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Fall break starts mid-next week but I have a feeling that if I’m being taken off campus I won’t be back until after it’s finished. I hope I’m mistaken, but every fiber of my being is screaming that something iswrong. He already has me here, working on the godforsaken Spencer’s. What could he possibly need me for? What skills did I excel in that other people didn’t? Is this a test? Redemption for my lack of progress here?
I stare into the mirror, pretending I am Clarke. It’s a game I started to play when things started to change, when he stopped touching me softly and his words started to cut deeper. If I could understand him, I could help him. The problem is I’m working with less than half the facts and Clarke is no longer the boy who loved me, if he even did at all. It feels hopeless and I feel utterly trapped. There is no saying no, there is only doing as I’m required.
The truth of what happens when you disobey stares back at me in all the little imperfections that mar my skin. I take it all in, the parts of me that I can’t stand, the parts of me others created. The parts that Clarke stares at with undisguised glee. The crescent moon scar on my cheek bond, a constant reminder of the power of jewels. The thick scars on the side of my hand and wrist for reconstructive surgery, showing that there are many ways to break bones and they don’t need to leave your skin to be ground into powder. The molten scar that runs from my calf trailing down over the top of my foot, stretched and warped over the years and forever looking like a shiny white and pink mess that can’t be unseen.
I buzz with unrestrained dread. My limbs feel detached from my body, but I need to move. I have to move. Thankfully my phone is already connected to the speaks in the studio, I play ‘6ft deep’ by Emeline and let go of conscious thought, allowing the music to move through me, flowing like liquid.
I’m lost in thought as the song encases me. My mind screaming the lyrics louder and louder in my head until the world fades in the background. I am, no longer. Every word has me crawling down deeper until I feel the crushing weight pour over top of me. I twist and turn, soaring through the air and move harder than I have before, but I’m still just me. Five foot tall, six foot deep.
The smell of black coffee and fresh rain permeates the air before I feel a hard chest at my back. Jack’s hand clasps around my own, the other splaying out on my stomach as he pulls me in closer. My eyes lift and connect with his briefly in the mirror, but I keep moving. I have to keep moving. The hum of irritation under my skin has intensified to an itch that has me wanting to scratch at my skin to stop it. He moves with me like he’s been dancing for a lifetime, following my steps, and reading my body quicker before I react.
I feel exposed, like he can see the meltdown happening in my mind, as if he can see the images of my past flash across the studio. My hands instinctively go move to my face, offering a miniscule moment of security as I try to shove the memories that haunt my waking moments back into the darkest corners of me. His hands clasp at my wrists, tugging me gently and a hiss of pain escapes me before I can stop it. My back is once again pressed to his front. I don’t know what possesses me to do what I did next. My hips sway down his body, feeling all of him pressed against my ass and back, turning to face him just as my knees hit the floor.
I don’t know if he yanks at my wrists or I’m tugging at the hold to jump high into the air. For just a moment, I’m airborne. Jack holds my thighs tightly against him, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms over his neck. He doesn’t know that right now he’s a lifeboat in the torrential emotions that threaten to consume me. He doesn’t know how his natural smell of fresh rain and black coffee is grounding me to the now and those glacier blue eyes that hold me captive has my heart pounding dangerously against its cage. Lines crinkle the corners of his eyes and they’re slightly glassy like he’s in pain.
I shift my weight slightly, but he makes no move to put me down. I can feel him, every rigid muscle of his body, his firm hands gripped tightly around me like he’s worried that I’ll disappear into thin air if he lets me go. I might. I feel the exact same way. My hands thread through the dark wavy locks at the nape of his neck, the silky strands feeling perfect as they run between my fingers. His breath comes out in these short gasps, matching my own as the song comes to its end.
His eyes are closed, and it looks a war is waging inside him as he lowers me slowly to the ground. My arms are still tight around his neck and his stay firmly on my hips. His head leans down, until our lips are only inches apart, it would take nothing for me to tilt up, closing the distance between us, satisfying that kiss we missed when I was staying in the tower. Would he taste like black coffee too? Or would he have a hint of sugar on his tongue? My mind goes back and forth between just how badly I want him, want to find out and if this would make me a bad friend to Peyton.
She’s fiercely protective of her brother. It’s clear to everyone how close they are and the last thing I want is to jeopardize my friendship with Peyton over what I’m sure would be a fling to Jack. It’s clear to me that there is insecurity in her friendships when it comes to them getting close to her brother, but I think I’ve proven myself that I’m in this for her. Jack gives me a small grin and before I can comprehend what is happening, I’m rising on my toes to close the distance between our mouths, feeling the heat of his lips so close to mine.
The crash of a door against a wall has me pushing away from him. Jack’s throws a lazy look over his shoulder, smirking as I hear the stomping of whoever is here get closer. I push further away from him and see the raging Vasiliev sister stalking over, looking pointedly between us. I hear Jack scoff and take another step away putting more distance between us and I try to count the grains in the polished floorboards beneath my feet.
“You better not be here to fuck another one of my friend’s Jack Vasiliev! You have enough whores on rotation and if you ruin this for me, I will tear you the fuck to pieces!” Her threat is menacing despite the high pitch of her tone. Another one of her friends? Is this why she’s so concerned? Does Jack make a game out of how many of her friends he can fuck? Sort of like a twisted, dirty way he check their loyalties. God, I’m pathetic and I feel lower than dirt at just how much I wanted it.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jack snaps back out at her.
“Stay the fuck away from my friend, brother. We don’t need this brand of bullshit on top of everything else.” Her words are low, like they’re only meant for his ears but I hear them loud and clear. My nose scrunches as I try not to get offended that him kissing me would be referred to asbullshit.
“I wouldn’t fuck poverty pussy even if her cunt weren’t owned by criminals.” Right. Fuck this. I don’t think I have it in me to stand here and keep listening to this back and forth. I’m dangerously close to crying and I would rather die than let Jack know just how much his words affect me.
I clear my throat to get the attention of the siblings before walking up and giving Peyton a quick hug. “I’m going to be gone for a few days. I don’t know how long, but I don’t think I’ll be back by Thanksgiving.”
Peyton pulls away from me, her eyes wide. “What?! Where are you going? I thought we were going to do Thanksgiving together?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll text you later.” I pick up my water bottle, sculling half it down in one go to try lessen the burn in my eyes. Jack and Peyton’s furious whispers float around the room as I shut the door behind me. I don’t even know what to prepare for, but I know it’s not going to be good.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m sitting in the back of a blacked-out SUV, similar to the one that Nova drop up in weeks ago. Much to my disappointment, it wasn’t Nova who came to get me this time. It was the same man who I saw at the restaurant. He sits across from me, sorting through a stack of papers while whoever driving the car takes us further and further away from the school.
He hasn’t looked up at me since I slid into my seat, and as much to the driver’s dismay I refused to let my bags be moved to into the trunk of the car. There was no chance in hell they were separating me from my stuff. I sit with my arms folded across my chest and stare out the window, memorizing as much as I can. An old habit I picked up going out on jobs with Clarke, got me out of more than a few dangerous situations.
“Am I supposed to be able to spawn the details on what I’m doing here, or at some point tonight do you plan on telling me?” I lift my chin when he looks up at me, but he says nothing before continuing to scan through the papers.
“You’re quite the conversationalist.” Still nothing. I kick my feet up onto the space beside him, making sure to catch the edges of the papers, crossing my ankles and lean deeper into my seat. His jaw clenches but he doesn’t make an effort to move me off and I use the time to take him in. He’s a stocky guy, easily 250lbs and from the way his legs are folded in the space, he looks tall. His black hair is cropped short, and he has a closely shaven beard. There’s nothing wrong with the way he looks, but something feelsoffwith his appearance that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I pull my feet down quickly, scattering his papers across the floor. His growl is so low that it sounds like it’s vibrated directly from the depths of hell and when he looks up at me, I see what’s off about him. It’s his eyes, they’re hollow of feeling. He looks soulless.
I watch him with a critical eye as he bends to pick it up. He has a gun tucked in the back of his pants, but I can’t see any other bulges that would be another weapon or knife on him. Comfortable with my assessment, I snag one of the papers from near my feet and look over it. It’s a copy of my check ins with Clarke. What the fuck? Why is this man looking into me? I scan the page until I find today’s information, there’s a scheduled time for my pickup and drop off to be escorted by Rylan, but before I can see the destination or job information the paper is ripped out of my hands.
Rylan is seething as he looks at me, practically foaming at the mouth. His chest heaving so quickly I’m genuinely thinking he might pass out soon. Good. It would make my journey easier. “I don’t understand why the big man thought a little girl was right for the job.”
“Are you questioning his decisions?” My tone is low and deadly. Under normal circumstances I would be fucking ecstatic to hear someone undermining Clarke’s authority, but my reaction here could be life or death. I need to show him the predator that lives within, bare my teeth and sharpen my claws. I can’t let this soulless thing in front of me see just how intimidated I really am.
I look him up and down, derision dripping from my expression before I dismiss him entirely. In the corner of my eye, I see his cheeks pinken, clearly unhappy with my indifference, like he’s not the biggest threat to my entire existence right now. I keep my tone bored and start inspecting my nails like they hold more worth than the deadly man in front of me.
“I’ve not seen you around beforeRylan, that tells me one of two things. You’re new, less than six months in the job and are trying rising through the ranks pretty quickly by doing a pickup job, or you’ve been around for a while and are simply lacking.”
