Breaking Faith (The JackholeS Book 1)

by Joy Eileen

  “Don’t be mad,” he pleaded as he parked the car and shut off the engine.

  “I’m not mad,” I replied, telling him the truth. “I'm just wondering how many more times you're going to rescue me before you recognize how one-sided this relationship is.”

  Kill's face was calm, but his jaw twitched, indicating I struck a nerve, and he was trying to rein in his emotions.

  He didn't say a word, making me fidget. I waved my hand back and forth in front of his face. He blinked and caught my hand. He linked our hands and placed them in the middle of us, his jaw still clenched.

  “Are you alright?” I asked nervously.

  He sighed deeply and threw his head back onto the seat before answering me. “I've already told you I'm not rescuing you, and it bothers me you would think I would keep track. You're my friend, and I want you to be protected. It eats me up inside I wasn’t there sooner. This is my selfish way of making me feel better, since I can’t do anything to change the past. Please, just accept I'm the most awesome friend you'll ever have, and I'm going to blow your mind with how great I am at this shit.”

  “Sorry, you're right. I'll stop worrying about you protecting me. It's just hard for me. I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop and become disappointed. That's my issue, not yours, and I'll stop pushing it on you.”

  “I'm not going to disappoint you, Slick. I know he's waiting for the right time to come after you. I'm on edge because I don't know when it will happen, I just know it will. But I'll be there, and he will not hurt you again.”

  My heart lurched, silently begging him to keep his promise. We made our way into the house, both of us going to our rooms and changing before meeting back in the living room. The boys filed in, and once they had made their way upstairs, we snuck into my bed and fell asleep tangled around each other.

  Chapter 25

  The next day after our run and a much needed shower, I practiced with the boys until deemed worthy. Instead of sitting around watching the rest of the practice, I went upstairs and worked on my thesis.

  I was petrified because I was done, and another chapter in my life was ending.

  It was lonely working without Kill, and I kept looking over at the empty spot he usually occupied. As I read over everything I had written, I hugged his pillow tightly, inhaling his scent embedded in it.

  After dinner, I got ready for work. Amy gave me the same warning, not to sing until they got there, and I agreed so I wouldn't have to dodge any sugary treats.

  The night was busier than last week, and some of the customers were there to hear me. A lot of them were men that loved the JackholeS, and were interested in their new female singer. I tried to explain I wasn’t the new singer, just backup for a couple of songs, but they didn’t seem to care.

  Some of the female customers were openly hostile toward me, sneering and making snide comments while I was in hearing range. Most of it was the same insult; I wasn’t pretty enough, but the one that bothered me most was the rumor I allowed the whole band to penetrate me at the same time.

  I told Ryan, trying to figure out how it was anatomically possible. Ryan was happy to show me, demonstrating with straws how it wouldn’t be hard at all. The guy next to me ran off. We watched him walk toward the bathroom with his hands in front of him and laughed when he was out of sight.

  “That poor guy. He'll probably have a wet spot on his pants.” I tried to chastise her, but I couldn’t stop myself from giggling.

  “Ahh, I'll over-pour his next beer so you can spill it,” Ryan said, causing me to go into another fit of giggles.

  “Ryan, you're a saint.”

  Denise walked by, and I just shook my head, not wanting to explain. When I was on my way back from delivering my drinks, Ryan had her straws back out, and Denise was studying them intently. I decided to wait, already scarred from the first demonstration and not wanting an encore. I caught up to Jessie and walked with her.

  “Hey sexy lady, how are you doing?”

  Her face deflated. She had bags under her eyes, and I could tell from the amount of concealer around them she'd been crying.

  “You need to tell him, Jess.”

  I was about to say more, but the bell above the door rang, and everyone stopped to wait for Jet’s arrival.

  “Suck it, bitches. I know you're thirsty for my fame stick,” he crowed.

  I rolled my eyes as he walked over to the table, with his arm wrapped around Amy. Van saw my arm around Jessie, and his shoulders dropped in defeat. I took their beer to them and kissed Van on the top of the head. He looked up at me with a lost look on his face.

  “Ask her to talk to you, but I didn’t tell you that.”

  He smiled and saluted me with his beer.

  “I want a kiss, and for you to whisper naughty things in my ear too,” Jet whined, already wincing before Amy’s hand even connected.

  I blew him a kiss. Kill watched me intently, and the ferocious look on his face startled me. I put my arms around his shoulders, feeling the tension radiating off of him.

  “Are you ok there, Killer?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just have a lot on my mind,” he responded gruffly.

  I let him go when I felt his shoulders relax, and now it was D staring at me intently. Who would have thought living with a bunch of boys would be so full of drama.

  I walked over to D, but before I reached him, I caught a glimpse of the table that insinuated I let all four of them in at once. They whispered to each other while pointing at us.

  I smirked as I put my arms around D and kissed him on the cheek, never taking my eyes off of them. D tensed up, and his cheeks turned bright red.

  “Come on, Faith, you can’t leave me out,” Jet said, looking at me with his puppy dog eyes on full blast.

  “Well, according to some people, I didn’t,” I replied, still looking at the table, which was now in a frenzy.

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Kill asked, pulling me away from D.

  “Is somebody bothering you?” D asked, looking around the bar for the culprit.

  Even Van scanned the bar with his face hard and scary.

  “Stop. There was some speculation as to the reason I'm singing with you guys, is because I allowed you to….uhmm..” I tried to think of how to describe it, when Jet chimed in.

  “That we made you airtight?”

  I hoped he wasn’t going to describe what he just said, and also made sure there weren’t any straws near.

  “I'm not sure what that means, but I think, yes,” I answered.

  Jet moved his hands like he was going to explain, and I stopped him quickly.

  “Please don’t,” I begged, while Kill chuckled next to me.

  “You know, we fill every hole, making you airtight.”

  I could not believe he just said that out loud.

  “What's wrong with you?” I asked.

  The boys laughed at me, and I knew I was a deep shade of red.

  “I was just giving them a show by hugging all of you. Trying to let them know I don’t care what they say.”

  The women were still talking and pointing. Kill got up, and I pushed him back down in his chair.

  “Don’t,” I ordered.

  DJ Smoke requested my presence before he could protest. Kill gave me an innocent expression I was not buying.

  “Don’t let him go over there,” I commanded Van and D, before walking up to the stage.

  Van and D kept their promise, and didn’t let Kill walk over to the table of women, that unfortunately lingered until last call.

  When we drove home, I felt exhausted, since I kept one eye on Kill most of the night. The worst part was every time I would check on him, he was staring at me. He would wink when our eyes connected, making it almost impossible to work with the haze of sexual tension between us. My nerves were shot, and I got goose bumps so many times I looked like a plucked chicken.

  Van and D loitered longer than normal, and I had to fight to keep my eyes open as we waited
them out. When they finally left the living room, Kill and I let out a collective sigh, making us laugh at ourselves.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes, please,” I answered, yawning loudly.

  “Don’t scream.”

  I didn’t have time to ask him why before he threw me over his shoulder. I bit my lip so I wouldn't make any noise, not wanting our wait to be in vain.

  In my room Kill threw me down on the bed, and I held a pillow over my face to muffle my laughter. He jumped on the bed, making me bounce, and I held the pillow even tighter. He snuggled up to me and lifted the pillow so he could talk into my ear.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Wanting revenge, I pulled the pillow off of me and leaned over, licking him on the nose. His eyes went wide, but I put my finger on his lips making sure he kept quiet.

  “Alright, Slick,” he said, putting out his hands to keep me away from him. He smiled and pulled me into his chest, and put my head down on him. “That tongue's going to be the death of me.”

  Heat flared between my legs, and I had to work on keeping my breath steady. Repeating silently in my head the stupid word, friends. I listened to his heartbeat, unable to fall asleep from the heat surging through my veins.

  “Are you asleep?” I whispered, not wanting to wake him up if he was.

  “No,” he replied, with amusement in his voice. “You know I can’t sleep without your snoring.”

  I bit his chest lightly through his t-shirt.

  “I can’t sleep,” I said, rubbing the spot I had just bit.

  “Well, you need to fall asleep so your snores can put me to sleep. What can I do to help?” Kill asked, rubbing his hand up and down my back.

  I shrugged, knowing what would calm my body, and too chicken to ask him to quench the desire pulsing through me.

  “Do you want me to sing to you?”

  “I couldn’t do that to you.”

  “Why? I use you for your snoring so in your own way you are singing me to sleep.”

  “I don’t snore,” I grumbled. “But yes, please.”

  He chuckled into my hair, and sang softly. His voice was incredible. I was so used to him belting out lyrics with intense emotion, hearing him sing softly took my breath away.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he continued. My body liquefied, and I melted into him as his voice calmed me enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

  When I woke up, Kill was gone. I found him downstairs sipping his protein drink.

  “Morning, Slick.”

  On our run, he smacked my ass more than needed, and we were laughing during our cool down.

  Jason had been pushed out of my mind, and I felt like I was moving on with my life. Jason's ominous statement he wouldn’t give up on me was pushed away every time it tried to surface. I wasn't stupid, I knew my final showdown with Jason was going to happen. I just wasn't going to allow it to ruin my life.

  We took showers separately, as much as my vagina begged me to invite him to save water. He came into my room later while I reread everything I had written, making changes here and there before sending it to one of my favorite literature professors to proofread it.

  Kill looked over at the bed that wasn’t littered with my normal clutter.

  “I finished my paper,” I answered his silent question. “I've been working on it for a year and a half," I explained.

  He smiled at me and hopped onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, opening his notebook and taking out a pen.

  “How do you feel to be on the final leg of something you've been working on for a year and a half?”

  “Honestly?” I asked, and he gave me his half-smile.

  “Always.”

  “Scared to death. I've worked on this for so long and have had this concept in my head even longer. To finally be done, to let someone read what I have put together so they can criticize it, and have their own opinions makes me want to vomit. Also, when I turn it in, it will be the end to a crucial part of my life, and I don’t know what I'm going to do when I don’t have to write it any longer.”

  He studied me for a moment, taking in everything I just rambled on about. He asked for the truth, so I didn’t feel bad unloading.

  “Write something else,” he answered, like it was the most obvious answer.

  “What?”

  “I've watched you write, and you're happy when you're lost in your words. I get the same feeling when I'm onstage. Your true passion's writing. Have you ever thought maybe the reason you took so long finishing it was because you enjoyed it so much you didn’t want the experience to end?”

  My inner voice screamed he was right. I did enjoy putting a paper together. I'd always envied authors that could sit down and write a story so powerful you became lost in the characters.

  “What would I write about?” I asked, unable to think any further than his suggestion, but excited at the prospect.

  “I don’t know. I'm sure you have a story or two in your head you could put down on paper, and make your own.” He touched my forehead with his finger and ran it down to the tip of my nose, tapping it.

  He turned his attention to his notebook, like he hadn’t just blown my mind with an idea. An idea that made me feel as though something essential had just been put into place.

  I stared at my computer, no longer reading the words in front of me as my mind turned a mile a minute thinking of the possibilities. I figured I would work in a field revolving around my biology degree, and my literature degree was something to enjoy on the side. The prospect of doing something with it was a notion I had never entertained.

  “What are you thinking about?” Kill asked, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to reality.

  “That you're right.”

  “Well, of course I am. I'm always right, but you need to be more specific since the range of my correctness is so vast.”

  I hit him with a pillow. “I love writing. I love putting my thoughts on paper and seeing them in front of me. I never thought about writing a story, because I never had much of an imagination. When my mom left I had to grow up fast. Every year I would take on more responsibilities, so my dad wouldn’t have to work so hard to raise me. Sometimes, I wonder if I wasn’t misbehaving to make sure he wouldn’t leave me too.” I whispered the last part, never actually voicing that out loud.

  “I never played with the other kids, and pretend was something I didn’t have time for. Honestly, you kind of turned the plans for my future upside down.”

  He shut his notebook and scooted closer to me, pulling me toward him so I was resting on his chest. “That's the most you've ever told me about your childhood. I'm sorry you went through that, but I don't believe for one second you don't have an imagination,” he said, running his fingers through my hair.

  “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I had a great childhood. My dad was amazing, and I never wanted for anything. He never asked me to help out, I did that on my own. I don’t like talking about it because I don’t want pity,” I said, trying to get up from his chest.

  Having him rescue me was bad enough without pity attached to it. He gently pushed me back down, not letting me get up when all of my instincts told me to run.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. Stop trying to run away. I just meant I'm sorry you had to go through that, but it has made you the person you are, and you're a strong, smart, beautiful, stubborn, woman with the snore of a lullaby. I would love to hear more about you as a little girl, because I bet you were just as spunky as you are now.”

  I listened to his words, making sure they were truthful and he wasn’t trying to placate me.

  “What about your childhood?” I asked, realizing he was right; neither of us had revealed much about our past, and at that moment I was done talking about mine.

  “Another time when there's lots of alcohol,” Kill replied, turning on the T.V. and finding a comedy.

  I shut off my computer and put everything away. Kill's arms were out waitin
g for me to return and I happily went. We watched T.V., and when I told him I needed to go shopping, he volunteered to drive.

  As I cooked dinner, Kill sat at the table with his notebook, he would get up and steal a piece of something I was cooking to test it to make sure I wasn’t poisoning his band. After dinner, I went over my three songs, and once they agreed I was ready for the stage, I ran upstairs to get ready for work.

  Jessie hadn’t been around all day, and I text her to make sure she was doing ok. She called back, frantic because her parents had met a boy they thought would be perfect for her, and she didn’t know how to tell them about Van.

  It took me awhile to calm her, and I tried to get her to meet me early before work to talk, but she brushed me off. I knew she was avoiding me and I was fuming. Then I realized how hypocritical I was being and gave her a break.

  Jason's car wasn't in its normal stalking spot, and fear shot through me. I'd thought I figured out his routine, and with this little change-up, I was wary of what was to come.

  Work was packed. Jessie didn’t show up until right before her shift, and with the bar being so busy, I was unable to talk to her.

  When the boys walked in, everyone cheered, drowning out whatever Jet had prepared. Jet was visibly upset nobody heard his entrance. Van whispered something into his ear that made his eyes light up.

  I raced over to Ryan and took the pre-made tray to their table. Kill got up to follow me after I delivered their drinks.

  “Hey Slick, it's crazy in here,” he said into my ear, causing my body to flush with heat from the warm air of his words on my skin.

  “Yeah,” I answered him, my voice sounding husky, betraying my thoughts about both of us naked on some sturdy surface, instead of in a busy bar.

  His lips turned up at the sound of my breathlessness. “You’re hot,” he replied, snuggling further into my back so his full length was pressed against me.

  My nipples pebbled, making my breasts seem heavy and uncomfortable, confined in my bra. His voice caused the ache associated with Kill’s presence to flare to life.

  I pulled away, my heart beating wildly, and I flushed from embarrassment, since I could feel dampness between my thighs.