by L. J. Woods
“No shit, Willow,” Damien snorts and he gets a glare from her. “You in love with a Huang?”
“Not in love!” she says, way too loud in my face.
“But in something?” I ask and she doesn’t meet my stare. I groan, “Low.”
“He’s not a bad person! Like how Lea’s not really that bad and like Damien. We all have our stories.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, feeling both sober and drunk at the same damn time. Willow’s right. “Kinda like that kid.”
“What kid?”
Damien puts her hand on her shoulder. “She’s drunk.” Saving me from having to explain how I blamed myself for killing the kid from The Grove who died from an overdose.
If it wasn’t for Damien pointing out I shouldn’t hold myself responsible for that unfortunate event, I’d still be carrying that guilt. That also means death has followed me much longer than it has with Damien.
Falling back against the floor, my legs tucked under me, the ceiling blurs. “This is fucking unreal. The entire time it was him.”
A chime fills the room. Willow’s phone.
She sighs, “I have to find Bella. She’s freaking out but I’ll be back.” Her face comes into view, blocking the light. “Will you be okay?”
I shrug.
“She’ll be okay.” Damien sounds reassuring but I’m not sure if I will.
When she leaves, I roll over, cheek against the floor. “She knew …” My words land against the wood, bass from the music vibrating my body.
Damien sits on the floor beside me, the room empty except for me and him and right now, I’m actually grateful he’s here. His hand comes to my hair, raking his fingers through it.
“I don’t think she knew how to protect her friend and her sister,” Damien says. “The girl’s tougher than she looks.”
“How can she forgive him?” I ask, looking up to his chiselled face for answers.
“Maybe it’s easier for her to forgive the people she loves.” He shrugs. “It’s a fucked up mistake but should anyone suffer that much for their mistakes?”
Lifting a brow I ask, “Are we still talking about Jordan? How he killed my parents?” Damien shrugs. “What am I supposed to do, Damien? I want to hurt him but that’ll only hurt Willow.”
“You wanna hurt Jordan?” He scoffs, the smell of pot filling the room as he lights another joint. “Not the school? Not her parents? Not any of the assholes who covered this all up?”
Jordan was a kid when this happened, as old as Willow. Can I blame him for this?
Rolling over, Damien’s eyes hit mine before I can stare up at Allie’s ceiling. Inching closer, he uses his boot to close the door, the music turning into a soft thud.
“They paid Evergreen to keep it quiet.” I’m saying my thoughts as they come to my head. “Right? That’s what this entire paper trail of this deal is for?” It’s hard to sit up when I’m this toasted but I manage to balance on my elbows. “You think they knew something?”
Sitting up only gives me a better view of Damien. He’s wearing my favourite. The classic combination of his leather jackets with his black boots and dark v-neck. His eyes roam my face before they drop to my lips. It’s hard to tell if that tightness in my stomach is from my drinking or if it’s the devil’s spell all over again.
He takes his time to answer, eyes slinking from my lips to my chest and it’s like he’s touching me with his gaze. “Who?”
“My dad and your mom?” Ignoring the heat in my cheeks, this weird mix of emotions stirring inside me, I try to focus on where my drunk mind takes me. “Was that why Jordan was trying to help his dad? To silence mine?”
He shrugs, pulling the joint to his lips. After a moment, he says, “We’re better off burning this entire thing to the ground.”
It’s hard not to smile when he gives me that devilish smirk, that calculating plan in his eye and I can’t tell if he’s joking.
He catches my eyes again and his smirk grows into a full-on grin. “Come to prom with me.”
There’s a punch to the knot in my stomach. “Y-you don’t even go to the academy anymore.”
“Fine. I’ll come to prom with you.”
The fuck? “Jordan Huang killed my parents and you’re worried about prom?”
“You said you wanted normal. Prom is the most normal teenage thing I can think of.”
He gets another snort. Didn’t think I’d ever make it to prom and now I have two invitations. Three if you count the one from Isaac but I don’t make good decisions with him either.
“I already have a date.”
His jaw clenches and fuck, I love seeing that reaction. “I’ll kill ‘em. Then we can go together.”
Rolling my eyes I push off my elbows but he’s on top of me before I can get up. “Don’t make me beg, Rowland.”
Swallowing hard, the room around us disappears, the fuzzy feeling overtaking me with his body this close. With his scent, with those eyes. “I’m going with Allie and Lea,” I say, my voice softer than I’d like. “It’s the better choice, Damien. It’s only trouble with us.”
“So coming to a party to find your ass on display on the kitchen island isn’t trouble?”
“Yeah but that was my decision. Mine alone. If anything were to happen to me I’d have no one to blame but myself. Not you.”
“But you’d still blame me,” he says. “Your whole world revolves around me, Rowland. You find a way to fit me into it even when I have nothing to do with it. I know because I do the same to you.”
Sliding up, I get out from his trap, pushing myself off the ground. “I can’t do this.”
“Even after we just cracked the biggest mystery of your life?”
“Thanks, Damien, but this thing has expired.” My leg shakes and I’m chewing my lip, watching as he bores his eyes into me, his scent filling the room. “Now that I know what happened to my parents, I don’t need you anymore.”
“You fucking kidding me, Rowland?” He’s about to stand and I know that approach. He wants to trap me. He wants to keep me as his but I’m not letting that happen again. No matter how good it feels when he does.
Walking back towards the door, I’m trying my best not to fall. If I do, game over. “I’m serious, Damien.”
“Rowland,” he warns. “Don’t walk away from this.”
He’s getting closer and closer, the flare in his nostril becoming clearer.
SLAM!
I’m on the other side of the door before I realize, and I’ve slammed the door on the devil. And this time, I hope it’s for good.
* * *
It took everything in my body to not pull Damien by the shirt and taste his lips again.
It took everything in me not to say those three words on the edge of my tongue.
When I’m that vulnerable, when I’m that weak, all I want is him.
That’s a lie because I still want him when I’m feeling strong and confident. There’s no better accessory to a strong woman attracted to men than a strong man and Damien is that. Strong.
Toxic.
It’s hard to concentrate on anything after that night. Can’t focus on classes or finals. All I think about is that fire, my parents and him.
And I still have no idea what the fuck is happening in calculus.
We should burn everything to the ground.
His words replay in my head and he’s right. Then I wouldn’t have to take these exams with the world in my head.
I can’t believe the only thing standing between me and no longer being a high-schooler are these tests, prom and graduation. A ton has changed since I first stepped foot in ERA.
“Nice seeing you at the party, Jo.” A hockey player walks by with a bite of his lip.
Like how every jock knows my name or how every girl wants to be me.
“Killer outfit at Allie’s party!” Vicky walks by with her posse and they all wave, still in their combat boots.
Since Lea stepped off her royal throne, everyone’s been up my ass. Everyone including
Damien.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as if I’ve summoned another call from the devil and I ignore it again, as much as I want to check it. I have thirty minutes before my calculus exam and I’m cramming all I can into my head until then.
I’m about to press on the doors to the library when there’s a pull on my arm. A cold, firm, hold. I let out a squeal before there’s a hand on my mouth, someone pulling me behind a large plant against the wall. I’m squirming in their grip when that familiar scent takes over. Peppermint and pot.
Damien.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask. “You can’t be here. You don’t go here anymore. Remember?”
“I own these halls and you won’t answer your phone,” he says, his eyes falling to my lips and I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing but I can’t fall into that trap again. Into that addiction. “You know how I get, Rowland.”
“Obsessive?” I ask.
He doesn’t try to hide it, his touch giving me shivers when his finger comes to my chin. “Something like that.” Looking down, I avoid those beautiful eyes but he tilts my chin higher. “Listen, I’ll be at prom.”
My gut twists. “So?”
Did a girl from school invite him? And if so who, because I’d like to have a word.
Wincing at my thoughts, I close my eyes, avoiding his sight. This is exactly the kinda fucked up thoughts that prove we can’t be together. I can’t be hurting people for him. I can’t be killing for him.
“Meet me in the library during prom. Just you.” With my eyes closed his voice sounds even deeper. So deep I can feel it in the depths of my stomach. “That’s my last request, Rowland. If you’re not there, I’m done. You said you loved me. Prove that.”
“Like how you proved you loved me when you sold me off to Carson?” Why is my nose tingling? Why are my lips trembling? “You don’t do that to someone you love.”
“Look at me, Jo.”
I don’t.
“Look at me!” His firm voice startles my eyes open, his galaxy gaze staring into mine. “You love me. I know you do because you don’t do what you almost did for someone you don’t love. And I’m so, fucking, sorry, Jo. That shit got outta hand and I’m fucked up but let me do the work. Let me love you.”
I’m frozen in thought when his lips come to mine before I fall for it again like a stupid basic bitch. Damien’s kiss relaxes me like nothing else can and the way my lips melt into his tells me I’ve missed this more than I admit.
I wonder if this is how people feel on crack or meth. Heroin. Fucked into bliss.
When he leans back, our lips parting, a cold wave takes over. “And you don’t kiss someone like that if you don’t still love them.” Taking a few steps away, he smirks, moving towards the door with a hand swooping through his hair. “See you at prom, Rowland.”
* * *
They say prom is one of the happiest nights of a teenager’s life. But I haven’t felt true happiness since I told Damien I couldn’t be with him.
“Take it from me.” Willow pokes another bobby pin in my hair, curls piled on top of my head, swooping down in a tall bunch. “You look amazing.”
I feel like shit.
Even in this beige and black skirt that accentuates my ass. Even with makeup done the way I want it — okay, how Willow wants it, thick eyeliner and dark red lips, I still feel like something is missing. But I’m not about to say it.
“Thanks, Low.” Grabbing her hand, I squeeze it. With her free hand, she gives me Mom’s rings, Dad’s watch.
“And you’re really gonna wear those?” Willow’s eyes drop to my feet.
While my mesh formal crop top shows off my midriff, this ankle-length skirt shoes off my Docs. She already knows the answer. So I just smile, reaching for the bottle of whiskey on Allie’s dresser.
If I’m getting through this night, whiskey will be by my side. “Allie has her date, and I have mine.” I kiss the bottle.
“I thought Allie and Lea are both your dates.” Willow fixes something in my hair while I stare at the bags under my eyes in the mirror. Even the concealer couldn’t hide how tired I am.
“Let’s be real, the only real date tonight is Jameson.” I’m on the whiskey and beer diet again. And no, it’s not because of Damien.
Not entirely.
It’s been helping to quiet the rage inside when I remember that Jordan Huang burned down my parents’ house and his family got away with it. Don’t get me started on Evergreen.
“You should be going with Damien,” she says.
I scoff. “I should be going to university.”
I’m not graduating.
Not this year anyway.
I bombed that calculus exam and I’m not exaggerating. I left the last few pages empty because I still had no fucking idea what was going on. That kiss with Damien in front of the library did zero help for my grades.
I want to blame him but he’s right, I always do.
“What’re you gonna do when this is all over?” Willow asks.
“You mean after I actually graduate?”
“And I’m still in school and Nate’s in university and Allie goes off to New York with Lea?” I blink. “Who will you have?”
I know what she’s getting at but I’m not saying it. I can’t trust him when all we have is drama, more trauma and dead bodies.
“Who will you have to love?” Willow asks.
Rolling my eyes, my head drops to the side. “You gonna say it?”
She takes my other hand, looking taller and poised and while Willow was a mess when we pulled into Eden, she’s ten times the girl she was back then.
“I’m saying, I’ve seen you moping around school and the Perez house for the last few weeks like Damien died.”
“What?” My brows scrunch, a pang in my heart. “Why would you say that?”
“See? You care about him and if he did die you’d regret whatever it is you’re doing.” My sister widens her big brown eyes, waiting for me to protest but she’s right. The thought of King dying kills me. That doesn’t change what he did. “I know we’ve had a rough go.” Willow reaches behind her, picking up sparkling bronze powder. She pats at my cheeks with a pink sponge. “But you don’t have to keep punishing yourself for everything. Just because Damien isn’t easy, doesn’t mean he’s not exactly what you need.”
She glances at my eyes to see if I’m listening. “And what’s that, Low?”
Ignoring my sass she continues, “Someone that doesn’t take your BS. Someone that’s there for you no matter what, even if it’s not always in the most conventional of ways.” She smiles at her work before meeting my eyes, bopping my nose with the sponge. “And someone that puts that smile back on my sister’s face.”
“I can’t believe we’re going to prom,” Allie leaves the bathroom with Lea behind her, breaking Willow out of her monologue.
“I can’t believe I’m going to prom with you,” Lea says, eyeing Allie in a purple velvet suit. “In that. You look like you fell out of a Prince album.” Lea looks down at her gold poofy dress with a huge smile. “While I look like the belle of the ball.”
Allie snorts. “You look like a gold cotton ball. While my outfit is a showstopper.”
“You’re a showstopper.” A compliment from Lea surprises me, even if it is to her girlfriend. Allie blinks, surprised too before she bites her lip, pulling Lea’s arm over her shoulder. “We’ll be right back.”
Lea squeals as the door slams. “My dress!”
“C’mon Jameson,” I say to the bottle in my hand. “It’s time for us to get some alone time too.” My phone buzzes on Allie’s dresser, Damien’s name lighting up the phone.
Willow rolls her eyes. “Life doesn’t have to be depressing for you.” She spritzes some perfume on me and I’m not sure why. Not like I’ll be dancing with anyone tonight. The minute I get to prom, I plan on finding Isaac to loan me some weed. Okay, give me some weed. I don’t have any more money after I bought this outfit. Not
until I get a summer job anyway. And not at Cindy’s.
“You don’t have to drown on your own,” Willow says, something wiser than her years. I’ve been doubting her this entire time. My sister can hold her own. She holds out her pinky. “Promise me you’ll have fun tonight.”
Linking my pinky with hers I smile. “I promise I love you.”
“I love you too, Jo,” she says with another eye roll. She points to my mouth. “Red gloss. The cherry on the pie. I’ll be right back.”
Ignoring the whispers, giggles and moans from the bathroom, I do the stupid thing and look at my phone.
Damien: 11:11. I’ll be waiting.
Twenty-Two
Damien
Prom is a joke.
Hell, everything is a joke without Jo.
But I’m standing by my words.
If she’s not in the library tonight, I’m toppling my pieces. Calling it quits.
“Dude, this is prom,” Christian says, his new girl fixing his tie in a green dress that matches his suit. It’s been a new girl every week with him lately, this one I recognize from a hookup freshman year. “It’s not a funeral.”
So why does it feel like one?
The feeling I have in my gut, the one that tells me I’ve lost her forever feels worse than sitting at my dad’s funeral. Worse than watching my aunt get flung to her death.
It’s like I’m losing a part of me. Like I need to be on as much drugs as Isaac but if this turns around, if this ship starts sailing, I want to remember it. And if it doesn’t, I want to remember what it feels like when she closes the door on us for good. So I don’t repeat that mistake again. My heart can’t handle it.
My life can’t handle it.
“Leave the man alone,” Isaac slurs in a black suit, embroidered roses on the blazer with a bright floral tie. He sways when he walks across the foyer to put his hand on my shoulder, whiskey bottle in hand. “Can’t you see our King is in pain? If Jo doesn’t come tonight it’s like …” He makes the sound of a plane crashing and burning and if he doesn’t shut the fuck up I’m gonna reach for his bottle.