“Shay,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I watched her fall apart. “Shay, listen to me. Crossing out letters on some tree isn’t going to change who your parents are.”
“But maybe it will. Maybe this tree is part of some kind of curse or something, maybe…maybe…maybe…” She dropped her keys and began sobbing into my arms. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I couldn’t think of how to make her feel better, so I stood there and held her as she fell apart.
For so long, I’d hated her because I thought she was Little Miss Perfect. I’d hated her happiness. I’d hated her because I had scars and she had none, and now I felt like a damn idiot for ever thinking such a thing. It turned out everyone in the world had scars. Everyone had cracks and cuts that bled into their soul each night. Some people were simply better at hiding them.
She pulled on my shirt and cried, losing herself against my white long-sleeved T-shirt, and I held her like I was planning on never letting her go. As she lay there in my arms, my heart melted a little for her, for her hurts, for her pain and suffering. When she was finished falling apart, she pulled away, a bit embarrassed. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sniffled repeatedly, turning away from me.
“Sorry,” she muttered, wiping at her eyes. “I’m snotty and a complete mess.”
Her eyes were red and puffy, and tears were still falling from her eyes, and she was right—she looked like a complete wreck. Broken, raw, and—
“Beautiful,” I truthfully told her. “You look beautiful.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure Shay had ever looked so beautiful and real. Her pain had the kind of beauty that made you want to protect her from the world. I wanted to hold her again, soothe her, and let her know her emotions were what made her real.
“We should get going.” She sniffled some more with her rosy cheeks and her exhausted eyes.
“Yeah, we should.”
I bent down to pick up her keys, and before handing them back over to Shay, I walked over to the tree and scratched out the rest of the initials of her parents. If said tree was a curse, I wanted to end it for her. I wanted to break the spell of jaded love that affected her family line. I wanted to free her so that somewhere down the line, she could have a real love.
She released a weighted sigh and took the keys from my hand. Her fingers brushed against my palm, and a part of my soul I hadn’t known existed lit up. What was that? What was that feeling, and how had she unlocked it?
“Thank you, Landon,” she whispered.
“Always,” I replied.
I think I meant that, too.
I think I meant always.
We drove back to her cousin’s house, and as I put the car in park, I turned to say good night to her, and that was when I found her lips.
Her lips.
Pressed against…
Mine.
Her hands rested against my cheeks as she pulled me in toward her. She tasted like salty tears and peach Chapstick, and oddly enough, that was my new favorite taste. At first I didn’t kiss her back. At first I stayed frozen, thinking if I moved, the moment would disappear and I’d never be able to return to it.
“Landon,” she whispered, her eyes closed as her forehead rested against mine. I loved that. I loved when she said my name. Not Satan. Not asshole. But Landon.
I loved when those two syllables rolled off her tongue.
It made me feel seen. I didn’t know the last time someone had been able to see me so clearly.
“Yeah?” I breathed out, my breaths brushing against her lips, her full, plump lips.
“Kiss me back,” she ordered, and so I did.
My lips.
Pressed against…
Hers.
I kissed her gently at first, trying to ignore the way my jeans were tightening as my cock registered the fact that I was kissing a girl—and not just any girl, the girl. I was kissing Shay Gable, and every time our lips touched, she stole a piece of me.
I kissed her harder, deeper, next, parting her lips slightly to slide my tongue into her mouth. I wanted to kiss her so hard her moans were all that would feed me for the rest of my existence. I wanted to tangle my tongue with hers, wanted to allow my hands to wander across her body, feeling every inch of her being. I wanted her.
I wanted her so bad it hurt.
But then, she stopped.
She pulled back, her skin flushed and her cheeks rosy as ever. She combed her fingers through her hair and gave me a wary smile. “There,” she whispered, slowly rubbing her thumb along her bottom lip before she nervously bit that same lip.
Geez, Chick.
Bite it again.
“There’s your kiss, Romeo,” she said, opening her door and climbing out.
“Thank you, Juliet,” I said breathlessly. At least I thought I spoke. My mind was so fogged, I didn’t know which way was up. I readjusted my crotch region and leaned in her direction. “You think we should keep practicing? For the show. I want to put on the best performance possible.”
She laughed, and that sound made me harder.
Note to self, don’t wear jeans when around Shay. Sweatpants from here on out.
“Good night, Landon.” She shut the car door.
Landon.
Say it again.
She began to walk away, and I was still leaning in her direction like a desperate puppy dog craving its owner’s attention. I hurriedly rolled down the passenger window and called her way. “Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,” I shouted.
She looked back my way, and her lips spread wide as her hands landed against her chest. “That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
We quoted Romeo and Juliet. I began the line, and she finished it.
What…
The fuck…
Was that?
And who…
The fuck…
Was I?
I was having a hard time recognizing myself, but there I was sitting in my car, at half-past two in the morning, quoting Shakespeare to the girl I’d once hated. Hated—past tense. Truth was I couldn’t have told you the last time I had hated that girl. Maybe when she’d sat with me in my bedroom a year earlier, maybe never. All I knew was my lips tingled from the fact that hers had been against them, and I loved her taste.
I waited to make sure she made it back inside the house, and then I plopped backward into the driver’s seat. My hands fell onto my chest, and I felt my heart rapidly beating against my rib cage.
She did that to me.
She made my heart turn back on.
Her kiss gave me life.
There I sat like a drugged fool, grinning ear to ear because I’d quoted Shakespeare to a girl and she had quoted him back.
Maybe it was all part of the game. Maybe she was just getting in my head to make me feel things toward her. Maybe this was all fake, but in the moment I didn’t care, because it felt so real, felt so good.
Screw you, Shay Gable.
Screw her for making me feel again.
19
Shay
“Good morning.” Aunt Paige smiled as I walked into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. To my surprise, she had already brewed some. Normally in my house, I was the first one up and at it. I always had a cup of coffee before Mom rolled out of bed to join me, but it seemed Paige was an early riser just like me.
“Morning.” I grabbed a mug and poured myself a cup.
“You need creamer?”
“Nah, I drink it black like my dad.”
She shivered at the thought. “Not me. I like a splash of coffee in my cream,” she joked.
Aunt Paige was beautiful. She was an artist, and you’d always find a paintbrush sitting behind her ear. Her clothes were invariably covered in paint, and she had the kind of smile that could light up any room.
A bandana always sat on her head, too, and when you looked at her, it was as if you were looking at a piece of artwork.
Eleanor looked so much like her mother, it was unnerving. The same
way I looked like Mom, I supposed. It seemed my uncle and father didn’t have strong enough genes to swallow their kids up. The women in our family seemed to do most of the work with the genetics.
Paige tightened the bandana on her head and looked my way. “So, how was your joy ride last night?” My eyes widened as the words left her lips, and she just gave me the sweetest smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your parents, but I want to make sure you’re not getting yourself into any trouble, Shay. I love you and care about you so much that I just worry about you getting hurt. So, are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’m good.”
She gave me a lopsided smile. “You remind me of myself when I was a kid, a bit of a rebel spirit. Want a bit of advice from an old fart?” she offered.
“Sure.”
“Make sure he’s worth it.”
“How do you know I was out with a boy?” I asked.
She snickered. “Because there’s always a boy with late-night escapes. Lead with your heart, but take your brain with you.” She moved over and kissed my forehead. “I’m going to go wake Eleanor. I’m sure she’ll sleep through her alarm again if I let her.”
“Okay. Thanks, Aunt Paige.” Her words danced in my head and in my heart.
As she rounded the corner, she glanced back my way. “Oh, and Shay?”
“Yes?”
“I know this is a lot to ask, but…if you ever get the chance to take Eleanor on a joy ride with you, can you do that for me? I know she’s an introvert, but I want her to live, too. I don’t want her life to be so wrapped up in books that she forgets to live herself.” Her eyes watered over with so much emotion that it made me nervous.
“Is everything okay?” I asked softly.
She let out a small laugh, but it felt a little broken. “Yes. Even when things don’t look okay, the universe has a way of making it all work out in the end. Just promise me you’ll look after Eleanor?”
“I promise.”
A tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away, nodding. “Thank you.”
I didn’t push the conversation any more, because it was clear she didn’t want to dive any deeper into the subject. I knew I could keep that promise to my aunt. I’d look out for Eleanor the same way she’d always looked out for me. Forever and always.
When I got to school that morning, I opened my locker and gasped when I saw it was filled with peonies and dozens of banana Laffy Taffys. There was a sticky note sitting against the metal locker, and I pulled it off and read it.
Here’s some flowers and candy to make up for your crappy night. I was going to get you penises, but went with peonies instead.
-Satan
P.S. Do you know how hard it is to find peonies during this time of the year?
It’s almost impossible.
Almost.
I glanced down the hallway toward Landon’s locker. He was of course standing with some girl, who was trying to be all over him. He wasn’t paying her any mind, though, seeing how his eyes were locked on me.
I pulled out the flowers and breathed them in. They were perfect. So, so perfect.
I placed them back into the locker, pulled out a Laffy Taffy, and began nibbling at it as I looked back over to Landon.
His eyes?
Still on me.
I smiled.
He almost smiled back. The right side of his lips kind of curved up, and to me, that was a win.
When lunchtime came, I sat across from him. “How did you get all the banana-flavored Laffy Taffy?” I asked, curious.
He shrugged. “They sold a pack of them that way at the store. It wasn’t a big deal.”
It felt like a big deal to me. “That was really sweet.”
“It’s whatever.” He was being the moody, dark Landon he normally was, but again, that right side of his lips curved up. “You in love with me yet?” he asked.
“No. Not at all. You love me yet?”
His stare fell to my lips. “Not a chance.”
“You still hate me?” I whispered, my eyes moving to his mouth…that same mouth I’d tasted…that same mouth that had tasted me.
“Yes.”
“Good, because I hate you, too.”
“Good,” he echoed.
“Good,” I replied.
Chills raced up and down my spine as we ate our meals in silence while all of our friends joined up and had conversation around us.
Good.
We went our separate ways after lunch, and for some reason I found the need to break into Landon’s locker during sixth period to leave him a thank you note for the candy and peonies. As I opened it, I saw grocery bags filled with Laffy Taffy—all the flavors but banana. He’d bought jumbo packs of candy and sifted through them to pick out my favorite flavor.
Who knew it could happen?
Who knew a heart could skip for the Devil himself?
Everything changed once Landon and I kissed—at least for me it did. It was as if the wall we’d spent years building was finally coming down, brick by brick. After the night we shared together, after the night I showed him my scars and he showed me his, I was hooked. The candy and flowers were what pushed me overboard.
I wanted to be close to him, because I liked how he sped up my heartbeats. I wanted to be near him, because I liked how he grimaced. I liked how he smiled even more.
I’d text him to rehearse our lines, and we’d end each night kissing, nothing more than our lips. Sometimes his hands would try to wander, but I’d always slap them away. Once I let him grab my ass cheeks, though.
I liked that…a little too much, which was why I went back to guiding his hands to my waistline.
He never pushed for more than I gave him, though. It was as if any kind of touch was enough for him. Me, on the other hand? I craved more. Quietly, I thought about what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him, to have him lead me to his bed. But, in the back corner of my mind, I kept thinking about the bet, not to mention Eleanor reminded me of said bet all the time.
“Don’t let him play you,” she would say. “That’s how he’s getting to you—by being too sweet. Flowers and candy? That’s basic boy 101. At least that’s how it is in the books I read.”
I knew there was a chance she was right, and maybe I was letting my guard down a little too prematurely, but I couldn’t help it. My heart craved him, even if my brain told me not to do so. I tried my best to listen to Paige’s advice, but hearts were stubborn. They beat faster for certain people without the brain’s permission.
We still had our sharp tongues. We still hurled insults toward each other on a daily basis, but they felt so lighthearted, so flirty and fun.
Sometimes he’d smile at me, and I’d be smiling all day from his smirk alone.
I wrote down everything about him in my notebook. Before the bet had even started, I’d already filled a notebook with my thoughts on Landon. I’d started it the night of his uncle’s funeral. I couldn’t get him off my mind after that, and every now and then, I’d add my thoughts on the type of person Landon was. In the beginning, the words were not the kindest. In the beginning, I wrote with hatred and annoyance. I spelled out my anger toward him through my written words. Even after the bet began, my words stayed on edge. But lately the narrative had shifted. The story of the boy I’d once hated was shifting into something new every time he showed me a part of him he hid from the rest of the world. He was one of the most complex characters I’d ever had the honor of studying, and if we kept down this road, it would be my heart that was going to fall first and hard, not his.
Plus, he’d become my outlet from my home drama. Tension was building up in my family, and now the arguments seemed much more common between Mom and Mima. Those two had never fought when Dad was locked up. They loved each other so much whenever he wasn’t in the picture. I hated that he was creating a crack in a bond that was so strong while he was gone.
When I needed a break, I went to Landon and lost myself in him, in us—whatever we were. He always we
lcomed me in, too. No matter the time or the last-minuteness of me reaching out to him, he always told me to come over. I was thankful for that, for his willingness to let me in.
I told him it was simply so we could rehearse. I think he knew it was more than that. I think he was learning to read me the same way I was reading him. He never asked me for details. If anyone knew how important it was to escape from life sometimes, it was Landon.
That Saturday was no different. He was there when I needed him to be.
“We should really be rehearsing.” I giggled in between short kisses. I’d finally managed to enter his house to work on our scenes together, but I forbid myself from going to his bedroom, or his closets. Closets at Landon’s house had a history of getting hot and heavy.
“We are rehearsing,” he muttered against my lips as he placed his hands beneath my butt cheeks and pulled me into his lap.
I wrapped my arms around him and shook my head as I gently sucked on his bottom lip. “I mean we should be rehearsing our lines.”
“These are our lines,” he mumbled, sliding his tongue into my mouth and forcing a moan to escape me as I felt the hardness in his sweatpants. I definitely shouldn’t have been sitting in his lap, because as he grew, my desire to grind against him grew, too.
I slid off, moving to the left side of the couch, feeling a bit bashful about it all. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt Landon’s happy member since we’d started making out on the regular, but it still always made me blush. I pulled my shirt up to my mouth and chewed on the collar, trying to hide my nerves.
“You do that a lot, you know—chew when you’re nervous,” he told me, running his hands through his hair.
“You do that a lot.” I nodded toward him. “Run your hands through your hair when you’re turned on.”
“Well, you keep turning me on.” He smirked, grabbing me again and placing me back onto his lap. He rocked his hips upward ever so slightly, pressing himself against my jeans. My thighs began to quiver, and my heartbeats intensified instantly. Oh my gosh, he was dry-humping me…at least I thought that was what was happening. I’d never been in the dry-humping phase, seeing how Eric and I hardly made it to first base.
Landon & Shay - Part One: (The L&S Duet Book 1) Page 17