in yellow tights and a matching headband.
I want to ask her what her parents know about mine, but not in front of her squad. I’m not getting any answers when she’s got something to prove. So I turn to my right, ignoring her to get to my locker. I won’t let them push me out of this school. Not without a high school diploma and at the very least, not without some answers.
“Oops!” I bump into one of the young girls from yesterday, her arm reaching up to my hair. “I didn’t see you there.”
Lea and her Trust Fund Trolls giggle and something tells me she definitely saw me there. When I reach for the right side of my head there's something cold. Almost liquidy but it’s too thick. My fingers nudge something plastic and a yogurt container falls to the ground with a clunk.
“Oh no! Looks like little Jenny got her yogurt cup all over your hair!” Lea’s yelling but not because she’s alarmed. That’s all fake. She’s yelling because she wants everyone’s attention on me. “Too bad it isn’t yogurt.”
Georgina puts her hand to her mouth in fake awe as I bring my fingers to my nose. The odour is strong and potent. Like a skunk.
“I didn’t know people could go bald so young!” Another girl has her hands on her cheeks like Kevin in Home Alone.
When I reach up to touch the goop again, strands of hair come with it.
Nair.
These bitches dumped hair depilatory cream on my head.
I pull at my strands again and more comes out. Lea cackles, a chorus of laughter erupting around me. We’ve drawn a crowd. Damien’s at the top of the stairs, a smirk on his face and I know who orchestrated this.
My chest tightens, last night flashing in my mind. I knew it. Kissing Damien was a bad idea.
“Oh no...” Allie pushes through the crowd, Na
te not far behind her. I’m too in awe to speak, my anger keeping me tongue-tied. Nate puts his hands on my shoulders and starts leading me away while people whisper around me.
“Bald slut.”
“Stupid whore.”
“This is childish Lea,” Allie yells. “Grow the fuck up.”
Looking back to see Lea’s expression, her smug face falls. The girl next to her picks up her slack, “Might want to take your new girlfriend to a barbershop.”
Ten
“Don’t worry girl, I got you.” Nate presses his shoulder against the girl's bathroom door. “Emergency!”
A girl in front of the mirror curses when she sees Nate leading me to the mirror. “Fuck, Nate, you can’t be in here!”
He eyes her shoes. “And you can’t be wearing last season’s bargain finds.” Nate gives her a side-eye. “Seems like there’s an exception for everything.” She scoffs, leaving before Nate plunges my head under the sink.
“I can’t believe her!” Allie’s voice sounds warbly under the stream of rushing water. “How bad is it?”
Nate sighs, "We'll find out."
He scrubs at my hair while the cool water calms my scalp, and my nerves. When he pulls me back up, I have to remember to breathe.
Allie’s in the mirror behind me, her eyes wide. “Fuck.”
“At least I got it all out.” Nate's face isn't reassuring.
Large patches of hair are missing from the right side of my head, where the yogurt concoction landed. Moving my hand to touch it, I can feel the cold of my fingertips on my scalp. My hand starts to shake as I move my head in the light, smell still pungent. No matter the angle, it doesn’t look any better.
Nate and Allie wait for me to say something but all I can do is stare at the damage. Moving in closer, I zero in on the circles of light brown skin, jaw clenching.
If my mom were alive, the state of my "lion's mane" would be devastating. But she'd also tell me not to give in. Or give up.
My eyes shift to an electrical plug at the side of the counter before I turn to Nate. “Do you have clippers here?”
His hands go to the side and top of his hair. “How do you think I keep this cut fresh?”