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Manson pulled me against his chest, his body warm in the cold night. He smelled like cigarettes and something deep and dark, an enigma of hormones and anger. Heat shot from the pit of my abdomen to my cheeks.
He’d tasted like peppermint gum and tobacco when I’d kissed him. He’d felt like corruption, like a sin. He’d put his hand around my throat and squeezed when he kissed me, and ever since I’d been unable to shake that feeling of his fingers digging into my flesh.
I wanted to feel it again, feel it harder. I wanted to rip open his viciousness and take it all in. I wanted to ride this man like a goddamn rollercoaster and then take his friends for a spin too.
But a girl like me wasn’t supposed to be with guys like them.
“What did you tell him?” Manson said softly. There wasn’t anger in his voice, but his question hung by a dangerously thin thread.
I pressed my lips together. I’d made him promise not to tell, but I’d been the one who betrayed our secret. All for a ridiculous fight with Kyle.
I shook my head. “I didn’t lie.”
“Are you sure about that?” He lowered his voice even more, a whisper he left right in my ear as his lips brushed against it. “You wanted that as much as I did. Don’t fucking lie about me.”
He let me go, and when I didn’t step back immediately, he widened the space between us. The sudden cold made me shiver, and without another word, I made my way back to the car. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as they watched me go.
I’d done everything I could. I’d warned him, and that was more than most people would have done. What happened now wasn’tany of my business. If Manson would stay away like I told him, Kyle would eventually calm himself down and get over it.
I started the engine and turned up the heater, trying to chase away the chill in my hands. I could still feel Manson’s heat on my chest. That weirdo. That freak. Why did he get to live in my head rent-free like this? They were all supposed to be beneath me, lower than gum on my shoe. Instead, I felt obsessed, like I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop looking at them, taunting them, seeking them out.
I couldn’t stop wanting them.
“Get it together, Jessica,” I said, clicking my seatbelt into place. I glanced over to check my side mirror before I put the car in gear —
And shrieked at the sight of Lucas looming outside my window.
“What the hell are you doing?” I rolled down my window but quickly realized it was a mistake. He gripped the opening, knuckles flexing against the inside of my door. “Move it, Lucas, seriously.”
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
His voice was sharper than a knife’s blade. My mouth hung open in shock, but the anger on his face was stifling.
“You know you went too far this time, Jessica. You fuckingknowyou did.” He leaned in, and my entire body tensed as I stared him down. “You thought you needed to warn Manson? How about you warn that fuckboy you open your legs for? Warn him there’ll be hell to pay if he tries fucking with any of my boys again.” His face was so close to mine, but he didn’t touch me. Lucas never touched me. His eyes alone were enough — how they dragged over my skin as harshly as teeth and nails. “Fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.”
Then, so quickly I hardly realized what was happening, he pulled the bubblegum from my open mouth, fingers brushing over my lips like an electric shock. He tucked the wad intohis cheek, and with the first wicked grin I’d ever seen on his terrifying face, he gave me a two-finger salute and stepped back from the car.
He chewed, blowing a bubble that audibly popped, before he said, “Get lost, Jessica.”
Dread was stifling me as I arrived at school the next morning. Manson didn’t even look at me as he shoved books into his locker, no matter how hard I tried to catch his eye.
Finally, I hissed, “Manson, go home.Please.”
“Save it, Jess.” He slammed the locker shut, hauling his ragged backpack over his shoulder. His mohawk was spiked up, a rigid spine on his shaved head. He wore the same tattered jeans he had on every day, the same worn lace-up leather boots and denim jacket. “Don’t start acting like you care. Being a bitch suits you better.”
He turned his back on me, stalking down the hall. He usually kept his head down, shoulders hunched; a smaller target. But something was different today. His chin was up and his long strides were aggressive.
Trying to fight Kyle would only make it worse.
I hesitated at my locker, guilt gnawing in my gut as Manson went into the men’s restroom.It doesn’t matter, I told myself, clicking my locker shut.
“Wow, tense in here today, isn’t it?” My best friend and fellow cheerleader, Ashley Garcia, squeezed out of the crowd to stand beside me. “Have you seen Kyle yet?”
“No.” My mouth was dry, and I didn’t know what to do with my hands. God, all this stress was going to make me break out. “Do you have your flask on you?”
“Of course, girl.” She reached into her bag and withdrew her “flask,” a water bottle filled with vodka and clear soda. I took agenerous gulp, hoping it would settle my nerves.
I handed it back as I spotted Kyle approaching, flanked by three of his friends. Alex, Nate, and Matthew were all part of the jock crowd and they followed Kyle around like loyal dogs. I waved to him with the best smile I could manage — which wasn’t great. It felt cold and plastic on my face. But instead of coming to walk with me to class, Kyle and two of his boys went into the restroom. Nate, a linebacker the size of a grizzly bear, posted up outside with his arms folded. The message was clear.
