Over the next few weeks, Daryl and I fell back into the same pattern of co-dependency that had almost ruined us when it was prematurely severed in childhood.
I had my friend back and, for the most part, it felt like no time had passed, but some things had definitely changed.
Sometimes, it felt like we were magnets, drawn to one another without thought or permission. I knew that didn’t make any sense, but just being near him soothed an ache inside of me that I didn’t have a name for.
Affection between us evoked more feelings than it used to. His innocent touches, playful winks, and friendly hugs wreaked freaking havoc on my body.
For some reason, our relationship felt more intense.
Deeper…
"Eat a bag of dicks, Rourke," Mercy growled, dragging me back to the present, as she tossed a potato chip at her boyfriend's head.
Yeah, in the past month Mercy and Rourke's relationship status had evolved from it's complicated, to enemies with benefits, to steps that sexed, to full blown boyfriend and girlfriend.
"If anyone here needs to put a dick in their mouth then it's you." Snatching up the rogue potato chip mid-air, Rourke popped it in his mouth and waggled his brows. "Practice makes perfect, Six."
"Are you insinuating that I don't give good head?" she demanded, spine stiffening.
"Criticizing your oral skills would require you actually getting on your knees to give bad head, Six, and we both know you're a Jon Snow in that department."
Her eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"
He winked. "Meaning Six doesn't bend the knee."
"Oh, but I would, guys," Mercy shot back in a mocking purr. "If Rourke actually had something worth getting on my knees for."
Now, Rourke was the one to narrow his eyes. "Meaning?"
She winked. "Use your imagination."
Equally enraged and intrigued with his girlfriend, Rourke rested his elbows on the lunch table, leaned forward, and grinned. "You're a crazy bitch to pick this battle with me, baby."
Smirking, Mercy leaned closer, mirroring his actions. "Better a crazy bitch than a basic one, pumpkin."
It was lunchtime on Friday and the four of us were sitting around our usual table in the school cafeteria. The happy couple were, once again, going at each other's throats, and I couldn’t decide if they were toxic for one another or if they got off on the fighting.
I suspected both and, apparently, so did Daryl.
"Sweet Jesus. Y'all go from bitching and fighting, to flirting and fucking in a damn nanosecond," Daryl groaned, speaking my thoughts aloud, as he tossed his half-eaten sandwich down on the plate and leaned back in his chair. "No offense, dude, but this relationship is giving me second-hand whiplash."
"Tell Rourke what you said, Molls," Mercy said then, throwing me right under the bus. "Go on. Maybe he'll realize how shitty he sounds."
I glanced across the table anxiously. "Wh-what did I say?"
"About his sharp tongue."
Oh god.
I dropped my head in my hands. "Ugh."
"Tell me," Rourke chuckled.
"Nothing," I muttered, red-faced. "Just…that I might have told Mercy that if words are knives then you're Edward Scissorhands." I blew out a breath and winced. "Sorry."
Rourke stared at me for a long moment before he threw his head back and laughed. "That's a good one, Molls."
My eyes widened. "It is?"
"Of course," he agreed. "I am a bastard."
"Hey –" Reaching across the table, Daryl traced his thumb over the back of my knuckles. "You okay, Molls?"
Repressing a delicious shiver from the contact, I forced a bright smile. "All good, D."
"Excuse me!" A high-pitched female voice boomed through the school intercom, causing everyone to look up that ceiling to where the speakers were hanging. "Sorry to interrupt your Friday, but we have the sweetest news ever!"
"Hold up!" Mercy tossed her fork down and turned to Rourke. "Is that…"
"Britt?" Rourke nodded grimly. "Sounds about right."