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“That clea
r enough for you, Princess?” Bishop asked, tilting his head as he watched me carefully. His tone suggested he was actually asking for once, that the question wasn’t rhetorical.
“Yeah.” I swallowed, ripping my gaze away from Misael’s dark, hypnotic eyes. “Yeah, I get it.”
Eye contact broken, I left the conversation at that, my heart still thudding hard in my chest.
I was a virgin, but I wasn’t entirely inexperienced. I’d heard plenty of stories from the girls at Highland Park Prep who’d done a lot more than me, so it wasn’t like I was some blushing wallflower. But I also wasn’t sure I was ready to prod at the details of what happened when a girl was shared between three boys—and I definitely wasn’t ready to examine why the thought of it made my clit throb, made my core clench with some nameless need.
We didn’t speak any more about the idea of sharing.
Instead, we shared more beers.
Even though I was still freaking out on the inside, it felt like our little discussion had broken the ice between us in a way. Now that I knew exactly what our bargain entailed, it was actually easier to relax around them—possibly because I didn’t have to second-guess what might be coming anymore. I knew.
But for the first time since losing the house, since coming to the “wrong side of the tracks”, since meeting the Lost Boys and getting pulled into their strange, dark, questionable arrangement, I allowed myself to have fun.
Misael cranked up the music after deciding that we were all being too serious for his liking. I drank one beer, then another—that seemed to be the threshold of letting myself relax and let loose.
Bishop and Kace were easily the more reserved of the three boys, although in different ways and for different reasons. So it was Misael that finally hopped up from the couch, pulling me up and tugging me into his arms, getting my body to move to the music that played.
It was nothing like the elegant instrumental I’d grown up with, the only thing that’d been allowed in my house. This music was thick with bass and heavy with vocals; a rhythmic Latin rap that Misael moved his hips to with ease.
I tried to keep up with him, but the feel of his body so close to mine and the scent of cloves that always seemed to cling to him distracted me. My feet kept tripping over each other, and I felt gangly and awkward.
“Loosen up, Princess. It’s just dancin’,” he said with a crooked grin, pulling me tighter into his hold and swiveling his hips against me.
My breath caught in my throat, and I clung harder to his shoulders, practically wrapping myself around him as I let him guide our movements. I could feel every inch of him, the firmness and solidness of his body. He was a little leaner than Bishop and Kace, but still big compared to me. I fit perfectly in his hold, my hips in his large hands…
As I gave myself over to the music, I finally found the rhythm with him, “loosening up”, as he called it. Following his movements was like moving through water, a liquid ease that rolled like the tide.
I loved it—and that was the most surprising part.
Even with my life turned upside down, even in this strange, often terrifying new world I found myself in, there were little parts of it that felt halfway normal. That felt good.
What would Dad think, I wondered, if he knew this was my new normal? What would Mom think?
But the honest truth was, in that moment, I didn’t really care.
It was late by the time the Lost Boys dropped me off at home. It was dark, the night sky hanging over the city like a shroud. My old home was less than fifteen miles away, but it truly did feel like it belonged in a separate world sometimes. Here, the sky wasn’t clear. You could barely see the stars glittering through the smog, but there was something endearing about that.
Or it was the alcohol. It might have been the alcohol.
We pulled up to the front of the house, laughing, more than a little tipsy. I was impressed that Bishop managed to drive steadily—but then I remembered he’d only had one beer, maybe part of a second one. I wondered if that was on purpose because he was the only one with a license, or if he just didn’t drink a lot.
To my surprise, he got out of the car with me, taking my arm as I slid out. I was grateful for the gesture; between being tipsy and having to carry my backpack and books, I probably wouldn’t have made it to the front door without going down in a heap.
“Try to stay outta trouble,” he said lightly as I fumbled with my key. He eventually took it from me after one, two, then three attempts to get it into the lock. I giggle-snorted.
“No trouble in my house,” I said, and then added before I could stop myself, “Mom would have to care for there to be trouble.”
His gaze flicked up to mine, and I suddenly wished he’d drunk a lot more beer at the warehouse. His hazel eyes were too clear, too perceptive as I scrambled to cover up my pain with a half-smile.
“Mm-hm. See, ya, Princess.” He reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering for a fraction of a second. “It was… a good day with you.”
I could have sworn he said it softly, like he actually meant it.
Fifteen
