Spit pools in my mouth, and a switch is flipped inside me. He’s playing me, and I’m being the naive school girl who’s falling for it. “Sorry, I don’t screw walking STDs.”
“You are a cute one.” He leans down to grab my chin, and gently plays his thumb over it. Stroking my skin. I turn my face, unsure at how I’m feeling at this unwelcomed touch. But in my head, it’s not unwelcomed. I kinda like it. Stop it, Hannah. He’s a drug dealer.
“Please leave,” I say finding my voice.
He stands straighter, and smiles at me. “I’ll see you around, Hannah,” he says with a devilish look in his eye.
“I hope not,” I reply.
He and his two goons leave, and I sit back staring at Zac. He’s made me angry. At no point did he jump in and tell Edgar not to touch me or to leave me alone. “You okay?” he asks when the three are gone.
I arch an eyebrow at him, and purse my lips together tightly. I want to tell him off. “I can’t believe you just sat there and said nothing to him.”
“You don’t get it,” he instantly responds.
“Then tell me.”
“Edgar is…” He looks off to the side, avoiding my intense gaze. “…dangerous,” he whispers.
“And you’re gutless for not standing up to him. Gives me very little hope that if I’m ever in a bad situation around you that you’ll help me. It makes me think you’ll run and leave me to fend for myself.”
“It’s not like that. Edgar, he’s not a nice guy. What he wants he stops at nothing to get.”
Zac isn’t who I thought he was. I have more balls than he does. I can’t see a future for us, not after he sat there and did nothing while his former drug-supplier boss basically hit on me in front of him. “Still, you could’ve said something.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
Picking my mocha up, I’ve found it’s tepid and not pleasant to drink when it’s lost its heat, or when I’m around company who doesn’t defend me. The silence between us is uncomfortable. I don’t want to be here anymore. Zac really isn’t who I thought he was. I place my cup down, and smile at Zac. “I’ve got a ton of homework to do, so I think I’ll get going. Can I get my bag out of your car?” I ask.
“I’ll take you home,” he insists.
I look at the time on my phone and shake my head. “It’s okay, the bus will be here soon. I’ll catch the bus home.”
“It’s no trouble,” he says trying to weasel his way back into my good graces.
We walk to his car, and when he unlocks it, I grab my bag and back away from him. “It’s okay. Really. The bus drops me off right in front of home. Thank you for the coffee.” I smile and step further back.
“What time should I pick you up on Saturday?” he eagerly asks.
Crap, we’ve still got our date. But after today, I don’t think I’m interested in going anywhere with him. “I’ll call you,” I say with no intentions on calling him.
“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?”
I start toward the bus stop shaking my head. “No, it’s all good. Thank you.” I turn and walk away, not waiting for his response.
Walking to the bus stop, I replay the whole scenario in my head, from the moment Edgar and his “bodyguards” walked into the café, until right now. Zac disappointed me. I can’t get over how he sat there and didn’t say anything to Edgar. Nothing. Zip. Nada.
Clutching my school bag closer to my chest, I internalize what happened and try to make sense of it. Edgar is, at best, a drug dealer. At worst, who knows what else?
Zac sat there, not talking or even sticking up for me. I had to do it all for myself.
When I reach the bus stop, I take my phone out of my pocket to see what time it is. There’s a message from Zac, it simply says, ‘Sorry.’ Rolling my eyes, and without responding, I put my phone away and decide to take some time so I can think about this all.
Looking down the road, I notice a parked black car idling. It’s not Zac’s and something tells me, it’s Edgar’s.
I know he’s not a good guy, and it’s not a smart thing to entertain thoughts of him. However, in our short interaction he’s gotten under my skin. The two guys he was with creeped me out. They looked sketchy. But Edgar…
Ignoring the sleek, black car, I turn away from it.
The bus arrives, and I get on, but keep an eye on the black car. I hope he doesn’t follow me home. That would be super creepy, even more than those Instagram and Facebook weirdos who message you to proclaim their love without ever talking to you.
I notice the black car pulling over behind the bus as it makes its stops on the route. It’s making me feel even more uneasy now. Edgar will know where I live. Nervousness takes over, and my leg bounces as we approach my home. The stop before home is quite isolated, so I don’t want to get off there, and the stop after home is isolated too. So, I decide to make a round trip, and hopefully Edgar will get bored with following the bus and just leave. It’s the safest thing to do. That way he won’t know where I live, and I don’t have to tell my parents about the freak who’s followed me home.
This situation is best left secret. My parents don’t need to know. They would worry about me.
The bus stops at my stop, and of course the black car does too. But I stay on the bus, and when I get back into town, I get off at the mall and head inside. Some of the stores are still open, but the smaller ones have started to close. I take my phone out of my pocket and call Mom.
“You’re not home yet,” she says before anything else.
“Can you come pick me up please?” my voice is slightly higher than normal, and even to my ear, I sound panicked.
“Where are you? Are you okay? What’s happened?” the rapid-fire questions are an indicator of Mom’s stress level.
“Yeah, I’m great. I um…” I don’t want to lie, but at the same time I don’t want to tell her about Edgar. I duck into Target, and hide toward the back. I keep looking over the displays, hopeful I don’t see Edgar and his goons. Thankfully, no one seems to have chased me in here.
“What is it?” she sounds terrified.
“Nothing, I missed the bus. That’s all. I was walking fast because I wanted to get into Target before they closed. I’m looking for…” I turn to see the closest thing to me. “…for a notebook.” I grab the first one I see.
“A notebook? And you’re stressed because you wanted to find a book? What happened with Zac and coffee?” Mom’s suspicious. I would be too.
“I don’t know about him. Anyway, can you pick me up please?”
“I’m already on my way. Wait for me outside.”
My stomach churns with anxiousness. I don’t want to in case Edgar is there. “Yeah, sure. I just have to try to find a notebook. So, if I’m not there, I won’t be long.”
“I’m only a few minutes away.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Bye, darling.”
I absolutely despise lying to my parents. But in this case, I know how much she’ll freak out if I told her what happened. I have to tell her how coffee with Zac went, but there’s no chance in hell, I’m going to tell her about Edgar. No way. I’ll have to leave that part out.
Chapter 5
Mom hasn’t said much to me since we’ve gotten home. But I know she’s waiting for Dad to arrive from work before she broaches the subject of Zac.
I’m in my room working on my paper, dreading the interrogation to come at the dinner table. I know she’s going to ask me about Zac, and why I sounded panicked. I have to put on the performance of a lifetime to convince them. God, I hate this.
It doesn’t take long for Dad to come home. Looking at my phone, I notice the time and think it’s weird how he’s home early. Within moments, there’s a knock at my door. “Come in,” I say.
“Darling, you’ve got flowers,” Mom says. Her features are filled with questions and doubt.
“Flowers?” I ask as I push up off my chair and head out to the family room. On the dining
table, sitting in the middle is a huge vase filled with red roses. I’ve never seen an arrangement so large. “Did a card come with it?” I look around the giant bouquet trying to find the card.
“No card.” Mom places her hands to her hips and takes a step back. “They’re pretty,” she says.
“Yeah, they are.” I look at them and take a deep breath.
“You don’t seem too impressed with them. Who are they from?”
“I don’t know. There’s no card.” I point toward the flowers. “Probably from Zac.”
“Probably?” Mom’s voice squeaks.
Or Edgar, but I don’t want to even mention his name. “I can’t see how they’d be from anyone else.” Dad’s not home yet. It was the flower delivery I heard.
“What aren’t you telling me, Hannah?” Mom asks as I stare at the enormous bouquet of roses.
There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. These aren’t from Zac. “Nothing!” I reply with too much enthusiasm.
“Tell me about this Zac guy.” Mom pulls out a chair and sits on it. She’s not going to let this one go. She is intent on knowing what’s happening.
I start to formulate the answer in my head, careful not to mention anything about his past or Edgar or anything that’s going to freak Mom out. “Zac is Kristen’s cousin. He asked me out on a date, I liked him and so I said yes. He asked Kristen what time school finishes, and he was waiting for me today. That’s it. Nothing else.”
“Um, no, that’s not it. How old is he?”
“He’s twenty-one and goes to college. But truthfully, I’m not all that into him. I thought I was, but after today, I know I’m not.”
“What happened today to change your mind?”
Edgar happened. “He was talking about himself and I don’t think he’s really interested in me, more like parts of me.” It’s the only excuse I can give that I know Mom will be proud of me for deciding not to pursue him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mom asks.
“Sex, Mom. I think he just wants sex from me.” These lies are getting out of hand now. I can’t keep them up.
I should tell her the truth, but I can’t. She’ll lose it if I tell her about his past, and Edgar, and how I think I’m attracted to Edgar but I know I shouldn’t be. I feel like screaming and pulling my hair out. He’s a bad guy, and I’m drawn to him. What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I should be strong. I know he’ll screw my life up if I get involved with him.
“Then I’m glad you’ve decided he’s not for you.” Mom stands and pushes in her chair. “Is that all, or is there something else you want to tell me?” She’s staring as if she’s testing me.
Swallowing back the lie, I smile at her and shake my head. “No, Mom. That’s it.”
“What do you want to do with these flowers?” Mom asks as she looks at them.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “But I do know I have homework to finish. Do you need help with dinner?”
“No, go finish your homework. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I move around her, but stop, and turn to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”
She smiles at me, gives me a quick hug, and goes to the kitchen to continue making dinner.
As I take myself back to my room, I’m mentally kicking myself for feeling anything but disgust toward Edgar. I know he’s way older than me. I know he’s a drug dealer. I know intellectually I shouldn’t be thinking about him. But I can’t help it. He’s in my head, and under my skin.
Flopping on my bed, I think about today and how it’s panned out. I don’t want to think about it, but everything is so fresh in my mind, that I can’t really concentrate on anything else. And now I’ve received flowers. Even that gesture has crawled under my skin and is messing with my head.
My phone vibrates and I get a sinking feeling in my pit of my gut. I know it’s not Kristen or Zac. Somehow, I know it’s Edgar.
A smile tugs at my lips. And I hate myself for it.
Dragging myself up from my bed, I lean over and grab my phone from where it’s been sitting on my desk.
Hope you like the flowers—the text reads from an unknown number.
My smile widens, and I feel sick to my core. I shouldn’t be smiling. I shouldn’t even be thinking about responding to him. But my fingers are already in place to send a message back. I don’t know what.
My hair falls over my face, and I tuck some in place before collapsing on the bed again. Lying on my back, I bring the phone up so I’m looking at it. A weird feeling takes over my body. A few years ago, Kristen and I sneaked a cigarette from a relative of hers. We waited ’til Monday and before school and went out the back behind the bleachers to have it. Neither of us knew what we were doing, and both of us choked like we had something stuck in our throats. But after we smoked the cigarette (more like choked ’til we were red in the face) we went to class feeling invincible.
We knew we’d done something wrong, but we walked in with our heads held high and our shoulders back because we had a secret no one else knew about.
Still, to this day, no one knows we tried (and hated) the taste of a cigarette.
Oh, that feeling… It was exciting and dangerous. But so much fun, because we both knew a secret no one else knew.
And that’s how I’m feeling right now. Responding to Edgar means I’m stepping into a world of danger. Different danger than smoking a cigarette out back behind the bleachers.
A shudder of mixed emotions flutters over my body.
I shouldn’t reply.
I really shouldn’t. I should ignore it and ignore him. He’ll get the message that I’m not interested and move on to the next girl. But that idea pains me. I don’t want him to want someone else. I don’t want him looking at anyone else the way he focused his powerful stare at me.
Standing from the bed, I leave my phone, choosing to walk away from it. “What are you doing?” I say to my reflection in my floor-length mirror.
I stare at myself, conflicted by what’s happening in my head. Clashing tornadoes colliding with one another. Darkness and danger entwined.
“Nope, I can’t do this.” I take in a deep breath and decide not to respond to Edgar. I mean come on, what kind of name is Edgar? He sounds like a drug dealer. And I’m way too smart to get involved with someone who sounds like—and is—a drug dealer. I have too much at stake to succumb to the temptation of a person with the potential to ruin my life.
I stare at myself, satisfied to have made that decision. I turn, grab my phone, and delete the text without responding. Instantly, I feel like a huge burden has been lifted from me. This was just a momentary lapse of judgement. Something I don’t have to tell anyone about. And something I won’t tell anyone about. I’ll take this to my grave. My brush with the wild side.
Smiling at myself, I feel good about the decision I’ve made.
Real good.
Chapter 6
School today was a blur.
I haven’t really been able to concentrate on anything. Each class has blended into the next. Even lunch was meh. Brad spent lunch with us today, and Kristen is so into him. I don’t mind how into him she is; I think it’s totally cool. But Edgar has been on my mind all day.
I can’t shake the thought of him. In a way, I hope he messages me again. In another I hope he doesn’t. I made the decision last night to not respond to his text about the flowers, and I felt good for deleting it. Later, though, as I was lying in bed I couldn’t help but replay how he talked to me at the café. It disgusted me, but it turned me on like crazy. Heat slowly crept through me, making me want to hear from him again. I realized I was hanging on his words, wanting him to say something to me.
But even now, thinking about him, I slightly shake my head, hoping to dislodge the thought of Edgar that’s etched itself in the center of my mind.
I’m in the last class of the day, and I feel like a robot who’s drifted from one lesson to the n
ext, not really knowing what I’m supposed to be learning.
It’s been a haze.
And I hate myself for giving him any more of my time.
The bell sounds at the end of the last period, and I go to my locker, grab my bag and laptop, and head out the main gates. Checking my phone, I have a text from Mom saying she’s going to be late home tonight. And a text from Dad saying he’ll pick dinner up on the way home from work.
Heading over to the buses, I wait in line absentmindedly looking out over the cars. Truthfully though, I’m disappointed Edgar didn’t try to reach out to me again. I’m also relieved. That takes the pressure off me. What is wrong with me?
“Didn’t you like the flowers?” a husky voice whispers in my ear.
Instantly my skin pebbles with excitement and my heart leaps in my chest. Closing my eyes, I savor the sound of the deep voice.
His fingers find my hip and dig in possessively. My brain fights with itself. Stop it, Hannah. You can’t like this. It’s not primal, it’s dangerous.
I grab his hand and yank it away from me. Turning, I’m immediately assaulted by his dark eyes. “Don’t touch me,” I say with venom in my tone.
His lips quirk into a mocking smile. His eyes follow suit with hints of danger and amusement. His brow lifts arrogantly, and a lump forms in my throat. My body defies what my brain is telling me to do. I want to kiss him.
Stop it, Hannah! Stop it right now!
Shaking my head, I attempt to dislodge the sick thoughts assaulting me. Not sick because I’m attracted to him, that’s part of life. But sick because he’s deadly dangerous, and I’m crazily attracted to him and everything represents.
“The words you’re saying don’t match your body’s reactions,” he whispers as he reaches out to gently take my upper arm. This is a direct contradiction of everything he is. He’s not a nice guy, a gentle guy. I know this. But the softness of his touch is causing all the signals to go fuzzy.
I have to stay strong. I can’t and won’t throw away my life on a guy who’s bad for me. “I said don’t touch me.” Turning, I step on the bus. I can’t do this. I can’t let him get under my skin like this. But he already has.
Edge of Darkness Box Set Page 5