Wicked Games

by S. Massery

  She fucking smirks.

  Kill me now.

  “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.” I swipe my tongue along my lower lip. A metallic taste blooms across my mouth. She bit me hard enough to draw blood, and God, it’s hot.

  Her smirk fades. An expression on my face, maybe. I’m two seconds away from dragging her into the greenhouse and fucking her against the wall.

  “Calm down.” She puts her palm on my chest, pushing me away.

  “That’s not how this works.” I’m sorely tempted to follow through on my threat, if only to show her who still has control.

  Total bullshit, though. I gave up an ounce of control the moment I let her escape me, and then she steamrolled her way into my heart.

  Heart. First I’m told I love her, now I’m referencing my heart?

  Her eyes narrow. “We do need to talk, actually.”

  I start to answer, but the bell cuts me off. I grab her hand and tuck her close to me. Her fingers curl around my biceps.

  “I’m going to see my father,” she blurts out.

  I twitch. It was only a matter of time before she decided to go see him. I’ve been dreading it since I realized her memory was blocked.

  “Caleb?”

  At eight years old, she wanted to gauge my level of interest—in her, that is. So she showed up with a white dress and let me fill in the blanks.

  I’ve been missing that version of Margo, and she’s finally made a reappearance.

  “I can’t stop you,” I finally say. “When?”

  She squeezes my arm. “Tomorrow. After we get back from the game. Robert offered to take me, and I need him to help me remember what happened.”

  I shake my head. “Why? Why can’t you just let it go?”

  She yanks me to a stop, glaring. “Let it go? You did not seriously just say that. I had let it go—for seven freaking years! And then you came back into my life and you hated me for something I couldn’t remember!” She’s yelling now, her face red.

  She’s hot when she’s angry. And she has a point.

  “Fine,” I grit out. “But what he knows? You’re not ready for it.”

  She stares at me, disappointed. “We’ll see about that.”

  32

  Margo

  To say I’m mad at Caleb would be a lie. I’m not mad. Upset, irritated, frustrated, exasperated—all yes. But it melts away when he walks into Robert’s classroom.

  He grins at me—a huge smile that touches his eyes—and kisses my cheek, then slides onto the stool next to mine. “You’re applying to NYU, right?”

  I blink. “Um, I hadn’t thought about it.”

  He levels me with a look. “You haven’t thought about it.”

  We toured the school weeks ago, and it’s slipped my mind. To be fair, I’ve had a lot going on. Lenora and Robert haven’t brought it up, either.

  He shakes his head. “The deadline is coming up. You don’t want to be stuck not having applied anywhere.”

  “I always thought I’d just get a job after high school,” I mumble, shifting away to get my supplies out of my bag. “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that…”

  I glance back and wince at his scowl.

  He meets my gaze. “What about your future? Don’t you want to dream bigger?”

  “That ended the moment I was put into foster care,” I say quietly. I had dreamed bigger—of course I did. But I stopped. I forced those dreams to go away, and now I can’t remember them at all.

  Robert pauses in front of us. “You’re not painting,” he points out.

  I blush. “Sorry.”

  “Margo isn’t sure she wants to go to NYU,” Caleb tells him. “I was trying to convince her to apply.”

  Robert’s eyes widen. “Margo,” he chides. “You should at least apply. Give yourself some options.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, we should’ve discussed this more after the open house. Most deadlines are January first, which gives us a few weeks to tour more schools, if you wanted.”

  I fake a smile. There’s no way I can afford that. Even if I get scholarships, or the Jenkinses offer to help out, I’m basically screwed. I’ll be in debt forever. And nowadays, a degree isn’t even a guarantee of a job.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.” Robert glances at his watch. “You’re going straight to Lion’s Head?”

  I nod. “My overnight bag is in Riley’s car.”

  He winks. “Good. And keep it on the down low on social media, huh? If Angela found out about your sleepovers, we’d all be in trouble.”

  Caleb glances between us. “She doesn’t know?”

  “Well, it isn’t exactly allowed,” I murmur. “Even if it’s at my best friend’s house. If it’s not a pre-approved home, then…”

  Caleb grins. Robert and Len think I sleep at Riley’s—but I haven’t so much as spent an evening there. So I guess, inadvertently, I just called Caleb my best friend.

  About time I acknowledged that. He’s returned to the pedestal in my mind.

  “Have fun.” Robert pats my shoulder. “No funny business.”

  “Just an afterparty,” I whisper. I told him about it already, how it was going to be at Ian’s house, and then Riley and I were going straight home.

  Lies.

  “Barely any drinking,” Caleb adds.

  Robert snorts. “Nice try. Just have Margo home safe and sound by noon tomorrow.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  “Back to work,” Robert says, shaking his head.

  He wanders away, and I turn my attention back to the piece I started yesterday. A field of flowers. It’s more impressionistic than anything. You can really see the yellow sunflowers if you squint and tilt your head to the left. I add in darker strokes, bringing the foreground to life.

  “How’s your portrait coming along?” Caleb asks. “Seeing as how it’s due soon.”

  I shrug and clean off my brush. “Almost done. You?”

  “Finished.” He smirks. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”

  My cheeks heat up. I don’t know how Caleb sees me, and up until now I was eager to find out. I think I can hold off a bit longer, though.

  Because you’re afraid, a voice in my head whispers.

  I’ll keep being afraid until I find out what happened to us.

  The rest of the class flies by, and soon enough the bell is ringing. In the hallway, Caleb takes my hand. Our fingers lace together.

  The energy in the halls is palpable, kids rushing by. The football players are grinning, bouncing on their heels. They move in a pack toward the locker rooms.

  And yet, no one knocks into us. They skirt around Caleb and me like we’re protected by a forcefield.

  The advantage of being Caleb Asher, I imagine.

  Riley and Eli meet us at my locker.

  “Are we all riding together?” Riley asks.

  Eli’s arm is slung around her shoulder. He’s excited, too—outwardly. Caleb’s energy is more contained, held like a jar full of bees in his chest. I feel the same way. My limbs won’t cooperate. We’re on the edge of a cliff.

  It isn’t just the game, either, or the night ahead of us. It’s tomorrow. Seeing Dad for the first time in seven years.

  “Focus,” Eli says to me, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

  I jerk back and scowl.

  “Yes,” Caleb answers Riley. “We’ll drop my car off at Ian’s house and ride together. Then we’ll be able to leave from the party whenever we want.”

  I nod at his rationale.

  “Great,” Eli hoots.

  I slam my locker, books unloaded, and we join the throng of students exiting school. The pep squad—girls who weren’t able to get on the cheerleading team, apparently—has decorated the front of the building with signs and balloons.

  We’re going to state!

  Go get ’em, ERE!

  Our mascot is a gold-and-black eagle, but it’s only us
ed for sports. Liam mentioned that the school prides itself on the silver crest logo that appears on all documents and emails, hiding away from the fact that it even has a mundane mascot.

  “An eagle isn’t mundane,” Eli had yelled. “It’s fucking majestic.”

  Right.

  Off to the side of the lot, cheerleaders are decorating two busses. I nudge Riley and lift my chin in that direction, and she makes a noise in the back of her throat.

  “Party bus and athlete bus,” she says. “Football players and cheerleaders all ride together, and the party bus is for anyone who doesn’t want to drive to the game.”

  “Ah.”

  She grins. “It’s a big deal, the state championships. You know?”

  “Not particularly.”

  Caleb squeezes my hand, and I wave goodbye to Riley. We’ll see them in a few minutes, anyway. I slide into Theo’s car and wait for Caleb to shut his door. Apparently Caleb’s no-drive order only extends to when Eli’s mom is watching. But since Theo and Liam are getting ready for the game…

  I lean over and touch his cheek, guiding his mouth toward mine.

  The kiss is sweet and slow, and I pull back slightly. He’s already watching me.

  “What was that for?” he asks.

  “I can’t kiss you when I want?”

  In truth, I have a weird feeling in my chest. I’m anticipating the distraction of tonight.

  He smirks. “You can, but you don’t usually kiss like that…”

  I bite my lip and ignore the heat that floods through me. I press my thighs together, trying to be subtle about it.

  His eyes darken. He misses nothing.

  “Maybe we should take a detour,” I suggest.

  In response, he starts the car and pulls out, tires squealing. He takes me to the lookout we once went to and parks in the corner. There aren’t any other cars.

  He pushes his seat back and pats his legs. “Get over here.”

  Once I’m settled on his lap, my knees on either side of his hips, I kiss him again. I want the distraction. For him to take me to another place.

  His hands skate up my sides, over my uniform shirt. He undoes the buttons one at a time, revealing my white camisole and nude bra. He takes his time looking me up and down. His dick hardens against my thigh, and I can’t hide my wicked smile.

  I like turning him on. Affecting him as much as he affects me.

  I’m also glad I wore the skirt today, even if it’s freezing out.

  He unclips my bra and pushes down the cami, exposing my breasts. He guides me forward and puts his mouth on my nipple, his tongue flicking out. I let my head fall back, sucking in a deep breath.

  He continues his assault, his hand going to my other nipple and rolling it between his fingers.

  “Fuck,” I exhale. “You could make me come like that.”

  He chuckles, barely pulling back. “Yeah?”

  He renews his assault. His teeth graze my breast, and fire spreads through me. I grind on him, unable to stop myself.

  “Condom?”

  He tips his head back and grins. “Eager, are you?”

  I grab his face and slam my lips to his, showing him just how eager I am. My hands go to his pants, unzipping them, then navigating his hard length out. I’m a heartbeat away from saying fuck the condom when he breaks the kiss.

  “Glove compartment,” he grunts.

  I let him find it, need thrumming through me like a livewire.

  “Caleb,” I whimper, stroking him. He jumps in my hand.

  Condom on. Panties pushed to the side.

  I’m soaking wet. His finger pushes into me, curling. My eyelids flutter.

  His hands go to my hips, lifting me slightly, and he slides in. We both groan. He just… fits. Perfection.

  “Fuck, baby,” he growls, claiming my lips again in a quick kiss.

  His teeth drag against my lower lip. There’s no more talking after that. We stare into each other’s eyes. He guides the pace, slamming me down on him. Our faces are close enough that we could kiss if either of us moved a fraction of an inch closer.

  He leans me back and suddenly hits a whole new spot. My mouth parts. I hang on to his shoulders, letting him press me back on the steering wheel. He darts forward, leaving a trail of kisses down my throat, my collarbone. He bites my breast, then soothes it with his tongue a second later.

  Kiss.

  Bite.

  Lick.

  My fingers slip into his hair, tugging. I’m coming undone, thread by thread. Falling apart in his hands. He sucks on my nipple, and that’s it.

  His gaze flies up to mine. I shatter. My whole body pulses. He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him as the orgasm sweeps through me. I don’t realize we’ve stilled until I slowly come back.

  “Hold on,” he warns me.

  He grips my waist and thrusts his hips up. I tighten my hold on his shoulders, and he pounds into me without restraint. Chasing a high.

  A minute later, he freezes, his eyes on me. He groans.

  We stare at each other.

  I’m caught entirely in his web.

  ...and then reality returns. The game. The party. And tomorrow.

  He catches my face in his hands. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Disappear again.”

  I shrug. “I’m not.”

  “You won’t,” he corrects.

  Bossy as ever.

  “Say it.”

  I roll my eyes. “I won’t disappear again.”

  He squints at me. “No matter what happens tomorrow. No matter what happens with my family, or our past.” He shakes his wrist, drawing my attention to the bracelet. “You promised.”

  I smile, running my finger over his bracelet. The fact that he wears it openly, unashamed, makes my heart sing. “I did promise.”

  He kisses me once more. “Good. Let’s go have some fun.” He looks down at his lap, where we’re still connected.

  “Unless you want to skip the game and do more of this?” I ask hopefully.

  He laughs. “If I don’t make an appearance, people will talk.”

  I grunt. “Not the worst thing in the world.”

  I climb off him and throw myself back into the passenger seat. He hands me my bra, then takes care of the condom. Once we’re both more put-together, he winks and drives back out onto the road.

  Lion’s Head, here we come.

  Why does it feel like we’re about to walk into the enemy’s lair?

  33

  Margo

  King Caleb has returned to his throne.

  At least, that’s what it feels like.

  Lion’s Head is like a castle. More ancient than Emery-Rose, with four towers on each corner. The whole place is made of brick with ivy crawling up its sides, black-framed windows. Even the driveway that snakes past the school and a few fields feels old. The football field in the back, though, is new. Crisp, white-painted lines. Bleachers on either side and a small building manned by two adults selling food and drinks. It’s a giant campus abutting a state reservation, and it’s much more peaceful than I would’ve guessed.

  Caleb keeps me tucked next to him as countless people approach him from the top of the bleachers. He slaps guys’ hands, waves off girls. Smiles and jokes. He’s charming, which shocks the hell out of me. I don’t know why I expected grunts and stares, which is what most people usually get out of him.

  He squeezes my arm, and I’m reminded of the last time we did this. The first and only time we did this. It didn’t really end well...

  I let my head rest against his shoulder. We came prepared in winter gear. Ian wasn’t exactly thrilled to let Riley and me into his house to change, but Eli barged past him, Riley right behind.

  Riley and I giggled to each other, shrugging out of the white uniform t-shirts and the dark skirts, putting on skin-tight black leggings and gold shirts she found at the mall. Mine shimmers like silk, and hers had a rough, purposefully ripped vibe. The outfits weren
’t for the game—it’s too cold for that—but for the afterparty. We painted on makeup and fixed our hair, and finally we were ready.

  An impatient Ian stood by the door, periodically checking his watch.

  Caleb and Eli thundered down the stairs, decked out in black and gold, and we were off.

  I sink further into my black coat, grateful for the hat Len gave me a few weeks ago. It’s an Emery-Rose winter one, black with gold tinsel-like threads woven through, and an eagle stitched on the side.

  Riley and Eli are just below us, and Caleb’s lacrosse friends run interference for him a few rows down. They’re sprawled out, being generally loud and rowdy.

  “How does it feel?” I ask Caleb.

  He glances at me. The game hasn’t started yet, but he and Eli seem particularly keen on the Lion’s Head sidelines. They keep staring like a monster is going to pop out.

  “What?”

  “Being so popular,” I elaborate. “It must be weird, right?”

  He shrugs. “I’ve always been popular. Even when we were kids. You just never noticed.”

  True.

  “My parents prepped me for this type of lifestyle.” He throws his shoulders back. “You think my dad was able to go anywhere without being recognized? His face was on billboards around town.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Well, Uncle took them down after a while. They lost their effectiveness.”

  Weird. But he has an odd expression, so I don’t question it.

  The cheerleaders run out across the field, shaking their pompoms.

  Two familiar faces climb the steps, and I shoot to my feet.

  “Claire! Hanna!” I race toward them.

  Hanna’s face lights up, and she crashes into me. I throw my arms around her, squeezing tight.

  “I swear you grew five inches,” I tell her. “How are you?”

  She grins at me. “Good! Claire said she saw you, but I couldn’t go.” Her lower lip pops out. “I miss you, Margo.”

  “I miss you, too.” I rub her arm.

  Her hair is pulled back in two neat French braids, and the sisters are decked out in Lion’s Head colors. I touch the purple hair bands and smile.