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“Silla!” Ayden whines, pulling out an ice cream sandwich. “How can I fix this? It’s important to me.”
“I’m nothing to you, less than that. I assure you that my opinion of you doesn’t matter,” I sigh, taking the treat from his hand.
Opening it, I relax a little as I see it’s chocolate flavored. Taking a small bite, I ignore him as he sits next to me.
“Andrya and Sidney are my ride or die. My mom dropped us both off at a fire station,” he tells me.
My eyes widen, before I shake my head. “I don’t believe it. Why would she do that, and why are you telling me this?” I ask him.
“Because I want to play twenty questions, and I want to get to know you. Not because the Warden is making me, but so that the next time I have to make a choice between hurting or helping you, I choose the option that doesn’t make me hate myself,” Ayden reveals.
My lips part in disbelief, because I don’t know how to respond to that. It’s almost sweet, in a psycho golden retriever kind of way.
Fourteen
AYDEN
Ihave a hard time connecting with people other than Andrya and Sidney. It could be because I shared a womb with my sister and grew up with Sidney, but this isn’t the first time that I’ve admitted to this fact.
I like hurting people, analyzing them, and seeing what makes them tick. It started with pulling the wings off butterflies, holding magnifying glasses over ants, and grew to seeing how I could make kids cry on the playground.
The problem is that the Gods made Andrya and I so pretty, that we have always been able to charm our way out of things. Until we couldn’t, so now FRC is our new playground, with endless new games to play.
Except, ever since I heard Silla’s screams in the wall, I realized I would much rather never hear them again. Stifling a shiver, I watch as she enjoys the ice cream sandwich I gave her. The little sighs as she finishes gives me a satisfied feeling.
Taking the wrapper from her, I toss it into the wastebasket.
“A question for a question. No holds barred, make it as fucked up as you want. We can never use it against the other,” I promise.
Silla toes off her shoes, pulling her legs up to her chest. I notice she’s flexing her toes and relaxing them, and it makes me want to ask. I hold my tongue instead because I need to establish the rules.
“How do I know you won’t use it against me?” Silla asks, her body tense. “I don’t much trust your word or that of anyone else.”
“I’m sure there are people you trust, but I want to be one of them. I never break a pinkie promise,” I tell her with a grin. It seems childish, but I really haven’t. A promise isn’t locked in without one, and I don’t offer them very often.
“Ayden…” she murmurs, eyes moving up to meet mine. Her green eyes should remind me of Sidney’s, but they’re lighter, and say way too much. I understand why she tries to avert them at all costs.
“I have never broken one,” I say, affronted by the thought of ever breaking a sacred pinkie promise. “I’m also not Zachary. The man folded like a house of cards, and is fucking weak. He’s all kinds of confused about himself. You can do better.”
Rolling her eyes, she says, “It’s not like that for us. We really were friends.”
“Will you play with me, please? I have all of these questions, and I’m about to burst. I’m the fucked up version of a three-year-old with zoomie energy, yet I have a psychopath’s persistence to see how far I can push. Seriously, the only way to be safe with me is to do this. I know what people call my sister, Sidney, and I, and it’s all mostly true. We aren’t normal. I never want to hear you scream the way you did yesterday again though, unless it’s because you’re coming undone on my cock, and I don’t expect that to happen anytime soon,” I grouse.
Silla’s eyes widen, her pupils dilating slightly before she averts them. She’s attracted to me, but inexperienced, and I don’t want to push too hard. My proclivities are dark… though if Isaac is interested, I may have a chance with her.
“Silla,” I whine. “Kitten…”
Her eyes snap back to mine in annoyance, and I know immediately that I’m going to win this round. “Fine,” Silla hisses like her namesake, and I hide my smile.
Holding out my pinkie, I seriously intone, “I solemnly swear not to use any of the information from this session of twenty questions against the other, and to fully answer each question truthfully.”
Silla’s eyes narrow, focusing on the way I phase my promise. Smart girl. Even if I’m not planning to use anything that I learn about her against her, I am always very particular about how I state things.
“I guess that’s acceptable. I’ve never actually entered into a pinkie promise agreement,” she says, lips twitching.
Who is this girl?! How is that possible?
I’m holding in so many questions I may literally burst, but I need to be smart about what I ask. I feel giddy with little fireflies buzzing in my stomach, and it’s an odd feeling. I don’t get weird about girls, ever.
