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He takes that title because, again, charisma. No one is actually scared of him. Can’t say the same about me though. People at school never approach me, and if they do, it’s with caution. Without even knowing me, they avoid me because of wildly exaggerated rumors. Okay, maybe not wildly, but still. Graduation is a few months away, and fuck, if it can’t come any fucking sooner.
Today is Valentine’s Day. It’s not a holiday I ever really acknowledged, mainly because holidays were rarely if ever celebrated in my foster homes, but also, I’d never been in love. Hell, the only person I’ve ever loved at all is Devin himself, and it took far too many years for me to realize it and be honest about it.
Feelings like love aren’t all that simple for me though. It’s not an emotion I ever had a chance to feel after growing up in chaos. It wasn’t until Devin and I moved in with Suzie, the overly kind owner of our shitty trailer park, that I started to understand just what set me apart from other people in that regard.
I imagine that kids who have loving families develop a better sense of morality and respect authority more than I ever could. I never had anyone that I respected enough to obey. Never had anyone that I regarded highly enough to not want to disappoint. Most importantly, I never knew what it meant to care about someone until Dev.
The people here in our town, at our high school, they wouldn’t know any of that. They wrote me off a long time ago, and rightfully so. I still want fucking nothing to do with any of them anyway. I may know what it feels like to love and be loved now, but that isn’t a miraculous cure for a lifetime of abuse and neglect—the list goes on and fucking on. My mind has its own sets of challenges that don’t just go away.
Leading up to this holiday, girls have been increasingly more flirtatious with Devin. A coy look here, a batting of lashes there—maybe even a casual touch. He does brush them off. Of course, he does, because he’s perfect, but something in me wants to see them crushed. I want them eviscerated, and I can’t help it. I’ve tried. Unfortunately, it seems to be something I will always have to endure as long as we’re together. I’ve been having trouble coping with that, coming to terms with it. Things have always been out of my control in one way or another, but I’ve found ways to seize some of it—just enough to get me through. That’s what I’m planning to do here tonight.
Parties at Julian’s place are a frequent occurrence. His mom doesn’t care about her house being filled with tons of young people drinking and doing drugs. She partakes in all of it—always has. Matter of fact, right now, she’s sitting at the dining room table in a thick cloud of smoke, passing a joint around with Dev and our other friend, James. She’s talking his ear off as usual, her raspy voice booming through the room, and Dev looks serene as ever. His raven black hair is slicked back, except for the single lock that always breaks free, grazing his forehead. My features have always been more… emaciated. My face is sharp in a pointy kind of way, whereas his sharp lines look carved by the Gods. He’s rough enough around the edges to not lean into pretty boy territory, though. I wouldn’t have him any other way.
There’s power behind those eyes, beneath that skin, beyond all of that muscle. Hell, he’s the only one who can bring me to my knees.
I want some of that unchecked power to break free, so after Julian finishes lining up some coke on the filthy coffee table in front of us, I extend my hand. His thick, dark brows lift in silent question.
“Give me the straw.”
“You haven’t done blow in months though,” he insists.
I applaud him for noticing—I really do—but it’s not his fucking business. The last time I had a coke bender, I made some poor decisions according to Dev. He’d rather me not do it anymore, and I haven’t. It hasn’t been difficult at all. The only reason I’m doing it now is to get under his skin. My heart speeds up fractionally just thinking about it. He gets so riled up, and then, he gets to take it out on me. My cock twitches in my leather pants in anticipation of what’s to come.
“I’m not an addict, Julian. Give me the fucking straw.”
“All right, but I don’t want to hear shit from Dev about this.” He plops the straw onto my open palm with a dramatic flourish, a small smile gracing his lips. Julian and James are our closest friends—in my instance, only friends—for a reason. They are infinitely more tolerable than everyone else, which is saying a lot. I don’t mind having them around.
I lean over, pushing one nostril shut, and bring the straw to my nose. My sinuses are exceptionally clear, so the white powder shoots up my nose with ease. It burns, not unpleasantly, and a sour taste drips down the back of my throat; it’s an acquired one, that’s for sure. I squeeze my nostrils together, soothing the burn, before going back in for another line.
I can practically feel Dev’s gaze before I see it. Even beneath the shadow of his thick brow ridge, his eyes harden, his mouth pressed into a firm line.
It’s worth noting that he looks furious rather than disappointed. That lets me know that he’s aware I’m only doing this to get a rise out of him. It would be particularly exhausting if I had to try to convince him that I’m not relapsing into cocaine addiction or something.
He brings the joint back to his lips, never breaking eye contact with me. Chills ripple across my skin, and I have the urge to go seal my mouth over his and inhale the smoke, but instead, I practice restraint. I turn my gaze back to Julian. He’s rubbing at his nose, having just finished snorting some too. His eyes are glazed over, the same way everyone else’s are.
“Is there a reason you’ve been hanging around me rather than Dev tonight?” he asks. “I’m assuming you guys are fighting or something with all the glaring he’s doing. I mean, really, it’s pretty intense.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, but on second thought, it’s probably only pissing Dev off more, so I decide to not hold back. Julian’s eyes widen, even as his smile gets bigger.
“Devin and I don’t fight.” I shrug. “I’m just trying to make a point.”
Julian reaches into the case of beer next to his boots and pulls two out, handing one over to me. I grimace despite myself. “How can you just drink warm beer? Disgusting, man.” I shake my head but upend it, chugging most of it down in one go.
He ignores my bitching but presses further. “What point are you trying to make?”
I can feel the coke buzzing in my brain and tingling across my skin as I take another gulp, debating how much I should tell him. “Things have been a bit stagnant lately, you know. I just like to shake it up every once in a while. Devin is far sexier when he’s angry.”
Julian rolls his eyes at me. “There’s something severely wrong with you.”
“And yet, here we are.”
He brushes his shoulder against mine, a bright smile lighting up his face. See, Julian is definitely in pretty boy territory. I’m not blind to it. “You got me there,” he laughs. “So, you’re trying to make him jealous or something? I’m not really looking to get my ass beat tonight. Sort of wanted to drown in the abyss of alcohol and what not.”
“Don’t worry about that. Whatever happens, he’ll take it out on me. He knows that’s what I want.”
Julian shakes his head. “You kinky motherfuckers.”
I look into his eyes intently. “And how kinky are you, Julian?” I’m aware of the way my voice has dropped an octave or two and am not the slightest bit surprised when a faint blush spreads across his cheeks.
