by Rachel Shane
“Leave me alone!” Jackson screamed before switching on loud punk music to drown out any further questions.
“Since when is he dating?” Poe raised a brow. She wasn’t sure if she was annoyed Harper didn’t tell her or annoyed this little sixteen-year-old squirt was practically getting some while she was stuck with nothing but sexual frustration tonight. It had been a few weeks since she’d hooked up and she was starting to get antsy for someone else’s hands tracing her curves like she was all that mattered in the world. Letting go in a way that took her out of herself, even for a few seconds.
Harper let out an exasperated breath. “This is his third date in the last month. Each with a different girl. Each ending this exact same way.” Harper’s feet padded back to her room. “Come on, Blank Space, Steel, he needs his privacy.”
Poe pulled her fuck ring off and on her finger as she glanced at Jackson’s closed door one more time before Brett nudged her with his shoulder to follow Harper. The trio leaned against the bottom of Harper’s bed, legs stretched out on the floor but Poe couldn’t concentrate on the movie they’d found on Netflix, some gross chick flick that Harper chose involving dumb girls and unrealistically amazing guys who didn’t even deserve them. She kept flinching whenever she heard what sounded like crying coming from Jackson’s room. The poor guy didn’t need privacy. He needed guidance.
Brett kept trying to deflect the situation, nudging Poe with the popcorn bowl and then doing the same to Harper. He even let out a gasp at one point, hopping to his feet to point out a pair of google eyes affixed to the silver handle of one of Harper’s drawers.
But Poe simply rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t count, it’s not in public.”
Brett bit his lip. “I know. This is extra. I thought we could have a mini game here tonight.”
Both girls shook their heads before he even finished and Brett plopped back down, letting his head dip toward his chin.
When the movie ended, Harper let out a yawn and headed for the bathroom, a sure fire sign she was ready for bed. Brett sighed and then spread out his sleeping bag on the floor of Harper’s room. Harper’s parents let him sleepover with the girls as long as their ratio outnumbered him.
Poe glanced again at the music blasting next door.
“He’ll be okay,” Brett said. But she wasn’t so sure.
When the bathroom was free, Poe slipped on her pajamas—a tank top and shorts, as skimpy as she’d dare in someone else’s home. Hell, as skimpy as she’d dare in her own home. Her mom was on one of her sketchy boyfriend binges and Poe found it best to stay far away. Thankfully, Harper always welcomed her to sleepover. And Brett was always eager to join as long as his mom had the afternoon shift at the catering hall, taking the floor while the girls shared Harper’s giant queen-sized bed.
Two hours later, Harper’s snores resonated beside Poe. This was always the worst part. Harper would conk out while Poe lay there with the weight of the world piling bricks on her chest, suffocating her. Her mind liked to choose the exact moment her head hit the pillow to fly into action, making to do lists for the next day, writing eloquent essays she’d forget in the morning, and ruminating about all the things in her life that sucked and ways to control them. Get a second after school job to fill the nights the ice cream parlor scheduled her off. Take an Honors class next year to improve her GPA. Get laid.
Brett lay there, as silent as ever, the dutiful watchdog that never made a peep he wasn’t supposed to. Poe tossed and turned, burying her head beneath a pillow. And then she heard it again: the sharp sniffle that could only come from someone crying. She may not be able to control her own life but maybe she could do something right.
Poe pushed herself to her feet and tiptoed around sleeping bags and discarded shoes. She eased the door open, cringing at the squeak it made. When she closed it without so much as a snick, she let out a breath and padded toward Jackson’s room, knocking gently.
“What?” came his anguished voice.
Poe’s chest ached at the sound of it. “It’s Poe. I have an idea. Open up.”
She expected him to yell. Shout. Tell her to fuck off. But instead the door swung open and he stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes puffy and bloodshot. Purple crescents hung over his bulging lower lids. She sucked in a breath and reached out to touch his cheek, wiping away a falling tear. Then she straightened. “Get as many blankets as you can find.”
He blinked at her. “W—what?”
“I have a foolproof way to make you stop crying.” When Poe was ten, during a rare moment when her mom was single, she’d used this same tactic on Poe to calm her down after she didn’t score a speaking part in the community theater production of Annie she’d tried out for.
When Jackson flew to the hallway linen closet and started piling blankets in his arm, Poe gave herself a satisfied smile.
Inside his room, she arranged his desk chair and tilted his nightstand to the perfect distance from one another, pursing her lips at her handiwork. Jackson stood there in the center of the room, looking absolutely defeated. She spread out one of the puffiest blankets on the floor between the array of furniture and dropped two pillows at the base of Jackson’s bed. Then she stretched a few of the thinner blankets over the bed until they draped over the chair and night stand to create a roof. She secured each in place with his heavy textbooks. It was a blanket fort of epic proportions with a comfortable floor cocoon on the inside. She finished her work by switching on his desk lamp, giving the interior an eerie glow muffled by the colors of an old child’s blanket. Grinning, she lifted one of the blankets to make an entrance and flourished her hand to welcome Jackson inside.
He only hesitated for a second before crawling inside and lying down on his back on one of the pillows, staring up at the colorful glow of the blanket, leftover sniffles rattling in his chest. She settled in beside him, her arm grazing his in the tight space. She readjusted to avoid touching him but when she did, the edge of the blanket fort bulged too much, threatening to collapse the entire structure. She scooted back close to him, her entire side pressed to his. He sucked in a sharp breath.
Her neck and cheeks burned at the awkwardness of it all, something she hadn’t expected because it hadn’t existed when her mom set this up for her years ago. So she did the thing she always does to destroy awkward situations: she owned them. “There are three rules of the blanket fort,” she said, making it up as she went along to give him more incentive to open up. “Number one, anything said here, stays here between us. You can confess that you’re upset because you murdered someone and I wouldn’t be able to go to the police. The law of the blanket fort is stronger than all laws.”
He let out a small laugh. “Really? You think that’s why I’m upset?”
She shrugged, an action that rubbed her shoulder against his. “Hey, I’m just saying this is a safe space. Nothing that happens leaves the blanket fort.”
He drew his finger across his lips, taking the deal. “What’s rule number two?”
“We can only speak the truth in the blanket fort. That includes omissions—those aren’t allowed. Whatever is going on, this’ll only work if you tell me all of it.”
He clamped his mouth shut, scooting slightly away from her. “What if I don’t want to?”
She shot him her devious grin. “That’s where rule number three comes in. Whatever you tell me, I have to tell you a secret of equal caliber. You want to know my secret, you tell me yours.”
He paused, considering. And then a small voice squeaked from him. “Okay.”
She had no idea if she’d have a secret of equal value but she assumed she would. There was a lot Poe was hiding. “So then, tell me why you’re crying.”
He swallowed hard. “I didn’t go on a date. I mean—I did. But not like to the movies or whatever. I went to Jenna’s house. Her parents weren’t home.” He glanced at Poe to see if she got his meaning.
“You mean you went on a booty call.” Holy shit.
The tips of his ea
rs turned bright red. “Well, that was the plan. I wanted to. She really wanted to.”
“Wanted to do what? Have sex?” Poe asked, trying to read between the lines, squeeze past his omissions.
“I’m not even sure.” He draped an arm over his forehead. “We didn’t get nearly that far.”
Poe laced her fingers with his, encouraging him to continue. “How far did you get?”
“We were kissing on her bed.” He glanced away from her, as if he couldn’t face her for this part of his confession. “I was taking it slow. I hadn’t even attempted to take off her shirt or anything. But when I finally went to, I noticed her eyes were open. And she was texting someone else literally behind my back with one hand.”
Poe clamped a hand over her mouth. “Whoa. That’s really rude.”
Jackson dragged a hand over his face. “I grabbed her phone. I know I shouldn’t have but I needed to know what was more interesting than making out with me.” His breath hitched. “It was another guy. She was telling him I was a terrible kisser and asking if he could please come relieve her from his misery so she could stop wasting her time getting slobbered on.”
“Oh my God.”
In a small voice, Jackson tacked on another confession. “It’s not first time this happened. Not the texting while kissing but the other girls I’ve gone on dates with—they didn’t want second ones.” He dragged his palms over his face, stretching the skin of his cheeks taut. “I don’t get it. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing wrong.”
“Kiss me,” Poe said. It was all so obvious. This was an easy thing to fix.
He lifted one hand off his face and glanced at her.
“I’ll tell you what you’re doing wrong.” It was as simple as that. He needed a tutor, and she’d never had a problem getting second dates. It was turning the boys away afterward that always proved difficult.
He curled onto his side, rising onto shaky limbs. His lips descended, softly at first. Testing. But then he opened his mouth and swallowed her lips whole, dribbling slobber all over her chin as his tongue darted into her mouth with a desperate sort of insistence. It swirled in a way that made her feel like she was choking. She pushed at his chest until he jerked away.
“Too much tongue. Don’t create a suction cup over my lips—close your mouth so it’s only open a little. Alternate between open and closed mouth kisses. Oh! And take my lower lip in your teeth and gently suck.”
His lips met hers again and this time he only opened a small amount, slipping the right amount of tongue into her mouth. She controlled the kiss, showing him how she liked it and he followed suit. He closed his mouth, brushing his lips against hers side to side before he pulled her lower lip between his teeth and sucked. Warmth radiated across her collarbone.
She wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, alternating between light, sweet ones and fierce, heavy ones to show him the difference. “Knot one hand into my hair.”
His fingers weaved slow circles through her strands, releasing tingles that erupted all over her flesh.
“Run your other hand slowly along my side.”
He trailed his other hand along her side in a way that made her arch into him. She captured his hand in her own and guided it to her breast, showing him just how she liked to be touched there. He was fully on top of her now, her legs straddled around him as his lips descended to her neck, kissing and sucking perfectly.
He was a fast learner and he touched her in all the right places exactly as she instructed. She felt a little thrill course through her, both at the magic he was doing and the fact that she was helping him. Next time he hooked up with a girl, he’d make it impossible for her to think about anything but his touch. She couldn’t think about anything else, and that was exactly what she craved: to lose her tether to the world and leap into deep space, sparkling among the stars where everything was empty and innocuous and a vacuum sucking up all sense of self.
Poe’s fingers danced at the edge of his boxers, her thumbs looping in the waistband. Jackson’s stomach pumped raggedly, and he pulled away from her mouth to glance at her.
“I could teach you other things,” she whispered.
When Poe was twelve and got her period for the first time, her mom handed her two things. A tampon. And a condom. Most kids received a frank talk about the birds and the bees from their parents about waiting to have sex until marriage or love. Poe’s mom gave her step-by-step techniques for driving any guy wild using a variety of her body parts. Ever since then, the one thing Poe had always been good at was knowledge. She aced tests. She scored high marks with guys. But she never ever shared her knowledge the way her mom had with her. Until now. And it felt fucking amazing.
A wicked grin crossed Jackson’s face. Poe’s whole body screamed for him to come back when he dragged himself away for a second to yank open the drawer to his nightstand.
He pulled out a package, which he ripped open and plucked out a small silver square. “My friend dared me to buy them last year,” he said, as if he needed an excuse.
“Let me show you how to put it on.”
As his weight descended upon her, she reached the point she always felt whenever she did this with a new guy. That she was someone else. And that was the greatest feeling in the world, leaving her body for just a few moments and existing someplace where happiness and bliss were actually achievable. Well, maybe not with Jackson considering his stamina was something else he clearly needed practice on.
Afterward, he lay there, his chest pumping. She expected him to turn to her and say thank you. Instead he squinted at her. “Wait, what’s your secret?”
She felt something like shame creep up her spine and tighten her muscles. “I think you already know.”
Her head pounded as she put her clothes back on and fled his room. When she crept back into Harper’s room, Brett jerked up from his spot on the floor and squinted at her in a way that wasn’t confusion. It was an accusation.
He shook his head at her in disgust.
She ducked past him and crawled into Harper’s bed, tugging the covers over her head to block out light and sound and all the judgment Brett was flinging from the floor. But she couldn’t block out her own thoughts and one hammered against her skull at rock concert decibels: she hadn’t just screwed Jackson. She’d also screwed Harper.
CHAPTER 21
HARPER
Harper was screwed. Connor’s latest text proved as much.
Keep it up and maybe I’ll release your medical records after all. Or even better! I’ll release the evidence I’ve got on your lover boy Blake. Your choice.
A cold, crackling sensation raced up her spine as she read the note. He might actually be douchy enough to do it, and here she was, unable to stop him. She was stuck huddling with the other girls of Frick Hall, quarantined in the downstairs lounge while Animal Control rounded up the stray rats. Dry paint cracked on her arms, flaking off onto the couches, but she didn’t care. The paint was a battle scar, and she’d win next round.
What she needed was a deadline to force herself into action. Harper banged out another DM to Blake even though he still hadn’t responded to her last one.
Harper: Let’s set a time and a place to meet up? Midnight at the mascot statue?
There. That gave her three more hours to defeat Connor and be free of him forever.
As she stared at her phone waiting for a reply, the screen turned black and vibrated in her hand. An unknown number appeared on the display. She pressed the accept button with shaky fingers, fully expecting another threat from Connor. But on the other end she heard a speech about accepting the collect charges. She squinted in confusion as she waited for the recipient to announce himself, annoyed Connor was now making her pay for his mistakes. But it wasn’t Connor’s voice begging her to accept the charges. It was someone far worse.
Poe.
Harper dropped the phone as if it had ignited in flames.
A furious scream burned in her throat. She imagined Poe’
s words—the ones Poe had likely been bottling up behind her smirks all year round—I told you so. She swiped up her phone from the floor with movements that punched the air before shouting out her acceptance, if only to tell Poe off once and for all. Hot rage boiled inside her, ignited by Connor but fueled by Poe’s audacity to try to contact her again after their agreement of a night of peace—and avoidance. After Harper did her a favor. “What?” she snapped once it connected.
Starr whipped her head toward Harper, her eyes wide.
A sniffle came through on the other end. Sharp. Out of place. There was only one time Harper had seen Poe cry and it was the day she met her. Ever since, the girl seemed to have a firm stance against anything that resulted in tears, including chopping onions. But then Harper heard the sound of a throat clearing and a heavy breath. When Poe finally spoke, her voice was clear. Sure. Confident. The Poe Harper had left behind to rot at the end of the world. “I need a favor.”
Harper couldn’t help it. She snorted. “Two in one day? What have I done to be so lucky?”
“I didn’t know who else to call,” Poe mumbled. But then she came back strong. “Actually, in full disclosure, I called Brett first but he didn’t answer.”
The snark hit Harper like a gut punch. It strangely felt like a huge blow to be second choice in a contest she hadn’t even entered. She blew her bangs away from her face. “What do you want?”
“I need you to come get me and my friend.”
Not want. Need. Harper rolled her eyes.
“We’re in jail,” Poe continued. “It’s $523 each to bail us out.”
Harper’s heart thumped against her rib cage. She’d always admired the way Poe could do so many bad things and never get caught. In some ways, Poe had always inspired her to tip toe on the edge. But she always snatched a little inspiration from Brett too. She’d sneak into the boys’ locker room…but only when the school was empty. She’d skip her fifth period class…to study for her sixth period class in the library. She’d forge her parents’ signatures on lame permission slips…to watch R-rated movies during class. She always felt half of each but whole of neither and she never felt like herself either. And now the reigning queen of bad had finally fallen.