“I like you.” KC kissed my jaw, and I darted back against Ren when he licked it because he’d managed to find a ticklish spot.
Ren leaned forward, tilting me with him, and grabbed a handful of grapes. “Close your eyes and eat.”
I settled back against Ren, and he scrunched his fingers against my abs until my eyelashes were brushing my cheeks, then gave me a little pat that had me feeling floaty.
“Open,” he whispered.
He pressed a grape past my lips, and I moaned at the sweet burst in my mouth as I crunched down and broke the skin. I’d had grapes a thousand times in my life, perhaps more, but I’d never had an appreciation for the way they were tart and sweet at the same time.
“These are really, really good.” I opened my eyes.
KC grabbed one out of the bowl and ate it, then pouted at me, his entire body slouching in my direction. “They’re okay.” He sounded suspicious, as if he thought perhaps I was making things up, but my grape had been the best one I’d ever eaten.
Ren chuckled and the vibration pelted through my body. “Oli’s swimming in the sub soup. Up, down, up. We’ll have to keep an eye on you for a few days,” he murmured, directly into my ear. “Sub drop is no joke. I think that’s what was happening along with a dash of good old-fashioned anxiety.”
I glanced back at Ren, and he was frowning at me like a logic problem he couldn’t quite work out.
KC ate another grape. “I want magic grapes. This isn’t fair.”
I burst out laughing and kept going until KC was smiling and my side ached. A few sobs slipped out before I finally stopped.
Ren dragged me back against his chest again because I’d wriggled loose while I was cracking up, then pressed his lips to my ear. “You tired?”
I shrugged but a yawn chose that moment to crack my jaw. “Mm.”
“If I break you, it’s going to be on purpose,” he whispered. “This won’t happen again.”
I moaned at his gruff words. I wasn’t sure why—considering he’d been absolutely fucking terrible to me so far—but I believed him.
18
REN
I yawned and cracked a couple of eggs into the ceramic pan. It was a good thing I wasn’t using oil because I’d started cooking in my boxers. Switching the knob to a lower temperature, I eyed the eggs carefully. There hadn’t been many circumstances as a child when I’d cooked. We had only the best maids and chefs who ran our house, but when my parents sent me to boarding school, I’d learned the basics required to stay alive. As much as I hated Pleasant Beach Academy, it prepared me in ways my parents never could.
Father wanted me to go on to the academy’s sister school, Pleasant Beach West University, but as a legal adult, I’d brushed off the idea.
I’d gotten a tattoo artist apprenticeship instead.
My choice had pissed Father off, and he’d thrown accusations along the lines of “you’re exactly like Luke” and “go live in New Gothenburg with your useless brother,” but by that point, I had thick skin.
Behind me in the living room, the preseason hockey game from last night played on the screen. I had a subscription tothe streaming service for the games, especially the team that my former boarding school buddy played for.
I snickered at the thought of Ripley. I grabbed my phone and sent him a text.
Ren
In New Gothenburg now. jsyk.
We communicated when we could, but he had a busy schedule. I usually worked as much as possible, not only because I loved the cash, but I also enjoyed the job. Inking came with pride, and I had mad skills. No one could tell me otherwise.
From where I stood, I caught sight of Florida making a goal against LA within the first ten minutes. I groaned. “Fuck. Come on! Get your defense together!”
My phone buzzed and I smirked down at the screen.
Thorne in my Crack
fuck off. you’re really doing this revenge bullshit? the shithole with the Blizzards? RIP from boredom dude.
