by NV Roez
Oddly, the only person I haven't been able to avoid is Coach Metson, or I guess I should just start calling him Ryan. He met me at the school gates this morning to join me on my lighthouse run, much to my surprise.
I had no idea he even knew about my runs off campus, but I was grateful for the eye candy, nonetheless. The man is a sight without a shirt on, even if the latter part of our run was spent with him at my back.
It's dead silent in the common area of Emily Hall. There's never any commotion at this hour of the morning, which is exactly why I do it.
No people, no lies, no pretending, just me.
I get my spare key out and slowly open the door to sneak back into my room before Celeste wakes up. It's still early for her, so I can get a shower in, get dressed, and leave again before she opens her eyes.
The heat from the shower is exquisite against my aching muscles, but sadly, I have to cut it short if I want to miss Celeste today. I make a mental note to find out how I can get my own room next year.
It's not like she's done anything wrong. Truth is, I sort of love her. She reminds me so much of Ivy more and more every day. But I know she's seen my scars, and I'm just not ready for the interrogation. I know she wants to know what they are, and it's just not something I'm ever going to be able to tell her. I don't need, nor want, her pity.
Sigh.
I wrap my towel around my body, staring at the familiar stranger staring back at me. I used to look so much like Ivy that I could pretend that she was the one in the mirror. But as I get older, she disappears a little more.
I'm taller, more muscular, and with a hell of a lot more scars. I wonder how much more beautiful she would have been at nineteen.
Micah was right about one thing—it should be her here, not me. This was her dream, not mine. I rub at my wrist tattoo, wishing I could summon her up, but the mirror fogs back up with the steam from the shower.
Maybe I can see her tomorrow.
I leave the bathroom, head to my room, and nearly jump out of my skin before I even get there.
"Is waking up with the dead the only way I can get a chance to see you?" Celeste questions sarcastically.
"Jesus Christ, Cele! Why are you sitting in the dark?" I question back, my pulse racing. I flick on the lights.
She heads to our little kitchen with a sigh and starts filling mugs with fresh coffee.
"I've been trying to talk to you for weeks now, Evelyn. You can't keep avoiding me. We do live together," she says, both hands on her hips.
I sit at the kitchen bar, take the steaming mug of coffee she hands me, and decide that she's right. I mean, we do live together. Might as well get some more lines drawn on how the rest of the year is going to go. A true testament to how badly I suck at friendship.
"Fine. What does Celeste want to talk about so badly that she shortened her beauty sleep?" I attempt to smile, but I know the sarcasm doesn't go unnoticed.
I swear, I can't help it. I just hate talking to people who think they need to fix me. I don't need to be fixed. I just need to be left alone.
Don’t I?
Celeste rolls her eyes, grabs her own cup of coffee, and sits on the stool next to me.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asks, shocking the hell out of me.
"What? No. What the hell makes you think that?"
She gives me a knowing look, letting me know that playing dumb isn’t going to work on her. She and I both know damn well that I've been avoiding her, but she's the one to offer the olive branch when she's done nothing wrong.
"Look. I know what I saw and I'm guessing that it bothers you. I won't ask, I won't push. I just want to be friends. Just tell me that you aren't a murderer or involved in some gang or some shit and we can leave it at that." The way she says it makes me snort out a laugh.
"A gang? What makes you think I'm part of a gang?"
"I don't know. All the tattoos and scars or whatever they are, it all looked kinda scary." She shrugs, trying to lessen the blow of her honesty.
That's me, broken and scary, no matter what my face looks like. I will always be a damaged doll.
I cringe at my own thoughts. I'm not sure why her opinion of my scars would matter, but it does. This is why I don't make friends. This is why I wish every night to wake up as someone else. But my past will never let me go, no matter how hard I try.
"I'm not part of a gang. I just like tattoos. Never murdered anyone, so I think we're good." I say with a smile and push down on the uncomfortable feeling that keeps telling me to give her more.
I just can't.
"Good. Get dressed. We're going shopping."
I choke on my coffee. "Uhm, what?"
She rolls her eyes like it's an Olympic sport and slides off the bar stool.
"You owe me. It's Halloween and we're going out. End of explanation." She tosses her mug into the kitchen sink and gives me a wink. "You're welcome."
Before I have a chance to respond with yet another excuse, there's a knock at our door. I glance her way, wondering if she's expecting someone. She shrugs, just as clueless as I am, and goes to open it.
"Oh hey, Micah. What can I do for you this morning?" I hear her say and I freeze.
You've got to be kidding me. I'm still in my fucking towel. Goosebumps chase themselves down the length of my body as he walks into our dorm.
"Actually, I came to talk to Evelyn."
I take two deep calming breaths before he gets to our little kitchen and look up into his ocean eyes. They're more Caribbean today and not the deep sapphire they were the last time we saw each other, but the pull is the same. If Elijah was my air, Micah was my ocean—just as beautiful, just as deadly.
"I have nothing to say to you, Micah. Please leave." I grind out my words, positive that I'm losing enamel while Celeste looks between the two of us, clearly confused.
"You guys know each other?"
"Yes."
"No."
We both answer at the same time.
"Riiiight," she exaggerates the word. "I'll just let you two talk." Of course, she would leave me.
As soon as Celeste goes into her room, I send daggers with my eyes to Micah. "Get out."
"I thought you might want this," he says with a smirk as his eyes peruse my body.
I look down to see the gym bag I had with me at the pool the day that Caleb and Elijah left me unconscious.
I close my eyes. At least I get my kitty knuckles back. My cell phone is in there too, but I couldn’t care less about that. It's not like I have anyone to actually call.
"Thank you. You can leave it on the floor on your way out."
But instead of leaving, he takes up Celeste's vacant bar stool. I'm immediately enveloped in cinnamon and coconut, and my eyes snap open on their own.
Please, just go.
He breathes out a long sigh.
"I..." he starts, looking a little unsure. His shoulders lean forward, and he whispers, "I miss you."
I jump off my stool, forgetting that I'm still in just a towel and have to grab it close to my body right before it falls. Distance. I need distance.
"No! Get the fuck out of my dorm room, Micah," I say, praying that Celeste doesn't hear me over the music that she's playing in her room.
"What's changed?" my voice growing octaves and decibels, "You guys blamed me for something you never took the time to understand and it cost me two years. YOU abandoned me, Micah. I went to my best friend for help and you fed me to the fucking wolves. Did you know Caleb and Elijah left me naked and unconscious on the fucking bathroom floor?" My body starts to shake and I clutch my towel tighter. "Just get the fuck out."
He slowly gets off the stool, hands up in submission like he's trying to calm a scared animal.
"I'm sorry for the other night." His words are low and harsh as he runs both his hands down his face, like apologizing is making him bleed. "I'm not saying that we were right or wrong when we were kids. I'm just saying that I miss you." He starts to move closer, and fuck me, I
'm drowning. The rip current is trying to pull me under.
Angry Micah I can handle. Soft Micah is fucking hazardous to my health.
"Not good enough, Micah. I don't care." His name leaves my lips and I swear part of my traitorous soul goes with it, even if I can manage to keep my body from moving towards him. "Get. Out."
He reaches out to touch me, but I move out of reach.
"I AM sorry, Angel," he whispers. "I didn't know what to think when I first saw you. I wasn't thinking—I was angry—but what they did…"
"And that's an excuse?!" I scream, cutting off whatever else he was going to say.
"No." His shoulders tense. His jaw clenches and unclenches. "What do you want me to say, Evelyn? They're my family, my brothers. I can't take things back. I fucked up. I know I fucked up. Fuck, I'm not asking for anything. I just..."
I used to be family too. I can feel a new chasm in my heart open deep, laced in despair.
"I don't care," I lie, shaking my head, and walk towards the door like I can outrun the emotional damage. Then a thought occurs to me.
"Do they know you're here?" I ask over my shoulder and catch his chin drop to his chest as he shakes his head. Figures.
I open the door, squeezing the handle to keep me from falling apart. "Don't come back, Micah. We died a long time ago. Leave us there."
And I shut the door on the boy who, even after everything they’ve put me through, still holds part of my soul.
12
"Holy shit, Evie! You look dark, twisted, and sexy as hell. You make me wish I liked tacos instead of hot dogs. You're definitely getting laid tonight," Celeste says in the dressing room mirror, and I ugly snort.
"Are you some dark version of Cleopatra?" she asks. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like this before, but it looks amazing."
She examines the swirl shell breast plates that literally just barely cover my breasts, ignoring the tiny scars on my skin. I'm not a hundred percent comfortable showing my scars, but Cele convinced me to try to get more comfortable in my skin. Plus, I can claim it's part of my Halloween costume.
"I am not getting laid," I remind her. "And I'm the 2002 adaptation of Queen of the Damned." I smirk at my inside joke.
Ha! I'm literally queen of the damned.
"You look hot, too, girl. I definitely think that's the one for you."
Celeste looks just as hot in her Pennywise costume with a white corset, exaggerated white ruffle collar, short ruffled skirt, and thigh high ruffle socks that are just so perfect.
She sighs and deflates. "It's exactly what I wanted for tonight. I just wish the boys were here."
I raise my eyebrow. "Boys?"
"Well, Justin, obviously. And don't tell him this, but I don't mind Taylor being around. His annoying ass is sorta growing on me."
"Riiiiight. I won't say a word." I giggle as she pales.
"Evelyn Marie Hawton. I will murder you in your sleep if you tell him. His head is already inflated. Moving on to better topics. What's the story with you and Micah?"
"There's no story."
She fully turns to face me, hands on her hips. "There is obviously a story. You just don't want to tell me."
"Nope. No story to tell. Next topic, where are your boys, anyway?"
"I don't know. They were called away on some Knights’ business, but that's about all I know. Justin has been acting weird and real secretive about all the Knights’ stuff. I don't want to make a big deal about it, but I can't help feeling a little sour about all their secrets."
She not so tactfully turns the conversation to some accessories we'll need for tonight. She's clearly upset and trying to hide it. I know the feeling, so I offer her that liberty.
We leave the shop in an effort to hunt down some comfort food for Celeste, and because the universe hates me, we get the pleasure of being verbally confronted by Genna.
Why does the universe hate me so much?
Celeste once said that Juliette was the queen bitch of Zeta Sigma Rho, but I believe Genna might beat her out for that title. This chick is relentless.
I'm holding a mental debate on who would win what title in a Zeta Sigma Rho bitch pageant when I realize that I've missed most of whatever Genna has been spewing for the last few minutes.
"... why don't you just crawl back into the hole you came from and take the tramp trash with you. Justin is done slumming it, you know. He and Juliette are getting back together. He's going to break up with you when he gets back, so why don't you save yourself the embarrassment? You know you don't belong with royalty." Genna smirks with self-satisfaction, as if she's just declared the cure for cancer.
From the corner of my eye, Celeste fists her hands, digging her nails into her palms, obviously hurt by Genna's words. Funny how Cele is quick to defend me, but not herself.
When I fully turn to look at her now flat brown eyes, they are brimming with tears that are getting ready to fall. I lose it. It's bad enough that she's already feeling insecure about Justin. I'm done with this evil bitch.
Genna continues talking, blocking our way, and I snap. She's cut off by my fist as I punch her directly in her fucking throat. I kick out her leg with my Dr. Martens and grab her hair so that she's kneeling in front of Celeste. I flick out my butterfly knife and place it underneath her chin.
"That's enough, Genna. You are out of passes. I can slice your pretty little neck right here, and regardless of the consequences, you will no longer be around to breathe, let alone speak. Are you sure you want to continue?" I growl at the now shaking Genna. "When are you going to learn? You're not above anyone. Truth is, you’re not even that good on your knees."
Celeste grabs my arm, stopping me from breaking Genna's skin.
"Evie, don't. She's not worth it."
The look in Celeste's eyes lets me know that she needs comfort more than Genna needs her ass kicked. I guess blood isn't her thing. She's so much like Ivy.
No, Evelyn, you just aren't normal.
Reluctantly, I let go of Genna's hair, but not before whispering in her ear.
“Feel free to tattle on me like the good little girl you claim to be, and I’ll gladly show the video of you at that party in all your glory, mouth full of Caleb’s cock.”
I nudge her head forward, leaving her to eat asphalt.
"You sure you're not part of a gang? Or, at least, used to be? That was just scary as fuck," Celeste banters as we walk to the public parking garage.
I shake my head, laughing. When I get to my truck and see deep gashes in the paint going all around my truck, my laughter turns to rage. Someone keyed my truck.
I should have stabbed the bitch.
"I'm going to fucking kill her, Cele," I bark, inspecting the damage. The bitch scratched every part of my beautiful truck. It had to be her.
"Hey ladies, what are you guys up to this beautiful afternoon?"
I turn and look up to see Coach Metson walking towards us.
"We're heading back to campus," I grind out, trying to keep my cool. My truck is one of the only major expenses, outside of tuition, that I was willing to splurge on, and now, it's damaged.
"I told you, it's Ryan." He steps just inside my personal circle of space with a warm smile, flashing his perfect teeth and dimples. Oblivious to my anger.
"Would you guys care to join me for an early dinner, I was just heading to The Brewery and I could use the company."
Celeste looks from me to Ryan and back with a gleam in her eye that makes me anxious. Genna has been forgotten, and Cele's back to trying to fix me.
I decline Ryan’s invitation and get Celeste in the truck before she says anything to keep the conversation going. I'm fuming about my truck and the last thing I want to do right now is hang around here. I'm liable to go hunt the bitch princess down.
We bypass general admissions and walk straight into Sensations, ignoring the snide comments from those still waiting to get in. It's balls-fall-off cold tonight, so I'd probably be pissed too. Actually, no, I wouldn't. I
wouldn't be here.
Sensations is a classy, upscale club that would be better suited for the New York City scene than this little port town, but it's clear that everyone here has the same ego. Damn rich people.
We get to the VIP staircase and are greeted by a massive wall of muscles barely contained in a black suit. Celeste gives the guy our names.
"Good evening, ladies. Mr. Prescott has reserved your table," the bouncer says, unhooking the velvet red rope, and leads us to a booth at the center, with a perfect view of the entire club.
"This place is packed. How the hell did Justin manage to get us a table on such short notice?"
"It's incredible, isn't it? He owns it." Celeste grins, pride glowing in her eyes. "So when he found out that he couldn't be with me tonight, he made the arrangements as sort of an apology."
Yea, Celeste did good with him.
We take a few shots from the playboy bunny dressed bartender and head back down to the dance floor. All eyes on us as we dance center stage with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke permeating the air. We're sweating up a storm, and for the first time in my life, I'm actually carefree.
Is this what normal feels like?
We head to the main bar for more drinks when I feel a body slide up next to me.
"Goddamn, I'm glad I came out tonight. You are a fucking dream." Coach Metson moves to kiss my cheek and I automatically move away out of habit. It's not that I don't like him, he just doesn't seem to understand personal boundaries. I give him a small smile and down my drink.
"Hey, Ryan. I'm so glad you could make it," Celeste says, and my head snaps in her direction.
I mouth the words, “you invited him?” and the smile on her face makes me want to scream.
Motherfucking sigh.
"I'm glad I could. Every guy in here wishes they were me right now. You both look like sin."
We down a round of lemon drops—which are completely gross, by the way—and head to the dance floor. Since Celeste invited him, there's not much I can do but dance with the guy. She and I need to have a long talk about what’s okay and not okay. I don't need to be fixed.