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Jase
I don’t know why I let my brother get to me the other day. Usually, I take his words with a grain of salt, just like his father’s. Tobe enjoys bating me, telling me how much he loves Lo, how they would have hooked up or been together if it wasn’t for me.
Fuck you, bro. Fuck. You.
If she knew the way he spoke about her, she’d rethink their friendship. Luckily, I’m not a dick. I’m not willing to fuck with their friendship.
“She’s only with you because she can’t be with me. If not for you, we’d be fucking every single day,” Tobe antagonizes. His drunken, red eyes glare at me as he continues to sip his beer.
My face is probably beet red and visibly pissed off. He’s been saying this since the night she decided to be mine. We haven’t had sex. Which only makes the green-eyed monster come out full force.
He’s drunk. Don’t take it to heart. I lie to myself, knowing it’s more than that. We haven’t been close since we were in elementary school. His father made sure of that the first time he beat me until I couldn’t breathe. We’re one and the same yet completely different. He’s spoiled. I’m bitter. I take everything in. He takes it all for granted.
She changed everything for the worst, though. We were bearable before, but he’s inconsolable nowadays. He’s spoiled, and he didn’t get his toy. He hates me for dating her. I can see it in his eyes. He’s constantly dropping comments to me about how hot she is naked, and then I have to wonder how the fuck he knows that.
“Stop being a prick and get over it,” I growl, my fist clenched. It’s the only way I won’t knock him on his ass for being stupid. He’s drunk. He’s my brother, and Lo would be pissed if I did punch him, especially when he only says things like this when he’s drunk, things he’ll regret when he’s sober.
“Just wait until you’re gone in college. She’ll come back to me,” he continues, and I’m this close to throwing our blood relation out the window.
I stare at him, fucking stunned at his audacity. He’s my brother, regardless of our different fathers. I’m amazed he’s saying this to me. She’s starting to be my everything, and he threatens that every single day.
I can’t do this.
I decided to break up with her after that night. Now, only a few hours later, I regret it. The hurt and anger on her face is enough to make me want to chop off my own nuts and use them as a peace offering.
She’ll probably tell me to go fuck myself. That seems to be her favorite phrase since the day we met, not the official first day when I was drunk that she still hasn’t mentioned.
I fucking hate the world. My mom and stepfather just announced they’re getting divorced. Toby’s dad couldn’t keep it in his pants, and now mom has to figure out how to live without him. She’s drank every day this week, and tonight's no different. It wasn’t the abuse that made her change her mind but the fact that he dicked some assistant of his.
Mom stumbles into the living room. She’s still wearing her pajamas from last night. Her hair, a mirror of my own in color, is mussed up, tangled and flattened in all directions. She never cleaned her face free of makeup, so her eyes look like a raccoon’s, and her lipstick is smeared like she wiped it one too many times.
“Hey, baby boy,” she slurs. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. She teeters until she loses balance and tumbles onto the loveseat. “You and Tobias are the brightest lights of my life. You never gave up on me.”
She tries getting up again and sits next to me, her body silently shaking with cries. I wish I could fix her, mend the scars both my dad and Tobe’s gave her.
Millie Collins-Hayes, my mom, was the best woman in her prime. She was a divorce attorney of all things. When she got pregnant with me, Dad wanted her to raise me. By the time she could get back to work, she was divorced, married to Brant and pregnant with Toby. Brant decided she’d stay at home. She lost her drive after not being able to go back to work.
Brant always pushed her to stay home and be a mom because that was her rightful place. Such a prick, Brant. Now, I look at Mom and see all the damage he did.
She’s broken.
She has given up.
And I can’t do a fucking thing.
I rub her shoulder until she stops crying and her even breaths let me know she’s passed out. My stomach churns, knowing she’s hurting so much. I lift her up like a child. Weighing next to nothing, I carry her to her bed and tuck her in.
I text Toby, Hey, where’s that party you mentioned?
His response is quick, Dalton’s on Melrose. Lots of booze, and Ellie is here.
I stare at the message. Ellie is the girl who keeps trying to get with me, but she’s too clingy. I don’t need that before graduation, but I do need a distraction. I’ll go anyway.
Before leaving, I head upstairs, change clothes, and then lock the house and set the alarm.
By the time I arrive, the party is already out of hand. Walking into the high-vaulted kitchen, I spot Dalton. He’s an offensive lineman. He’s big, massive really. It’s hard to miss him, and tonight is no exception. The music blares in the background. Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name plays.
“Hey, bro!” he hollers after me.
Lifting my chin in a hey gesture, I make my way to the island in the center of the room. Red and blue solo cups line the countertops and table. Blue generally means no booze. Red obviously means business.
“What do we have tonight?” I ask, reaching for the first bottle I spot. It looks like one of those cheap bottles of tequila that are only like two dollars at the store. Laughing, I pour it without another thought.
“That one was soaked with watermelon Jolly Ranchers,” Dalton yells over the loud music.
This is going to be disgusting, I can already smell the lighter fluid concoction. It doesn’t really smell like it, but damn does it feel like it going down.
I down three shots, needing a distraction. I’m not willing to think of my crisis. I’m only seventeen. I need to get my mind off anything other than football and school. My main goal is to leave here for college and never come back. This place is a black hole of despair. I refuse to live here after I graduate.
“Yo, bro!” Toby hollers, hitting me on the shoulder. He’s toasted. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. “Where’s Mom?”
He must wonder why I left the house for once. I’m always babysitting her nowadays.
“Wasted and asleep.”
“Dad?” he questions with a glare.
“Probably with his whore,” I mutter, my anger rising once again. I need air.
Pouring more of the gasoline liquor, I tell him I’m going to go smoke. It’s not something I do often, but when I do, it’s because I’m ready to blow up and beat the shit out of someone. No one here deserves it.
Brant’s the one who fuels the anger. My father, too. They both cheated. My fucking father decided pussy was more important than family.
Well, fuck him. Fuck Brant too.
Outside, the air is crisp. Only now realizing how sweltering it is in a house full of drunken teenagers, I bask in the cool, summer evening air. After pulling out a cig and lighting it, I puff peacefully, knowing this will only make running harder when the season starts.
Not many linger out here. The ones who do are either passed out or nearly fucking on the grass out back.
My gaze scans the sky. The moon is out, bright and overbearing. The stars shine too optimistically, and suddenly, the dark and dreary that I came out here in search of seems too far away.
By the time I finish my cup, my head starts to feel fuzzy. I’m not drunk. The high from the liquor doesn’t take long to leave me either. I toss the bud onto the ground and rub it into the pavement.
Ellie comes outside and sidles up next me. She probably thinks I’m a goner. She definitely is.
Ellie is your average high school cheerleader—tall, skinny, nice tits, and brown hair with teal highlights. She’d be a nice lay, but then, she would stick to me like super glue.
Clingy isn’t sexy.
Neither are stalkers.
She’s both.
“Hey there,” she says in what she probably thinks is sultry but comes across as desperate.
I nod, my go-to move for acknowledgement.
“It’s dark over there,” she implies suggestively, gesturing to the bushes on the side of the house. “If you’d like to take me for a ride.”
This one is full of class.
Classic bored girl routine. Slow clap for you, Eleanor. I’m not drunk enough for this shit. Still, I move my palm onto her bare thigh anyway. Trailing under her skirt, I graze her panties. She moans, gripping my shoulders.
Finally thinking better of it, I stop my movements and gently push her away. “I’m not feeling it,” I say.
It’s the truth. She doesn’t do it for me. I’m languid in my jeans. She literally doesn’t turn me on at all, especially not when I’m in this mood.
She walks away, and then I see her.
It’s as if my mind is sober while I can’t get my body into gear. She’s as clear as a glassy lake without any waves. It’s serene, silent, and still as can be. My eyes rake her frame. She’s wearing a short dress that hits mid-thigh. It’s peach and seems too sweet for a girl with eyes like hers. They’re brown but look as if they know everything the world has to show. They’re mischievous and perfect. Her hair is nearly black and so long it hits her navel. Her skin is golden, and I can’t stop staring.
My cock hardens immediately. And her biting of her lips draws my attention to her mouth. What’s a man to do? I haven’t said anything because at this moment, I’m fucking speechless. Moments before, I couldn’t beg myself to harden over a desperate cheerleader—who’d definitely be down to fuck—and yet this girl just has to exist to get my blood flowing.
“Hey,” I say lamely.
The world feels fuzzier than a few moments ago. She’s like a tornado with her presence, throwing me off course and everywhere at once.
Her gaze turns toward me. “Hi,” she responds with a wave, her voice soft but confidently so.
She doesn’t look down. She keeps her eyes on mine, and that’s such an attractive quality. This girl is not shy at all, but not in an I-want-to-fuck-you manner, just in an I-know-what-I-want-in-life kind.
“Jase Collins.” I put my hand out, waiting for her to shake it like old people do.
She stares at it in disinterest. “Loren,” she replies, a smile as beautiful as they get takes up her face.
She’s one of those people who smiles with her whole damn face. Her nose scrunches in pleasure. Her eyes crinkle at the edges, and her teeth show entirely. It’s adorable and quite frankly making me mad with lust. Is that a thing? Being overcome with desire from a person’s smile?
“What are you doing at a party like this?” I wonder out loud, not realizing it. She’s too good for a party like this, too innocent, too sweet.
She looks at me and then at the cup nestled in my left hand. She probably thinks I’ve had too much to drink, but she answers anyway.
“My best friend thought it was a good idea,” she sasses, putting a hand on her hip. Her smile is back, and it’s an annoyed one. “He doesn’t realize how much I hate these things.” She gestures around the house like the whole thing is absurd.
“Then why come?”
“He’s my best friend. I always support his stupidity,” she states simply, like there’s not another answer in the world.
I nod slowly, taking in what she said. “You’re a good friend.”
And she is. If anyone dragged me along here and I didn’t want to come, I would leave. Hell, I wouldn’t have ever shown up.
She shrugs non-committedly. “He’s always been here for me.”
“Are you two more than friends?” I can’t resist to ask for some reason. I’ll blame it on the booze. It’s a good excuse as any.
“He wants to be, but it’d ruin our friendship.”
“Then you won’t mind if I do this?” I barely get out before crushing my lips to hers, enveloping her mouth with mine.
She lets out the sexiest groan and doesn’t push me or bat me away like a fly. Instead, she deepens the kiss. It’s like the spark I’m experiencing, the one that takes up my entire body and buzzes throughout my system, isn’t just one-sided.
I drop my cup, gripping her face in the next second. Her hands find my hips, gripping so hard it’s like she thinks I’ll disappear into thin air. Even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t. My body and heart wouldn’t let me. This kiss is everything.
Snaking my hands down her waist, I hoist her up, and her legs wrap around my hips. Walking until I find the ledge to the pool house, I set her on top. Slowly, I glide my palm up her thigh and under her dress. When she whimpers, I take that as a go-ahead.
Reaching the apex of her thighs, my fingertips trail the lace of her panties. She shivers when I go higher. Thumbing her clit over her underwear, she squeaks but doesn’t stop me. No words are shared, but when I look into those eyes of hers, they tell me so fucking much.
“You’re so wet, Peaches,” I groan huskily, feeling how soaked she is.
“Peaches?” She lets out a breathy giggle that turns into an adorable snort and throws her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. She’s so fucking precious.
Instead of replying, I slip my finger under the fabric, touching her bare pussy. Her eyes widen, but it shuts her right up.
“Is this okay?” I ask, and I don’t know why. Usually I take, take, take, and not give a fuck of who I take from, but this girl, she’s like an angel, and I think if I taint her, I’ll piss the guy upstairs off too much.
She nods softly, unable to look me in the eyes. Her hands clenched at her sides, her lip between her teeth, a blush redder than a rose on her cheeks.
I don’t go slow or gentle because holding back is too fucking hard. After I jam a single digit in there, she cries out. Her head flops backward, her spine arching forward. She’s got to be a virgin with that reaction.
I massage her clit with my thumb, stroking her with my finger in earnest. Adding the second finger makes her feel even tighter, like she’s clenching around me for dear life. I cannot imagine sinking my dick into her, watching her eyes roll back, listening to her cries. I want every single fucking one of them.
Not even two minutes later, she’s coming, and her juices coat my fingers.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy when you come,” I moan against her throat.
Pulling my fingers out, I trace my tongue over them, sucking the juices I’ve wanted to taste since pumping into her. Her eyes heat, glossing over in a sex-haze; she’s red and flushed. I want to do this every day for the rest of forever just to see this expression.
After licking them clean, I kiss her with tongue, making her squirm all over.
“You’re so gross,” she comments, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
“And you’re fucking delicious,” I retort, swiping my lips of all traces of her.
She’s speechless with her mouth agape, and the confidence she once had dissipates. Closing her mouth, I hold her chin and kiss her with more passion than I’ve ever felt for any one person.
And then I turn and walk away.
That was our first encounter, and in the three months we’ve dated, she hasn’t mentioned it once. I never threw myself on her, and we never fucked, but I was okay with that outcome. Something about her made me want to drop everything and worship the ground she walked on. I wanted to make love to her and have babies with her. To just be with her.
Hell, even now, I want to fuck her until she takes me back. Show her what she’ll miss, kiss her until I’m the only name left on her mind.
Because jealousy’s a cunt, and I was her little bitch.
Still her bitch.
I want her back already, but until she stops being friends with my brother, I can't be with her. He'll ruin us. Toby wants her too much to let her go.
If I even proposed she stopped being friends with him, she'd cut my dick off. Of that, I have no doubts. She's tough and not willing to be pushed around.
I wonder if Ellie will get her to forgive me. She likes me more than she likes Toby.
I was a total prick. It's only been a couple hours. Why does regret eat at me like this?
I'm a mess. I need her.
Pulling out my cell, I text Lo. I'm sorry I was a dick. Can we start over?
If by start over do you mean dating me or that time you fingered me and then acted like it never happened?
Now, she mentions it. Only took her being pissed to let her emotions fly.
Ouch. She's not going easy on me.
Texting her back, I respond, I'm a mother fucker. I never said otherwise, Peaches. Give me another chance?
A mother fucker you say? she replies. Then I see another pop up. I'd hope you wouldn't fuck my mother. That'd be awkward. And really, we’re back to that peaches nickname?
I laugh and realize my girl is one outstanding lady. Only two hours ago, I was a dick, and it's like it never happened.
I think we'll be okay.
I hope.
I so fucking hope.
Your mom wouldn't mind, especially if she saw what I'm packing, I joke.
Ew. Don't be gross, Jase. I haven't even seen what you're packing, she responds with a winky face.
Are you asking me out? I tease.
Didn't we just break up? she rebuts.
Only because I didn't see how stupid I was until I remembered our first night. Our first kiss...
I'm not sure if it was that memorable, she texts, making me smile like that first time.
It had been memorable, or she wouldn’t remember the nickname or the finger-fucking.
Ouch... I tease.
She’s the yin to my yang, and I want to see where we’ll go from here.
Stop sending ellipses. They're not cute.
Not like you. I’m smooth like butter, but she doesn’t like half-assed compliments. I prepare to send something better when her message vibrates in my hand.
And now you're just being cheesy.
I'll be the cheese to your Easy Mac any day, Peaches.
And I would. I will. I’ll be anything and everything if she’ll have me.
“Mr. Collins!” Ms. Alabaster yells at me. She marches to my desk and grabs my phone. “Detention, after school. Ms. Katherine's room.”
“Yes, ma'am,” I accept, knowing full well if I argue, she’d make it more than one.
She gives me a hoity-toity lifted chin before heading back to the board. I don't listen to her discussion. I can't stop thinking about the girl that I'm falling for when I don't even know what love is.
If my parents are an example, I don't want that shit.
Not at all.
Their love is poison, a torturous blackness that eats their souls on a daily basis, and I want nothing to do with such sorrow. I want the sappy shit that is written in novels, told from an old couple, and seen in movies. I want Lo and the stupid happy ever afters I’ve always thought were childish. I want it all.
Class is slow as fucking dirt. When it ends, I swear everyone practically races out. Getting my phone back takes some ass kissing and promising to never do it again, but I succeed, and with a last warning glare, she sends me on my way.
My cell has several messages from Lo, but instead of reading, I go to her fourth period Trig class and catch her before she heads home. Sadly, detention beckons me, and I can’t be late. It’ll only be a quick pit stop.
“Hey, Peaches,” I whisper into the crook of her neck, turning her around and kissing her with all I have.
The anger, jealousy, lust, and pent-up worry goes into that single kiss. To be honest, it has me wondering where the fuck my balls went because I’m fairly certain they’re stashed in her bedazzled, blue ombre purse. Don’t ask how the fuck I know what ombre is because I couldn’t tell you.
Jesus fucking Christ. I sound like a girl.
Her lips are where I want to stay forever. If only I could kiss away the bad memories and make the good ones of us a permanent fixture.
She pulls back, her lips puffy and fuckable. Her cheeks flushed in the best shade of red, and her eyes are wide and glazed over in a way I’ll never tire of. Fuck. How could I think life was going to be okay without her? It wouldn’t be. This is real. Even if we’re teenagers, I feel this connection, and I don’t think I’ll ever find it again.
“Jason,” she breathes my name like a hymn. Her eyes are full of so much and undistinguishable at the same time.
“Peaches,” I reply coquettishly.
I don’t know where we go from here.
“I thought you were drunk and forgot.” Lo bites her lip, looking everywhere but my eyes.
Gripping her chin with my thumb, I brush the lip she’ll be sure to make bleed if she continues her habit.
“You’re the sweetest fucking thing in the world. I’d never be able to forget you,” I profess, my eyes never leaving her scared ones. “This is real. This is us. And if you let it be, this is forever.”
She watches me warily, as if she doesn’t believe me. Lo has weird visuals of what love should be like, which is odd because her parents are the epitome of soul mates. Right? She doesn’t believe in soul mates, or love, or anything that isn’t scientifically proven.
“I-I...” she starts, her lip quivering, and I want to kiss away that warble, make that little shake forever disappear. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I inquire, trying hard not to laugh. She’s so... Loren.
“Okay. I’ll try to give whatever this is a chance.”
I kiss her hard, her lips tasting of Red Bull and chocolate.
“Deal.”
Lo
I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing, but once his perfectly plump lips are on mine, I’m a goner. He grips my face, his hands tangling into my long hair. The heat from his palms send the most thrilling chills down my spine, effectively curling my toes.
Is this it? The moment when he decided to finally pluck this cherry of mine as Ellie so eloquently put it? No, we’re at school. People would see. But this kiss, it’s different than all the rest. It’s consuming, demanding, and hungry. It’s a promise for more, a desperate plea for everything I have.
Reluctantly, I pull away. It may be something he wants, but here is not the place to lose ourselves. His eyes are warring with something, and it’s probably what I’m feeling, that need to pull ourselves together and not do this here.
“I’ve got detention,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
I laugh, wondering how in the world he ended up pissing off Ms. Alabaster.
Cutting me off before I utter a word, he does that lilt of his lips, the one that makes him incredibly handsome. “She caught me on my phone.”
“Ah,” I respond, realizing all too soon that I got him in trouble. “I’m sorry I—”
He stops my sentence with his mouth.
We’re doing a lot of PDA for my liking, so I push his shoulders halfheartedly, I can’t deny how much I love that he can’t stop kissing me, even if being on display for whoever passes by isn’t my favorite pastime.
“Go,” I grunt, wanting—no, needing—him to go before I drag him to some abandoned place at the school.
He winks at me, and I melt right there, wondering when I decided to flip from hating him to wanting him again.
Being a teenager is the most confusing thing in the world.
“Bye, Peaches,” Jase says with a chuckle.
He lays a kiss on my forehead before walking away, and I think part of my heart leaps out of my chest and into his at that very moment.