Vicious Desire

by S. Massery

  I grit my teeth.

  There’s a reason I’m not going to law school. I can’t be trusted to keep a secret… and neither can Riley. My anger is too loud in my ears. Someone stuffed me full of cotton and set it on fire, and the crackle might drive me crazy.

  The waitress wiping down the breakfast bar smiles at me, gesturing to pick my own table. It isn’t very crowded in here, just a few college-aged students in a corner booth, all with their laptops out and coffee mugs beside them. I eye the lone man seated by the door and finally choose a table away from everyone.

  The bell above the door goes off just as I’m pulling out a menu.

  Riley slides into the seat across from me. “You really need to look?”

  No. How many times was it? A hundred? Or maybe the number is deceptively small: twelve or thirteen.

  Who knows?

  “What are you getting?” I ask.

  She glares at me.

  “Or…” I set down the menu and cross my arms over my chest. “You can tell me what’s going on.”

  Something flashes across her face. I struggle to put a name to it, but it isn’t a pleasant expression.

  “I’ll go first,” I offer. “I’m here to stay. At least for the year.”

  “What happened to college?” she asks.

  I lift one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

  “Now who’s hiding?” She tucks her hair behind her ear.

  “I didn’t like it when I felt so damn guilty,” I finally say.

  Riley eyes me. “Why are you guilty?”

  Why are you guilty—not why do you feel guilty. Her words are a choice, and boy does she know how to wield them like a weapon.

  My annoyance flares. “I’m not guilty. Not as much as you.”

  The waitress picks the perfect time to stop by our table, notepad ready. I order for both of us before Riley can even open her mouth.

  I know you, I’m trying to say.

  The way her jaw sets, I think she can hear me just fine.

  Chocolate chip banana pancakes. Bacon. Hash browns. A coffee for me and hot chocolate for her, extra whipped cream. This place will sometimes put rainbow sprinkles on top, too.

  It’s the little things.

  “We both have secrets,” she says evenly. “Can’t we just let them be?”

  I clench my teeth, then say, “No.”

  Her eyes widen. “No?”

  “No. Secrets are like a scab we can’t help picking.” I raise my eyebrow. “I think we’ll both be bloody by the end of this.”

  The fight goes out of her in a whoosh. I see it go, the way her shoulders fall and her muscles loosen. “I don’t want any of this.”

  I tilt my head, confusion overtaking any other feeling.

  “Explain,” I demand.

  She meets my stare. “I’m tired. I don’t want to do this with you. I’m sorry I got in your truck, but I really just needed to escape for a minute. I didn’t ask—”

  “Stop.” I hold up my hand. “Why are you lying to me?”

  She’s not sorry she got in my truck—she’s sorry I took control of the situation.

  “I’m not.” She leans forward. “You’re bored and looking to mess with me, but you forgot that you threw the first punch. You might hate me, but it’s nothing compared to how I feel about you. I’m going home.”

  I watch her stand and walk out the door. I’m not sure where she’s going to go—it’s cold out, and I have the keys to the truck. Not to mention we’re miles from Rose Hill.

  She fidgets in the parking lot for a few moments, the glow of her phone illuminating her face, then a car rolls up.

  Fuck.

  I throw cash on the table and bolt after her.

  The back door of the car slams, and it starts to pull away. It’s barely rolling when I dive in front of it, holding up my hands. She can’t just leave, get in a car with a stranger—

  The driver’s window rolls down. “Come on, asshole, get out of the way.”

  “You’re not taking her anywhere,” I growl.

  “I’m gonna call the fucking cops,” he warns.

  “And I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping,” I snap. “Tell her to get out.”

  It only takes a few seconds for her door to fly open. I step out of the car’s way, and it can’t pull out fast enough. She stalks up to me and raises her hand.

  The slap she gave me at a party is seared in my memory.

  I grab her wrist before she can make contact, and use it to tow her to my truck. She doesn’t make a sound when I open her door and push her into the opening. Grudgingly, she uses the handle and hauls herself up.

  I grip her thighs, swiveling her toward me.

  A slight gasp comes out of her mouth, and my dick twitches.

  I lean against her knees, which she keeps firmly closed. I almost expect her to try to slap me again. But she just presses her forehead to mine.

  An interesting reaction, but not an awful one.

  No, it is awful.

  “What are you doing to me?” she asks. “You just come back and take over my life? Again? Newsflash, Eli. There’s nothing left to destroy.”

  I freeze. “What makes you say that?”

  She straightens and swings her legs back into the truck. “Please take me home.”

  What else is there left to do but listen?

  15

  Eli

  Two and a Half Years Ago

  Caleb nudges me with the butt of his lacrosse stick. “Wake up, man.”

  I shake myself back into attention and frown. Riley is here. Did I know she was going to come? She hadn’t participated in any other activities…

  “Eli,” Coach yells.

  I readjust my helmet and wave him off, jogging across the field in Theo’s direction. We’re doing an exhibition match against Lion’s Head, and all the ticket sales are going to charity. It’s the sort of stunt that makes both schools feel like they’re doing their part.

  Rumor has it, Stone Ridge High students are here. But if those rumors have any weight, the students came with the intention of blending in.

  The whistle blows just as my attention strays back to the stands. Riley sits between Amelie and Jackie. She doesn’t understand that she’s getting special treatment because her of her father.

  I wonder how long it took Amelie to figure out Charles Appleton was her father’s new boss. The whole Page family loves to scheme—I wouldn’t be surprised if this was just another ploy.

  Someone rams into me, and I grunt. I can’t let my focus keep sliding like this.

  I go into autopilot, circling the Lion’s Head asshole and managing to intercept a pass. I flick the ball back toward Caleb. He catches it smoothly and bolts down the field. He passes to a waiting Liam, and we score.

  The screams and cheers from the crowd are muffled.

  Theo slaps the back of my helmet. “Where’s your fucking head, huh? He almost got by you.”

  “But he didn’t,” I snap.

  Theo grins, following the direction I’m angled. Right to the stands.

  Riley’s on her feet with the rest of them, clapping and cheering. A bag of popcorn is cradled between her arm and chest, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be an inanimate object before, but now I do.

  “I’m going to go remove her from the fucking stand if you can’t concentrate,” Theo says, intercepting my line of vision.

  I scowl. “Fuck you.”

  Caleb rushes over. “What the hell?”

  “Don’t mind me if I deck him.” I shove Theo out of my space. I might be shorter than him, but I’m scrappy. Fights with Caleb ensured that.

  Theo just laughs.

  Caleb rolls his eyes. “Save it for the afterparty, yeah?”

  We get back into our positions, and I silently curse myself. It’s only been a week since my encounter with Riley at Jackie’s lake house. Encounter—like it wasn’t a life-altering experience. Is there even a single word to describe how one event can tilt your worl
d in a new direction?

  I’m still trying to piece together what happened. All I know is that her slap turned me on and enraged me—and I might’ve fallen in love with the combination.

  I want more.

  The whistle blows again, the game restarts, and I shove away thoughts of Riley. The idea of Theo removing her from the stands is blood-boiling, and I narrow that anger into winning this damn game.

  There’s a reason Emery-Rose students call the four of us the golden boys. Because when we’re on a lacrosse field together, we’re unbeatable. We’re the ones on the pedestal. The ones who make dreams come true—both on the field and off, if you know what I mean.

  The game ends, and we come out on top. Of course.

  Liam and I yank off our helmets, enjoying the rush of celebration. Tonight was a success for the school, even if the game doesn’t matter. We may be going into our junior year of school, but last year’s seniors played tonight. They’re the ones taking most of the credit for the game.

  We let them.

  “Theo up your ass, huh?” Liam asks.

  I shrug. “He’s right.”

  “He wouldn’t be talking if Lucy was here.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “He’s over her.”

  “Hardly.”

  Interesting.

  Lucy Page is Amelie’s younger sister. She goes to Lion’s Head, where Liam and Theo went before they transferred to Emery-Rose.

  Theo has some sort of vendetta against the girl. As far as I can tell, she seems like a goody-two-shoes. She’s boring. Sometimes she comes to the lacrosse games against Lion’s Head—those are the times Theo can prepare for. What takes him by surprise are the times she comes to see her sister cheer, sitting beside her parents. But she always just sits there, ignoring him, and he always tries not to do anything stupid.

  “It’s only natural that Riley’s distracting you,” Liam continues. “After what happened last week…”

  The slap. The drink pour.

  I don’t know why I wanted to push her buttons so much, but maybe it was instinct. An instinct that proved to be right, because that girl has more personality than everyone else in the school put together. Just what I need.

  I didn’t tell them what happened after—going back to the house.

  Jackie had offered us the boathouse, so that’s where Caleb, Theo, Liam, and I went after Riley disappeared upstairs with Amelie. They all agreed that something bad would happen, so they secluded me.

  I’m pretty sure Jackie threw a fit about it, so that didn’t help.

  Now I’m eager to see how close I can toe her line.

  The adrenaline from the game wears off as the minutes pass by, and the stupid fog comes rolling back in across my mind. I don’t want to give it a name, but it has a heaviness that sucks me down.

  I hate it.

  The smile slips from my face, and no matter how hard I try to hold on to it, it doesn’t stay.

  My friends notice. They usually do, but I wonder if they really know what they’re doing. How to handle it. Me. Caleb stays by my side after Coach is done talking to us in the locker room, and we’re back out of our uniforms. We get into Theo’s shiny new car, and immediately a foul smell fills my nose.

  What the hell?

  I cover my mouth and nose. “What is that?”

  Theo glances around. From my seat directly behind him, I have the perfect view of his ears getting red.

  That’s not good.

  He’s like a kettle about to scream—his temperature rises, his ears get red, then bam.

  We all scramble out of the car. I suck in a deep breath of clean air and stare at Caleb over the roof, but he seems just as confused as me. Liam, too.

  Theo gets out slower. He squats beside the driver’s seat and aims his phone’s flashlight at it, then sweeps lower.

  He growls.

  “Theo,” Liam says carefully. “Did you find…?”

  “This,” Theo snaps. He shows us an open Tupperware. Rotten, hardboiled eggs. There’s spots of mold on them, and the smell is rancid.

  He chucks the plastic container as far as he can, then closes his eyes.

  “I’m going to kill her,” he says.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Who?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  Doesn’t need to, anyway. We all know there’s exactly one female who would pull a stunt like this: Lucy Page.

  “How’d she get into your car?” Caleb asks. “Don’t you lock it?”

  Theo kicks at the ground. “She has a key.”

  I choke on a laugh. “She does? To your brand-new car? You literally got it three weeks ago. You don’t even let us drive it.”

  He shifts. “Yeah, well, she’s a pain in the ass.”

  Liam shakes his head. “That’s fucked-up, man.”

  I’d love to hear the story behind that, but Theo ignores our questioning stares and gets back in the car. We’re the last ones out of the parking lot, and we ride with all the windows down.

  The smell lingers like it’s stuck to the leather seats.

  One of the seniors is hosting the party tonight. He lives on the edge of Rose Hill and Stone Ridge, a drive that’s surprisingly quick. We’re obviously late, because the only parking Theo can get is almost at the end of the long driveway. We walk between cars toward the house, waving hello to people calling out to us.

  Almost without realizing it, I’m scanning for Riley.

  She’s in one of the rooms we pass, dancing with her friends. Her arms above her, head tipped back and eyes closed. A red cup dangles from her fingertips.

  My urge is to go mess with her, but I ignore it.

  I follow Liam deeper into the house, toward the back porch where they’ve set up the keg. Everyone wants a piece of us, so it takes a while to get there. Someone grabs my arm, stepping in front of me.

  One of the cheerleaders, a junior whose name I can’t remember.

  She grins at me. Any other time, it’d be on. A little flirting, some tension, and a quick fuck. Mind-blowing for them, but fast nonetheless. I don’t have time to cuddle after, you know?

  Now, my dick doesn’t even twitch. I shrug her off and continue on, slightly annoyed with myself. I could go back and mess with what’s-her-face, just to prove to myself that I can… but what’s the point?

  “Good game, guys,” Ian calls to us. Like he wasn’t being scolded in the locker room not an hour ago for his abysmal performance.

  I wave at him.

  Caleb rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply.

  Liam would’ve taken the bait, but he’s already in the next room. Good thing, too. The last thing Ian’s ugly face needs is a broken nose.

  “What’s the deal with you and that girl?” Caleb asks me, tipping his head back in Riley’s direction.

  It’s one of those things we’ve avoided talking about, but he chooses now to ask me. And I can’t even come up with a solid answer, because I don’t fucking know.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  Someone cranks the music, saving me from any further inquisition.

  We get drinks and fend off people wanting to talk to us, congratulate us. Ian slings his arm over Caleb’s shoulders, giving him a hard grin. Those two have a weird relationship that I want no part of—sometimes I think they hate each other, other times they’re fine. Either way, it’s none of my business.

  I slip away.

  It’s no surprise that I end up in the same room as Riley.

  She turns, maybe sensing my presence, and frowns.

  “Not happy to see me?” I call.

  She grimaces. “No. Did you shower after the game? I can smell you from here.”

  “Mighty personal to be asking those sort of questions,” I answer, sauntering closer. Getting near her is like touching a lightbulb—you know it’s going to burn, but there’s a chance it won’t. “Some say sweat is a turn-on.”

  Her nose wrinkles.

  “No? Guess you’ve never been down and dirty with a guy licking—”
r />   “Stop.” She holds up her hand.

  I grin. “I should’ve known you were a prude.”

  “I’m not,” she snaps. “No one wants to hear about your sexual exploits.”

  “Who said we were talking about me?” I step closer.

  She shivers, even though it’s a thousand degrees in this room. The little baby hairs around her face are plastered to her skin.

  “No, we were talking about your pussy, and the tongues that have touched it. Made you squirm as they pumped their fingers into you and felt you come.”

  Her face is beet red, and it brings unexpected pleasure.

  I can envision her writhing under me—

  “You can’t just say that in public,” she hisses.

  “No one is listening to us,” I argue.

  Everyone is busy dancing, drinking, making out. This party got low-key fast, spiraling into something a little more sensual than poor, innocent Riley might’ve realized.

  Even her friends have disappeared.

  The music switches, and she watches me for a moment, then raises her arms. Her new dance moves are deliberate, her hips moving to the beat. Her eyes roll back, and a smile overtakes her

  I raise my eyebrow and tilt the cup toward me. Dark-red liquid sloshes in the bottom inch, and I groan. “You didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” She’s still dancing.

  She doesn’t know?

  Rage boils in my chest.

  I snatch the cup from her and chuck it, not caring that it splashes against the wall, that a few girls behind us yelp.

  “Who gave this to you? Patrick?”

  She frowns. “The host? Um, yeah, I think so.”

  Idiot. I’m going to kill him.

  I grab her hand and pull her from the dance floor, away from the pulsing music. She doesn’t even protest, and her fingers are limp against mine.

  Once we’re outside, I face her. “He only gives the red punch to girls who want to party harder.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and shivers. “I don’t get it.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” I say. Just for the record. And to get her to stop swaying to the beat of the music.

  It’s not her fault, I remind myself. Yet, she took a drink from a stranger.

  “Ecstasy,” I snap. “He laces the punch with it. You’re high and you don’t even realize.”