by Lindsey Iler
Hidden in the shadows is quite a crowd.
“Oh, I can see your wheels spinning, Davenport. Your curiosity is running on high alert, wondering what I have in store for you.” He takes a couple of laps around our small group, making a show for his audience.
“We get it, Tripp.” I shake my head, annoyed I’m even entertaining this. “You’re in charge here. Spill the details or I’m out.”
“You don’t actually think I believe that, do you?” He holds out his arm, gesturing for someone to join him. Someone shoves Delaney into our little group. “After all, a man who wants something bad enough is willing to do anything, right?”
With every passing glance, Delaney’s eyes torment me. She’s afraid to lock herself into my stare. Does she know what his plan is? If she does, what does that mean?
“Get on with it, asshole.” I circle my finger in the air, hoping he’ll rip off the bandage and expose his plan. Every second that ticks by, the more uneasy I feel.
“Okay, so here’s the deal. Tonight is our annual Flashlight Party.”
“What the hell is a flashlight party?” Palmer blurts.
A sly grin forms on Tripp’s face as he moves towards Palmer. Marek, Dixon, and I block his way.
“Don’t ever look at my girl like that again, or I’ll rip your fucking throat out.” Marek bares his teeth, and Tripp’s response is a manic laugh.
“Oh, protective, I see.” Tripp glances to his side and smiles sadly at Delaney. “Too bad Breaker wasn’t more protective of my Laney, or else he wouldn’t find himself here tonight.” His eyebrows bounce up and down, his annoyance plain to see. “Anyway, if you must know, the Flashlight Party is exactly how it sounds. The only light is from the flashlights we’re given. Consider it a regular party, just in the dark.”
“What’s the point?” Dixon groans. “Sounds pretty fucking dumb to me.”
“The point is, somewhere in this room, Breaker’s darkest secret is hidden. Could be anywhere. Could be with anyone.”
“And how would you know my darkest secret, DuPont?” I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see my aggravation. The longer I look at him, the more nervous I become. A lump in the back of my throat forms, and a shiver runs up my spine. Every one of us has secrets. Most of them stay hidden. The slightest possibility he knows something is not a chance I can take.
“I guess that’s for us to find out in a couple hours. If you don’t find it, this whole room, along with the rest of the world will watch a live feed, and everyone will know what Barrett Davenport is capable of.” Tripp grins wildly, thriving off the echoed glee coming from around the room.
What I’m capable of? What the hell does he think he knows about me?
“Okay, Tripp. I’ll play your little game.” I shrug off my jacket and hand it to Palmer. “You say I have two hours. What are the rules?” My confidence is a total façade. He wouldn’t drag me here if he didn’t have something.
Tripp advances to me, the microphone in his hand keeping us from touching. “The gauntlet has no rules. Please, feel free to partake in any of the extras placed around the room. Drugs are in the corner. Alcohol at the front. DJ on the side wall. Request a song for your demise, for all I care.”
The spotlight goes dark.
“Here you go,” Delaney whispers, placing a flashlight in my hand.
“Do you know what it is?” I whisper in her ear, completely free to behave as if no one is watching. We are cast in complete darkness. We may as well be alone.
“If I did, don’t you think I’d have warned you?” she sighs, holding onto my hand with the flashlight stuck between us. “I don’t like this as much as you don’t. I know you’re mad at me, but seriously, give me a little more credit than that.”
I place my hand on her arm, leaning in closer. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Yeah, and you could stop this, if you really wanted to, but here we are.” I break our touch first, hating not being able to see the look in her eyes when I do.
“I know I keep asking this, but what’s the plan?” Dixon says.
“There is no plan. He wants me to play his game, so I’ll play.”
“You have no idea what’s waiting for you in here,” Palmer states the obvious.
“You’re right, so I need you”—I look in Marek’s direction even though he can’t see me—“to keep her safe. I won’t be able to focus on whatever this is if she’s roaming around.”
“What about me?” Dixon questions.
“Be on standby. I may need you. I don’t know what I’m up against.” I pat him on the shoulder, knowing he’s to my right. “Tripp will try to outsmart me because he thinks he’s just that. Smarter. But he’s not. He’ll slip up along the way, and when he does, I’ll be able to keep my secret hidden.”
“I could kick some ass, so you know,” Palmer protests.
“We know, baby, but let’s respect Break’s wishes,” Marek says, hopefulness and love in his words as he speaks to her. I often wonder when that shifted into place for him. “We’ll be getting a drink to calm this one’s nerves. One shout and I’ll be wherever you need me.”
The music pumps through the speakers placed around the room, echoing off the walls, and the DJ announces for flashlights to be turned on.
As one, they flare to life, and the crowd starts to dance, jumping up and down to the beat. Their different colored beams light up the room like a laser show. Blues, greens, purples, and pinks bounce off each other, making a spectacle for the party goers. Have they been practicing this?
I move through the crowd, unsure of what I’m searching for. Is it a piece of paper, folded up somewhere? Will it be in someone’s pocket? I’m lost in a room of people too consumed with a party to care that a guy is fighting to keep a secret under wraps.
Tripp DuPont isn’t someone to be messed with. I know firsthand of his violent outbursts, witnessed the other side of his perfect and pressed shirts. He’s grimy, and I wouldn’t put anything past him. If he claims to know something, then I have to believe him. It’s the only way this works. His use of Madison is a nice touch. He knows me seeing her would throw me off.
The bobbing lights make moving through the room easier. Being on borrowed time, I shuffle between dancing couples and stop at the alcohol first. I search the table high and low but come up empty-handed. Fuck.
“We already checked. There’s nothing!” Palmer yells. She’s tucked between Marek’s legs in the corner, hidden away where I need her to be. If she’s out in this mess, I won’t be able to concentrate. Being associated with me puts an instant target on her. I’d be worried for her best friend if she didn’t have a fast track to the one causing the chaos.
Between flashlights flipping on and off, I search the other tables. Nothing would be easier than putting it in plain sight. Tripp is smarter than that. A burst of light floods the room, and I see him grinning at me from across the makeshift dance floor. He raises his hand, signaling the DJ to have everyone cut the lights.
As I make my way around, I talk to anyone and everyone. No one has what I’m looking for. Frustrated with myself for not knowing what to do, I crouch down and stop to think.
When the flashlights come on again, my low position conceals me but gives me a perfect view of everyone else. I push to my feet, facing away from Tripp, hoping he sees me walking in the opposite direction.
“Why does she have my jacket?” I ask Palmer.
“She came over to talk to us and said she was cold. I gave it to her. Sorry, Break. She’s my best friend. I don’t know why I did it,” Palmer explains, but none is needed. I’d give Delaney the shirt straight off my back if she asked.
“He must think I’m so stupid,” I mutter to myself. “Call Dixon. Tell him I need him, and I’m at the front, partaking in the extras.”
I walk away from them, a sudden sense of calm taking over as I make my way to the table in the corner. Only kids from Hollow Hill could set up a table full of drug
s inside their school and get away with it. At Glass Heart, our illegal activity is done in the quiet. We prefer to be less like a shiny piece of metal, drawing attention to us, and more like a black stone at the bottom of a quarry. Not Hollow Hill students. It’s like they’re wanting to be caught.
Taking advantage of a temporary burst of light, I make a show of grabbing a pre-rolled joint and lighting it. I lean against the brick wall, kicking up one of my feet as I inhale the shittiest weed I’ve ever smoked, while having too much fun figuring out Tripp DuPont’s game.
“Enjoying yourself?” Dixon snatches the joint from between my lips, places it in his, and inhales. He takes it out, staring at it in disgust. “Shit weed, bro.”
“I need you to do me a favor.”
While we discuss my plan, we pass the joint, smoking it down to a stained roach. I train my eyes in Tripp’s direction but can’t help but notice that each time the room brightens, Delaney is in a different location.
“He sure keeps her on a short leash, doesn’t he?” Dixon observes.
“Sure does,” I whisper, putting the joint out against the wall. “You got your phone ready?”
“You positive you’re right about this?”
“Sadly, I think I am.”
“Could he know something about you?” Dixon sounds genuinely worried. With a little digging, Dixon would know exactly what Tripp has on me, but that’s not how our friendship works, though.
“I think we’re proof anyone can know anything if they try hard enough to find it.” I pat him on the shoulder and walk into the crowd.
Girls try their hardest to distract me, tugging me in their direction, a clear tactic Tripp thought would distract me from the end game. I peel their fingers off my shirt and keep moving. When I’m a foot from breaking through the crowd, the area is cast into darkness, working in my advantage.
I slip behind where Tripp and his preppy boys are, working the angle of deceit to get what I want. I reach out and feel for Delaney. Once my fingers touch her hip, I know it’s her. I cover her mouth with my hand and tug her backwards against the wall.
“What are you doing?” Delaney whispers, barely allowing me to hear her over the music.
“You have something of mine, baby, and I want it returned.” I spin us, pinning her to the wall, closing in so we are flush together.
This girl’s body knows mine like they’re old friends. We move until we find the familiar comfort the other brings. Her stance is strong but soft, allowing one of my legs to slip between hers. My hands escape into her hair, massaging her neck with my thumbs.
“Breaker.” She says my name like a fucking prayer on Sunday after a weekend of sinning. “You can’t do this.”
“Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll give it to you,” I say, grinding into her as a complete distraction that’s working.
Her arms drape over my shoulders, and her hands clasp together. “Let me go,” she whispers.
I pull back. “You don’t mean that.”
“You’re right,” she sighs. Is she upset that she wants me, or because I know?
“What do you want, Delaney?” I ask again.
“An opportunity. You said before that you weren’t afraid of sharing.”
“What?” I jerk in surprise. That is the last thing I expect to hear. I’d said that because I’d known the mention of the idea would dig deep into her. Delaney isn’t the kind of girl to be shared, but I’d wanted to play a little dirty, get my hands deep into the mud. I’d never expected her to consider it.
“I know I want you, but you aren’t good for me right now.”
This is what girls tell themselves when they’re too afraid to see the truth. If this is the game she wants to play, throwing me riddles and trying to convince me that pushing me away is for the best, then I’ll play.
“My head. My heart, Breaker. I don’t know. I’m so confused.”
“Will he be good with that? I’m not into sharing if everyone involved isn’t down.” This isn’t necessarily true. I’ve shared plenty of girls without their boyfriends knowing about me.
“He will be . . . once I talk to him.”
“And in the meantime, what does this mean?”
“You should kiss me before the lights come on.” She wraps her hands around the nape of my neck and tugs me close, forcing our lips a single centimeter from each other.
“If I do this, I swear, Delaney, I won’t make any of this easy on you. I’m going to make your life a living hell for doing this to me, then kiss the bruises I cause to prove I’m the only choice.”
“Kiss me,” she demands.
My bottom lip hits hers first, starting slow as I always do. Her breath is torture on my skin, reminding me of everything I’ve been missing.
The lights come on, illuminating the room. I spin away from her, exposing us.
“What the fuck!” Tripp shouts. “Time’s up.”
“He has another twenty-three minutes left!” Palmer yells in my defense.
I hold my hand up. “Don’t worry. I don’t need it.”
“Like hell you don’t, Davenport. You lost.” Tripp motions his finger at Delaney. “Come on, Delaney. Come up here and watch his ruin.”
She moves forward to my side. I sigh when she tries to shift further away, and I reach into the pocket of my jacket she’s wearing. I take out a piece of paper, holding it between two of my fingers and displaying it in the air for Tripp to see.
“You didn’t think I was stupid enough to not notice your game, did you?” I move in front of Delaney, challenging Tripp. “Use her again to try to take me down, and I’ll make sure everyone knows every last bit of the past that you’d prefer to keep in the deep recesses of your closet.”
“Breaker,” she whispers my name, shame screaming out at me. She knows she’s messed up. Even if she didn’t realize what part she played in this game, she’s close enough to him to be used, and that’s not something I can get past.
“No, don’t. It wasn’t hard to figure out. He tried to put it in the place I’d never look and used you to keep it away from me. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to willingly walk into my arms.”
“She doesn’t want you!” Tripp yells in defense.
“Keep telling yourself that, Tripp.” I walk towards Palmer and Marek, but glance at her. “Oh, and, Delaney, make sure you tell Tripp about you wanting us to share you. I doubt his ego will be able to handle it. Unlike him, I play nice.”
Chapter Six
Delaney
“Care to explain what the hell that was?” Tripp shuts his door behind us.
“Care to explain why you used me for your stupid little gauntlet, huh?” I stand, pressing my clenched fists into my hips, pissed off more than anything. I had no idea what he had up his sleeve for tonight. I hate that Breaker figured it out before me. “I told you I didn’t want to be involved.”
Tripp practically carried me out of the building and placed me in the passenger seat of his SUV. For the two-minute drive through campus, I could feel the anger radiating off him. If anyone deserves to be angry, it’s me.
“What’s your problem with Breaker?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Lane. Maybe the fact that whenever you look at him, you have this twinkle of wonder in your fucking eye. Or maybe because he’s always been a piece of shit in my eyes, and the idea that you are even remotely interested in him, makes me want to choke him out.”
He’s furious. My guess is Breaker’s words have burrowed a hole into his chest so big, his insides are about to be displayed for everyone to see. He’s been exposed, and he hates that.
“Are we exclusive?” I blurt the question, hoping to dig myself out of this monumental hole I’ve created. This is something I’ve been sitting on for a while. If I dare dig into the depths of my mind, I suspect I’ve been avoiding this because it doesn’t really bother me if Tripp’s sleeping around.
“If you’re asking if I’m hooking up with anyone else, I’m not. At least not lately
.”
“Describe lately to me.” I smile.
“Let’s not do this.” Tripp unbuttons the top of his shirt and unzips his pants, allowing his clothes to hang loosely on his body. He never allows me to see him disheveled. He very rarely allows himself moments like this. Him willing to let loose around me is surprising. Almost endearing enough to make me forget how he used me in his little game against Breaker.
“No, I think I’d like to.” I sit on his bed, patting the spot next to me. “Come sit.”
“Promise not to get mad?” Tripp asks. He’s never lied to me, so I know whatever he’s about to tell me will be the truth.
“Spit it out, Tripp. I’m a big girl.”
“I hooked up with Taylor a few weeks ago,” he confesses.
I cover my chest with my hand and allow my head to go limp. Whimpers fall from my mouth. “I can’t believe you . . .”
Tripp lifts my chin, exposing my face. “That’s not funny. Why are you smiling?”
“Because you thought I cared.” I laugh. Tripp’s face is stoic for a second, then his mouth gapes in shock like he can’t believe I said that. “Oh, come on. It’s a joke, Tripp. I don’t give a fuck if you hooked up with Taylor. I can barely make up my own mind, so I can’t expect you to be celibate until I’m ready.”
“What if I said I’d like to not hook up with anyone else? Would that help you push Breaker out of your mind?”
Tripp’s effort is admirable. I appreciate it, but it won’t work. A part of me always wonders if Tripp loves the idea of me, the rich princess type, but doesn’t actually care about who I am as a person.
There is someone who does, though. What would my life be like if I fully pushed Breaker out of my mind? At the thought, my chest begins to ache.
“I don’t think it works that way,” I sigh. My thoughts roam to Breaker’s lips touching mine. I reach up and graze my fingers along my bottom lip, surprised I can still feel his kiss.